#kevin never even had the option to have any normal experiences

[troublesomecousin]

daisy & moss

@schattenwerfenkeineschatten

daisy ; a flower for innocence .. for a time my where my muse lost their innocence, in relation to any aspect of their life or experiences.

Kevin's mind was moving way too fast...or well, it was moving faster than it normally did. He placed his hands on the edge of the sink, letting the coolness of the porcelain ground him as best it could. This revelation was throwing him through an unfortunate loop, and he had yet to figure out how to course correct. What was even worse was that he wasn't even sure he wanted to. That kiss had felt too good, been too exciting...thrill seeker that he was, Kevin knew he wasn't going to be able to give up on that sensation, but the implications of that was a lot to place upon the brow of someone who had only really just started to mature. Not that Kevin had ever daydreamed about his future, the here and now was far more interesting, but suddenly and all at once he knew that the path stretched out in front of him was not going to be like the ones he saw played out at family gatherings or in the houses and gardens of the neighbors. He took a deep breath as he wiped his hands on his jeans, trying to rid them of the uncomfortable clammy feeling. Maybe...maybe that wasn't a bad thing. He hardly craved their normalcy, their little fences and petty squabbles. All the little mundanities typical married life, they weren't for him, and perhaps there had been a reason for that all along. At the very least, fate had been kind enough to clear that option from the table. How very thoughtful of the universe. Finally confident that he looked something like composed, Kevin stepped out of the school washroom, grateful to find the hallways empty since he was in no mood to explain himself. And perhaps with a little discretion and some luck he would never have to. He'd kissed one boy, and if he had his way he'd kiss another, and then maybe another after that, and maybe more than that if he kept up this new habit...

moss ; a flower for maternal love .. for my muse to elaborate on their mother, maternal figure/s, or on the concept of motherhood; whatever is most applicable.

His mother? No one ever asked him about his mother. No one besides his aunt, but that was her sister, so it made sense that she would ask any time Kevin had once again shown up on her doorstep. But everyone else? Most people wouldn't have been surprised to find out Kevin had simply willed himself into being. But that was a silly notion for a number of reasons...one of which was that few things produced troublesome boys quite like good, loving, mothers. "She's a mum like any other," Kevin shrugged, attempting indifference despite the skepticism written on his face. He wasn't sure the intentions of the person asking, but he wasn't so concerned that he'd let it be a reason for him not to run his mouth. "I mean...I don't exactly have many others to compare her too, but she's got that whole 'warm and caring' thing down perfectly, you know? Cares about me and maybe...has a bit too much faith in me. But that's what they're s'posed to do. Think their kids are little angels, but I think she's trying to uh..." Kevin gestured vaguely with his hand, cigarette ash falling to the ground as he did so. "...over-compensate. Convince herself that something good came of her little tryst with my actual father." Kevin took another drag on his cigarette, letting his thoughts stew for a moment or two. "Maybe she's just grateful I'm not like my cousin. I've seen how she looks at him when she thinks no one's watching, and I bet she's thinking...oh thank god Kevin's just a mean little shit and not some freak. I suppose that's not the worst way to earn your mother's love, but well, it doesn't require anything of me, so I can't complain. Or I could, but I don't think I will."

[kevindayprotectionsquad]

A comprehensive list of everything Kevin Day missed out on.

We all know Evermore and Riko fucked up Kevin’s life in more ways than one, but no one talks about what he missed out on. Everyone talks about everything Neil missed out on, but he at least had some normal human interactions. Kevin missed out on so many experiences every kid should have. Such as:

Snack time followed by nap time in elementary 

college Kevin would also appreciate a set nap time (let Kevin sleep)

Recess 

Rock wars on the playground (you cannot tell me that Neil wasn’t one of those kids throwing rocks at people on the playground. I refuse to believe he wasn’t)

Playground games (four square, red rover, freeze tag, telephone, etc)

MONKEY BARS

Field trips 

the colonial farms with petting zoos would be his favorite

The drama of birthday parties 

sleep overs

“Everyone is invited, but only x, y, and z are allowed to stay the night so don’t say anything!”

bouncy castles 

Hawaiian Punch, hot dogs, and birthday cake

Camping on someones trampoline

Staying up past bed time to watch cartoons 

and not immediately regret it

Swimming literally all day in the summer

sunburns and pruny fingers are guaranteed 

having to wait 30 mins after eating before getting back in the pool

not listening to the 30 min rule and getting stomach cramps

TRICK OR TREATING

Kevin was at prime trick or treating age by the time he went to Evermore so its safe to assume he never got to

Getting a puppy or kitten

then getting to grow up with that puppy or kitten!!!!

EMO PHASE

(Although it could be argued all of his raven days were an emo phase)

Passing notes in class

getting caught passing notes in class and having to read the note in front of the class

The flip phone drama

He would be the type of person to dramatically slam it closed after every phone call

Middle school PE

the very first locker room experience for most and not a pleasant one

not knowing how to use the stupid combo locks and making someone else do it for him for a week

the ONE uniform that was supposed to be taken home at the end of every week to be washed but most defiantly wasn't

body spray instead of showers

BRACES

Playing board games 

winning monopoly and everyone hating him and getting the board thrown at him

losing monopoly and hating everyone and throwing the board

Playing group video games

yelling at others through the headset and waking the whole house at 2AM

losing a game being the end of the world

The excitement of getting a week or two off for Thanksgiving and Christmas

just meant more practice time for Kevin

did he even get to celebrate those holidays? probably not

his first time celebrating is with the Foxes and he wont admit it but he loved it

He never got to be a TRUE high school jock

carrying his racquet to every class

wearing his jersey on game day to flex on everyone

be in a pep rally

going to the only restaurant open after a home game with the ENTIRE school

homecoming!  

letterman jackets!!!

The first girlfriend

annnnd the first breakup that may or may not have broke his heart

(the first time he started questioning his sexuality)

Late night drives with his bros

street racing on the back roads

blasting their favorite music

everyone posing like a d-bag with their vehicle

PROM

all the girls fighting over who he would ask

not know who to go with and having a crisis over it

his group pre-gaming on natty lights someone stole from their dads garage

everyone getting sick from shotgunning as much as possible on the way there

SENIOR PRANKS

which may or may not have ended in some slight vandalism of the football field and the exy team having to spend their Thursday night cleaning the field

The stress of college applications

and the pressure to make the summer the best one ever

going to the beach with all his friends for the first time, graduation parties, random trips

packing his entire life into a tiny dorm room

The typical first semester experience 

being so homesick it hurts 

parties, parties, and more parties

getting black out drunk of fireball and waking up in a strange dorm room with no shoes and no memory

(although he gets pretty good at getting black out drunk with Andrew, but he always crashes somewhere familiar and with his shoes)

never being able to even smell fireball again without getting sick 

TAILGATES

more drunk activities this time in broad day light in front of the whole school

the freshman 15 and freshman depression 

Kevin missed out on so much growing up, but he tries to make up for it with the Foxes as he gets more comfortable around them and with being a normal functioning college student. And the Foxes are more than willing to bust out monopoly when Kevin says he has never played.

[redrobin-detective]

*crawls through you bedroom window* actually sorry I’m not done talking about the tragic, complicated clusterfuck which is Ben and Rook’s friendship/partnership. Because of how it was set up and their own personalities at the time, it was doomed to fail. I mentioned previously how neither got to know/understand the other and I retract that because it’s not entirely true. They did get to bond in a way that you almost have to when you’re in life or death situations together but they never talked about it and so each went on thinking they weren’t important to the other.

The whole nature of their partnership reeks of impermanence. Max obviously knew ahead of time that Gwen and Kevin were leaving for college and had time to prepare. Ben being on his own, reckless and stupid, was not an option. I wonder how many candidates they went through before they got to Rook. They chose someone who excelled at Plumber training, who knew the rules Ben never bothered to learn backwards and forwards. Someone who would balance out Ben and keep him reigned in. Someone who was obviously destined for higher management so why not give him the best field training possible? Rook, if not Ben, was certainly aware that it was a temporary thing. Ben was 16 going on 17, soon he wouldn’t need a partner anymore; this was the last attempt at training wheels. I imagine the partnership dissolved not long after Omniverse ends, when Rook becomes Magister and probably has new training and responsibilities. Ben, almost an adult by human standards and hopefully positively molded by Rook’s influence, is deemed ready to be on his own. 

So imagine you’re Rook, you’re a newly graduated Plumber who was ready to take on the universe. You’re informed you’re heading to Earth and you will be working one on one with your idol, the Ben 10, the one who inspired you to leave your traditional, isolated homeworld. You meet your hero and while he’s got the watch and the quips, he’s also a child in a culture you don’t understand. You’re disappointed that your hero isn’t as perfect as rumor and propaganda told you. You’re angry and frustrated and you don’t bother to hide it, Ben almost seems to retaliate by being more obnoxious. The more time you spend with Ben, you realize there’s a method to his madness. He wins more battles than he loses, what Rook at first took to be Ben’s flaws turn out to also be his strengths. Seeing Ben in action snarling and laughing in the face of certain destruction, he realizes that Ben is, at the same time, a stupid, idiot kid who barely has an idea of what he’s doing but also twice the hero Rook thought he was. Suddenly Ben 10 isn’t just a poster in his room or a radio show to listen to in the dark, he is a real person and that makes him even more worthy of admiration.

And Rook does admire him, quietly. Ben keeps up his walls and Rook lets him because who is he to try and really befriend Ben 10? Rook is just one of billions of Plumbers in the universe, Ben is the universe’s savior. I bet before Rook ever stepped foot on Earth it was drilled into him that Ben Tennyson was to be protected at all costs, that Rook’s life was nothing compared to Ben’s. Rook already comes from a very restrained and private culture, he won’t initiate anything beyond what is needed for to the mission and to save his partner. It is enough for him to be able to work alongside his hero (even if said hero is thoughtless and ridiculous and has no sense of self preservation and he drives Rook insane but by gum does he respect the hell out of Ben when he isn’t contemplating murdering him). When the time ultimately comes for Rook to depart, he will be sad but not mention it. Because he imagines he is only a blip on Ben’s radar, a temporary partner before Ben goes onto bigger and better things. He never tells Ben that his loyalty wasn’t to the Plumbers, to Ben 10 but to the scrawny, sleep deprived kid who always remembered Rook’s favorite smoothie flavor. 

Now imagine you’re Ben. You’ve saved the universe at the cost of your privacy, chance for a normal life, general sense of safety and sanity. You’re quickly losing track of what part is you and what part is the myth about you. Two of your three major support systems abandon you without notice. Over the years of AF/UAF, Gwen and Kevin saw all your brokenness, fears, vulnerabilities, watched you go from dumb kid to hero. You didn’t have to tell them these things, they saw them happen and just knew. And now they’re gone and you only have your grandpa who you love but is also sorta of your boss now. He tells you you’re being assigned a new partner, someone chosen without your consent, someone you’re expected to trust your life and secrets with. Fine, this Rook fellow will do. He can watch your back but he’s not having any pieces of your broken heart. 

You fight, both bad guys and each other. The two of you have such opposite styles that you clash. He may have training and discipline but you have experience and incredible power. You fumble and bicker and somewhere through it all find an understanding. Suddenly the rumble of his voice is familiar as Kevin’s once was, his logical approaches and teasing barbs slot in where Gwen’s used to be. It’s not bad, you tell yourself. You know this isn’t forever, that it’s not real, but it’s not bad. Because you know first and foremost that Rook is a Plumber and you are not. You also know he is a fan and you are acutely aware how short you fall from the perfect hero ideal. Ben laughs, clinging harder to the arrogant hero façade and pretends Rook’s disappointment doesn’t crush him. If someone who’s forced to work with him doesn’t like Ben, then how can he be the beloved savior everyone tells him he is even though he doesn’t quite know how he got there? He’s just a kid doing his best and soon buries himself in his perceived role.

Time passes, Ben and Rook have been through so much. Against your will, he’s seen some of your broken parts. He sees past your cracks, sees your guilt and grief and bone deep fear. But he doesn’t seem upset, even more disappointed by the failure hero. He is kind, friendly, understanding. Not enough that Ben feels comfortable to open up but he relaxes, just a bit. Rook isn’t just a forced upon partner, he’s now a friend. But he knows Rook is only here because he was ordered, he feels Rook’s annoyance with him and believes his kindness is only out of duty. It’s fine, he’s used to everyone around him bleeding him dry of everything he has and then some. Just another part of being a hero. He’s not Kevin or Gwen but he is Rook and he is grown on you because Ben is always an open soul, one who wants to receive some love he gives so freely. You finally feel steady, like you can stop pretending so much and try and find some peace and happiness in your dangerous, chaotic life.

Suddenly so fast, you’ve saved the universe once more and Rook is moving on. It’s like Gwen and Kevin leaving all over again. Rook himself seems excited to move up the ranks, to get more tassles on his uniform. He is a soldier at heart, you are not even if you play the part of one. You are a child only you’re not anymore, while you were busy saving everyone again and again your childhood was stolen from you. Now on the edge of adulthood, you’re told it’s time to take responsibility. You want to scream you’ve been doing that since you were 10 years old, that someone else can do  it for a change. You want to beg Rook to stay, to drag Gwen and Kevin home, to hide your loved ones away with you and not have to confront the big, bad universe alone. Instead, you do what you always do. You swallow all your fears, your wishes and hopes and shake his hand goodbye and wish him well. You don’t tell him you’ll miss him, neither does he. 

Rook and Ben part as the strangers they never stopped being even if both of them aches at the loss of the close proximity, of the friendship. Both are very much aware that the relationship was weak, transient, that it might have been something more if they gave it more attention. However, too many things were between them and both of them genuinely believed the other didn’t care as much. The rest of their lives they remain friendly, distant but polite. It’s not much different from when they fought side by side even if they wish it different.

[homoose]

Weird is Good

Summary: A story about two people tryna make it through the age of COVID-19 in a country where people are fucking dumb lmao. My hc is that Spencer would be like wtf at all these science-denying anti-maskers. Also, two teachers just tryna make it through quarantine and remote teaching in a one bedroom apartment (this is taking place during a mandatory leave/lecture cycle).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: no warnings. reader is both a kindergarten teacher and a bruh girl with a pirate’s mouth. lots of Spencer x factz.

Word count: 3.1k

———

“We’re home for the next two weeks. ”

Spencer looked up from his desk to see Y/N kicking off her shoes, dropping her bag, and walking directly to the sink. “Starting when?”

“We get to go in on Monday to say goodbye to the kids and get any materials we might need. Then we’re home for two weeks. They’re calling it an early, extended spring break.” Y/N began her hand washing routine. As a kindergarten teacher, she’d always been a strict hand-washer. In the time of COVID, she had only become more zealous. She looked at Spencer. “Have you heard anything?”

“Since we’re so close to the end of the semester, the department head thinks they’ll try to finish out the year as normal.” He set down his pen. “I honestly don’t know. It will all depend on whether people follow the CDC guidelines. The spread of any virus is deducible mathematically, and SARS-COV2 is no different. Based on the outbreak in Italy prior to their lockdown, we can accurately describe its reproductive number, or Rt, to between 2.43 – 3.10.”

Y/N shut off the water and dried her hands on a paper towel. “In layman's terms, Dr. Reid.”

“The Rt tells how many people are infected by the contagious host,” he explained. “In the case of this strain, each infected person is infecting between two and three others. For comparison, the standard seasonal flu has an average Rt between 1.4 and 1.7.”

“So in other words, fucking yikes,” Y/N groaned. She moved to perch on the edge of Spencer’s desk.

“Indeed,” Spencer agreed. “We know how fast the flu can travel through an office or a classroom, so imagine if it was two times as transmissible. But it's also really important to understand that this number changes depending on the mitigations in place. Even prior to full lockdown, mask wearing and social distancing was somewhat common in Italy, so it’s likely the uncontrolled Rt is higher.”

“Jesus Christ.” Y/N scrubbed a hand over her face. “We’ll probably never go back.”

Spencer rubbed his hand up from her ankle to the inside of her knee. “The good news is there’s nothing special about this virus compared to others in terms of how it spreads— it’s just aerosols. So if everyone wears their mask, we’ll be able to keep the spread low.”

⧭⧭⧭

“It’s safe to say that everyone did not wear their fucking masks,” Y/N snapped. She watched from the couch as Mayor Bowser delivered the news that DC Public Schools would remain closed for the remainder of the year. “This is crazy. I mean, I knew it was coming because people in this country are absolute buffoons.” She looked at Spencer, fingers pressed to her temple. “But holy shit, are we ever going to be able to go outside again?”

“With schools and universities closed, people working remotely, and lockdown orders in place, the Rt in the US could stay low. But masks have to be worn at all times, and social distancing has to be strictly followed.” Spencer pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I just— I can’t believe people are refusing to wear masks. The empirical, peer-reviewed data clearly shows—”

“This is ‘Murica, boy.” Y/N mocked. “Ain’t no tyrannical government gonna tell me what to do!” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, your choice to abstain from social media is paying dividends to your sanity right now.”

Spencer looked truly dumbfounded, setting his newspaper down in his lap. “But that’s just it. It’s not just in social media circles.” He gestured to the article in front of him. “This economist just argued for ‘reopening’ the economy using the justification of herd immunity. Herd immunity can be a plausible option for less lethal diseases. But this virus is not like varicella—the chickenpox,” he clarified at Y/N’s raised eyebrow. He waved his hands around in exasperation. “Putting aside the fact that one facet of herd immunity is vaccinating as many people as possible, its success completely hinges on the Rt of a disease. If you model a population based on an Rt of 2.5, herd immunity wouldn’t be achieved until approximately sixty percent of the population has been infected. Consider that the US population is currently 328 million, and sixty percent of that is 196.8 million. The current mortality rate for SARS-COV2 is 3.06 percent. 196,800,000 multiplied by 0.0306 is 6,022,080. Over six million people would die. It's simple mathematics.”

Y/N let out an exasperated breath. “It used to be that simple math and facts were enough. Now you’ve got basement scientists who think they know better than actual, literal scientists who’ve spent their entire lives studying these things.” She ran a hand over her face and gestured at the news conference still playing. “How long do you think it’ll be before we’re both trying to teach from this tiny ass living room?”

⧭⧭⧭

“Goooooooood morning, kindergarten! It’s Friday, and no Friday is a bad Friday!” Spencer smiled. As he poured his first cup of coffee, he hummed along with Y/N and 23 six-year-olds as they sang their morning song. Observing fourteen days of remote kindergarten from across the living room had given Spencer a new appreciation for elementary school teachers, particularly Y/N. She sang, danced, conducted science experiments, held puppet shows, read stories, led art projects, and fielded questions for four hours a day— three hours less than when they were in the school building. He was exhausted by proxy.

But he was also grateful for the opportunity to watch Y/N in her element. Even though they were at home, she still got dressed every day in bright, patterned sweaters and dresses— her Ms. Frizzle attire, she’d told him once. She was able to channel her personality into a kid-friendly version that her students clearly adored, never afraid to be silly or strange to get their attention and keep them engaged during the long days. He worked from home whenever possible, strangely happy to have the background noise of kindergarten over his quiet university office.

...

“Okay, but where do I put the biiiiiiiiiiiig number?” Y/N made a wide gesture with her arms. “Ariah, where should I put it? In the big box, yes! But oh no, my small number needs a friend. My three is soooooo lonely!” Y/N drew her mouth into a pout. “DJ, how can I help my three not be so sad? You’re absolutely right, let’s put that two right next to him in our number bond.”

…

“I’ve been waitin’  for a girl to mute,” Y/N sang into the gold karaoke mic. “I said, muuuuuuuuuute, I’m blinded by loud sounds. No, I can’t hear the friend who’s tryin’ to talk.”

…

“Oh boy. Kev, honey, we can— we can see you. Kevin, Kevin, Kevin. We can see all of you. I can’t turn your camera off, buddy. You gotta— there we go.”

…

“Mute please, I need— I need everybody to mute, please. Oh my goodness where is that music coming from?” Y/N frantically searched for her index card with the picture of the mute icon, as the sounds of a highly inappropriate song blared through the computer speaker. “I know it’s so loud, guys. Why is my mute power gone?! This is why we need to make sure we keep our mute button on, kindergarten.”

