#my john asks are getting tiresome

[shallowrambles]

I love that John is problematic, actually, anon. That's the appeal. When I say I like that crusty old bastard, it's knowing he's a Problem with a capital P.

Besides, it's a series full of Monsters with a capital M. John isn't uniquely Bad compared to the other characters, and realizing that is kinda freeing, actually.

Exhibit A: Rowena forgave/looked away from Sam and Cas for their part in the killing of Oskar because they're just animals doing animal things; Winchesters doing Winchester things. She couldn't forgive Crowley, because he's her family--he isn't supposed to do the uncaring animal things to her. That's why she verbalized her glee about Crowley's son Gavin dying.

We tend to see that when "animals do animal things," they're only doing what's in their Nature. It's not personal.

Exhibit B: When Crowley non-consensually fucks, then kills a bunch of queer Christian-coded swingers just to put in a call to Hell at the beginning of season 11, the fandom politely looks away. Because (a) Christian-coded swingers don't have the right aesthetic; in fact become "silly undesirables" even to a gloriously queer audience (b) most importantly, it's just Crowley doing Crowley things.

Not personal. Funny, even.

All that to say, fandom doesn't hate John because he's uniquely evil. Au contraire, he's probably objectively less evil than many of the characters we actively see on our screens. We only hate him because of who he wronged and how. We can almost hear Dean in our heads, yelling at Henry Winchester, "Your responsibility was to your family, not some glorified book club!" Or like the woman in the My Bloody Valentine, "You can't keep choosing work over me, Jimmy!"

There's inherent tension in doing work, going to work, keeping family safe, getting them battle-ready etc. etc. etc. versus the heartwarming business of proper caretaking and spending time together.

John's not allowed/supposed to be an animal out doing animal things, even if it's in the name of the Greater Good. Because he wronged his own family. Violence is good in a man; it makes him a hero even, under the right circumstances. But the violence should not be targeted inwards under any circumstances. That's not allowed to do to your own family, only outsiders' families. That's how society works.

This is why our reaction to John is kind of...outsized compared to other "bad: characters, even early-days Rowena. It's why even though John (and maybe even Lucifer) aren't objectively always leagues-worse than other characters, talking about them with any nuance gets you branded "BETRAYER" and bashed with hate-anons.

Aside///It's also why Dean's reactions to Cas are so outsized. Because Cas has an unspoken responsibility as family protector. Same as John had, though John was a failed family protector. (John is a father. Cas is and has always been a narratively "overworking husband." Yes, even when they imply the other is childlike; that's how spouses do; getting mad when the other doesn't understands their specific area of expertise or doesn't rise to the occasion as expected. Women tend to get infantilized for having opinions/not loving enough and men tend to get infantilized for not being tough enough/stepping up to the plate etc etc)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

When is it okay to use adverbs? I'm currently paranoid and pondering about deleting every single one from my wips

Here are excerpts of writing tips and advice from editors, publishers, and writers:

Adverbs in your novel must be minimal.

Adverbs are necessary for the English language and have a rightful place as one of the eight parts of speech.

In literature, some adverbs are less desirable than others.

Adverbs with -ly tend to slow the pace.

They also tell what’s happening. They don’t show.

Never use an adverb to modify the verb 'said' —Elmore Leonard

Stephen King:

The adverb is not your friend.

Adverbs, you will remember from your own version of Business English, are words that modify verbs, adjectives, or other adverbs.

They’re the ones that usually end in -ly.

Adverbs, like the passive voice, seem to have been created with the timid writer in mind.

With adverbs, the writer usually tells us he or she is afraid he/she isn’t expressing himself/herself clearly, that he or she is not getting the point or the picture across.

Consider the sentence He closed the door firmly.

It’s by no means a terrible sentence (at least it’s got an active verb going for it), but ask yourself if firmly really has to be there. You can argue that it expresses a degree of difference between He closed the door and He slammed the door, and you’ll get no argument from me . . . but what about context? What about all the enlightening (not to say emotionally moving) prose which came before He closed the door firmly? Shouldn’t this tell us how he closed the door? And if the foregoing prose does tell us, isn’t firmly an extra word? Isn’t it redundant?

Someone out there is now accusing me of being tiresome and anal-retentive. I deny it. I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops. To put it another way, they’re like dandelions. If you have one on your lawn, it looks pretty and unique. If you fail to root it out, however, you find five the next day . . . fifty the day after that . . . and then, my brothers and sisters, your lawn is totally, completely, and profligately covered with dandelions. By then you see them for the weeds they really are, but by then it’s—GASP!!—too late. I can be a good sport about adverbs, though. Yes I can. With one exception: dialogue attribution. I insist that you use the adverb in dialogue attribution only in the rarest and most special of occasions . . . and not even then, if you can avoid it.