…

“No sweetie, it’s not time to log off yet. I’m sorry, I know it’s such a long day. We have about an hour left. Do you guys wanna do a countdown? It’s the fin-al count-down! Do-do doo dooooo. Do-do-d-do-dooo…”

…

“Annnnnd, I should see all my friends on mute. William, hang on just a second. All my friends need to look at my picture, it’s an oval with a line through it… Okay, William, what did you bring to show us?” Y/N leaned toward the computer screen. “Grandma Kathy? O-oh, she’s— she’s in the—“ Y/N’s eyes widened. “Is that— is that an urn? Oh wow. Um, well, wow. It’s beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing that with us, William. Grandma Kathy, may she rest in peace.”

⧭⧭⧭

A week into Y/N teaching kindergarten from their living room, the university had announced its transition to online coursework for the remainder of the academic year. Spencer had to host his first zoom lecture, and he was absolutely dreading it.

“Spence, it’s going to be fine. It’s not like you’ve never been on a video conference,” Y/N assured him. She sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to let her in to his practice zoom.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t running those meetings. I just showed up.” He squinted at the computer screen. “Are you in?”

Y/N barely resisted the urge to make a joke, knowing that Spencer probably wouldn’t appreciate the innuendo. “No, you have to admit me.”

“What do you mean? How do I do that?”

“There should be a box with a button that says admit.”

Spencer gestured at the computer. “Well there’s a bunch of boxes— which one should I be looking at?”

Y/N sighed and got up from the couch. “IQ of 187 and can’t find the box.”

Spencer dragged a hand through his hair. “I know I shouldn’t find this so difficult. I’m sorry you have to waste your time on this.”

“Hey, it was a joke.” Y/N grabbed his hand from where he was frustratedly pulling on his frazzled curls. “I’m sorry. That was mean and you’re already stressed enough.” She used her free hand to smooth his hair back into place. She scrunched her nose. “I love you and your limited technology skills. And honestly it’s kind of nice to have one thing I can actually teach you about.” She squeezed his hand, leaning over him to peer at his computer screen. “All right, let’s find that elusive admit button.”

When the day of his lecture rolled around, Spencer thanked all the atoms in the observable universe that Y/N had a break during his class. Within the first ten minutes, he’d managed to accidentally kick himself out of his own meeting and then somehow lose track of the screenshare button.

“No one can see me and I don’t know what happened to the screenshare option. It was there and now it’s just… gone,” he told Y/N.

She leaned over his desk, eyes tracking over the screen and mouse clicking around the desktop. “How in the world did you manage to block your camera?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t even touch it!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand how it’s even possible to be this bad at this.”

Y/N bumped his knee with her own, pulling up his camera settings and preferences. “Relax. You can’t be good at everything. It’s a refreshing reminder that you’re a mere mortal like the rest of us.” With a few rapid clicks, Y/N unblocked his camera and located the screenshare bar. “There. Crisis averted. I’m just going to share your whole screen in case you want to toggle between application windows. So just be aware that they’ll be able to see everything. And then you just click here when you’re ready to stop sharing.”

When Y/N turned her head toward him to check that he understood, Spencer grabbed the side of her face and caught her lips in a kiss. Y/N smiled against his mouth, heart speeding up as he traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue.

“Um, Dr. Reid? Your um— your camera’s working now.”

Spencer nearly fell out of his chair, his cheeks about the color of the Leave Meeting icon. Y/N dropped her head, debating whether she wanted to laugh or let the earth open up and swallow her whole. She ultimately decided to compose herself, stepping back and giving a little wave to the sea of tiny, grinning zoom faces before slinking out of frame, miming sorry to one very mortified professor.

⧭⧭⧭

“Would you want to be our mystery reader next week?” Y/N asked, bookmarking the page of her novel and reclining back in bed. “You just have to pick a story to read. Oh, and think of four clues about your identity to give the kiddos.”

Spencer raised his eyebrow, continuing to read. “Any story?”

Y/N laughed. “Well they’re six, so maybe hold off on the Chaucer and Bradbury for now. A picture book would be preferable.”

“Did you know that the first picture book, Orbis Sensualium Pictus, or Visible World in Pictures, was published in 1658?” He looked up from his own book. “Czech educator John Amos Comenius wanted to create a book that would be accessible to children of all levels of ability. The educational theories he explored are actually still in practice in the field of early childhood education.” He turned toward her from his spot under the covers. “For example, when you have your students make a hissing sound and slither their arms when they produce the sound represented by the letter s? Comenius included an alphabet chart with various animal and human sounds representing each letter. He wanted to demonstrate that the incorporation of multiple senses could help increase learning.”

“I guess you don’t fix what isn’t broken,” Y/N mused. “300 years later, and we’re still using the same methods.”

“362, actually,” Spencer corrected.

She gave him a look. “Maybe we can save the Comenius for another time.”

“The genre of children’s literature encompasses some of the most profound and philosophical story telling of all time.” Spencer returned his attention to his reading.

“...So is that a yes?”

Spencer smiled. “I’ve got a book in mind.”

“And clues,” Y/N reminded him, snuggling down under the covers and reopening her book. “We need some fun clues, mystery reader.”

…

“Kindergarten, we have a very special mystery reader this week. Oh man, are you ready for the first clue? The mystery reader loves jell-o! Raise your little hand if you love jell-o, too. Okay, kindergarten, I see you! Lots of jell-o lovers in the house.”

…

“Okay, clue number two! Our mystery reader works as a community helper— remember we learned about all different kinds of community helpers; firefighters, nurses, police officers. But if the mystery reader could be anything, they’d want to be a cowboy! How cool is that?”

...

“Clue number three for our mystery reader!” Y/N sucked in a gasp. “You guys. The mystery reader can do magic. Oh my goodness, I am so excited for Friday,” she sing-songed. “Will they show us a trick? Hmmm, I don’t know. Maybe if you ask nicely.”

…

“Okay, my friends, the last clue. The mystery reader loves reading. They read every day, and they’ve been reading since 1983! Yes, that was a very long time ago.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Okay, any last guesses about who our mystery reader might be?” Y/N questioned.

“I think it’s your dad,” a little voice called out.

Spencer made a choking noise from where he sat, slightly off camera. Y/N laughed. “The mystery reader is decidedly not my dad, Keyshon. Remember I showed you guys the picture of him— my dad’s a farmer, so he’s kind of already a cowboy.” She clapped her hands together. “Okay, without further ado, drumroll please... Our mystery reader is…” Y/N pushed her desk chair out of frame to allow Spencer to roll in, holding her hands out. “Spencer!”

He gave a little wave, smoothing his hair, suddenly painfully self-aware and nervous about the opinions of two dozen six-year-olds. “Hi guys.”

“You’re the boy on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone.”

“Your hair is so fluffy!”

“Do you have a cowboy hat?”

“I like your sweater.”

“Can you really do magic?”

“What’s your favorite jell-o?”

“Whoa, okay, let’s remember our mute button,” Y/N, holding up her index card. “I promise you’ll get to ask Spencer all your questions after he reads the story.”

Spencer smiled at the excited faces beaming through the screen. “Yes, I’m on Ms. Y/L/N’s phone; I don’t own a cowboy hat, yet; yes, I really can do magic; and the red jell-o is my favorite.”

Y/N watched with interest as Spencer pulled out his book. He’d been secretive about his choice, so she was as curious as her students.

“This is one of my favorite stories. It’s written by Munro Leaf, and illustrated by Robert Lawson. It’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer held the cover up to the camera. “Ferdinand is the bull here on the cover. This story was written in 1935, which was a long time ago! Okay are you ready?” Spencer looked out on a sea of thumbs up, turning the page to the beginning of the story. “Once upon a time in Spain, there was a bull, and his name was Ferdinand.”

Y/N smiled as she listened to Spencer read each page, recounting the story of the peaceful bull. He was an excellent storyteller, changing the inflection and expression of his voice to match each sentence. He held each page up for just the right amount of time, panning it so her students could see each detail of the black and white pictures. He added his own wonderings and exclamations here and there, and her students were decidedly enthralled. Her heart ached at how comfortable he was, how natural this was for him. She rested her chin in her hand, trying to keep her mind in the present— ignoring the persistent little mental image of Spencer as a dad.

“So they had to take Ferdinand home. And for all I know, he is sitting there still, under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers just quietly. He is very happy… And that’s The Story of Ferdinand.” Spencer closed the book with a soft smile. “I love this story. Ferdinand is a very special bull. What do you think makes him so special?”

“Ferdinand didn’t fight,” a little voice piped up.

“Yes!” Spencer agreed. “He practiced pacifism in the face of the persistent, ingrained militarism of his country’s culture.”

Y/N placed a hand on Spencer’s knee and gave a quick squeeze. “Right, Ferdinand chose not to fight, even though everybody else he knew wanted to.” Y/N winked at him before turning back to the screen full of kids. “All his friends thought he was kind of weird, but he just really wanted to hang out in the shade and smell the flowers, huh? Sounds pretty good to me.”

“He wasn’t bothered that the other bulls thought he was strange for wanting to be peaceful,” Spencer added. “Sometimes being different can be a good thing. The Story of Ferdinand reminds me that it’s okay to be yourself, even if other people think you’re weird.” His eyes met Y/N’s. “Because there will always be people who love and appreciate you for who you are.”

[teawaffles]

The Conspiratorial Bullet: Chapter 2

“Oh my…… I thought this would be nothing more than a war game, but it’s certainly more nerve-wracking than I expected.”

The participants had taken their places, and around five minutes had passed since the game began. Kevin was whispering to Albert beside him as they walked, while pointing the gun he’d received in every direction around him. But in contrast to the jittery man, Albert had the relaxed air of a soldier.

“Certainly, this is a feeling of tension one wouldn’t normally get to experience. In fact, the enemy might just be around that corner.”

“What!? Really?”

Panicked, Kevin’s eyes darted all around them in a fluster. That disproportionate reaction elicited a wry laugh from Albert.

“Although it’s important to be aware of your surroundings, if you’re that stiff, your movements will be slow when it’s time to fight. Please relax a little.”

“I-I see. Yes, you’re right……”

Kevin nodded. Beside him, Albert’s guard was impeccable as he watched the leaves swaying in the slight breeze.

The playing field encompassed the entire forest. That said, as it wasn’t a vast area, there was no danger of getting lost. In addition, there was a little cabin in the woods, used on a daily basis by the gamekeeper who managed the hunting grounds; as they had obtained permission to use it during the game, indoor battles were also an option.

For the purposes of safety, all players were obliged to wear spectacles shaped to resemble goggles, as well as bulletproof vests. The guns they had been issued fell into two categories: revolvers and sniper rifles. As a forfeit, and also to pass the time, eliminated players were tasked to feed pheasant chicks at a game bird nursery a good distance away.

Incidentally, Herder had also wanted to impose a severe punishment in the event a gun was damaged. Foreseeing that this would create needless worry, Moran and the others had swiftly hushed him before the words left his mouth.

Thinking back to the explanation of the rules, Kevin looked at the revolver in his hand.

“In any case, this gun is exquisitely crafted. As it was mentioned earlier that the guns used fake bullets, I imagined it would resemble a toy, but it looks exactly like the real thing.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, though it’s all due to Herder’s exceptional skill. I heard he oversaw the creation of these weapons down to the finest details.”

Kevin looked at the card attached to his gun with string. Written on it was a number 8.

“I see: so this is a measure to prevent the guns from getting lost. But if they are so important, I thought it would be safer to carve the numbers directly onto them.”

“You may be right; in which case, we may’ve caused everyone some inconvenience.”

Albert said that with a slightly apologetic tone, and Kevin waved it off.

“No, no — if anything, it reflects his passion, and I honestly respect that. Even though I work in a different field, I have a lot to learn from him as a professional.”

“Thank you very much. I’m sure Herder would be delighted to hear that,” Albert replied, with sincere joy.

However, in an instant, Kevin’s expression seemed to grow a little darker.

“Still, maybe I shouldn’t have brought Helena here after all. She absolutely insisted on coming, so I relented, but with the guns looking so real, that…… I wonder if it’ll remind her of that incident.”

Albert could sense what he was trying to say.

“For that, I sincerely apologise. This event must seem somewhat inappropriate after what she went through.”

Hearing Albert take his remark so seriously, Kevin tried to explain himself in a fluster.

“N-No, it’s alright, I did not mean it as criticism. Besides, Helena seemed to be especially enjoying herself too.”

“Nonetheless, please allow me to apologise, for it may be the case that she’s simply putting up a strong front.”

At that, Kevin cocked his head in confusion.

“……Then, why did you decide to hold this game?”

Albert’s reply sounded almost as if he was speaking to himself.

“——Because it’s part of our ‘plan’.”

“Huh?”

Unsure of the meaning behind that word, the question fell from his lips before he could stop himself. But Albert did not elaborate further.

The conversation had unwittingly ground to a halt. Just as Kevin was searching for a different topic to talk about, Albert’s sharp gaze landed on a nearby thicket.

“There’s someone there.”

“Huh? Really?”

Bewildered, Kevin looked in the same direction. Then they heard the sound of leaves rustling, and the undergrowth parted to reveal an elderly nobleman.

Seeing the person before them, Albert lowered his gun. A warm smile rose to his face.

“……So it was you, Lord Andy. I thought you were the enemy.” [1]

“Hello, Albert-kun. Just for fun, I thought I’d hide and see how long it took you both to spot me, but it seems you discovered me instantly. As expected of the young, your perceptiveness is incredibly sharp,” he laughed, ruffling his own short white hair. He was also on the same team as Albert and Kevin.

The elderly nobleman was Andy Krueger, whose estate extended across the surrounding lands; he also owned the hunting grounds on which the game was being held. Today’s game had been brought into reality after Albert proposed the idea to him.

For such an important gathering on the social calendar, one would normally be hesitant to transform it into an unorthodox event like this. But Andy had jumped at the offer, and even offered his opinions on the finer points of the game. Because of this generous and broad-minded nature of his, he also had the trust of the other nobles.

At the man’s arrival, for some reason, Kevin sighed in relief.

“Please don’t surprise me like that — unlike Lord Albert, I was frightened half to death.”

“Sorry about that, Kevin-kun. But aren’t you being too timid? Have a little more nerve!”

“I’ll do my best.”

At their friendly banter, Albert seemed curious.

“Are both of you already acquainted?”

“Yes,” Kevin affirmed. “We got to know each other when Helena’s father and I were gaining recognition in London. Ever since that time, the nobility had not looked fondly upon us, and only Lord Andy treated us as equals.”

Kevin looked gratefully at the nobleman as he said this, and Andy clapped his shoulder heartily.

“Those aristocrats are really quite averse to the changing times, it seems. But I have no interest in such dreadful traditions. Even at the gathering earlier, they were keeping their distance and saying such rude things that I had to tell them off. Although I hadn’t seen them in a while, because of that, I didn’t even get a chance to say hello— Ah, apologies.”

“No, it’s fine, Lord Andy. You don’t have to apologise,” Kevin said, waving both hands in the air. “Rather, after hearing that you went to such lengths for a good-for-nothing like me, I’m truly grateful.”

“What’s this? Timid as ever, I see,” Andy barked. “You’re an excellent businessman, so why not act like it?”

Then the elderly nobleman’s expression, which had been cheerful thus far, clouded over just a little.

“Nevertheless, I still feel sorry for your friend. At least, his daughter Helena seems to be doing well…… Have there been no clues even now?”

Kevin’s tone also grew heavy.

“……None at all. Helena believes he’s alive, but personally, I think he’s no longer……”

“He’d suddenly vanished, didn’t he?”

Out of the blue, Albert cut in. The two men were startled, but Albert continued with a somewhat knowing look.

“After the incident at the department store, I became curious, and tried doing some research into it myself. It seems there are various peculiarities about this case. For one, the store Helena’s father opened with Mr Kevin had been a success, but one day, he simply disappeared without warning. On the night he was thought to have disappeared, when he was having dinner at home, a friend testified that nothing had seemed particularly off about him.”

“Moreover, that was the last time I saw him. I never thought it would be the last conversation we’d have together……”

Kevin — the friend who’d testified — said so in a thin voice, the corners of his mouth twitching as if in self-mockery.

“Of course, at first, the police suspected that I had something to do with it. They even went to the trouble of thinking up a motive: that as a co-owner, I would stand to gain all the store’s profits if he were to disappear.”

Thinking back to that false accusation, Kevin’s shoulders drooped. Seeing that, Andy addressed him in a droll voice.

“Come now, you never know — one day he might just come home all of a sudden. I’ve told you before: there’s nothing we can do at present, and on top of that, worrying unnecessarily will only injure your health.”

“……You’re right. Besides, we’re supposed to be having fun right now: if I’m the only one being so grave, I’ll just be putting a damper on things.”

“Exactly, exactly. Well then, let’s get back to the game,” Andy urged, thumping him on the back.

Albert, who had been watching their exchange with a calm gaze, smiled gently.

“Indeed; let us focus on the competition first. By the way, it’s about time for us to get our blood pumping…… I’d like to advance deeper into enemy territory. What say you two?”

At his invitation, Kevin quickly shook his head.

“No no no! Frankly, since the start of the game, my heart’s felt like it’s about to explode! Anything more than this and it’ll stop altogether!”

But the elderly nobleman threw his head back in hearty laughter.

“You young people have so much energy, it’s making me jealous. Kevin-kun, you’ve got to watch and learn as well.”

“No…… When I think about what lies ahead, somehow my legs can’t stop shaking,” Kevin murmured weakly. His legs were indeed trembling pitifully, so much so it wouldn’t be surprising for them to give out any moment now.

Andy sighed, as if astonished.

“It can’t be helped then. Sorry, Albert-kun — it seems he can’t go on. I’d like to say that I’ll go with you in his stead, but…… for some reason, my legs have been hurting for a while now. Despite my high spirits, my years have bested me today,” he laughed wryly, his expression weak.

Albert nodded firmly.

“I understand. Well then, let’s part ways here. I wish you both the best of luck.”

“T-Take care……”

Watching Albert’s brave figure as he walked gallantly into the depths of the forest, Kevin felt ashamed at his own cowardice once again.

Scoreboard

🔹 Blue team: Albert, Jack, Fred, William, Kevin, Andy

🔺 Red team: Moran, Bond, Louis, Helena

Footnotes:

[1] Andy’s title is not formally given in the story, but judging from the amount of land he owns, I think it’s safe to say that he’s a member of the peerage like Albert, and hence should be addressed as “Lord Andy”. (Wikipedia)

[kim-ruzek]

The World is Brighter Now that You're Here

Summary: Set after 2.06. Adam comes home to Kim, hurt and bruised, and in need of a hug and comfort to decompress after the day.

Warnings: Mentions of prison, solitary, being beaten and injured.

Word Count: 3.5k

Read on AO3

Notes: I started this ages ago, and only just finished it. I was going to wait a few more hours before posting but I decided to go a little earlier to bring some light and cheer up @justanoffalygirl !!!

Adam stands in front of the door, his face and body still aching from the hits he received.

It’s just after eleven pm now, and it’s not even close to the latest time he’s come home before, but he’s not home, he’s here, and suddenly the time feels ever so late, suffocatingly late.

Questions, doubts, of whether he should, whether he can, just turn up here plagued his mind the whole journey, and he had hoped that when he gets here, when he stands in front of this door, like is he now, like he did months before, feeling similarly anxious, that when he got here those doubts would be gone, the questions would be answered. That he would know if he should be here, if this is something he should do, or if he should just turn away and go home like everything thinks he would be doing tonight.

Adam looks down at the key in his hand, wondering if he should use it. Kim had given it to him a month or so ago, at the same time he had given her a key to his place. They had decided it was best, considering one of them usually gets off work before the other and it makes it easier to go to the other’s place if they have the key.

Since then, Adam has used this key a number of times. Albeit less than she’s used his, his apartment being their usual choice to be, and it being a rarity that she gets off work later than he does. Most of the time Adam’s used this key in the morning, when he’s at her apartment grabbing some clean clothes for her as she wakes up at his, so that she could spend more time calmly waking up instead of having to rush.

But he’s never used it like this. He’s used it at night before—actually, he thinks he may have used it more at these sort of times than earlier in the evening—but not like this, not unexpected, unplanned. Always when they’ve agreed to spend the night together, always when she’s expecting him.