There is a core simplicity to the English language and its American variant, but it’s a slippery core. All I ask is that you do as well as you can, and remember that, while to write adverbs is human, to write he said or she said is divine.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ Writing Refresher: Adjective or Adverb

Hope this helps! Some sound advice here from different perspectives. Definitely choose which ones are most appropriate for you, as a writer, and for the specific story you are currently working on. I'd also recommend you read the entire sources to get a fuller context since these are just excerpts I handpicked. And because more examples are provided as well, particularly in Stephen King's book.

"Since advice is usually ignored and rules are routinely broken, I refer to these little pearls as merely 'suggestions.'....There’s nothing binding here. All suggestions can be ignored when necessary." —John Grisham

[wistfulcynic]

a non-izzy-centric reading of the events of season two

i didn't really want to get into this because it's so, so tiresome and i'd rather talk about the things i loved about this season. Poison, positivity, etc. But.

reading this post about people doubting their own judgement due to the overwhelming noise from Izzy stans along with a rewatch of season two from start to finish made me realise that i too had been influenced by a year and a half of being intensely frustrated by people insisting so loudly that OFMD was in fact the Izzy Hands Show. My initial issues with S2 mostly stemmed from overcompensating for that by resenting any development of Izzy on the screen because i did not want it to feed those people. Which meant that i also was centring Izzy in a way that he should not be centred! i was letting their noise lead me to read him as far more important than he actually is.

So i looked back at several points from the season that had me feeling uncomfortable and which, from a cursory browse through the Izzy tag i've concluded his stans see as a contradiction or a betrayal or something and re-evaluated them from the perspective of Izzy not being a main fucking character.

point one: "He's our dick."

When Archie (a newcomer and therefore a fairly effective audience stand-in for anyone not balls deep in fandom bullshit) asks Jim why they're going to so much trouble for Izzy, who she has immediately clocked as "kind of a dick", Jim gives this response. Which, if you think Izzy is important, may read as an expression of reluctant fondness. But then, Jim continues: "There was a time when life meant something on this ship. When we lived for each other, not just to survive." These lines are punctuated by a flashback to the famous Revenge crew found-family Renaissance-painting moment. Jim is nostalgic for the "good old days" of the Revenge under Stede's people-positive management style. It is out of respect for that (seemingly) lost way of life that they take the trouble for Izzy, not for Izzy himself. They'd have done the same for anyone, because they desperately want life to matter again. Izzy, as the person whose gamy leg is a direct result of his threatening Ed and bringing the kraken era down on all of them, is simply the one whose life happens to be on the line.

(honestly, i love this from Jim, who was one of Stede's boldest detractors in season one and still the crew member most likely to call him out on his bullshit. That's your "reluctant fondness" moment right there.)

point two: the new unicorn

apparently Izzy stans see the gift of the unicorn leg prosthetic as a symbol of deep love and respect from the crew to Izzy. Which is an absolutely wild reading when you look at what led up to it.

There's tension on the ship. Divisions. Lucius is chain-smoking and jump-scared by his own shadow. Jim, Archie, Frenchie, and Fang are overcome by guilt over their mutiny and frantically scrubbing nonexistent blood from the deck in what is a fantastically darkly funny Lady Macbeth moment for them. Izzy is sloppy drunk and yelling nonsensical abuse at the unicorn masthead. Roach, Pete, Oluwande, and Wee John make a well-intentioned but ill-conceived attempt to bring everyone back together (i say "everyone" but Izzy, significantly, is not included) which leads to them all being at each other's throats in the sort of mutually-assured-destruction configuration that starts world wars. It's a great scene. Izzy is not a part of it.

until he interrupts them, throws the unicorn legs at them and in his drunken clumsiness breaks his prosthetic. He then pointedly refuses their offers of assistance and drags himself away along the floor by his arms.

my friends. This is peak pathos. The crew do not respect Izzy in this moment, they feel sorry for him. They realise that he's worse off than any of the rest of them and that knowledge brings them back together. Making the unicorn prosthetic is barely about Izzy at all. It's about the crew coming together, repairing the rifts in their found family and as a bonus helping out their grumpy second cousin who doesn't really want to be there but has nowhere else to go. It's also a very generous offer of a new place on the ship--as the new unicorn--and a fresh start. Because that's what life on the Revenge is. For everyone.

point three: la vie en rose

much has been made of Izzy putting on drag makeup and singing at the Calypso birthday party, and fair enough. That's a big character development point for him. i don't hate it, though i wish there'd been more build-up to it, a longer conversation between Izzy and Wee John at least (insert obligatory "fuck Max" here) but regardless, if we accept Izzy's amputated leg as cutting off his old self and replacing it with the unicorn then we can arrive at a place where he's able to participate in a drag performance without too much cognitive gymnastics.