The case today, what happened, what he had to do, it was a busy day. A busy couple of days. It was one of those cases, and then there was the uncover aspect, something they had to do then, no time to spare. Adam barely had time to tell Kim what was happening—in fact he didn’t even tell her himself. Kev did, because Kev can. Kev could ask for a few minutes to get Kim, to fill her in, to ask for her to sort things for Jordan and Vinessa. Adam couldn’t, because as far as everyone’s concerned him and Kim are just co workers, friends, nothing more. And he doesn’t have any dependents that she knows well, no reason to need to have a few minutes with her before walking into the lion’s mouth.he case today, what happened, what he had to do, it was a busy day. A busy couple of days. It was one of those cases, and then there was the uncover aspect, something they had to do then, no time to spare. Adam barely had time to tell Kim what was happening—in fact he didn’t even tell her himself. Kev did, because Kev can. Kev could ask for a few minutes to get Kim, to fill her in, to ask for her to sort things for Jordan and Vinessa. Adam couldn’t, because as far as everyone’s concerned him and Kim are just co workers, friends, nothing more. And he doesn’t have any dependents that she knows well, no reason to need to have a few minutes with her before walking into the lion’s mouth.

These are the times Adam hates the most about needing to keep their relationship secret. It can be a strain having to be around her and not being able to kiss her senseless, to not being able to let everyone know she’s his and he’s hers, but there’s still a thrill in it, an excitement of sneaking kisses, of discreetly giving her hand quick squeezes, of catching her eye and pouring all his affection and lust for her into it while looking unaffected, like he’s not looking at the girl he so yearns for every time they’re apart.

But there’s no thrill about these times. There’s no thrill about having to walk into a dangerous situation, knowing that you didn’t even get to give your girl a kiss before doing so. Knowing that you hadn’t got to look into her wide, beautiful eyes that day, that you hadn’t had your heart warmed by the look of care and affection she gives you. That you hadn’t kissed her soft lips, hadn’t hand her smile at you so beautifully. Knowing that anything could happen, and that he didn’t get to see her one more time, see how she looks at him with faith, faith and belief he’s never quite had from anyone else before, didn’t get to experience the confidence it helps to ignite in him because he knows he can do anything if Kim Burgess believes in him. Knowing that you might die and the last time you kissed her, stroked her face, wrapped your arm around her was more than twenty-four hours before.

Kevin got a three minute long conversation, and probably a quick hug. Adam had to start preparing to leave, preparing to get into an orange jumpsuit and pretend he was a criminal, all while pretending he didn’t want to go straight to Kim, that he didn’t want her in his arms one more time, no matter how brief, and that he wasn’t feeling a weird sort of jealousy that Kevin gets to see her before they leave, and all Adam gets is a quick text from her saying be safe x.

The fact that she texted him straight after Kevin left her warmed his heart, making it twist in a way that up until he met her, Adam had never felt before. She didn’t have much time herself as her shift had begun, but she still immediately texted him, still needing to have some sort of communication with him as much as he needed with her.

Adam had only time to fire a quick text back—as if he could ever put into words how he was feeling in a message anyway. It was a confident, normal reply, a simple always am, darling. A message that when Kim reads it she’ll picture his smirk, the one that always makes her roll her eyes with the undercurrent of affection, imagining the cockiness, the confidence he sent it with, because doing this stuff, doing this dangerous stuff is just what he does. That’s what he wanted her to picture, knowing that if he can’t flirt with her he wants her to picture him, knowing she’ll read the message, smile and blush a little at it, biting down on her lip as to not look like she just got a text from her secret boyfriend.

He didn’t want her to picture him like how he was, full of nerves because this wasn’t just walking into gunfire, and because he’s not just him, he’s hers. Her boyfriend, her man, the one she’s chosen for god knows what reason to let into that part of her life. She’s someone he needs to think about, that his life isn’t just his own, it’s hers. This is something that’s always on his mind every time he goes into dangerous situations, more and more frequently now—never happened with Wendy, but this is Kim, and Kim isn’t Wendy, she’s Kim—but this felt more restricting, more present and on his mind than usual. And Adam didn’t even have the time to consider all the implications and meanings behind this feeling.

He does now. He’s been thinking about everything he’s felt today, the need to be with her, the thought that everything will feel okay as soon as he sees her, sees her looking at him, see her smiling at him. Adam thought about it when in prison, he thought about it when he was getting stitched up and treated, he thought about on the whole journey here.

They’re barely months into this relationship, yet the way he feels about her, the way she’s in his thoughts, the way he can’t bare the thought of ever leaving her without him, because he’s her man and he wants to be her everything one day. The safe arms she runs to when scared, the source of her laughter when she’s happy, the first person she sees when she wakes up and the last person she sees when she falls asleep. He wants to be it all, and he wants her to be his everything. She is his everything, and it’s been such a short time, but she is and he knows it.

And it scares Adam, the thought that it’s still such an early relationship, still in it’s infancy, that normally at this stage he doesn’t miss his girl like this, doesn’t feel this deep with her and yet with Kim, with Kim he does. That Adam realised because of all this that she’s the girl he could fall deep in love with and never be able to fall out from, and that he doesn’t want to. He wants to fall head over heels for her, he wants to fall for no other woman, that he wants to keep going down this path, no matter how fast it all feels, no matter how much that scares him.

That knowledge doesn’t help him now, in fact instead of chasing away his fear, the knowledge that he wants to feel all this returns it tenfold to him. Adam stands here, in front of her apartment door, holding the key she gave him in his hand, a bundle of nerves and questions going around and round in his head.

They’ve never discussed if they’re allowed to just turn up, not this late, not just letting themselves in. They’ve always had plans, they’ve always texted and arranged before, and if they ever just turn it it’s been the evening at the latest, and they’ve announced their presence with a knock.

Adam considers knocking now, but it’s eleven at night, getting closer and closer to midnight the longer he stands here debating what to do. Kim’s had a long shift, and he knows that the likelihood of her being awake, especially awake and not in bed, is slim and the thought of waking her up hurts his heart to even take the option seriously.

To use the key, to enter her home, or not to use the key, to not enter her home. That is the question, going over and over in Adam’s mind, all the answers feeling wrong and none feeling right.

It feels wrong to be here, to be so obvious in his neediness, in his need for her, to be with her. It feels wrong, because of his uncertainty of undisclosed rules, of if he’s allowed to use her house key like this. Every day at work they face people who’s had home invasions, he knows just how precious home safety can feel. And just because she gave him this key, just because she’s given him permission to use it, they’ve never clarified like this. Turning up at night, out the blue, with no call ahead.

There’s a part of his mind that is telling him Kim won’t mind, that he’s her man, he had implicit permission. But Adam respects her so, so much, that the murkiness of boundaries undiscussed hurts his brain. The thought of him betraying her trust, her safety, her boundaries is a painful one, one that aches his heart and makes him oh so protective of her. Kim, Kim is fast becoming his everything, and Adam doesn’t ever want her to hurt, least of all because of him.

And yet, it feels wrong, so wrong, too wrong to even think about walking away from this door. From walking away from her, and turning around to go home. The last twenty four hours have been tough, have been stressful, and all he wants is to be in her bed, to have her in his arms, the smell of her shampoo and body wash all around him.

There’s no right answers here, yet one thing rings clear, prominent through all his muddled thoughts. And that’s he doesn’t think he can rest, can relax, can sleep and put the day’s events behind him if he doesn’t see her, doesn’t hear her, doesn’t feel her, hug her, kiss her.

With that in his mind, Adam takes a deep breath and unlocks her door. He quietly opens it, and shuts it just as quietly, placing his keys in the bowl by the door. The apartment is dark, quiet, and Adam feels like he doesn’t belong. It’s quiet, peaceful, delicate. And Adam feels too big, too loud and clumsy, like his mere presence is disturbing everything, that he’s an intruder, breaking the tranquillity.

Adam slips off his shoes, Kim’s voice echoing in his mind of all the times she’s told him to before. There’s a thought present in his mind that he’s being presumptuous, premature in his actions, that just because he’s crossed her threshold doesn’t mean she’ll let him stay.

It’s a stupid thought, he knows, based only in irrationality and insecurity. They’re dating, he’s her boyfriend, she’s not going to turn him away just because he’s uninvited. Especially when he’s just came here to sleep, not to disturb her night plans or ask her to do something with him. But he feels so vulnerable, because he needs her, and it’s scary just how much he does, so his insecurities run wild, ruling his mind, filling it with doubts and what-ifs.

Her bedroom is just there, beyond the curtain divide, and Adam swallows, feeling all nervous and anxious, not unalike a schoolboy going on his first date. He shouldn’t feel like this. He’s a man, he’s been here before, she’s his girl, and yet, yet he can’t stop feeling nervous, scared. Scared that she’ll not understand just how much he needs her and push him aside. Scare that she will understand, will see through him in that expert way she does, and that she won’t like what she sees and she’ll reject him. For not being strong, for not being a man.

As quietly as possible, Adam walks to her bedroom, pushing aside the curtain as he does so. Kim’s lying there, in her bed, her hair spread out across the pillow, cocooned in her sheets. He can barely see her face, or any of her, so shielded by the covers and darkness but Adam’s taken back by her. He knows her beauty, he knows how stunningly gorgeous she always looks, how peaceful she looks as she slumbers, but that’s not why he’s taken back. He’s taken back by the sudden ache in his heart at the sight of her, the twist of affection, the softness he feels towards her and how it surges as soon as he lays his eyes on her.

She is his world, that much Adam can no longer deny. He doesn’t know yet if he’s in love, if what he’s feeling is going to evolve into that all-consuming deep love that everyone talks about yet he’s never felt, if the way he feels about her is going to last, to just keep getting deeper and stronger as the days go on like he thinks, feels, wants. But he knows that as far as he’s concerned, for now, and hopefully forever, his world is lit up by her, is warmed by her, is her.

Adam must’ve made a sound as he approaches her bed, taking off his coat, as Kim sleepily turns to face him. She blinks a few times as she focuses on him, looking briefly confused as she’s pulled out of her sleep.

“Adam?” Her voice is a little rough. She’s looking sleepy, but not that sleepy, not like she was in the middle of a deep slumber, and Adam feels gratefulness at that, that he hasn’t disturbed her too much, and warmth at how he can so easily tell because he knows her.

“Hey, baby.” Adam greets her softly. Kim smiles at him, at his words, at his presence and it makes his heart beat that little bit quicker.

“No, no, don’t sit up, darlin’,” Adam then quickly says as Kim goes to move, goes to prop herself more up. “I’m coming to join you.” He quickly takes off his shirt and trousers, before kneeling on her bed, and slipping under the covers himself.

Her warmth immediately welcomes him, and before he can even make the motion to pulling her into his arms, she’s moving towards him, sinking her body into his, nuzzling her head into his chest, into the dip of his neck, breathing him in.

“I missed you,” she mumbles against him. Adam wraps his arms around her body, cuddling her into him, stroking her hair softly before kissing the top of her head.

“I missed you, too,” he whispers back to her. They stay like that for a few minutes, only the soft, calm sounds of their breathing to be heard in the silence, and Adam thinks that he could stay like this forever.

Kim then pulls back, and Adam immediately misses her, his arms feeling too empty, too cold without her. She goes to say something, but then she looks at him, able to see his face properly now they’re closer, and her mouth drops slightly as she takes him in, takes in his bruises. Gently, she rises a hand to his face, to his hurt skin, softly running her fingers against the wounds.

“Adam, baby, what happened?” She asks, her eyes looking down him, her other hand pulling down the covers to take a look at his equally bruised body. Adam gives her a dry smile, trying his hardest to look unaffected.

“Some of that is Kev—we had to stage a fight, and man, he can throw a punch, remind me never to get on the wrong side of him. And some of it is from prison guards.” Adam tells her. He knows she doesn’t know much about their case, only that he and Kevin had to go undercover in prison, but he wishes she knew it all right now, so they could skip to her comforting him knowing all the facts.

Kim gives him a careful eye, looking him up and down again. “From the fight?” she asks, sitting herself up slightly. Adam half nods, half shrugs his shoulders, yet again trying to look unaffected.

“Because of the fight they had to put me in solitary. Right after I found out Kev had been outed as a cop, I told the guards I needed to speak to Antonio—who was undercover as a guard—to warn Kev, but they didn’t listen to me and instead beat the shit out of me,” Adam tells her, watching as Kim’s expression turns horrified.

“Oh baby,” she says, immediately cuddling back in close to him, pulling him into her arms. This, accepting her comfort, being grateful for her care and love, goes against everything his Pops ever taught him about dealing with being a cop, but Adam knows that his dad is wrong, because this feels so right.

“It’s Kev. He could’ve,” Adam breaks off, burying his head into Kim instead. She strokes his hair, his neck, his back.

“I know, baby, I know,” she says and Adam knows that she does. That Kim instantly got all that he’s felt today, all that he’s feeling, because she always does, because she’s his girl, the one person he can be him, and that she can always see through him.

“I’m sorry for coming here unannounced,” he says a little bit later, after he’s cuddled into her, and felt the worst of the days tensions melt around him. “I just needed to see you,” he tells her.

“Adam.” Kim pulls away from him then, and he panics, a fierce, strong panic gripping his heart as he worries that he’s said too much, that she’s going to push him away. She holds his face softly in her hands.

“You never have to apologise for that. Come here, come to me, whenever you like and need.” And just like that, all Adam’s anxieties fade away, leaving just the thought that of course she’d respond like that because Kim is amazing, Kim is his world, Kim understands him better than anyone ever has.

“And I was missing you so much. I always do. And if I knew you were hurt, I’d have told you to come straight here because I need to see you whenever you’re hurting,” She adds on and Adam’s heart constricts and he almost blurts out I love you, surprising him. He’s never had that urge before knowing, before it’s clear exactly how he feels, and it’s almost scary how important she is to him already.

Adam bites back the words, not wanting to say them. Not when his feelings still feel so big and scary, not when the relationship is still oh so new. Instead, he settles for giving her a kiss, infusing it with all that he’s feeling.

He pulls back and Kim is smiling at him, and it’s such a beautiful smile, and Adam doesn’t let his mind wonder dangerous paths that much, but the thought that maybe, just maybe, she’s feeling exactly the same about him is one that he can’t help thinking.

“C’mon, let’s get some sleep,” Kim says, lying back down, pulling him with her before nestling into his arms.

And with Kim in his arms, his heart as warm as her soft breath against his chest, Adam knows that what he thought earlier, about not being home, was wrong because here, with her, with Kim, he is home, because she is his home, his heart, his world.

And it’s still so new, and so, so scary, but he feels so loved, so cared for, so warm and welcome, that he knows he wouldn’t have it be any other way.

[bqstqnbruin]

#74 & #87 w Hayes ? of the list #2

74. “You’re so cute.”

87. “Oh my god, I love you.”

I have no idea how to write for kevin hayes so this is the result of that

also yes ofc I had to pick the gif of him in sox gear even though I’m not a red sox fan do y’all even know my baseball team

Happy blurb weekend!

________________

The four and a half years that Kevin was in New York was enough for the two of you to start a relationship, nothing really serious. You had your ups and your downs as any relationship would. His trade to Winnipeg felt like nothing, you completely unattached to him at that point. You missed him sometimes, seeing something that would remind you of him and have the good memories flooding back of your time with him. You had moved on, assuming that he did, too. 

“We could go to the Rangers game tonight?” your boyfriend, Sam, suggests, faulting his ways of getting last minute tickets for any Rangers home game. You never questioned how he did it, but you almost never took him up on that option.

“Or we could just go out to dinner. Or stay in.” 

He sighs, knowing why you didn’t want to go to the game. The Flyers were in town. He knew you avoided them at all costs, but you never told him why. “Dinner it is, then.”

He finds a restaurant to take you to near MSG, thankful that you didn’t question his choice. He was determined to get you to tell what your issue with the Flyers was. 

The two of you get seated, your back towards the TV that was showing the game. You were cracking jokes, chirping each other, the normal playful banter that the two of you had going on full display. “You’re so cute,” he flirts with you, taking your hand across the table.

“Why, thank you,” you bash, letting out a giggle at his flirting. 

Sam turns his attention towards the TV, the smile on his face fading slightly. “What is it with you and the Flyers. Why won’t you talk to me about it?” 

You take in a deep breath, knowing that he was bound to bring it up at some point, clearly not buying the ‘bad experience with Flyer’s fans in college’ excuse that you had given in the past. “Because we haven’t gotten to the point in our relationship where we talk about ex’s yet.”

His jaw drops, eyes darting between you and the TV. “Did you date one of them?”

You scrunch up your face, trying to figure out how to downplay it. “Maybe.”

“Who?”

“Kevin Hayes.”

“Was it serious?”

“I mean,” you shrug. “I wasn’t in love with him, or anything. I doubt he was in love with me. When he got traded, nothing really felt different. If you got transferred or something, I would be a mess,” you reassure him.  

What you told Sam was true, and he seemed to be satisfied by that answer. You excuse yourself to that bathroom, able to hear a lot of noise from some group coming in on the other side of the door. You open it to return to Sam, careful so that you don’t hit anyone who happened to be on the other side. You bump into someone by accident, apologizing before you realize who it was. “Oh, my God.” 

Kevin was standing there, not sure what to do. He hadn’t seen you since he was traded to Winnipeg, not even sure if you knew he was playing for Philly at this point. He had no idea what to say, blurting out, “I still love you.” He watched you recoil at his words, giving him no choice but to turn around, heading out of the restaurant and leaving his teammates calling after him, you still standing there to figure out what he just said.

[thepointoftheneedle]

Fragment

I’m really enjoying the fragments (and I freaked myself out with that word count thing so I’m taking some time off from writing....note to self -NEVER look at the stats page.). Anyway I keep trying to write this little soulmate thing but, without me intending it, it always becomes an academic paper on the philosophy of colour perception.  And I can’t imagine anybody but me is interested in that!

Below the cut anyway....(I guess this should have been for Friday but what the heck...)

His eyes fluttered open as he awakened but, feeling the warmth of the sleeping girl by his side, he closed them tightly.  He wanted them to have this experience together.  Nothing would ever be the same for them again.  It was a special moment for a couple and he wanted it to be perfect.  He had installed the app on his phone so he fumbled for it, knocking some loose papers from the nightstand and cursing gently.  She mumbled and stirred so he put his hand over her eyes.  “What the hell J?  What’re you doing?”  

“I’m opening up ‘Soul Truth.’  We can look together.”

“Oh J, no, don’t do that,” she moaned softly, beseechingly.

“Ssh, don’t worry.  It’ll be great.”  He kissed her gently, voice-activated the app and removed his hand from her eyes.  She was looking at him, not the screen so he gently turned her head and looked down as she did.  The screen was a uniform blue.  His stomach lurched.  It must be a glitch.  “Wait, wait a second,” he muttered, clicking the app closed and reopening it.  Solid blue.  He looked at her and saw the sadness in her beautiful dark eyes.  Sadness but not surprise.  

She reached out a hand and stroked his cheek softly, “Hey, I’m sorry J.  I didn’t want to disappoint you but I already knew.  I just didn’t feel it last night.”

“Jeez Rox, I’m so sorry.  I can do better, you just have to tell me what I did wrong.  I know I can be what you want. I thought you’d…I thought I felt you...”

“I did, Jughead, of course I did.  Listen.  It was great.  You were great.  So tender and kind.  It was beautiful and I really had a good time but it wasn’t…I don’t know.  It wasn’t whatever soul mates have.  You’ve heard Fangs talk about it.  It’s next level.  Transcendent.  What we had was great sex, but it was just great sex.  No angelic chorus.  You had to feel that?” She was normally tough and streetwise but now her voice was gentle, trying not to hurt him.  There was a painful lump in his throat.

“I thought it was transcendent, you were anyway. I think I’m falling in love with you Roxie.”  His voice was quavering.  He was ashamed of his weakness.  “It has to be a mistake. It’s the app.  It has to be.”  Abruptly he was up and heading down the hallway before she could say another word.  “Fangs, “ he yelled.  “You in there?” He stood waiting, shivering, in his boxers, while disgruntled groaning emanated from the room, until eventually the door opened a crack and Fangs peered out at him.