i've written before about the curious choice to have Izzy sing La Vie En Rose in French (after he initially sang it in English) at the very moment when Ed and Stede are having sex for the first time. On first watch i felt viscerally troubled by it, it felt like a validation of the obsessive psychosexual reading of Izzy's feelings for Ed. Looking at the season as a whole, it feels more like a (cringy, creepy, waaaay over the line) attempt on his part to signal approval for Ed and Stede's relationship. Especially when taken in conjunction with his (super creepy, like wtf who greenlit this) interruption of their breakfast in bed the next morning to make a ham-fisted innuendo. Weird but okay i guess, it's not like Izzy and social niceties have ever gone hand in hand.

many people point to the drag scene as the crew embracing Izzy and welcoming him as one of them. Again, i don't disagree. But, also again, this is not specific to Izzy. This is just what they do. They also embraced Archie with her snake-cult stories, they re-embraced Ed (who yes, they do love, refutations of arguments that they don't love Ed are a whole other essay though) and later they embrace Zheng and Auntie and also Jackie who once stole their savings jar and threatened to cut off their noses. That's what they do! They embrace people! That's what the show is about!

point four: the death scene

i have to be honest, i still hate this. i don't hate that Izzy died, i hate that he died in Ed's arms with Ed calling him his only family. That still feels unearned to me, and alas was probably another victim of the shortened season. But even with this extremely kind and forgiving death scene, the stans are not satisfied! They feel that the entire crew should have been gathered round, assuring Izzy of their profound love for him. There should have been weeping at the funeral, wailing and gnashing of teeth, rending of garments etc. It's what he deserves as such a beloved member of the crew!

except he wasn't beloved. He was accepted, yes. Welcomed, even. But acceptance is a far cry from love. Cheering as someone sings a song at a party does not mean you feel ready to weep at their deathbed or proclaim your undying affection for them.

yet even so, the crew are visibly distraught at his death scene. There are tears in many eyes! But effusive declarations of feeling from any one of them other than Ed would have felt (to anyone not convinced Izzy is the main character) completely wrong and very weird. You can headcanon what you like to fill the gaps in canon but on screen we have seen very few meaningful interactions between Izzy and any of the existing crew aside from Fang and Lucius and to a lesser extent Wee John. Izzy's primary relationship with another character is with Ed and so, as much as i still don't like it, Ed is the only one who has any real reason to be at Izzy's side as he dies.

as for the brevity of the funeral and the fact that they went straight from it to Pete and Lucius's wedding instead of having, idk, a prolonged wake at which everyone speaks at length about how important Izzy was to them, i mean. Obviously that wasn't going to happen. More than enough screen time had already been given to a side character who spent most of it either being miserable himself or making others so. It was time for the rest of them to find some moments of joy. As Izzy himself said, not moving on is worse.

in conclusion, i'd like to address the people saying that Izzy should have lived so he could continue his arc of self-discovery and sure, that would have been great--on the Izzy Hands Show. But OFMD is about Ed and Stede and Izzy had served his purpose in their story. i feel certain there will be copious fanfics to soothe anyone who feels Izzy was shortchanged.

on the show, though, he was treated in a very logical and foreseeable way as the antagonist who was able to see the light at the end but not necessarily to thrive in such a well-lit environment. Literature (by which i mean also films and tv) abounds with examples of this sort of character. They see the error of their ways but they are too stuck in them, shaped by them, to exist comfortably in any other way. They help bring about change to benefit others and not for themselves, that is the bittersweet beauty of their endings.

Izzy let Ed go. He embraced the softer parts of himself. He died surrounded by people who may not have loved him but at least accepted him as one of their own and felt genuine sorrow about his passing. That is a satisfying narrative end for a reformed antagonist! If you truly feel that he was shortchanged by it then you have forgotten what show you're watching and what sort of character he was.

Izzy Hands: not the main character, still an interesting one, absolute nightmare, what a guy.

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Platonic Yandere John Wick Part 1

Inspired by @discoscoob

Hours have passed since John left, and you are left alone in his bedroom as a storm rages outside. A loud clap of lightning and another thunderclap engulfs the room in darkness. You look at the electronic lock on the bedroom door and see that it has been disabled, revealing that there has been a blackout.

You run out of the house where you have been imprisoned for days —, adrenaline pumping through your veins, just as John's car pulls into the driveway. The sound of John's booming voice calling your name through the storm is ignored as you sprint in front of the headlights and make a direct course for the woods.

As your bare feet slide and slip on the muddy, wet floor of the dense forest, you can hear his footsteps following you, and before you know it, you're falling. John grabs you while you're on the ground without hesitation, causing you to scream and kick.

"Stop struggling!" he growls fiercely, tightening his hold and stopping your pointless attempts to break free. "Did you honestly believe your naive escape plan would work?"

With a bruising grip on your bicep, John starts to march you back towards his remote house, pulling you along with him across the muddy landscape.

"Take a look at your current state. Was it worth it?" he asks, gesturing to your soaked and muddy state as you walk alongside him on your bare feet, shivering from your lack of protection against the freezing wind and pounding rain.