“Jones, the building better be on fire.  We didn’t get in til four.  What time is it?”

“Just after eight.  Look, is this broken?”

Fangs looked at the proffered screen blearily then a small smile appeared on his face.  “Aww cute bunny.”  Jughead snatched the screen back and swiped up.  An image appeared in his visible spectrum of a cartoon bunny rabbit holding out a carrot.  The legend underneath read “I wuv you.” 

“Uggh, why don’t they have something with a bit of gravitas?  Shit.  Fuck it!”  Jug turned around just as Fangs understood the situation.  

“Oh my god Jughead!  Did you and Rosaline finally do the do? Oh shit…you can’t see that can you? Oh Christ man, I’m so sorry.” 

Jug swallowed down his disappointment, just like he had been swallowing down his anger and sorrow and guilt and sadness for most of his life and shrugged at Fangs.  “No biggie.  Apparently I’m destined to die alone.  Whatever.”  He stalked off back to his own room only to find Roxie already getting dressed. “Roz, shit, can’t we talk about this?  Don’t go. Maybe it’ll happen later, perhaps it’s not always instant?”

Her voice was low and mournful when she spoke. “J I really care about you, you’re my good friend, but we’re both searching for something that we’re never going to be able to give each other. Let’s just take some time apart.  Maybe in a few months we’ll be able to go back to being pals again.  I’m really sorry that you’re disappointed.”  With that she was gone in a whisk of magenta hair and Cabotine perfume.

He sat on his bed and stared into space.  He’d been so sure.  She was a dear friend, she understood him, laughing at the same things, enjoying the same movies.  There was never any stress or conflict with her.  It was easy. She indulged his bad moods and cajoled him out of sulks with food and silly jokes.  He knew enough to leave her well alone when she was getting into one of her rages.  Then gradually, as they worked together on the documentary project, he found himself wanting to touch her hair, wanting to hold her tiny body against his in a protective embrace, wanting to make her feel good with his touches.  She’d seemed uncertain but he’d persevered, wooed her really.  Then finally, excited and giddy after the showcase where their documentary project had taken first place she’d kissed him and whispered, “Do you want to go back to your place?”  He’d been so happy as they’d crunched back to his apartment through the first snow of the winter.  He’d wondered if it might happen when they finished the film.  While sex tended to be the main way that a soul bond was revealed, a lot of soul mates actually bonded on completion of some other kind of shared project.  It hadn’t happened then but he’d been so sure that, if they made love, it would click and the missing shade would be revealed to them.  And then it hadn’t happened.

The app was pretty new.  Before the advent of the smart phone, folks would have a painting or a poster in their homes.  To those who were not matched it would look like an ordinary scene but once a soul bond was formed, the missing colour in the spectrum was revealed, and the soul mates could read the message in the image.  It was a little like a magic eye poster.  You looked at it for a moment or two and then the missing colour reconciled itself into words or an image.  Originally they had some gnomic inspirational quotation.   The one in the trailer he grew up in had, his mom said, had the Rolling Stone’s lyric, “You can't always get what you want but if you try sometime you find you get what you need.” Ironically FP and Gladys had been neither what the other wanted nor what they needed.  Later it would turn out that FP had lied when he stood in front of that poster and told the innocent, love-struck young girl, wrapped in the sheet from his bed, that he saw it  for the first time too. Actually he’d already bonded with someone else, someone who had no intention of getting tied up with a guy in a gang from the wrong side of the tracks.  He must have thought it was his lucky day, a second chance for happiness, when the beautiful girl he’d been romancing excitedly admitted that she could see the colour for the first time.  He’d nodded enthusiastically, said, “Yeah, me too,” and whisked her away to a world of damp trailers, drunken arguments and angry guys repossessing their truck, or the tv, or the kids’ toys.  She’d stayed because she believed he was her soul mate.  She thought she had no other options until, in a drunken rage, he’d revealed that it had always been a lie. She snatched up her daughter and left him.  And left the boy too, unwilling to take a kid who looked so much like the man she had been fool enough to trust and who had ruined her life with his lies.

The fact that scumbags with no moral scruples lied about this shit had led to the development of checking apps like Soul Truth, “the truth, the soul truth and nothing but the truth” according to the tag line.  You both looked at the screen and noted down what you saw, then swiped up and the image was revealed in ordinary unbonded colours.  It made it harder for predators and perverts to take advantage of young innocents while their good sense was overwhelmed by romantic dreams.  It also revealed that about ten percent of bonds were unreciprocated like Jughead’s parents, one of the couple bonded and the other didn’t.  Those couples had to decide if they would make that work, aware that one was more invested than the other, or if it was better to simply part, the bonded still feeling that desperate pull to their mate even decades later. Jug guessed he should be relieved that he hadn’t seen the colour that morning since, clearly, Roz was just not that into him.

He’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the rug like that for thirty minutes when Fangs tapped softly on the door.  “Not now,” he snapped but Fangs ignored him and pushed open the door.

“Ok Jug.  I know you’re upset but it just means you haven’t found her yet.  She’s still out there and if you go into one of your epic sulks you’ve got less chance of meeting her.  What classes have you got today?”

“Nothing I can’t cancel.  Everyone’s cramming for Finals.  I was supposed to meet the princess to go over the final layout for the literary magazine.  She can do it on her own.  She’ll like that better anyway.” 

Now Kevin joined his boyfriend in the room, both of them making him feel self indulgent and guilty with their solicitousness.  “You shouldn’t shut yourself away and mope, Jughead.  Go and edit like a champ and then come by the theatre for us and we’ll go for burgers. We’re striking the set but we can take a break.  Our treat.  What do you say?”

Jughead pondered for a moment.  Nothing was going to change if he sat here, the princess would  be unbearable if he blew her off, and burgers on someone else’s tab were his favourite kind of burgers, so he grudgingly allowed himself to be persuaded.  

An hour later he was in the midst of a heated argument with the princess about his perfectly legitimate decision to kill a terrible poem about the fall which she, inexplicably, had marked for an already overcrowded page four.  “You can’t just take things out without consultation Forsythe.  We’re an editorial committee, we make decisions together.  It’s supposed to be a collaboration.”

“What, you want to keep this pile of third grade horseshit do you? And you’re just calling me that to make me mad. Don’t think I don’t know.”

“I didn’t say that.  It’s terrible.  It obviously has to go.  But you can’t just do it unilaterally. And you can’t call me Princess and not expect me to retaliate.  You know my name.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Princess... sorry, my humblest apologies, for fuck’s sake Betty.  What the hell are we arguing about if we both think it’s bad and needs to go? And why is it even in here in the first place?”

“It’s in there because we were waiting on your egregiously late piece of sub Lovecraftian geek porn.  I was filling space.  Since you finally got your ass in gear we don’t need it anymore. So spike it.”  She had this way of making him feel like he lost, even when he won an argument.  It was infuriating.

They worked on pagination for another couple of hours with surprisingly little conflict, and then he wrote kickers for a few of the longer submissions, hoping to tempt the reader to give a story a chance.  She made sure the submissions were correctly attributed and that the running heads and page numbers and folios were in place.  Finally it seemed that they were done.  He clicked back to the front page, checked the position of the artwork and the masthead and looked over at her with a questioning expression to see if she was satisfied. She nodded her approval and, at last, under the words “Joint Editors”, he typed "Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones.”    As he clicked ‘save’ something shifted in his field of vision.  He was alarmed, pushing back from the desk and looking around, meeting her startled eyes.  Her green eyes, which weren’t green anymore.  He couldn’t describe what colour they were, there were no words.

“What just happened?” she whispered, obviously badly frightened.  

“Does…does anything look different to you?” he replied, hesitantly, reaching for his phone.

“Yes, everything.  What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. Look at this.” He pulled up the app.  On the screen he could see, without difficulty, a cartoon cat, Pusheen maybe, its paws deep in some dough.  The caption read “I knead you.” As he read the words in his head, she said them aloud. “Fuuuuck,” he murmured.  “I think we’re soulmates, Princess.”

[singledarkshade]

New Old Friend

Epilogue ((Part One,  Part Two, Part Three , Part Four,  Part Five  and Part Six can be found here)

“What did you tell Alison about what happened?” Jack asked as the three men headed into Café Diem.

Rip shrugged, “I just told her the truth. From everything you both said, and from how she reacted to what was going on, I felt it was the best option,” they found an empty booth and Rip took a seat, “If she didn’t understand or felt I was risk then all I had to do was grab the shard and I would jump.”

Henry studied Rip while Jack went to get them some beers.

“What you said to Alison about spending time with Kevin,” Henry said softly, “That sounded like experience.”

Rip stared at him, green eyes filled loss and regret for several seconds before saying, “My wife and son were killed many years ago. It’s a wound that never truly heals.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry sighed, “I shouldn’t…”

“It’s okay,” Rip told him, “I’ve learned to live with it, and I do my best to live for them these days.”

Henry nodded not sure what to say, relieved when Jack returned and placed bottles in front of them.

“Well,” Jack raised his, “To surviving yet another insane day in Eureka and avoiding yet another possible catastrophe.”

Rip and Henry chuckled as they all clinked bottles.

Rip listened as the two men regaled him with tales of the crazy things that happened in the town on an almost weekly basis.

“Dr Fargo appears a great deal in these stories,” Rip noted, “Would it not be a good idea to supervise him a little more?”

Jack shrugged, “Fargo is harmless. Just can’t resist a button.”

“Besides this is what Eureka is about,” Henry told him enthusiasm filling his voice, “The freedom to create even if it is through mistakes.”

Smiling thoughtfully Rip mused, “I wish this place existed in my own universe. I could settle here.”

“As insane as this place is,” Jack said, “It is a good place. My daughter, Zoe, has settled here in a way I never expected.”

“How old is your daughter?” Rip asked.

“Sixteen,” Jack chuckled, “And thankfully no longer actively trying to give me grey hair but still managing to.”

Rip smiled, “So, how did you end up working here? Being the sheriff of a place like this must need some interesting qualifications.”

“Well,” Jack leaned back in his seat, “I was driving Zoe home from LA…”

                                 *********************************************

 “You are still here?”

Rip turned to find Gideon standing in the bedroom of the small house he was using and smiled, “Well, I thought I would rest for tonight before moving on.”

“Then presumably you fixed the problem,” she noted.

“Yes, although it was a close call,” Rip replied, “The energy from the shard has returned to normal. Dr Blake will give me access at noon tomorrow and I will unfortunately leave here.”

Gideon watched him thoughtfully as he changed for bed, “You do like it here.”

“I do,” Rip sighed, “If this place existed in our world, I would have persuaded Miranda to settle here with Jonas. They would love it here.”

As he slid into the bed, Gideon lay at his side, “I know.”

Leaning closer to her Rip sighed, “I say that I’ve learned to live with it but there are days I miss them so much it aches.”

“I know they would be proud though that you have found that strength,” Gideon assured him, “I am.”

Rip smiled at her, “It was nice to spend the night with friends. I’ve never truly had that.”

“If there was a way for you stay here?” Gideon asked, “Would you?”

Reaching out so his hand sat by hers, Rip replied, “Only if you could here with me properly.”

Gideon nodded, “I did look into that.”

“I know,” Rip whispered, “I thought about it too, but the power requirements are astronomical and, even if we didn’t need a physical presence to make the alterations to the engines, there’s always the possibility the Waverider would not survive. Which means I would lose you and that’s something I could never allow.”

They lay in silence for several minutes.

“You never ask about what is happening onboard the ship,” Gideon noted suddenly.

“Since I can’t do anything,” Rip reminded her, “It’s best I don’t know. I’m helpless enough getting thrown from world to world, knowing what Sara and her crew are up to would not be conducive to my sanity. I just have to trust that you will keep them in order until I can get back to you.”

Gideon smiled, “I miss having you where I can watch over you properly.”

“I miss being home with you too. Hopefully one day soon I will be,” he sighed, his eyes closing.

“Sleep, my dearest Captain,” Gideon breathed, “I am watching over you.”

                                 *********************************************

 Rip looked at the people who had come with him to say goodbye. Both Henry and Jack had become friends, Rip knew he was going to miss them, and he was grateful that Alison had allowed him to stay the night so that he could have some time with them as if he was a normal person.

And when he’d woken that morning, Gideon was watching over him.

Looking at the glowing shard in front of him, Rip wished briefly that he could stay here longer but knew it wasn’t an option.

“It’s been interesting to meet you, Rip,” Alison smiled, “And of course Gideon.”

“Well,” Rip said, “Gideon and I are very grateful to you all for your hospitality.”

Jack chuckled, “Just happy you could help us with our problems yesterday.”

“Technically my presence caused both,” Rip said.

Henry shook his head, “We won’t focus on that.”

“Take care, Rip,” Alison said shaking his hand, “And I’ll let you all make your goodbyes.”

With that she left the room.

“It was definitely interesting, Rip,” Jack said, “Take care and I hope you get home soon.”

Shaking the Sheriff’s hand, Rip smiled, “Thank you for not arresting me. It would have been a little annoying to have to break out of the cell.”

“Could you have?” Jack asked.

Shrugging Rip ignored the question, “Look after them all, they clearly need supervision.”

Offering his hand Jack shook Rip’s before he turned to Gideon, “And thank you for your help.”

“You are most welcome, Sheriff,” Gideon replied sweetly.

With a nod Jack left the room as well.

 Henry turned to his friend and offered his hand, smiling as Rip took it, “You changed my life. And I am grateful to you.”

Rip shook his head, “I’m grateful to you, Henry. Very rarely can I relax in any place I drop into but here, you made sure I could.”

“You also allowed me to interact with this world, Dr Deacon,” Gideon stated, “A wonderful treat.”

Henry grinned, “Well, when I first met Rip and he told me about you I had to meet you somehow.”

“It has been a pleasure,” Gideon said softly.

Rip took a deep breath; he knew he was trying to stall leaving because he had no idea what was waiting for him.  Looking up he saw Gideon who nodded, reminding him that she would be there wherever he ended up.

“I’ll hopefully see you soon, Henry,” Rip told his friend before he reached out and touched the shard bright light filling his vision once more.

 The light faded and Rip found he was looking down at a smooth grey floor. Looking up he saw a familiar face staring down at him in shock.

“Hello, Dr Deacon,” Rip said with a smile as he got to his feet, “It’s good to see you again.”

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/7/2020

I missed THE GOLDEN GLOVE at Fantastic Fest last year. It was one of my only regrets of the whole experience, but it was basically mandatory since the available screenings were opposite the much-hyped PARASITE. As annoying as that sounds, it was actually a major compliment, since what could possibly serve as a consolation prize for the most hotly anticipated movie of the year? Needless to say, I heard great things, but I could never have imagined what it was actually like. I'm still wrapping my mind around it.

Between 1970 and 1975, an exceptionally depraved serial killer named Fritz Honka murdered at least four prostitutes in Hamburg's red light district. Today, we tend to think of the archetypal serial killer in terms of ironic contradictions: The public is attracted by Ted Bundy's dashing looks and suave manner, and John Wayne Gayce's dual careers as politician and party clown. Lacking anything so remarkable, we associate psychopathy with Norman Bates' boy-next-door charm, and repeat "It's always the quiet ones" with a smirk whenever a new Jeffrey Dahmer or Dennis Nilsen is exposed to the public. The popular conception of a bloodthirsty maniac is not the fairytale monster of yore, but a wolf in sheep's clothing, whose hygienic appearance and lifestyle belie his twisted desires. In our post-everything world, the ironic surprise has become the rule. In this light, THE GOLDEN GLOVE represents a refreshing return to naked truth.

To say that writer-director Fatih Akin's version of the Fritz Honka story is shocking, repulsive, and utterly degenerated would be a gross understatement. We first meet the killer frantically trying to dispose of a corpse in his filthy flat, wallpapered with porno pinups, strewn with broken toys, and virtually projecting smell lines off of the screen. One's sense of embodiment is oppressive, even claustrophobic, as the petite Honka tries and fails to collapse the full dead weight of a human corpse into a garbage bag, before giving up and dismembering it, with nearly equal difficulty. The scene is appalling, utterly debased, and yet nothing is as shocking as the killer's visage. When he finally turns to look into the camera, it's hard to believe he's even human: the rolling glass eye, the smashed and inflated nose, the tombstone teeth and cratered skin, are almost too extreme to bear. Actually, suffering from a touch of facial blindness, I had to stare intently at Honka's face for nearly half the movie before I could fully convince myself that I was, in fact, looking at an elaborate prosthetic operation used to transform 23 year old boy band candidate Jonas Dassler into the disfigured 35 year old serial murderer.

Though West Germany remained on a steady economic upturn beginning in the 1950s and throughout the 1970s, you wouldn't know it from THE GOLDEN GLOVE. If Honka's outsides match his insides, they are further matched by his stomping grounds in the Reeperbahn, a dirty, violent, booze-soaked repository for the dregs of humanity. Though its denizens may come from different walks of life, one thing is certain: Whoever winds up there, belongs there. Honka was the child of a communist and grew up in a concentration camp, yet he swills vodka side by side with an ex-SS officer, among other societal rejects, in a crumbling dive called The Golden Glove. The scene is an excellent source of hopeless prostitutes at the end of their career, who are Honka's prime victims, as he is too frightful-looking to ensnare an attractive young girl. These pitiful women all display a peculiarly hypnotic willingness to go along with Honka, no matter how sadistic he becomes; this seems to have less to do with money, which rarely comes up, and more to do with their shared awareness that for them, and for Honka too, it's been all over, for a long time.

Not to reduce someone’s performance to their physical appearance, but ???

To call Dassler's portrayal of Honka "sympathetic" would be a bridge too far, but it is undeniably compelling. He supports the startling impact of his facial prostheses with a performance of rare intensity, a full-body transformation into a person in so much pain that a normal life will never become an option. His physical vocabulary reminded me of the stage version of The Elephant Man, in which the lead actor wears no makeup, but conveys John Merrick's deformities using his body alone. Although there is an abundance of makeup in THE GOLDEN GLOVE, Dassler's silhouette and agonized movements would be recognizable from a mile away. In spite of his near-constant screaming rage, the actor manages to craft a rich and convincing persona. During a chapter in which Honka experiments with sobriety, we find a stunning image of him hunched in the corner of his ordinarily chaotic flat, now deathly still, his eyes gazing at nothing as cigarette smoke seeps from his pores, having no idea what to do with himself when he isn't in a rolling alcoholic rampage. The moment is brief but haunting in its contrast to the rest of the film, having everything to do with Dassler's quietly vibrating anxiety.

Performances are roundly excellent here, not that least of which are from Honka's victims. The cast of middle-aged actresses looking their most disastrous is hugely responsible for the film's impact. These are the kinds of performances people call "brave", which is a euphemism for making audiences uncomfortable with an uncompromising presentation of one's own self, unvarnished by any masturbatory solicitation. Among these women is Margarete Tiesel, herself no stranger to difficult cinema: She was the star of 2012's PARADISE: LOVE, a harrowing drama about a woman who copes with her midlife crisis by pursuing sex tourism in Kenya. Her brilliant, instinctive performance as one of Honka's only survivors--though she nearly meets a fate worse than death--makes her the leading lady of a movie that was never meant to have one.

So, what does all this unpleasantness add up to, you might be asking? It's hard to say. THE GOLDEN GLOVE is a film of enormous power, but it can be difficult to explain what the point of it is, in a world where most people feel that the purpose of art is to produce some form of pleasure. This is the challenge faced by difficult movies throughout history, like THE GOLDEN GLOVE's obvious ancestors, HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER, MANIAC and THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE. Describing unremitting cruelty with relentless realism is not considered a worthy endeavor by many, even if there is real artistry in your execution; some people will even mistake you for advocating and enjoying violence and despair, as we live in a world where huge amount of movie and TV production is devoted to aspirational subjects. (The fact that people won't turn away from the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies, no matter how monotonous and condescending they become, should tell you something) How do you justify to such people, that you want to make or see work that portrays ugliness and evil with as much commitment as other movies seek to portray love, beauty, and family values? Why isn't it enough to say that these things exist, and their existence alone makes them worth contemplation?

A rare, perhaps exclusive “beautiful image” in THE GOLDEN GLOVE, from Fritz Honka’s absurd fantasies.

You may detect that I have attempted to have this frustrating conversation with many people, strangers, enemies, and friends I love and respect. I find that for some, it is simply too hard to divorce themselves from the pleasure principle. I don't say this to demean them; some hold the philosophy that art be reserved for beauty, and others have a more literary feeling that it's ok to show characters in grim circumstances, as long as the ultimate goal is to uplift the human spirit. Even I draw the line somewhere; I appreciate the punk rebellion of Troma movies as a cultural force, but I do not enjoy watching them, because I dislike what I perceive as contempt for the audience and the aestheticization of laziness--making something shitty more or less on purpose. A step or three up from that, you land in Todd Solondz territory, where you find materially gorgeous movies whose explicit statement is that our collective reverence for a quality called "humanity" is based on nothing. I like some of those movies, and sometimes I even like them when I don't like them, because I'm entranced by Solondz's technical proficiency...and maybe, deep down, I'm not completely convinced about "humanity", either. However, I don't fight very hard in arguments about him; I understand the objections. Still, I've been surprised by peers who I think of as bright and tasteful, who absolutely hated movies I thought were unassailable, like OLDBOY and WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN. In both cases, the ultimate objection was that they accuse humans of being pretentious and self-deceptive, aspiring to heroism or bemoaning their victimhood while wallowing in their own cowardice and perversity. Ok, I get it...but, not really. Why isn't it ever wholly acceptable to discuss, honestly, what we do not like about ourselves?

The beguiling thing about THE GOLDEN GLOVE is that, although it is instantly horrifying, is it also an impeccable production. The director can't help showing you crime scene photos during the ending credits, and I can't really blame him, when his crew worked so hard to bring us a vision of Fritz Honka's world that approaches virtual reality. But it isn't just slavishly realistic; it is vivid, immersive, an experience of total sensory overload. Not a square inch of this movie has been left to chance, and the product of all this graceful control is totally spellbinding. I started to think to myself that, when you've achieved this level of artifice, what really differentiates a movie like THE GOLDEN GLOVE from something like THE RED SHOES? I mean, aside from their obvious narrative differences. Both films plunge the viewer into a world that is complete beyond imagination, crafted with a rigor and sincerity that is rarely paralleled. And, I will dare to say, both films penetrate to the depths of the human soul. What Fatih Akin finds there is not the same as what Powell and Pressburger found, of course, but I don't think that makes it any less real. Akin's film is adapted from a novel by Heinz Strunk, and apparently, some critics have accused Akin of leaving behind the depth and nuance of the book, to focus instead on all that is gruesome about it. This may be true, on some level; I wouldn't know. For now, I can only insist that on watching THE GOLDEN GLOVE, for all its grotesquerie, I still got the message.

[darkblueboxs]

Behind the Scenes: Iron and Ember

These are scenes from earlier versions of Iron and Ember that ended up getting completely rewritten in later drafts. I felt bad about leaving them to rot in my files forever though, so consider this an insight into the writing process/ an au of an au/ bonus content/ whatever

(Link here if you haven’t read I&E!)

This one comes after Neil and Kevin are attacked by Riko in the forest. It was later replaced by the boat confrontation to fix issues with characterisation/plot holes, but I’m still a sucker for the angstier elements, so:

 They wait until the dawn of the following day to return to what remains of the Fox’s camp. The battlements lie in smoulders, their tents shredded and their shelters kicked to pieces. There is no sign of the other foxes. No blood, no bodies, nothing.

In the middle of the main pavilion they find the body of a fox-antelope, its orange fur matted with red. Neil levers the scroll out from beneath its head and scans it over before handing it to Kevin.

The Foxes have been captured. Riko will release them on one condition; Kevin hands himself over. If not, they will all be killed.

The sound Kevin makes is not recognisable as he falls to his knees. Neil stays standing, but barely. For as long as he can remember, being captured by the Fire Nation was Neil’s greatest fear. It’s only now, faced with the loss of his Foxes, that he realises there is something he fears more than his own death.

He hauls Kevin back to his feet despite the shaking of his own limbs. Kevin’s expression echoes the white-hot fear shaking through Neil’s body. For months, both of them have lived in the relative safety of the Foxes’ encampment, both leaning on the sturdy foundations of Andrew’s protection. The steady presence both of them have grown accustomed to has been ripped out from beneath them, and the ground no longer feels sturdy beneath Neil’s feet. It takes a few moments to remember how to breathe again; when Neil opens his eyes, Kevin is bolting towards the camp’s perimeter.

Thankfully, Neil has always been the quickest of all of them. He tackles Kevin to the ground. The following fight is quick, vicious, and without a clear winner, both of them too exhausted after a night of fight and flight to come out on top.

“You’re not going back to them,” Neil snarls, hands fisting in his collar. “One of us has to survive! Don’t you understand? One of has to make it.”

Kevin grips Neil’s wrist, trying to wrench it back. “And it’s going to be you.”

“No,” says Neil, and it’s as though all the fight leaves him in one syllable. “No, it isn’t.”

Kevin doesn’t understand; Kevin can never understand, because the day he discovers who Neil really is will be the day that Neil’s life with the Foxes is over. Neil can barely live with the danger he puts them in as a runaway of the Fire Nation. Now Kevin and Riko know he isn’t just any runaway, but the Butcher’s son, and the danger has doubled. If any of them discovered that he was an avatar, they wouldn’t stand a chance. Riko would tear the world apart to get his hands on Neil, and destroy anyone who tried to stand in his way.

And they would try to stand in his way. Neil’s Foxes, stubborn, obstinate, endlessly caring. They never know when to back down from a fight, and he loves them for it. They wouldn’t give Neil up without a fight.

This leaves him with only one option.

He has to let them go.

“I have a plan.” He lets go of Kevin’s collar, taking his shoulder instead and squeezing. “I need you to trust me.”

Kevin has no reason to trust Neil now; he understands better than anyone the past which Neil has kept hidden. He knows their opposition, and he knows the fate that will meet them should they fail. All the same, he places his hand over Neil’s and nods. His skin is hot against Neil’s; the blood of firebenders calling to each other in perfect understanding. “I trust you.”

Neil leads the way, and Kevin follows.

*

They find Riko’s camp a mile north. The distance is insultingly short, like Riko has left the welcome mat out in the surety that Kevin will soon be kneeling on it. The guards lower their weapons and step aside as they approach, granting them access without comment. A circle of red tents have been erected around a central firepit. Riko stands before it, cast in silhouette by the bonfire at his back. Their encampment has not been erected with even the pretence of military strategy; the thin canvas tents are unprotected, and were it not for the presence of armoured guards it would look like a leisurely camping trip.

As Neil’s eyes adjust, he can make out the figures on the far side of the campfire, and his heart falls through his stomach. He had wondered how the small group of Ravens had disabled and kidnapped eight foxes with so little fuss and bloodshed. The answer comes in the form of Jean Moreau, who stands at the end of the kneeling row of Foxes in a frozen ready-stance. Despite coming from the Southern Water Tribe, he wears the Fire Nation’s red garb, which drains the colour from his sea-grey eyes. Kevin has told Neil of the Fire Nation’s vicious attacks on the Northern and Southern tribes, and how the Fire Nation dealt with the prisoners it took. Some, like Jean’s family, took any deal they could to get into the Moriyama’s good graces, up to and including selling Water Tribe secrets to gain a position at the royal family’s side. Those that could not please or provide for the Fire Lord…

Kevin hadn’t needed to finish that sentence.

Jean was the only waterbender to be admitted to the Raven Academy, but despite a lack of instructors and guidance in his native element, he appears to have mastered waterbending as well as anyone.

It isn’t his waterbending, however, which holds the Foxes in place as though cuffed by invisible ties. Jean Moreau is bloodbending.

Kevin makes the realisation at the same time Neil does. The noise he makes is strangled as though an airbender has sucked all the air from his lungs. By the time they reach Riko, they are close enough to hear the sick gurgle of suspended blood, hanging thick and terrible in the air. One wrong move, and Jean could halt their blood flow entirely, starving their brains of oxygen and leading them to a slow, painful death. Sweat is beading on Jean’s brow, and when he sees Kevin his eyes slide closed, jaw clenching, somewhere between disappointment and relief.

“Kevin.” Riko opens his arms, as though expecting him to walk into them. “And you bought Wesninski too. A peace offering?”

At the sound of Kevin’s name, several of the Foxes’ eyes fly open, and heads jerk, fighting against their invisible constraints to look their way. He hears a slurred motherfucker from Matt, a low groan from Nicky, a stream of curses from Aaron and Dan. Their voices are horse, worn out from screaming or because of the pressure on their bodies, it is impossible to know. Neil looks to his family. He can’t help himself. He has never been on the receiving end of bloodbending, but he has heard second-hand experiences. The pain, the fear, the total loss of control. Matt is the closest; his expression is twisted as though possessed, and every vein stands out against his skin, swollen and blue. Dan is next, twitching constantly as though trying to beat back Jean’s bending with every movement. Nicky and Allison’s eyes are wet, but Allison glares with the fury of a saber-tooth lion, her arms straining against the lock holding them at her sides. A gag has been tied around her mouth, but Neil knows her muffled tones well enough to catch the gist of her intent. Aaron’s gaze is distant, and beside him, Renee’s eyes are closed, her body loose and relaxed, although Neil isn’t sure how she can expect to meditate her way free of this.

Andrew. Andrew’s gaze is the hardest to meet. There is no twitch or strain to his suspension, but unlike Renee, his body remains tense, as though caught mid-seizure and held there. His jaw is clenched tight as a trickle of blood paints his temple deep red. His eyes burn with questions, accusations, betrayal. Neil was supposed to keep Kevin firebending, keep him rebelling from the nation that was once his home. Instead, Neil has walked him back into the arms of the man Andrew swore to protect him from. Neil tries to put a thousand words into his answering gaze, but in the end settles only on one. Trust.

“Where’s Seth?” Kevin says lowly. Neil realises with another panicked twist of his gut that one of the Foxes was missing. Seth wasn’t a firebender, but he was from the southernmost Fire Islands, and officially a Fire Nation citizen. He was just as much a runaway as Neil.

“The non-bender? He should have known better than to put up a fight,” Riko says, eyes dancing with unrestrained delight. “We have to make an example of draft-dodgers, Kevin. I’m sure you remember.”

Neil’s eyes move against his will to the bonfire at Riko’s back. “No.”

Kevin jerks forward with fire in his eyes and in his hands. Normally, Neil would be delighted to see that he had grown a spine at last, but now is not the time for heroics. Not for Kevin, anyway. He holds out an arm and pushes Kevin back, placing himself once again between Kevin and Riko.

“Don’t be a fool, Wesninski. I am willing to let your insubordination slide in exchange for my brother’s return, but you would do well not to press me. Many people back home would love to watch you die a slow and painful death, many of whom are good friends of mine. Don’t tempt me to bring another little present home for them.”

“Neil, Kevin, what are you doing?” Matt hollers. “Get the fuck out of here!”

A guard steps forward and strikes Matt with the butt of his spear, and Matt’s head lolls.  

Neil forces back the acidic taste of fear and bile at the back of his throat, throws water on the burning hatred stoked by Seth’s death. They were never friends, but they were a team. “I have a better deal for you.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“You let Kevin go. You let the foxes go. In return, I will give you something far more precious.”

Riko cackles. “Do you know how much time and effort we have exerted in bringing our lost Raven home? What could you possibly have to offer us?”

“I can give you the avatar.”

Riko goes very, very still. Neil swears he can hear a collective intake of breath from the surrounding soldiers.

“What?” Kevin’s voice comes out strained. “Neil, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Shut up,” Neil answers through gritted teeth. He turns back to Riko. “Do we have a deal?”

Kevin and Riko have been raised from birth to be the Fire Nation’s very best. The search for the Avatar has lasted years, crossed nations, caused countless bloodshed. Finding the Avatar is perhaps the only accomplishment that could render Riko worthy in the eyes of the Fire Lord, and this is what Neil is counting on. Everything depends on Riko’s need for his family’s acknowledgement outweighing his need for Kevin.

Riko’s eyes flick from Neil, to Kevin, to Neil. He steps forwards, close enough that Neil can smell the bonfire on his clothes. “We have a deal.” The hunger in Riko’s eyes is bottomless. “Where is the Avatar?”

“I will tell you when the Foxes are free and far from here,” Neil replies levelly despite the thudding in his chest. “Not a moment before.”

Riko flicks his fingers, and Jean drops his arms, falling into a heap as the Foxes are released.

“Don’t,” Neil says sharply before any of them can start a fight. “Go. Now.”

“Neil.” Dan fits a hundred questions into the single syllable, but it’s all Neil can do to shake his head.

“I said go.”

She nods. “We’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.” She casts Riko a look so venomous Neil is surprised it doesn’t kill him outright. “When he said the Foxes, he meant all of them.”

“All who remain,” Riko corrects her sweetly. Renee grabs Allison around the waist before she can react.

Neil can’t meet Dan’s eyes. He doesn’t know what will happen to him when Riko discovers the truth. He can only hope that a kinder version of his story makes it back to the Foxes, one that explains that he wanted to return to them. One that cuts around the pain, that of Neil’s past and that which surely awaits him.

The Foxes file out of the camp, passing between the silent sentries, quietly promising that if Riko didn’t hold up his end of the bargain there would be hell to pay. Andrew steps smartly over Jean’s form, which still shakes with exhaustion, and stops dead in front of Neil.

“Go on, mutt,” says Riko. “Take your master and go.”

Neil tries to force his features into some approximation of a smile. “Thank you.” He can’t bring himself to elaborate with Riko standing between them; for the bending, the kisses, the trust. “You remembered the firebending moves.”

Andrew’s gaze doesn’t move from Neil’s. Kevin glances at Riko’s expression and takes Andrew by the arm, pulling him away and after the others. If Kevin has any suspicions, Neil can’t read them in his expression, only panic, and an underlying vein of betrayal. Riko wasn’t the only one who spent a lifetime searching for the Avatar.

Neil counts to ten in his head in every language he can think of, counting the distance the Foxes will have placed between themselves and Riko. He’s startled from his thoughts by the press of a blade against his jugular.

“Tell me what you know.” Riko’s smile has tipped over the knife-edge from mirth to mania. “Where is the Avatar?” Neil looks at the mounting hysteria of the man before him and feels an ice-cold calm settle over him.

“Right in front of you.”

Riko’s expression freezes, as if unable to decide between laughter and fury. Before he can accuse Neil of lying and gut him like a fish, Neil pops open the waterskin at his hip and pulls a twisting trail of water from within.

His second-ever attempt at waterbending doesn’t last long; he holds the form long enough for comprehension to dawn before letting the shape collapse into the earth.

“Earth kingdom,” Riko says, barely audible. “You were supposed to be from the Earth Kingdom.”

“My mother was.” Neil flicks the lid of his skein closed. “Worked out pretty well for me, really. Just think, I was right under your nose for all that time. How many years have you wasted searching the earth kingdom? Fair warning, it doesn’t matter. You could find a thousand Avatars, it still won’t make Daddy love you.”

Neil feels the crackle of charge build in the air as Riko’s smile twists and falls in on itself.

“Jean,” Riko says without turning. “Hold him down.”

Jean drags himself to his feet, and suddenly Neil’s body seizes, his blood turning to thick slush in his veins. A scream catches in his throat and stays there and his lungs burn.

The last thing Neil remembers is Riko drawing back, lightning cracking and flashing around him, and then everything goes black.

  This one came after Neil’s reunion with the Foxes. It ended up being replaced with the scenes in the air temple (and a more peaceful fall of the Fire Nation) but I still like the andreil dialogue soooo:

  “Show me again.”

Andrew sighs. “Junkie.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Neil smirks even as Andrew clamps a hand over his mouth.

“That mouth,” Andrew growls, infusing enough emotion into the two words that he doesn’t need to complete the sentence. They stay that way a moment, waiting each other out. Andrew’s palm is warm against Neil’s lips, and he can feel the pulse roaring beneath.

He’s better at this now, sensing out the shift and glide of the world around him, layers upon layers of intermingling elements pulsing with a nameless energy, calling to him. He can pick Andrew out anywhere in a crowd, in the pitch black space between asleep and awake, in hurricane or thunderstorm or earthquake. He knows the weight of Andrew’s body and the pace of his footsteps, he knows the way he holds himself like he can take any hit the world throws at him. He knows the way the air fits in his lungs and the way his blood pumps in his veins and the way fire burns in his heart the same way it does in Neil’s, no matter how well-hidden. He feels Andrew in constant orbit like they’re celestial bodies caught in each other’s pull.

He isn’t sure if this sense is a side effect of being the Avatar or a side effect of being with Andrew.

He feels the huff of Andrew’s breath ripple the air around him as he gives in to Neil’s request. He turns to the nearest statue – another horrendous effigy of the deceased Fire Lord, singed but not destroyed in their takeover of the capital – and plants his feet on the ground, pulling the metal figurine apart.

The metal tumbles to the ground in twisted pieces, lost instantly to the scattered debris that litters the Royal Plaza. Reconstruction is well underway already, invaders and invaded joining together to rebuild a better world.

“Your turn,” Andrew says.

Neil approaches the next statue – Ichirou, whose profile still sends a jolt of panic down Neil’s spine. The man himself is safely confined in Boiling Rock, where he will remain until negotiations concerning the Fire Nation’s future governance and territory are complete. Neil’s earthbending remains next to non-existent, but he squares his stance all the time, imitating Andrew’s movements. He seeks out the call of the earth within the metal and comes up blank.

“Shit,” Neil says. It was only in the aftermath of storming Capital City that Kevin grudgingly admitted that Neil had mastered firebending sufficiently to move onto other elements, but Neil already feels miles behind. Kevin was insistent that Neil begin airbending, as was the traditional order of the Avatar cycle; Neil was equally insistent that he avoid the element for as long as possible.

“You’re trying to run before you can walk.” Andrew flicks a pebble at him, which bounces off his forehead. “Learn to earthbend. Worry about metal later.”

“I’ve done it before,” Neil says snippily. Andrew’s eyebrows twitch upwards. Through the course of their travels, they have yet to encounter anyone else with Andrew’s metalbending abilities. Neil says Andrew is a pioneer; he has discovered an entirely new form of earthbending, one which no one else in the world is capable of. Andrew is highly doubtful. Neil calls him the greatest earthbender who ever lived; Andrew tells him to shut up. Andrew still remains strangely detached from the element he has mastered so thoroughly, but Neil can see the change in his eyes, feel it in his pulse. It comes in times like this, where Neil watches him with hungry eyes as Andrew leads him, step by step, into the rocky core of his abilities.

Andrew steps between Neil and the statue with sudden focus. “You metalbended.”

“So you care about metalbending now, do you?”

“No,” Andrew says. He takes Neil’s chin between his finger and thumb. “Tell me.”

“Just the once.” Then, because he can say things like this to Andrew, and Andrew will accept it without horror or disgust or fear, “On my father. It killed him.”

“Good.” Andrew steps out of Neil’s path, opening his view to the statue once more. “Do it again.”

 I hope you found these snippets from my recycle folder interesting - I have a lot of fragments like these but these were the ones I wanted to save most. Thanks for reading!

[projectomerta]

Kindred Souls - Chapter 2: Meetings

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed 

Words: 1775

Miriam arrived home around noon. After the deal with Mr. Lepley, she wandered around town for a bit and took the opportunity to eat by herself for once. She loved her family, but she felt like celebrating a deal gone well by herself. 

As she entered the house, the maids were all leaving in a silent frenzy. She let them all walk out, before walking in herself. She took one look at her family in the living room and she had a clue on what might be going on.

From the entrance of the living room, she could see her father sitting at the end of the long rectangular table in the center of the room. The sunlight shone through the window on the left side, right on to Francis’ and Layla’s backs. Robbie was sitting on the right side of the table with his back facing the huge brown cabinet with all the cutlery and plates, decorative or not.

“What happened?” Miriam asked, with a confused tone.

Her father was staring at the table, with a familiar and serious expression on his face. “Miriam, sit down, while we wait for Kevin.”

“Well you’ve obviously told everyone else what’s going on, why no-”

“Miriam, I said sit!” 