“I don’t wanna go back.. I can’t..” You sob, trying to grab onto passing trees in a desperate attempt to not go back inside his house. Your hands are all cut up as well as your feet and shins.You are practically begging him to not lock you in a room.

John is unfazed by your pleas, continuing to drag you towards his house with an ironclad grip.

“Your constant attempts to escape are getting tiresome. You keep pushing my patience,” he scolds, his voice gruff with irritation as he navigates through the rain and thick mud. “As if I'd let you leave after all the work I went through to get you here. You’re mine, whether you like it or not.”

He doesn’t so much as glance at the blood dripping from your hands and feet, his focus solely on getting you back into the house.

You keep sobbing as he drags you through his front door, he locks it behind him. You are mid mental breakdown, shaking and sobbing. The mental toll on you is obvious. He sits you down on the floor as he goes to get a couple of towels so you don’t get mud on the floor. You curl into a ball and sob into your knees, leaning against the door.

John returns from grabbing a couple of towels and throws them down next to you. “Stop the tears.” he commands, his voice firm as he looks down at you sitting by the front door, your shivering, shaking form curled into a ball against the wall.

He crouches down before you, wrapping a large towel around you, his cold and emotionless demeanour shifting as he takes in your pitiful state. Despite his harsh tone, he carefully dries your hair with the other towel before wrapping it around your shaking shoulders like a makeshift blanket.

He treats you like a troublesome child or one that is unwell and needs his care. He rubs your arms, trying to warm you up a little. John continues to dry your hair with the towel, a hint of tenderness in his usually aloof demeanour as he gently rubs your arms.

“You’re shivering so much.” he mutters as he notices how much you’re still trembling. He looks away, shaking his head in frustration. “It’s no use staying wet in those clothes, you’ll make yourself sick.”

He peels his suit jacket off and drapes it over your shoulders, its large size covering you almost entirely.

He picks you up and walks you upstairs into the room that he keeps you in. It’s a small, comfortable bedroom with a twin sized bed and a bathroom off to the side.. he even put in products that he knows that you use in the bathroom. Only a couple of products, ones he deemed ok for you to use, the rest are custom to you and very expensive. It's obvious that he likes to spend his money.

He says that you need a warm shower to get cleaned up. He tells you that he is going to get a first aid kit and clean clothes for you while you warm up. He leads you to the bathroom, you are still sobbing. You get behind the shower curtain to get undressed. You shakily drop the wet clothes in a pile right outside the shower, you make sure he can’t see you through the opaque shower curtain. You turn the shower on with shaky hands. You hear him leave to go get the things he said he would get.

A few moments later he returns, finding your muddy and wet clothes discarded in a pile just outside the shower while the water runs behind the curtain. He can hear your shaky breaths echoing through the bathroom as he sets the items he has collected down on the sink, before he quietly waits for you to finish your shower.

You scrub the dirt off of you the best you can, you don’t bother to wash your hair. You turn the shower off after you warm up a little and you turn off the shower. You immediately miss the feeling of the warm water on your cold skin. You reach for a towel from behind the shower curtain and you dry yourself off as tears still stream down your face. You also reach for the clean pyjamas and change into them.

John waits patiently outside the shower, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest. The sound of the water turning off signals your emergence and he waits idly as you dry yourself off and change into the new clothes he left you.

A few short moments pass before the bathroom door finally opens and he catches sight of you, now clean and dry and less dishevelled than before, though your tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes show that the emotional toll of the night’s events has weighed heavy upon you.

John helps you onto the bathroom counter, noticing the many cuts and scrapes on your skin as he rolls up your sleeves and pant legs. It's then he spots the bruise under your right eye. The sight causes his expression to harden, a flicker of unreadable anger passing over his stoic features.

He pulls out a bottle of antiseptic and dabs a cotton ball into it before gently dabbing at the various cuts and scrapes on your arms and legs with a tender touch.

John glances at your tear-streaked face as he continues tending to your wounds, his expression stoic yet there’s a hint of a frown on his features.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart.” he murmurs, his voice softened for a moment. “You’ve exhausted yourself. Nothing more.”

As he finishes wrapping some cut-up and battered skin with a bandage, he reaches out and gently wipes the tears away with his sleeve. You flinch and try to pull away, he doesn’t comment on that action. He shushed you, as if you are a tired child who can’t get to sleep.

After he’s finished bandaging your wounds, John gently turns your face towards him, his focus shifting to the growing bruise under your right eye.

“Stay still. I’ll get an ice pack for you.” he mutters, leaving the room for a few minutes before returning with an ice pack wrapped in a tea towel. He applies it gently to the bruised skin. You are crying, shaking from the force of your sobs, you lower your head.

John watches as your head droops lower, the sobs now reduced to soft cries. He notices your exhaustion and the tiredness that has clearly set into a weary frame.

“You’re exhausted.” he remarks, a hint of weariness in his voice as well. “You’ve got to get some sleep, sweetheart. You’re already worn to a frazzle.”

He steps closer, gently lifting your chin with his fingers so you’re looking directly up at him.

John holds the ice pack gently against your bruise while he lets your head rest on his shoulder, his other hand coming to your back in a subtle show of comfort. He can feel your weariness and exhaustion seeping into your very being as he supports the weight of your head against him.

“Just rest.” he mutters softly, his voice still firm but the edge has disappeared. “You’re drained. You shouldn’t have exerted yourself tonight.”

You cry into his shoulder, your tears making his dress shirt wet. He feels no guilt for keeping you here. He just doesn't want you to be hurt and upset.

John feels your tears against his shoulder, your body shuddering with each sobbed breath you take. Despite the absence of any guilt, his concern is evident in the way he holds you close and gently rubs your back, shushing you like a child.

“You’ve overworked yourself.” he murmurs, his voice having lost its edge entirely. “You hurt yourself running through the storm. Such a reckless girl…”

You feel your body go limp as you continue to cry, and your vision blurs. You are passing out, and before you can protest, you've fallen asleep in his arms.

John sets you down on the bed, carefully laying your limp form onto the sheets before gently moving the icepack away from your face.

He stands over you for a moment, his eyes taking in your exhausted and weary state, a frown forming on his stoic features as he watches you sink into the realms of sleep.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, his gaze not leaving your sleeping form as he remains still, almost like he’s deep in thought.

John glances at you for a few more moments before getting up from the bed, his gaze lingering on your slumped form as he walks out of your makeshift bedroom. He shuts the door behind him, making sure to lock it.

[painted-doe]

thoughts on thunderbolts now we have another trailer? it's probably foolish but there's a part of me thats starting to hope that it might actually be good

Yelena, John, Bucky, Ava, and Alexei sniping cattily at each other: CHECK ✅

Smashy, street-level action that goes hard: CHECK ✅

Bucky getting to be a certified badass with some seriously awesome action scenes: CHECKITY CHECK ✅ ✅ ✅ ✅ ✅ ✅ ✅ ✅

Bucky finding fulfillment through protecting and mentoring others (which, IMO, is at the heart of his character): *crickets* …hmm maybe?

Bucky and Yelena likely getting romantically paired together, erasing her comics-canon aroace identity and tiresomely perpetuating Hollywood’s usual age gap between an older man and a younger woman: CHE—oh, no thank you. No that’s fine Disney you don’t have to do that. Really

Bucky and/or Alexei likely dying: STOP IT WE ARE NOT PUTTING A CHECKMARK ON THIS ONE

So… some mixed feelings, a fair bit of apprehension, but also looking forward to it a lot. I’m sure they’re still going to do things with my faves that I don’t love… but hey, that’s how we get the joy of fix-it fics!

Thanks for the ask! What are your predictions & thoughts?

[lol-jackles]

I'm rewatching spn and Jared 's portrayal of Sam when possessed by demon Meg in season 2 I think is sooo good! He really appears unhinged when he comes out as the demon, and even the scenes where Sam (possessed by Meg) is acting like Sam, are so wicked. I think this is the first episode where Jared sort of portrays a character who is not Sam (in mind, body and spirit) and he really does a wonderful job.

With Dean's character I've noticed that whenever he is in mortal danger, like making the year long deal to save sam's life, or the mark of cain arc, or being possessed by Michael arc, and many many more arcs in the later season, Dean just completely gives up on himself and on life. I HATE this attitude with every cell of my being! MORE than Dean being codependent on Sam and not letting him live his life without Dean. I hate this defeatist attitude so much. And then everyone else around him has to worry for him and take care of him and find resolutions for his issues. While with Sam, he doesn't give up till his last fighting breath. I love that!

 Meg!Sam was probably the first time when casual watchers sat up and go, "whoa, the kid can act!". When Meg and Castiel became a canon couple, I thought it was a huge missed opportunity that Meg didn't possess Sam again and gift us scenes of Castiel swooning after a flirty Meg!Sam.

Yeah, Dean's defeatist attitude was a plot device that can get tiresome, starting in season 5. Still, it was a plot device that usually works as part of Sam's hero journy arc.

From Sam’s point of view, Dean’s endless self-inflicted apathy is part of the long list of crappy-things-to-do-to-Sam.  Like in episode 13x05, Dean temporarily killing himself so he can go into the dead zone to find the bodies and free the souls, while a good idea (I guess???), was still a very crappy thing to do to Sam as there was no discussion, just “here’s a needle give me five minutes being dead okay see you later.”  It’s been ongoing since season 2, so I don’t blame Sam in season 14 for thinking the Mal'ex magic box business is just the latest in a long string of events of Dean causing himself harm and then giving up at the first inconvenience.  Sam’s angry speech in episode 14x11 “Damaged Goods” was not only about Dean cutting Sam out of his plan with no discussion but also for giving up by using blind faith in fate as an excuse (“since when do we believe in fate?”).  Sam’s speech in episode 14x12 “Prophet and Loss” recounts their long history of defying fate and surviving literal and figurative hell because they had faith in themselves. Dean is forgiven for forgetting this lesson every season because the plot device kicks in just in time to give us some of Jared's finest acting of Sam’s decade-long frustrations with Dean’s obstinance, causing him to breakdown and ask, “why don’t you believe in us?”, like a child asking why adults do stupid things when the adults should know better. 