This time he looked straight at her. Not into her eyes, but through them. Addam Rhodes was just as intimidating as he was a good father and Miriam respected him very much, so she sat next to Robbie. When she did, she noticed her little brother was shaking and she put her hand over his. He was the youngest of the family, with only seventeen years of age, of course he was nervous. 

Do we have another target? But we never meet during the day… Not when it comes to this matter, we don’t… 

The front door opened with what sounded like a blessing to Miriam, and probably everyone else involved. Kevin came bursting into the room and he sat at the end of the table, directly facing their father. “The maids told me to come home, I came as soon as I could, father.”

Addam took a deep breath and looked at each one of them with a sense of pride in them. Although they were children from two marriages and an affair, their relationship was strong. Not only were they a close family, they had proof - their eyes. All of them, from Francis to Miriam, from Layla to Kevin and Robbie - all of them had the same dark brown eyes as their father.

“I will not mince words,” he looked at Miriam and Kevin, “We have assignments for tonight.”

Kevin was taken aback. “Wait, more than one?” 

Layla stared at him, as if she were begging him to shut up, and her brother took the hint. 

“We received a letter earlier, from our usual source,” Addam continued, “He wants us to take out four targets…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index fingers while he let out a long sigh. 

“Well, that’s nothing new, we’ve killed m-”

“They aren’t normal people, Kevin.” Robbie’s voice cracked. 

Kevin was perplexed. “What do you mean, they aren’t normal?” 

Addam took the wheel, once more, “They are people of high standing, but we have been informed that they are corrupt and as you all know, our source is trustworthy.” He took a deep breath and finally regained his usual posture. “The Assassin trade has been lost in the eyes of most, but it is our duty to continue it!” 

Miriam and her siblings were all convinced at that moment. So much so, that Robbie let go of her hand, and stopped shaking. She looked around the room, seeing that Layla looked worried about something that wasn’t a dress and Francis was looking at someone other than a woman. Miracles do happen! Miriam thought to herself, sarcastically. 

Both Miriam and Kevin listened closely to their father while he told them who their targets were. The other three had already heard it and were still shaken by the information. They all knew their targets from events their father was invited to or hosted - some of them in that same living room. 

After all was set in stone, the Rhodes siblings got up from the table and walked to their rooms in order to get ready. 

Miriam’s room was the only one the maids didn’t clean, by her request, so it was in the same mess she had left it in the morning. She once more walked over to the trunk in her room and threw her uniform on top of the bed. Fortunately, the trunk had nothing in it besides what she was looking for. She took her black assassin robes out from the trunk and put them on. She still remembered the day she was told about the family secret. After Francis, she was the first one to be told. It was like a rite of passage for the siblings. 

Having put on her robes, it was time to get her weapons. She walked up to her bedside table and crouched down, reaching in the direction of the wall, with her hand. Eventually, she found something wrapped in silk. “Got you!” She shoved some clothes aside from the top of her bed and laid the silk wrap on top of it. Two hidden blades, a bow and arrow, along with her quiver, and, finally, the tomahawk. 

She was ready to go, and so were her siblings. The plan was for Layla, Francis and Miriam to each take out one of the targets and for Robbie and Kevin to team up against the other one. Their usual code of conduct was to act alone, but no efforts could be spared that night. They all knew their father would gladly join them if he could, but his age didn’t allow him to.

Miriam left the Rhodes manor and took off to her beloved roofs of New York City. Even at night their bright color made her comfortable, but there was no time to admire them that night.

She jumped from roof to roof, in the dark of the night. It wasn’t that late, people should just be done with dinner, so she had to be twice as careful. Though she had more than a decade of experience as an assassin, she wasn’t the best at sneaking around - she had never been. Even when she would hunt animals for her and her mother she would scare them away sometimes.

She knew exactly what her target looked like and where he lived, so she just went to his house after looking around town for a short while. 

When she got close to the house, Miriam noticed a few lights flickering softly behind the curtains. I’m gonna have to break in… 

Miriam walked away from the house to take a better look at the windows of the second floor. She wanted to confirm that it was her target who was home, after all he was married, so it could just be his wife or their maids. 

Suddenly she heard something, which startled her. It was a carriage. Without panicking, she quickly turned the corner and started climbing the house. Miriam heard the carriage stop before she got to the top, and then heard two men talking, as the carriage went away. When she finally got to the roof of the house she started understanding what they were saying.

“Thank you for letting me stay here, Mr Collins.” Said a man with an Irish accent.

“Oh, me and my wife welcome your company, don’t worry about it.” The other man replied.

She immediately recognized the second man - it was Vergil Collins, the merchant and Templar sympathizer she was meant to kill. What her father had told her was that he had been shipping children away as slaves. When she saw them about to enter the house, she knew she had to act quickly.

Miriam instinctively drew an arrow from her quiver and moved to the edge of the roof, pointing her bow down at her target, as soon as she could. She held her breath to stabilize her aim and finally… She let go.

“Watch out!”

The Irishman’s warning scream made Collins jump, so the arrow missed.

“Fuck!” Miriam whispered, as she looked straight at the Irishman. He’s a templar. With no other options left, she put away her bow and jumped. Miriam herself didn’t know who she was aiming to kill in the moment she jumped, but it became very clear to her that she had chosen to kill the Irishman first. 

Miriam could feel the wind in her skin as she was going down. She readied her arm to end the Irishman with a single thrust of her hidden blade, but just as she was sure she was going to succeed, right when she thrust her blade at him, the Irishman parried her strike with a hidden blade of his own and pushed her away from Collins.

Miriam was on the ground and she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was scared like she had never been before. She had been taught that the hidden blade was the signature weapon of the Assassins, and if her family were the only Assassins around, who in hell was that man? Why does a Templar have a hidden blade?! 

“Who are you?” He asked.

Miriam didn’t bother responding. She pulled out her tomahawk and lunged forward at the Irishman, who dodged the swing with ease.

“Wait!” Said the Irishman.

Miriam wasn’t thinking straight, from the adrenaline. She hadn’t even noticed how Collins had gone inside the house already and was seeing everything happening from the window. “Die, Templar!” She yelled.

She once again lunged at the templar in an enraged state. All of the doubts in her head had stirred everything up to the point where she couldn’t think. At that moment, she wasn’t Miriam Rhodes, she wasn’t an assassin, she was merely an animal, fighting purely on instinct. 

The Irishman parried all of her strikes, some with more ease than others. Miriam wasn’t weak by any means, she was simply outclassed. As she wound up her arm for a swing of the Tomahawk, the Irishman saw an opportunity to strike back, as the swing was far too wide. He pulled out his cutlass and struck her arm with the blunt part of it, disarming her. With a swift movement he pulled her by the arm, twisted her around, and struck her in the back of the neck with the pommel of his sword.

Miriam felt dizzy, and suddenly… Darkness.

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch4

Focus

Welcome back, everyone!!! I am so, so sorry this took so dang long. I wanted this chapter to cover so much and yet it feels like nothing happens at all, a tough one to nail down. Anyway! Hope you enjoy!

Word count - 4,415

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

__________________

---Reader---

The rest of your weekend passed uneventfully. Once V was stable, he didn’t have any further issues and you were able to catch up on tedious housework. You kept rehashing his words in your mind, dissecting every possible meaning until you could barely see straight.

After so many years of boredom, it was a delight to have the murderous artist in your care. Staying engaged had always been a struggle for you, even as a child. Most situations and people simply didn’t hold your interest. It wasn’t always easy to hide, but you managed most of the time.

You knew from experience what it cost if you failed.

Don’t think about that. There’s no point.

You sighed and set down your bag, reaching over to power up the CPU on your desk. Time to get to work. It was Monday, so your first patient would be Kelly Williams.

A classic case of bipolar disorder, the poor woman had been stuck in a major depressive episode for three months. She was so predictable you probably could have written up your notes for the session before she even arrived, but you followed protocol and checked your email as you waited for Kevin to deliver her anyway.

You minimized the browser as she shuffled in, eyes downcast and limp hair hiding her frown. You pursed your lips as she settled on the couch with a morose sigh. Kevin gave you a nod and left, clicking the door closed behind him.

“Hello, Kelly. How are you feeling today?” you began.

I’d bet my next paycheck I know her answer.

Her sad grey eyes lifted to meet yours. “Hanging in there.”

Yep. This is going to be a long hour.

You covered all the same topics, reviewing her trauma and possible causes for her illness. Diligent notes filled your notepad, but the words didn’t stick in your mind. It might be worth shifting Kelly to another doctor, considering how little you cared about her treatment. Dr. Malphas wouldn’t be happy, but he’d understand. You only wanted to make sure she was receiving the care she needed, right?

A soft knock interrupted your musings as Kevin returned. You said your goodbyes and promised your patient some menial reward, nothing important but something that would be meaningful to her.

The moment the door closed, you released a deep sigh. Honestly, there were only two or three patients here that interested you. A man with detailed visions of the future that occasionally came true, a woman who spoke a language of her own creation, and your favorite murderous artist. The rest you could deal with in your sleep.

On that note, who’s next?

Jacob Miller. The infamous serial killer who targeted women that resembled his mother. How utterly mundane.

It didn’t surprise you to realize how little the well-known madman interested you. His spree of kills thrilled and horrified the state of Utah for months until he was caught, all from a scrap of fiber he’d missed when disposing of one of his victims.

But his profile was quite basic. A broken home, absentee father and disciplinarian mother. Run of the mill patterns of animal abuse and rejection from potential sexual partners, the same fuel that brought about the likes of numerous big names. There was nothing new or unique about him.

As Kevin brought Jacob in, you tried not to let your eyes glaze over in disinterest.

“Good morning, Jacob.”

“Hello, Dr. Waras. How was your weekend?” the twisted man replied.

You pursed your lips. His manners belied a twisted core. “Nothing special, but we’re here to talk about you.”

His lips twisted into a dark grin. The man was an arrogant prick, always happy to talk about himself. Sometimes you wondered how he managed to avoid death row, but it wasn’t your problem.

“What do you want to know, Doctor?”

About you? Nothing.

“Let’s talk about your childhood a bit more,” you said instead.

---V---

The ceiling truly was a monstrosity. He’d been staring at it for hours, trying to pinpoint exactly what about its beige visage disturbed him so much, and he thought he finally had it figured out.

It was the bumps.

Little dapplings of the plaster, random and unintentional. As if whomever built the room had no idea patients would spend almost all their waking hours staring at their work. A few sections resembled faces or vague outlines of familiar objects, but the majority was an expanse of rough mediocrity.

He wanted to splash blood across it in sweeping arcs of color, break the horrible monotony with crimson streaks of life.

At this point, he’d settle for sidewalk chalk.

Someone’s coming.

The artist tuned to the hallway and sure enough, the familiar scuffle of Kevin’s feet approached. It must be time for his meeting with you and he smirked. What perfect timing.

Remember the plan.

“Yes, I’m perfectly aware,” he replied to the insistent tone rattling in his skull.

He arranged his features in a neutral expression, feigning indifference as the heavy door creaked open. Kevin’s signature shuffle came closer and the strap at his left arm loosened.

“Time for therapy,” the orderly informed him.

He resisted the urge to strangle the bumbling idiot as his arm regained its freedom. “Wonderful.”

Moments later, the artist stood beside Kevin rubbing his wrists and cracking his neck. Someday he would tear the man apart for stealing his autonomy, but not today. Today, he needed to gain an ally.

“So… Kevin. How did you end up here?”

Watery brown eyes blinked at him in confusion. The artist’s fingers twitched.

Don’t do it…

He clenched his hands. Kevin’s day would come and what a delight it would be…

“I… uh… I transferred from the hospital a few years back.”

V hummed and held his hands forward for the damned cuffs. They clicked into place as he replied, “Fascinating. Do you enjoy the work?”

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s all right, I guess. Gets weird now and then.”

He followed Kevin into the hallway, white soles squeaking on the linoleum. Nine doors identical to his own dotted the walls, useful information for later. Clever emerald eyes paid special attention to where the guard’s hand went to buzz them through to the offices.

“You’ll have to tell me some of your more interesting stories sometime,” he replied with a convincing twist of his lips. Child’s play.

Kevin grunted and gestured forward, inviting V to lead the way. “We’ll see.”

The thick door to your office already stood open, welcoming him in like an honored guest. He smirked as you nodded at Kevin and dutifully cooperated as the man latched him to the wall. You looked lovely, as you always did. Pen tucked behind your ear, a hint of excitement in your eyes.

“Thanks, Kevin. See you in an hour,” you said, dismissing the man.

And then there were two…

Stay focused. You’ll need your wits for what’s to come.

You offered him a smile as the door clicked shut. He mirrored it with ease.

“So, V. How are you feeling after last week? I haven’t seen you since your episode.”

He hummed and leaned back, settling his weight onto the couch. It was impossible not to indulge his aching body in the soft cushions after the maddening position he’d been stuck in all day.

“Truthfully, I’m bored. One can only stare at the same patch of ceiling for so long before it grows tedious.”

You tapped your pen against pursed lips. How lovely you’d look in red…

Focus.

“I can definitely understand that. I may be able to help, if you’re interested,” you replied.

There was no hiding the curiosity in his eyes, nor did he bother trying. You were too smart for that. “Do tell.”

“I can give you an assessment, and if it goes well you might be cleared to be left unrestrained. All you have to do is answer a few questions and be honest.”

He smirked. How adorable. “I’m ready when you are.”

You picked up a clipboard and read the first question aloud. “You find a lost young boy one day, and he appears to have stolen property. Would you A, hug and reassure him; B, take the property by force and leave him there as punishment; C, pick his pocket and leave him to his fate; or D, lead him home and call the authorities?”

He almost laughed. The entire basis of the question was absurd; what action he took depended on what the stolen property was. Why bother taking the item if it wasn’t something that appealed to him? Not to mention the lack of a ‘keep walking’ option.

“A,” he said. You made a note and continued.

None of the following questions were any better, all based on faulty logic or lacking the detail needed to truly make a decision. He chose his answers based on what he imagined his mother would do, using her kindness and empathy as a model for normal behavior. With each response, you marked your sheet and nodded approvingly.

“Okay, last question. Your house is on fire. What do you save on your way out? A, your little brother; B, your prized collection of baseball cards; C, whatever clothing you can carry; or D, the family photo album? Assume that anything not chosen is destroyed.”

For heaven’s sakes, only an imbecile would fail this.

“A, of course.”

You made a final mark and your brows furrowed as you tallied his answers. He occupied himself with images of you with a blade to Kevin’s flabby throat, grinning as you slashed it open. Blood would stain every inch of your clothing; never would you look so beautiful.

“Interesting… According to this, you shouldn’t even be here, let alone in high secure,” you began. Suspicion bloomed in your gaze as you met his eyes. “You weren’t being truthful, were you?”

No shit, Sherlock!

He gritted his teeth to keep from shouting at Griffon, searching for the right words. How had he missed this, how could he be so foolish as to expect you to believe a good result?

Take it again. As many times as it takes.

He had to take it another three times before you surrendered with a deep sigh. Not once did his answers change.

“I’ll have to clear it with Dr. Malphas, but I can’t justify stopping you.”

He smirked. Victory was sweet, indeed. Even this tiny increase to his freedom would do wonders for his plans, not to mention he’d no longer need to bother Kevin for a bathroom trip to indulge himself. It didn’t matter that there was a camera in his room, watching his every move. He knew where it was, it would be easy enough to hide his activities from its view.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said. A tiny smile graced your lips at his gratitude. Progress.

“Just doing my job. Now, let’s get back on track. Do you remember anything from last week?”

He brought his legs onto the couch, drawing his knees to his chin as was his preference. “Fragments.”

Ink marked his answer on your notepad and he almost growled in jealousy. His fingers itched to create, to design and defile. It took all his will power to remain seated and keep his hands from reaching for the pen. The sketches last week had left him needy and craving more time to hone his craft, the pull growing stronger with every reminder.

“Would you care to elaborate?” you asked.

He didn’t bother to consider the ramifications as he opened his mouth. The need was too strong. “I’ll tell you about it if you give me a pen and paper.”

You idiot! Now you appear weak, willing to succumb to her will if she only throws you a treat. What are you, a dog?!

He flinched. Vergil had a point; he should have been more careful. Somehow, he needed to shift the scales back in his favor, or at least back to equality. To let this stand would be unacceptable. But how?

The rumble of an opening drawer stole his attention as you withdrew the same hunk of charcoal he used before. A clipboard with several sheets of fresh paper occupied your other hand and his eyes glittered in excitement as you handed them over. He licked his lips and quivered in anticipation, considering his options and refining several ideas.

“May I make a request?”

His gaze shot to yours. A request? So, you wanted to see more of his work. It fed his ego and he nearly purred at the image of you begging him to draw you, dripping in viscous blood after your first kill.

“I cannot stop you,” he said. It wouldn’t do to betray his thoughts, not yet. Caution was a worthy ally.

“Can you draw Griffon, or Vergil? I’m curious what they look like,” you replied.

Don’t you dare!

Speak for yourself, asshat! You do your thing, Van Gogh.

Lips twisting in amusement, he nodded and drew the first line. Griffon was always interesting to draw, though he still hadn’t managed to get his eyes right. Something about the triple-iris was irritatingly difficult to capture. Not to mention how much he hated feathers.

Still. An enjoyable challenge.

“So, tell me about last week.”

Now’s your chance. Do not waste it.

The artist hummed in acknowledgement, eyes locked on his work. He kept his hand elevated so as not to smudge the charcoal unintentionally, his fingers swiping across the pristine page to leave shadowy streaks behind. But how to utilize this opportunity? How best to regain his control of the situation?

Perhaps a quid pro quo?

He smirked and lifted his eyes. You were staring at him. “I seem to be having trouble remembering. Maybe you can jog my memory?”

You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes. He didn’t bother trying to hide his Cheshire-like glee. He had you, how could you possibly refuse him?

“What, exactly, are you suggesting?”

He leaned back, casually adding another series of marks to his artwork as if your suspicion meant nothing to him, as if he didn’t care if you went along with his ideas. “I’m suggesting, Doctor, that you provide me with incentive to share.”

“Such as…?”

“For now? Blue.”

You stared at him as if he were an alien. “You want… blue?”

“I cannot do Griffon justice without the proper color,” he replied with a teasing smirk.

An easy trade, a small token to get you used to the idea. What harm could there be in allowing him more colors to use in your own office? It was a simple request, one not worth refusing and as you reached for your drawer, he congratulated himself for his cleverness.

“I don’t think I have any blue pens or anything, let’s see…”

“I’ll make do with whatever you have available,” he replied as you rummaged.

The drawer looked moderately chaotic, as if you put some effort into keeping it organized but you didn’t care enough to maintain it. Post its and paperclips were strewn about, pens and highlighters shoved in the corner. A thumb drive resided amongst a collection of pins.

A single flash of sapphire drew his gaze. Your delicious fingertips hesitated at the item, but you pulled it out a moment later as nothing else offered itself up. He almost laughed as you held it out to him.

This will be interesting to work with.

A makeup compact, full of blue powder. The color was dark and rich, serendipitously close to the exact shade of the demonic bird.

“This is all I’ve got,” you murmured.

The artist schooled his features into a look of disappointment, playing down his excitement as he accepted the small container. “It will suffice.”

He tested the substance on a fresh sheet of paper, swiping it across with the tip of his thumb. Discerning emerald eyes judged the depth of the hue, analyzing how much he’d need to achieve the proper coloration. If he layered it with the charcoal, it might just work.

You cleared your throat as he began, pen held at the ready for him to speak. That’s right, he was expected to describe last week in exchange. He’d nearly forgotten. Visions ricocheted in his mind, echoes of the night that became his ruin. He didn’t remember everything, but there was enough to recognize the memory. Enough to relive the delightful experience.

But it wouldn’t do to share every detail with you. He chose his words with care, selecting a few key details and adding meaningless drivel for good measure. The day may come when he recounted every moment, but you were nowhere near ready.

“I remember red, a great deal of it. Someone was screaming, but I don’t recall why. Yellow walls and a rhododendron.”

He paused to let you note his every word, swirling blue across the black outline of feathers. The sparkles were a bit much, but he couldn’t do anything to fix that. By the time the scratching of your pen ceased, he was almost finished.