Dean's defeatist attitude is part of the determinism (Dean) vs free will (Sam) philosophy that ran through the series by Sam confronting and challenging the authority figures in his life: John Winchester, Dean Winchester, Lucifer, and then God. They all wanted Sam to be something he didn’t want to be - John’s solider, Dean’s companion, Lucifer’s vessel, and Chuck's story.  Eventually, Sam acquiesced to their demands but on his own terms, he became a hunter to leave a legacy, became Dean’s partner to save him, became Lucifer’s vessel to save the world, became Chuck's story to defeat him and bring free will into the world through Jack, a nephilim he essentially raised and influenced.

Dean: "Finally free"

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

Sometimes Change Can Be Better

John "Soap" MacTavish X Reader Platonic!Task Force 141 X Reader

Internally you rolled your eyes, this was either some ploy for you and Johnny to get closer which didn’t sound like a bad time. However there was also the idea that maybe Johnny didn’t have the best intentions which worried you. The only way to find out was to throw caution to the wind and simply try.

a/n:this fic was brought on by an idea that @gaylemonshark and I had, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

You and Marc had been the best of friends since childhood, you were the first person he opened up to when it came to his DID. His parents were completely unaware of the struggles he dealt with, from blaming himself for his brother's death, to his mothers abuse. He had told you first when he signed up for the army, shocked that you had beaten him to it. Your parents had been disappointed, angry that you were willingly putting yourself into danger. You didn’t want to admit it was because of Marc, that you’d heard whispers of what he planned to do. It had been a long and grueling few years, testing your limits every single day. Marc was the only reason you’d managed to stay alive as long, keeping you safe.

So when he got dishonorably discharged you followed suit, leaving your life behind to join Marc in where his adventure led him next. And then you’d been shot and left for dead, watching Marc crawl into the tomb your team had been raiding. No one had known that they were living their last few minutes, shot execution style. Except for you and Marc, for some reason they’d assumed you would die and left before you could say otherwise. A strange light seemed to glow from inside the tomb, causing you to shut your eyes tight. Marc had come running out moments later, pressing his hands against the wound.

“You’re gonna be alright sweetheart, I promise.” And Marc, true to his word, made sure you survived the night.

He’d told you all about Khonshu, the Egyptian god that had given him the ceremonial robes so he could help keep people safe. He’d done everything he could to make sure no harm ever came to you, of course after taking care of a few loose ends. It lessened the guilt he felt after dropping you off in London, saying that he couldn’t risk your life anymore. It had hurt to be left behind, you’d given up your entire life for him, and this was the thanks you got? Of course he had never asked you to do that, but you didn’t have anyone else in your life.

And then one day he simply showed back up, bag thrown over his shoulder and a poor excuse as to why he’d suddenly come back. You wanted to slam the door in his face, to tell him that you wanted nothing to do with him. Except you couldn’t do that, not to someone that had been your friend for so long. So you invited him in and made him a cup of coffee. He admitted to everything, getting married to a woman named Layla, getting divorced from said woman. You were more upset that you hadn’t been invited to the wedding than the fact he’d gotten married.

There were never romantic feelings between the two of you, something you were a little thankful for considering that could end a friendship faster than anything. Marc on the other hand would scare away any romantic partner that tried to get close to you. It became very annoying after the first few times, especially when you wanted nothing more than for someone to warm your bed for the night. You’d all but kicked him out for the night, demanding to be left alone until you called him in the morning. Marc had showed up nearly four hours after you called, more annoyed than anything.

“Now you know how it feels! I’m not a kid Marc, you don’t need to worry about me at every turn and corner.” You didn’t want him to keep hovering, it was becoming tiresome.

“I’m going to worry about you anyway, you’re my best friend.” Marc patted your shoulder gently, heading over to make himself a cup of coffee.

You opened your mouth to make a retort, that even though the two of you were the best of friends that you needed space sometimes. However a bright light encompassed your entire apartment, bathing the space in a warmth that seemed to sink into your bones. It was the sudden pull that worried you, what the hell was going on?

“Marc?!” Your panicked scream caught his attention, turning around and shielding his eyes from the light.

“Y/N!” Marc reached towards you, body pulling into what felt like a black hole.

Your body was thrown around, struggling to slow down as you hurtled toward somewhere completely foreign. The ground came hurtling towards you faster than you’d been expecting, throwing your arms out to try and stop yourself from slamming against the hard wood. Unfortunately it did little to soften the blow, pain radiated throughout your entire body as you lay gasping for air. After a few excruciating moments you had finally been able to catch your breath, pushing up and off the floor slowly.