“That sounds intense. Did it feel like a dream or more like a memory?”

He paused, wondering how far he could press you today. It was worth a try; even if you refused it would help him regain a position of strength.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any purple, would you?”

Your eyes sparkled. A slight twist of your pink lips was all the confirmation he needed that you knew what he was up to and you didn’t even glance at your desk before you responded.

“I’m afraid not.”

Despite the setback, he couldn’t help but smirk. There was something odd about you, and every time he interacted with you it became clearer. You got the same amusement from the mental battle as he did, the same thrill every time you scored a point. The same rush of fascination and curiosity.

You were more than just another sheep.

All he needed to do was draw out the wolf.

“That’s a shame, Y/N,” he purred. Your chair squeaked as you shifted.

A soft knock on the door signaled the end of your hour with him. He sighed and handed you the clipboard, his drawing of Griffon’s proud flight on full display. Your eyes widened, a slight inhale escaping your lips that would fuel his fantasies for days to come.

“So that’s Griffon?”

He nodded as the door opened and Kevin approached, handing you the makeup and charcoal. It pained him to surrender the supplies, but this way you didn’t have to ask. A subtle difference, but one that reinforced his autonomy instead of your control over his life.

But there was one last gesture he wanted to make.

The moment Kevin freed his hands, he extended one to you with a soft smirk. The orderly’s meaty fist wrapped around his wrist and he didn’t fight back, content to wait for your response.

Suspicion tinted your eyes, mixing with interest as he parted his lips.

“I wanted to thank you, Doctor. I look forward to sleeping unrestrained tonight.”

You shared a glance with the orderly and he let go. The urge to strangle the man for his interference was powerful, but he ignored it. In due time, the man would pay. For now, let him imagine he had won. Far more interesting was your reaction.

You looked startled, but not fearful. More intrigued than anything else.

Perfect.

The same hand he licked the first time he met you clasped his own, shaking it in a gesture of mutual respect. You didn’t need to know his true goal; to feel your skin and memorize its texture. The knowledge would add depth to his fantasies and he focused on the smooth warmth, hungry for every detail he could glean from such brief contact.

The hands of one who works indoors…

He brushed his index finger across your wrist as you pulled back, a more intimate touch not immediately apparent to the accursed third party watching his every move. The barest twitch of your fingers revealed your awareness of his boldness, but you didn’t say a word. Another victory, then.

“Until tomorrow,” he murmured.

---Reader---

The heavy door clicked shut and you released a deep breath. Your heart was pounding, mind consumed with the artist’s simple caress. Those same hands that were capable of such artistry had taken at least three lives; you couldn’t afford to forget how dangerous he was. The mind games, the trickery and bargaining, none of it mattered if you lost your focus.

What is my focus?

You leaned back and pursed your lips. In broad terms, your goal with other patients was to help them reach a point where their ability to function in normal society was no longer impaired. If they weren’t capable of that much, you were meant to guide them to stability so they could at least have appropriate quality of life.

To envision V in normal society was close to impossible. You couldn’t picture him in a suit, sitting at a cubicle like ordinary folks. Imagining him on a commute was anathema; with a family, unthinkable. The man was an outlier and no amount of treatment would change that.

So how can I help him?

You growled in frustration and rubbed your eyes. The flesh he touched still tingled, the nerves jangling with odd enthusiasm. It made no sense; the man was a murderer and here you sat like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Absurdity. You were smarter than this, better than this.

This isn’t a comic book or some crappy romance novel. Life doesn’t work that way. He was trying to manipulate me and I cannot let him win.

You glanced at the drawing of Griffon, marveling at the unearthly beauty of the creature’s forked beak and massive legs. A demonic bird, the hallucination of a crazed murderer, and you found it beautiful. What an incredible mind he had, to come up with such a thing.

How sad to imagine all the things he could have done with that mind, instead of slaughter. He could have written the next Lord of the Rings, painted the next Sistine Chapel. Manifested something profound instead of destroying the lives of a young family.

Maybe he still can. If I can help him, who knows what he’ll create?

A subdued knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. Was it already noon? Time flew right by you, more proof of the ridiculousness surrounding you. With a final sigh you grabbed your purse and locked your computer, heading to join Kotomi for lunch.

“Hey Y/N! How was your weekend?” she asked as you entered the hallway.

Charlie buzzed you through the security door; Ben must have called out sick. “Pretty boring, to be honest. How about you?”

Her eyes sparkled as she described a trip to the museum with her mother, skimming over any interesting parts like she always did. The elder Ishida was legendary in her hatred of psychiatry, and every time she and Kotomi got together she had a new story of her mother’s lectures. You grinned as you reached for the button to call the elevator, all too aware of her heels.

“So, did she disown you for working here yet?”

“Y/N! Not so loud! Wait, what’s that on your wrist?”

You hadn’t noticed before, but a streak of charcoal marked where the artist touched you. It was just dark enough to draw attention and you rubbed it against your pants, grateful you wore black today.  A pale grey outline remained no matter how hard you tried and you huffed in annoyance.

“It’s charcoal,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “The artist?”

You nodded and stepped forward as the elevator arrived. Her heels clicked to join you as she crossed her arms and gave you an intense stare.

“You let him touch you? Have you lost your mind?!”

Did he do it on purpose? Was this why he wanted to shake my hand?

Lithe fingers grasped your shoulders as almond shaped eyes met yours. Her concern was sweet and you wished you had the right words to reassure her.

“Y/N, I’m worried about you. I know how you get with these people; you need to be extra careful with him. I’ve heard rumors, he sounds really dangerous,” she insisted.

You managed a small smile as a ding announced the elevator passing the second floor. There was no change in its motion and you licked your lips, searching for the right words. Of course he was dangerous; you weren’t an idiot, you knew that. And yes, maybe you shouldn’t have let him touch you, but Kevin was right there and you couldn’t let him have control by refusing.

“Look. I know, okay? I know what he’s capable of. I read the police report. But I have to take a few risks to help him, he’s too smart for the standard approach. It’s my job to work with the dangerous ones. I know what I’m doing.”

Her eyes softened and she dropped her arms, though she still looked troubled. The second ding marked your arrival at ground level and you stepped off in silence, wondering what else you could say to ease her concern.

“Do you want me to sit in on your sessions? Maybe I can help somehow,” Kotomi offered.

How did she do that? How did she make herself seem so genuine? Was she actually that genuine or was it all an act? It was impossible to say for sure, but you had no reason to doubt her sincerity. Her offer meant all the more considering her aversion to violent offenders, her fear of being around the most twisted minds.

You smiled at Lenny as he buzzed the two of you into the administrative wing. The echoes of Kotomi’s steps rattled through the air as you neared the staff lounge.

“That’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright. I promise to be careful,” you said.

The remaining charcoal on your wrist drew your eyes as you opened the door. You couldn’t deny the rush his touch gave you, despite the alarm bells that rang in your head. Maybe Kotomi had a point, maybe you were being reckless. No other patient had ever touched you so intimately, with or without permission. Was this response normal?

Did it matter?

~~~Next Chapter~~~

[royalnoir]

Real Estate Problem Solver

Advantages There are many areas one can invest in. Since I was 15 yr old I have looked for the fastest, most effective way to accumulate a lot of huge selection, with the least amount of risk. I am now 58. Even while looking for this road to truth, I spent time and effort in the school of hard knocks. The school of very hard knocks is a very interesting but painful school to attend. It is also the most expensive way to learn something, but if you graduate you have a PHD in what to do and not do together with time and money. The schools I attended happen to be: Investing in businesses as a silent partner, owning my own enterprises, working for another family member-in my case my father, selecting publicly traded stocks and securities, penny mining stock option, commodity trading, investing in gold and silver, real estate private lending, housing development, real estate remodeling, buying foreclosure properties. I equally worked as a real estate problem solver/matchmaker, bringing business owners as well as business buyers, and matching up real estate owners utilizing real estate buyers. Writing about all of these activities would take the encyclopedia, so we will limit this essay towards the kinds of situations you can run across in the real estate school for hard knocks. I will present my solution with the assigned situation. There are more than one possible solution and I receive you to come up with other possible solutions as you read. Any time you get some value from my experiences that will hopefully decrease tuition to the real estate school of hard knocks. Experience free to e-mail me your comments, alternate solution or perhaps stories. Do, please, let me know that it is all right in my circumstances to publish them. My Real Estate Philosophy As a way of presenting myself, I thought you might find what lessons I have discovered, after all these years of real estate, interesting. Buy real estate property instead of stocks, bonds, mutual funds, or commodities. If you pick a winner in one of these non-real estate areas you can take 5-10 times your money. When you are wrong, in one of these non-real estate areas, you can actually loose up to 90% of your bucks. In real estate, if you are not greedy-not trying to get rich quick-in one year, you can make 100 times your money, on the upside. The particular downside risk is only based on how well you looked at the possibilities ahead of time. If you did, the downside risk is without a doubt reduced to only the holding time to fix an error. If you rush in and do not explore all the possibilities of a small business venture, you can actually loose 100% of your money. In my thought process an upside of 100 times profit is better than 10 times profit. My philosophy on real estate ownership seems to have changed in the last 15 years. I used to think that reselling at the top of the market was the smart move and buying from the crash. Now I feel that buying when prices are actually down is still a smart move but never selling will be way to go. In order to hold on to a property in a down market you require the most proper planning to survive the crash. This I call up a back door or emergency plan. This is have a very good plan and knowing what you will do if everything travels wrong with you original plan. When you have a backup prepare, you rarely need it. This is the basis of my vision. With this understanding, you might more clearly see why I did exactly what I did in these situations. The Stories and content: The area of real estate investing is one of the most complex mainly because it is a combination of law and real estate. It is one of the most helpful because fortunes are made and lost in this area, and the statistics are so enormous. Lastly it is an area where criminals can make a lot of money and many times get away with it. Following will be some stories (case histories) I have dealt with and some posts I have written on the subject of fraud in real estate. Finally, I had included an article on the basics of foreclosures and properties in general, for your interest. I hope you enjoy them. The Memories: Story #1: It was early March 2000 and That i received a call from Kevin. He said that he had heard about me from some mutual friends. The guy wanted to speculate in buying HUD houses (Properties the fact that the Government had foreclosed on). He wanted to buy them, take care of them up and then sell them at a profit. He previously heard that I had bought many foreclosures in the 70's and 80's and he was hoping I could encourage him. We met for lunch and he told me his life story. The important part of this conversation will be that he had bought a boarded up 14 appliance apartment building in downtown San Bernardino, across the street, collected from one of of the roughest high schools in California. By the last part of the meeting, I had figured out that he had overpaid with regards to $75, 000 for the building, he had already wasted $200, 000 trying to remodel it, and it was still $100, 000 away from being finished. He had bought it 1 . 5 years ago and a large part of his costs was the eye on all his loans, related to this project. She was now broke, and in deep trouble, but also in his mind, the badly needed money was upcoming. It is interesting to note where he got the money to get this project. 4 years earlier he was given cash to buy an apartment building by his father. He was given enough money that he only needed a very small $150, 000 real estate loan to purchase a building in Pasadena that cost him a total of $525, 000. To buy the San Bernardino rehab project, he first refinanced the first trust deed on the Pasadena building and ran the loan balance to $385, 000. When which will money was gone he borrowed $74, 000 in the form of second Trust Deed on both the Pasadena and San Bernardino properties. By the way, that loan cost him 15% interest and $15, 000 in up front fees to see the money. Before we parted, I told him that they made a very expense mistake in buying San Bernardino. I explained that from the day he bought a building it was a sure bet that the project may fail. I then had to tell him that I would not lend the pup any money on San Bernardino, to save his butt. Covering the next 2 months I received periodic phone calls, sharing me the progress of the fund raising. One of those posts I was told that the existing 2nd Trust Action lender was saying that he might give Kevin all the added $100, 000 he needed to finish the venture. At the same time, Kevin also believed he had found a bank or investment company that might refinance all the loans of San Bernardino. The issue with the bank loan was that the appraisal fee was $3, 000, and it had to be paid in advance, even to just simply apply for the loan. Again Kevin asked me for money. Again I refused to put more good money along his black hole. Then one morning I got a label from Kevin, "If I don't make the $2, 000 payment to the 2nd trust deed holder, he'll almost certainly start foreclosure in 2 days. Kevin also explained "The 2nd trust deed lender said that he would certainly buy the Pasadena apartment building for what I had settled it, 4 years ago, $525, 000. " The feature had a stipulation to it. Kevin had to bring the actual loan current first. In my mind, if Kevin could quite possibly bring the loan current, why would he sometimes bother to sell the property for a wholesale price? I wasn't able to believe what I was hearing. After hearing involves I decide that it is time I stop saying hardly any and help. What Kevin thought he wanted was initially a real estate loan for a lot of money. The truth is, that finances was not the solution to his problem. The problem had to be distinct from what Kevin believed, which is why the problem persisted. The real issue was not more borrowing. More borrowing meant more money downward the drain. Experience has taught me, "If this challenge was what Kevin thought it was, it wouldn't deemed a problem. " What does this phrase mean? The businessman has a financial set back. He thinks that through some short term funding he can recover from the set back not to mention return to the top. After looking around, our businessman will usually have the money, but strangely enough the problem doesn't resolve. When the problem did correct itself, then the businessman was ideal about what the problem was, and the problem would be gone. Normally the money doesn't help, but the businessman doesn't understand that. The person doesn't realize that the problem wasn't money in the first place. Should it were, the problem would now be gone. Lets us continue the explanation. The last money borrowed is now gone as well as problem persists, so our businessman goes out to find a higher cost to solve the problem that didn't solve with the money she borrowed, the first time. What happens the second time? The same thing. The money is required up and still the problem continues. Our businessman is implementing the wrong problem. The problem is not money, or the problem would've been gone. Kevin thought the problem was money. The software wasn't. He had already poured $300, 000 into the San Bernardino building, on top of the $209, 000 1st Put your trust in Deed loan that came about when he bought any building. Before he was finished, he spent through $500, 000 in a building that needs $100, 000 to accomplish, but was only worth $475, 000, after it had been finished. What could I do? Use what the good master gave me. 30 years of experience, on the subject of arising from problems that I created when I was young and eco-friendly. Here was the war strategy. I got Kevin for you to agree to turn over total management of the two properties with me. Knowing that I was managing the property and working on the things I believed was the correct problem, I felt snug about loaning money on this deal. If I can't put your trust in myself to solve this problem, whom can I trust? I begun by loaning Kevin $25, 000 to make needed vehicle repairs to the Pasadena building, pay the property taxes and to produce the first and second loans current on the Pasadena place only. Nothing was to be spent at this time, on the San Bernardino building. Now that I controlled the Pasadena flat building, I discovered what repairs the building needed. Typically the list was so long it took one man with three months, full time, to fully handle it. I then did a very descriptive market study and determined what the market would spend in rents. I asked the tenants for a menu of everything they wanted done in their apartments to be content. I then did everything the tenants requested and I then raised their rents 30%. After the building was 100 %, I raised the rents another 15%. The value of your building went up and I received an deliver for $725, 000. This was $200, 000 more than the value 6 months earlier. I put it into escrow, then I realized that I could raise the rents some more. I just raised the rents again in escrow and pressured the buyer to pay another $25, 000 for the building. Sending the price to $750, 000. That $225, 000 turn a profit was needed to help cover the money being lost throughout San Bernardino. Author's Note: The escrow fell by means of and the building was kept until this update, 12 , 5, 2004. The building is now in escrow pertaining to $1, 583, 000 What did I do about San Bernardino? I contacted the seller/lender and asked your pet if he would like me to pull the safety guard out of the building and let him have it instruction online foreclosure. He didn't want it back, even though he pretended that he was willing to do that. He offered me $25, 000 in incentives to get me to personally provide loans the money necessary for the completion of the building, so the person wouldn't have to take it back. For 3 months he attempted to get me to put money into the building, with the indisputable fact that once I put my money in I wouldn't disappear from it. The real story was that I wouldn't put the dime into that black hole until I discovered how to make it recover at least $100, 000 of Kevin's lost money. I asked for a $70, 000 lower price on the note, and offered to pay him off. We all negotiated for two months. Just when I was ready to surface finish the deal, the seller sold his note to someone else just for only a $30, 000 discount. I was not able to produce the money I wanted because now the new note holder sought 100% of interest and principal due. This used a monkey wrench into my negotiating. All this occasion, I had a buyer standing in the wings to buy the particular building from Kevin while I was negotiating. My spouse and i was then forced to sell the property to this buyer and also Kevin recovered only a little bit of his investment. The lender plus I were both playing a high stakes poker adventure. I lost this round. If I could have gotten typically the payoff reduced, Kevin would received a large hunk in money from an "as is" sale. This is what When i call playing "Craps" on a very big Monopoly panel. Author's Note: The buyer, thinking he was going to put $125, 000 to finish the remodeling, notified me, after one year, that he had spent $300, 000 to finish the making. The apartment building values were increasing rapidly do your best period, so Kevin's project was increasing in importance at the same time the buyer was going deeper and deeper to construction costs. The buyer made out all right in the end. Should the market had died, he would have lost $200, 000 on this building after Kevin had already lost a lot. It's all about timing, isn't it? Kevin learned that dollars alone was not the answer to his problems; he expected a Genie, to turn his turkey into a swan. Tale #2 Janet is the daughter of one of my oldest and wealthiest friends and clients. We have been doing realty deals together since 1975. Janet and her groom started buying distressed real estate in Phoenix Arizona through 1994, which was 8 years ago when it was the thing to try. It was now Dec 2000. The market appears to be slowing down as well as did after September 11, 2001. Janet had been continuously borrowing money from her father, whenever things received too difficult. She later sold everything in The phoenix airport and bought property in Northern California. Then on 1999, one year before I was brought in, she began buying real estate in Kansas City. One day Janet's papa called me and asked for my help. He had credited his daughter $200, 000 and felt that every little thing she owned was upside down. (Loans more than the market worth. ). This was further complicated by the fact that if your lover sold her properties, to pay off her father, the capital advances taxes would eat up any cash, from the sale. As well as all this, Janet kept asking for more money to keep up the installments on the properties that had a negative cash flow and couldn't have enough rental income. He hired me to help the daughter and agreed to pay my fee. I would manage this 40 years old kid, to get her to return the woman fathers $200, 000 and make herself totally arrears free. Janet and I met. She was remarkable. She did know what she was doing, as far as selecting good real estate deals. She owned, at the time of our appointment, 10 properties located in 2 different states, and it has $500, 000 in equity. If we could get it through, before her father had a stroke things could well be great. Janet agreed to the arrangement, happily, if I might be her adviser, not his. Her father agreed to fill whatever money was requested as long as I approved the software. Also I had to be the one to ask Janet's dad for the money, since the upset between the farther and daughter was basically getting unbearable. This is what we did. A list of needed maintenance tasks was created for each of the 11 properties. Bids were been given and the work ordered to be done within 30 days. I thought this was not to take months. It had to be done immediately therefore we could go to step two. Step 2 was to put on the market many of the expensive Northern California property. To my disbelief, Janet wanted to move her family, to a new city, in the center of all this and her father agreed to let her complete the work. She had found an old run down house that the woman felt was undervalued. That meant that her good old residence was put into the group of properties to sell. Market is what we planned to do. Everything was to be placed on the market, and sold at the best price to be been given, but sold regardless. The property in Kansas was that should be repaired and fully rented. The properties that could be offered for sale at what we thought was full retail, were even put on the market. The plan was that when everything was advertised, the father would get paid off; the loans on the staying properties would be paid off and the balance of the cash will be put into the bank. Since all of the Kansas deals appear to be a good quality investment, Janet could now continue to buy more Kansas property, (she had only been spending $25, 000 on each deal) but for all cash. The rental prices coming in would generate enough income for her family to live a life on without having to ask for money from dad or touching her investment nest egg. That was the plan. I forgot one last thing. Because many of the properties had been bought yrs ago on a 1031 exchanges (tax-free exchange), the capital gain tax burden was going to eat up the cash proceeds. That was one of the traps Jesse fell into. She felt she couldn't sell with out buying a replacement. Of course by not liquidating before starting anew, she would never get out of debt with her real estate providers or her father. The solution, for this problem was much easier than one would think. First, the father did a 1031 exchange with Janet for one of the big profit properties. The father sold Janet his personal residences for basically no money down. Now Janet rented her father the place he lives in. So much for capital gains place a burden on on the $150, 000 profit in that one big selling. The second big profit was in the house Janet currently were living in. That was tax-free under the current laws. Since the other sorts of houses sold had smaller profits, it was decided the business decision to get out of debt was more crucial than avoiding paying any taxes. Author's Note: Which was the plan. So what happened? Janet decided she didn't would like to sell the junk in Kansas and fired others. She refused to pay her father back and as regarding December 2004 he had not seen a dime. Dad has deducted what she owes him from him / her inheritance, which will be put into a trust administered by the brother for the benefit of the grandchildren. Real estate in Los angeles skyrocketed after 9/11/01 terrorist attack and her real estate all doubled in value. Summary: Everyone thinks the fact that his or her problem is not confrontable and therefore unsolvable. I have found who someone other than myself can solve my un-confrontable challenges in 10 min and I can do the same for the kids. It is not a question of being smarter, or more experienced, nonetheless experience helps a lot when coming up with easy solutions, promptly. It is really that we all are willing to confront someone else's problems quite easy than our own. When we are willing to confront our own problem head-on, solutions begin to appear miraculously. What I do is guidance people take their mountains and turn them within molehills. The molehills are then flattened with ease. Instructions to learn: First, do not think you are smarter than the individuals passed this way before you; you're not. Second, markets never go up forever, have not performed as if they will. Third, if you are not even prepared for the worst, it will kill you. If you are completely ready, it will only hurt a little. You will survive and can be purchased away much richer in the end.

[numba99]

Hate To Love You Part 10

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Playlist for shits and gigs if you care 

Summary:  You and Jimmy have never gotten along. To say you hated each other would be an understatement. But when a night at a party takes an unexpected turn, things between the two of you change forever. Word Count: 2,137

Warnings: angst?? do we warn for that?

Over the next few weeks, you and Kevin spent much of your free time on dates together. Despite having slept together, you both agreed you wanted to take it slow. Neither of you wanted to jump into a relationship too fast, fear off all your mutual friends making a bit of a messy situation if you weren’t 100% sure about it. It was more than fine with you, as you were not looking forward to the day Jimmy found out.

Not that you cared what he thought about it, you just didn’t know how he would react. As far as you knew, your little fling was still a secret and you wanted to keep it that way. Besides, you liked being able to get to know Kevin without any prying eyes. Sure, you’ve known each other for awhile now, but this was different.

It came as no surprise to you that you liked Kevin. He was incredibly sweet and thoughtful and could always make you laugh. Honestly, you almost forgot about the Jimmy situation. When it was just you and Kevin, you could pretend that it didn’t happen and that it was just you two. However, when you were alone with your thoughts for too long you couldn’t ignore it.

The worst part was, you weren’t fully over Jimmy. You wanted so badly to just hate him, but you couldn’t. As shitty as he had been, it wasn’t enough to totally erase the feelings that you had been harboring for him during your time together. It would be a lot easier if you could cut Jimmy out completely, but you knew that wasn’t an option. However, you were a firm believer that time heals all wounds, and having Kevin didn’t hurt either.

“So I’ve been thinking,” Kevin said as he was getting ready to head out of your place. The two of you had a quick movie night before he went off on a short road trip. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” you teased lightly.

Keving rolled his eyes, laughing, “You’re such a jerk.”

“And yet you keep me around,” you pointed out with a playful smile.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Kevin smiled, “Which is why I want you to come with me to the team event next week.”

“Seriously? Even with everyone there?” you asked. Of course you wanted to go with Kevin, but that was definitely a big step. There wouldn’t be any hiding after showing up together.

“I know we said take it slow so I totally get it if you don’t wanna. I don’t know, I guess I just kinda wanna show you off,” he told you shyly. Your heart practically melted. How could one guy be so sweet?

The only hing holding you back was Jimmy. He would obviously be there and realize you two were at least somewhat together. If his actions at the club were any indication of his feelings, he wouldn’t be happy about it. However, you figured you were just delaying the inevitable at this point. He was going to have to find out eventually. At least if it was at a public team event, he probably wouldn’t cause a stir.

“I’d love to go with you Kev,” you replied, pulling him in for a quick kiss. Kevin smiled, returning the kiss before peeling himself away from you. He told you he’d send you the details later as he headed out.

The next week you flip flopped between excited and nervous. Excited because you were finally going to a Rangers event as a date date. You’d gone with Brady a few times when Gracia couldn’t make it, but this time it was for real. And you were excited to take another step forward with Kevin. But you were nervous for what everyone was going to say, especially Jimmy.

You swore to yourself you wouldn’t let him ruin your night. You distracted yourself during the week by hunting for the perfect dress to wear. It turns out retail therapy was exactly what you needed. After finding a dress that fit you perfectly, you were feeling super confident about going and couldn’t wait for Saturday to roll around.

And it finally did. “Wow,” Kevin’s jaw dropped when you opened the door.

“You like?” you wiggled your brows at him.

“Love,” he replied, sliding his arms around your waist, “If attendance wasn’t mandatory, we wouldn’t be going.” He eyed you with lust, tinting your cheeks pink.

“Oh yeah? And what would we be doing?” you egged him on.

“Let’s just say this dress wouldn’t last too long,” Kevin smirked before pulling you in for kiss. With that, the two of you were off. You were a little late-  well Kevin was a little late, making you late along with him - so it was pretty crowded by the time you got there.

Kevin held your hand in his as he wound you through the tables back to where Brady was sitting. Gracia sat next to him and on the other side, of course, was Jimmy.

“Hey guys,” Kevin greeted the table. 

“Hey Ke- whoa y/n?” Brady said when he saw you. That got Jimmy’s attention. You weren’t looking directly at him, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Yeah, it’s me,” you laughed awkwardly, your nerves suddenly creeping back.

“I didn’t know you guys were dating,” Gracia said.

“We are figuring it out,” Kevin told them, giving you a soft smile. You squeezed his hand, feeling a lot better with him by your side. You guys joined the table, sitting as far from Jimmy as the table would allow. 

For the most part, conversation flowed normally. Jimmy was quiet though, which wasn’t normal. No one else really seemed to notice, but you were hyper aware of his presence. At first he just seemed surprised, but as the night went on he seemed to grow more annoyed. Each time you and Kevin touched or laughed together his fist would tighten. When Kevin pressed a kiss to your lips, he snapped.

“Alright we get it,” he grumbled.

“Excuse me?” Kevin raised a brow at his friend.

“Did she tell you?” Jimmy asked, his eyes bouncing from you back to Kevin. They were filled with malice, making your stomach drop.

“Jimmy,” you pleaded. He completely ignored you.

“Did she tell you Kevin?” Jimmy asked again.

The table fell silent, everyone sensing something bad was coming. Kevin’s face twisting in confusion, looking to you for explanation. “What’s he talking about?”

You were mute. You wanted to say something, to diffuse the situation, but your heart was beating so fast you couldn’t even hear yourself think. It was almost like an out of body experience, you were screaming at yourself to say something, but you just couldn’t.

“If you don’t wanna tell him I will,” Jimmy turned to Kevin, “We fucked. A lot.” Brady choked on his drink as the color drained from your face. You couldn’t believe he was doing this right here, right now.

“Are you fucking serious Jimmy?” you snapped, your anger pulling you from the stunned silence you had fallen into.

“What? It’s just the truth,” Jimmy replied, “But I guess you forgot to mention that, didn’t you?”

“Y/n... is what he’s saying true?” Kevin asked, his voice breaking slightly. Your heart nearly broke. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid.

“Kevin, I can explain,” you began, but realized you really couldn’t. Well, you could but you didn’t think it would make anything better. It was true, there was no other way around it. “I mean, yeah we did, awhile ago.”

“Ha! If you count a few weeks ago as a while,” Jimmy sneered. Kevin ignored him, his eyes still on you. The pain was evident in them and it was killing you.

“How could you...” his voice trailed off.

“Kevin, please, I’m sorry,” you tried to put your hand over his but he pulled away.

“I have to go,” he stood up suddenly, making a quick exit. You knew he was about to cry and didn’t want everyone to see. The atmosphere of the table was painfully awkward, but you were seeing red.

“Are you happy?” you snapped at Jimmy.

“He deserved to know,” he replied plainly.

“To do it like that? In front of friends? That wasn’t for him that was for you and you fucking know it. You’re a fucking dick,” you went on.

“So you sleep with me and my best friend and I’m the dick?” Jimmy questioned.

You jumped up, having to prevent yourself from screaming at him and causing a scene. You wanted to say something more thought out, something to really stick it to him, but all you could get out was, “Fuck you.” 

You stormed out, without giving another look to Brady or Garcia . You were too mortified. You went looking for Kevin, needing to explain yourself more. You walked briskly through the hallways, finding him around a quiet corner. Mika was there, talking quietly with him. By the way he looked at you, you knew he knew. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die you were so embarrassed, but Kevin deserved to hear from you.

“Kevin, please can I talk to you,” you pleaded. Kevin nodded reluctantly, thanking Mika, who gave you a look as he walked past you. 

“What do you want?” he said once you two were alone.

“Kevin I am so fucking sorry,” you began, “I-I can’t even express how sorry I am. I fucked up so bad.”

“So it’s all true? You guys were really having sex right before we- oh god Jimmy was the guy you were upset about, wasn’t he?” he made the realization.

“Yes he was.” There was no point in lying, it would only dig you into a deeper hole. “God I know how fucked this all must seem,” you said, “It’s just, I don’t know, things were really complicated with me and Jimmy. We had a blow out fight and it fucking sucked. You were there for me and I just didn’t think.” Tears were spilling out of your eyes as you spoke, realizing how badly you messed. So many things were running through your mind, like the fact that this could totally fuck up everything - including your friendship with Brady. 

“You used me,” Kevin sniffled, trying to hold back his tears.

“No Kev, I swear it wasn’t like that,” you insisted, “It was never about making Jimmy jealous or anything. All our dates, everything, it was all about you. I wasn’t trying to be sneaky I was scared.”

“It doesn’t make this feel any better that you didn’t mean it,” Kevin snapped, “I really fucking liked you.” His voice broke again, unable to hold back tears this time.

“I liked you to-”

“But not enough to tell me the truth?” he cut you off. Before you could reply, his eyes flicked up past you, darkening. You spun around, finding Jimmy. For the first all night he had a hint of empathy in his eyes, seeing both of you in tears.

“Now’s not a good time,” Kevin said firmly.

“Look, Kev, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have told you like that,” Jimmy said carefully.

“Seriously Jimmy, it’s taking a lot in me to not kick your ass right. Please just go,” he said, “You too. I want to be alone.” As much as you wanted to comfort him, to try to make things better, you knew now wasn’t the time. You nodded, leaving him with Jimmy following behind you.

“We seriously need to talk,” Jimmy said from behind you. 

“You’ve done enough talking tonight,” you deadpanned. There was supposed to be more venom behind it, but you were so drained you couldn’t muster it.

“I snapped okay, you two were taunting me,” he replied.

“Taunting you? This has nothing to do with you,” you stopped dead in your tracks, snapping at him, “I liked Kevin, he was good to me. He treated me nicely, something you were fucking incapable of.”

“I’m sorry okay!” he practically yelled, taking you aback, “Fuck, it just fucking sucked seeing you too together.”

“Why? Because it means you can’t use me anymore?” you questioned, narrowing your eyes at him.

“No, because I-” he stopped abruptly, “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“No, Jimmy, it doesn’t,” you replied, “You’ve ruined everything. I finally found someone who cared about me. I was finally getting over you and you come in and mess everything up. All you’ve ever done is hurt me.” 

To your surprise, Jimmy started crying. “I’m sorry,” he said meekly.

“You should be,” you replied, before turning away from him. There was no point in staying any longer, so you left, feeling your world crash down around you as you slid into your uber home.

[mittensmorgul]

6.01, Exile on Main Street.

Typically when I write these posts, I try to make a joking comment, or choose a pithy reference to put in this first line, but... god i hate this too much to make jokes about it...

DEAN is attacked by Djinn. Djinn: You made it through that last trip, so how about a big, fat double dose? Bad news -- it'll kill you. The good news? At least you'll go fast. That's for our father, you son of a bitch.

and of course, it's about dredging up daddy issues. These are apparently children of the djinn Dean killed in 2.20...

You might also remember I mentioned Sam's awful promise he extracted from Dean in 5.22, telling him to get out of hunting, go to Lisa and beg her to take him in? Remember that Dean actually did that, despite it metaphorically being a final act of cutting a part of himself off in order to live this terrible half-life, going through the motions of being just another normal suburban dude living a normal suburban life (which he's professed to hate the entire idea of going all the way back to s1?) and abandoning the last link to anyone who actually knows the "real" him when he cut ties with Bobby even, all because that was Sam's literal dying wish for him? Yeah... I've written a LOT about how much I absolutely HATED this entire narrative line.

This was what SAM had always wanted for HIMSELF. He wanted to just... leave the life and "be normal." Dean has NEVER wanted this. Well, maybe he had expressed that to Sam on occasion, in a "hmm, wonder what that's like" sort of way, but at the end of the day he was ALWAYS relieved to be able to climb back in his car and take off for the next hunt. And yet, Sam is SO FUCKING SURE that Dean had always secretly wanted the same sort of suburban normal life that he himself had always fled to every single time he had the chance. Except, Dean is a different person than Sam is, and he can't as easily just cut this whole element of his life out and pretend it never existed. Sam was HAPPY for the most part at Stanford. He never told any of his friends, or even the girl he thought he'd marry and spend his entire life with, about how he was raised and what his family does. At least Lisa and Ben are aware of what Dean's life before he met them entailed so he doesn't have to lie about his past to them, but it's still clear he isn't exactly open and forthcoming about the details. And he spends an inordinate amount of energy still trying to keep the whole truth of it locked up.

From the moment Sam shows up at Dean's house, it's clear that even after a year of "normalcy" that Dean is barely holding on. But this also all speaks to the Performing Dean mask that Dean had possibly sold to Sam just a little bit too successfully for his entire life. (but more on that in the report from 6.02, since that's the main takeaway from that episode...)

What I personally find fascinating with early s6 in relation to where we currently are post 14.20 is this whole feeling of a season-long runaround that-- much like the "we have to kill Lilith!" plot of s4 had proved to be a blatant manipulation. The entire Campbell Family plotline eventually becomes... wtf-laden. Between the "secretly working for Crowley" plotline, compounded with the "monsters acting out of character" plotline, compounded with the eventual reveal of Cas's involvement in the entire narrative mess because of his desperation to keep Dean out of the Apocalypse Redux mess brewing in Heaven... well, this season feels like it just randomly chooses moments to burn vast quantities of its own structure when it no longer fits the story going forward. I feel like a LOT of Dabb Era has been a direct indictment of this s6-7 narrative collapse, using the whole BMoL as the cartoonishly Evol Fall Guys we were happy to watch burn (literally! their headquarters got firebombed!), using first Lucifer and then Nick as the pointlessly recurring distraction of a Bad Guy, with supporting parts in that narrative going to Asmodeus and AU Michael (and the whole AU, honestly, serving as a glaring proof of the futility of the apocalypse from the POV of the angels who believed since day one of creation that it was the "ending" God wanted and intended them to achieve that would bring him back to them, that would please him enough to return to acknowledge their success and reward them for achieving it. Except it was all just lies, and there was no reward, there was no paradise, only more of what they did to themselves, literally the never-ending war they brought about thinking it was all part of God's plan for creation. It was all ironically the exact future they chose for themselves. They had another choice-- to serve as the guardians of the world and humanity, preserving it as a paradise for mortality they could observe and learn and understand about the point of creation, but they chose not to learn from creation itself and instead chose to destroy it. You reap what you sow...

And what s6 sows just... hurts everyone.

Dean: you been back practically this whole time?! What, did you lose the ability to send a friggin' text message?! Sam: You finally had what you wanted, Dean. Dean: I wanted my brother, alive! Sam: You wanted a family. You have for a long time, maybe the whole time. I know you. You only gave it up because of the way we lived. But you had something, and you were building something. Had I shown up, Dean, you would have just run off. I'm sorry. But it felt like after everything, you deserve some regular life.

See... Sam has convinced himself that this Apple Pie Life he himself has always wanted was also what Dean has always wanted... and it just... really, really isn't. See 14.13 for proof of that fact. I mean, you can even look backward to episodes such as 1.08 Bugs, to 5.16 Dark Side of the Moon, 2.20 What Is And What Should Never Be, 3.10 Dream A Little Dream Of Me, 8.01 We Need To Talk About Kevin, 8.09 and 8.10, and honestly a huge chunk of s9 and how their codependency has been treated in Carver Era for hints into understanding these fundamental differences between Sam and Dean, Dean's parentification of Sam from the time he was four, and the vastly different childhood experience, and the construction of Dean's performance mask that Dabb has been systematically burning down over the last few seasons. Just look to 13.05 for the treatise on just how powerfully Sam believes in that mask, and how badly he himself needs Dean to maintain it for his own wellbeing and comfort, even to the point where Dean is literally suicidally depressed and hopeless. Because Sam was fundamentally wrong about what Dean actually wanted and needed. Even Cas, set up from the start to be the effective Big Bad of this season, literally only turned down that path to spare Dean, to protect him from becoming involved in this, mistakenly believing that he'd be intruding on Dean's happiness, from the peace at the end of his road.

Luckily I know what's in store down the line, because it's the ONLY thing preventing me from outright hating Sam for this. Soulless Sam was just as manipulative and ruthless as Cas in this season:

Bobby: And I'd do it again. Dean: Why?! Bobby: Because you got out, Dean! You walked away from the life. And I was so damn grateful, you got no idea. Dean: Do you have any clue what walking away meant for me? Bobby: Yeah -- a woman and a kid and not getting your guts ripped out at age 30. That's what it meant. Dean: That woman and that kid -- I went to them because you asked me to. Bobby: Good. Dean: Good for who? I showed up on their doorstep half out of my head with grief. God knows why they even let me in. I drank too much. I had nightmares. I looked everywhere. I collected hundreds of books, trying to find anything to bust you out. Sam: You promised you'd leave it alone. Dean: Of course I didn't leave it alone! Sue me! A damn year? You couldn't put me out of my misery? Bobby: Look, I get it wasn't easy. But that's life! And it's as close to happiness as I've ever seen a hunter get. It ain't like I wanted to lie to you, son. But you were out, Dean. Dean: Do I look out to you?

And from the end of the episode where we're given even MORE insight into just how "wrong" Sam is:

Sam: Look, I practically shoved you at them. Dean: That's a funny way to put it, but all right. Sam: I'm just saying, I really wanted that for you. And when I told you to go, I-I thought... You could have it, you know? But now I'm not so sure. I mean, you got to consider the fact that you'll be putting them in danger if you go back. Dean: So, what, it's better to leave them alone, unprotected, and then they're not in danger? I did this to them. I made them vulnerable the moment I knocked on their door, and I can't undo that. But what I can do is go with the best option. Sam: I hear you. I guess I just, wish you were coming, that's all. Dean: Why? Sam: Don't be stupid. Dean: No, I mean it. I mean, you know plenty of good hunters. I'm rusty. I did something seriously stupid going out there. I almost got us both killed. Sam: And that's exactly why I want you. Dean: What are you talking about? Sam: You just went. You didn't hesitate. Because you care, and that's who you are. Me? I wouldn't even think to try. Dean: Yes, you would. Sam: No, Dean. I'm telling you, it's just better with you around. That's all.

From my chatbubbles @ lizbob:

without his soul, Sam was freaking ruthless he said or did whatever it took to manipulate everyone, and of course Bobby would want to believe that Dean was truly happy... essentially living out the life Bobby himself lost when he killed his demon-possessed wife... I mean if Bobby could have a do-over, we know exactly what he'd do differently now... it wouldn't have taken much for Sam to convince Bobby that Dean was legit happy with Lisa and Ben, despite the evidence of our eyes that he was basically going through the motions, zombie-style

But was Dean REALLY happy with Lisa and Ben? REALLY?!