A gun pressed itself against the back of your head, an imposing form stood ramrod straight and waiting to see what explanation you would be able to give.

“I know this is going to sound insane, but I’m pretty sure I just got transported from my universe.” Sure there were Norse gods and even Egyptian gods that roamed the streets in your world, but this wasn’t home.

“You really think I’m dumb enough to believe that?” The gun pressed closer, digging into your skin as the person stepped closer.

“I swear! I was in my apartment with a friend of mine when this big ball of light came out of nowhere.” God you really did sound insane, they definitely weren’t going to believe you now.

You waited with baited breath for the safety to turn off, but no such noise happened. Instead the person behind you lowered the gun, stepping away from you slowly. You didn’t so much as relax your breathing, keeping your eyes focused on the wall in front of you. It was better to assume the worst than believe that everything would be alright.

“You’re coming with me.” A hand wrapped around your bicep, all but dragging you out of the room and into what looked like a living room.

Holy shit, had you managed to land yourself in someone’s apartment? Oh shit you were definitely not going to make it out alive now. Would Marc be able to find you before they did unspeakable things to your body?

“You were right, Price, something did happen.” The man shoved you towards a kitchen table.

Three men sat around the table, sending a nervous shiver down your spine as you took them all in slowly. The one closest to you could damn well be a model, you were half tempted to ask him if he was. The man in the middle had a look about him that screamed dad. Was he the dad of the group? The man on the left of him, to your right,  definitely had you feeling a little more tongue tied. He had a rugged look about him that screamed “I’ve definitely seen some shit, but I can also make you laugh”. Definitely the cutest out of the three that you could see, considering your captor(?)was wearing a balaclava.

“What’s your name sweetheart?” Dad had leaned forward, hands clasped atop of the table.

“Y/N, sir.” Why did you feel the need to be so formal with him? Or with any of the men for that matter.

“Can you tell us exactly how you got here?” You nodded, pulling out the chair closest to you before sitting down.

You left out some of the less than pleasant details, only letting them know that you’d had a small argument with a friend before you suddenly found yourself here. To anyone that hadn’t witnessed what you had, they would’ve thought you were insane for sure. For someone like you it was normal, watching people from different universes land right in front of you. Hell, you had been snapped from existence for five years because of some purple alien. That was a horrible time, but after finding out that Marc had been snapped too you felt a little better.

“Have to admit, it’s pretty insane, but there’s stuff we just can’t explain.” It sounded like a poor excuse, but you’d told them all you could.

It helped ease your mind for a moment, if they believed that you hadn’t somehow snuck in to cause issues then surely everything would be alright. Hopefully Marc wasn’t getting himself into too much trouble.

_______

It felt strange being around the team, but at the same time you’d grown quite close to the group of men. You and Gaz had become nearly inseparable after meeting, playing harmless pranks on the other guys. It was kind of nice to not have any worries for a little while, even if the time was slowly taunting you. It had been nearly six months since you’d arrived and there was no guarantee that you would be leaving at all.

On one hand you didn’t want to, these people were some of the best you’d met in your entire life. Being a veteran helped get you into their good graces a little quicker, you had told them about your own past, the things you’d bared witness too. It was simply a natural thing for you, once you felt comfortable with someone new you’d bare your soul. The group had offered to head out to a pub for a night out, and who were you to object?

However you’d forgotten how much of a lightweight you were, and after only two drinks and three shots in you were definitely drunk.

“I’m telling ya! There’s a correlation between daddy issues and wanting to be bear hugged.” Your filter had slipped away completely, leaving you vulnerable to your own words.

“And why do ya say that?” Soap was more confused than anything by your statement.

“My dad was super emotionally absent, never told me he was proud of me, never told me he loved me, and was overall really sucky.” You normally never talked about your parents, considering neither of them were very supportive.

It hadn’t bothered you as often anymore, considering the fact that you’d slowly started to accept the fact that you’d be on your own. They were angry when you decided to stay in London, even after Marc stopped speaking to you. You wanted to visit for the holidays, but with how standoffish they’d become it was better to avoid them altogether. Sometimes a family you make is better than a family you have.

“Well, why don’t we test the theory?” Price stood up from the booth, smiling when you all but threw yourself over Soap’s lap.

“Yes please!” You threw your arms around his waist, relishing in the way his arms tightened around you.

Hugging Price felt like coming inside after a cold winter day to a bowl of warm soup, the first rays of sunshine after a rainstorm. It truly was something that you couldn’t fully explain, but it slowly warmed your heart. Even though he didn’t have any children of his own just yet, Price definitely gave a warm dad hug.

“I could fall asleep standing here if you let me.” You laughed into his chest, the soft scent of his cologne wrapping around you.

“As much as I’m sure you’d like to do that, we are standing in people’s way.” John was the first to let go, patting your shoulder gently.

“Thank you, it means more than you’d think.” You squeezed him one last time, sliding back into the booth beside Johnny.

The conversation seemed to flow to a lighter topic, leaving you feeling both comforted and happy that you could really open up. Kyle and Simon were talking about the different sights they’d see during missions, how they wished they sometimes could take photos as keepsakes. You knew how dangerous memories could be, if the wrong person found out where you’d been on a certain day it could end in death for you, or someone close to you. So instead you kept everything to memory,

Sunrises when you’d spent the entire night trying to run from the enemy, sunsets alongside Marc who was doing his best to ruin your day. Life hadn’t turned out the way you’d expected, nothing ever truly did, but this was a nice change of pace. You were surrounded by people who wanted you there, who laughed at the terrible jokes you made, who brought your spirits up when you were upset. It made you miss Marc at times, considering how long you’d known one another, but he wasn’t here.

Johnny leaned back in his spot, casually stretching and laying his arm across the booth along your back. You knew exactly what he was trying to do, it was something you’d seen in countless movies, and dealt with time and time again before. You didn’t say anything though, waiting to see if Johnny would work up the courage. Your prayers were answered as his arm slid down, warm skin pressing against your own as his fingers rested against your shoulder. Simon was the first to notice what was going on, a smirk pulling at his lips. He wouldn’t draw anymore attention, knowing it could ruin an otherwise sweet moment.

“Why don’t we get something to eat, soak up some of the liquor our dear friend has been drinking?” John slid out of the booth, pulling Simon with him to go put the order in at the bar.

“I’m gonna help em, lord knows they’ll end up dropping all the damn plates.” Kyle rolled his eyes, sliding out and following behind the other two men.

Internally you rolled your eyes, this was either some ploy for you and Johnny to get closer which didn’t sound like a bad time. However there was also the idea that maybe Johnny didn’t have the best intentions which worried you. The only way to find out was to throw caution to the wind and simply try.

“Looks like they abandon us, how rude.” His tone was teasing and playful, but with his lips being so close to your ear it sent a shudder down your spine.

“Well I think you’re correct, quite rude of them indeed.” You turned your head, eyes locking onto his.

His eyes were like deep blue pools, and you felt that you would get lost in them if given the chance. Had he always been this beautiful, or was your mind suddenly clear enough to see what was truly in front of you? Your eyes flicked to his lips and back up, when had your mouth suddenly become so dry? Johnny didn’t give you another moment to debate before pulling you flush to his side, his left arm wrapping around your waist. The other three hadn’t come back yet and you were grateful, nothing worse than having your kiss ruined.

“Johnny, please.” Your voice was breathy, hand sliding up his chest.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He smiled before pressing his lips to yours so softly, you weren’t sure if you’d ascended to the heavens or not.

Your lips moved together methodically, the stubble lining his chin burned so pleasantly. He groaned into the kiss, hands gripping your waist tighter. Someone clearing their throat loudly caused the two of you to pull apart, you couldn’t hide the embarrassment on your face. Johnny of course was as confident as ever, hiding your face in his side to protect you.

“We come bearing food, so if you wouldn’t mind not acting like teenagers that would be wonderful.” Kyle set down two plates along with Simon and John setting down the other five.

“Sorry, got a little distracted.” You playfully slapped Johnny’s chest, straightening yourself up and fixing your hair to be more presentable.

“We know, you have some lipstick leftover.” Johnny reached up to wipe off his lips, noticing that Kyle wasn’t lying.

“They said it was transfer proof, damnit.” You’d gone shopping earlier that day, wanting to get a few more personal things since you were still stuck here.

“Don’t believe those, had plenty of girls kiss me and leave their mark.” Kyle was confident, and for good reason, so you weren’t surprised he’d pulled many ladies before.

John shut down any more comments and instructed everyone to dig in before the food started to get cold. You grabbed the mozzarella sticks right away, laughing when Simon gave you a shocked expression. Who didn’t love fried cheese? It was downright delicious. You gladly handed over a few of them in exchange for some of the fries he had. The food hit the spot, soaking up your drinks and sobering you up ever so slightly. You were definitely still tipsy, but nothing like before.

The rest of the night was filled with stories and laughter, putting you on the spot to tell an embarrassing story as everyone else had done so. You told a story about you walking in on Marc and his girlfriend at the time doing the hanky panky. It was a story you and Marc joked about constantly, mainly because the girl he was dating was loud. Had it not been for your headphones you would have heard them in the hallways. Kyle promised not to walk in on you and Johnny later, further causing you to hide in shame.

John was driving everyone back, seeing that he’d only had one pint early on in the night and didn’t trust anyone else to drive in their inebriated states. Simon called shotgun immediately, leaving Kyle stuck with you and Johnny in the backseat. You knew to behave, being in a confined space was a recipe for disaster. Your mind went back to where Marc was, and if he was safe. Surely he could handle his own, he’d done it for years after he left you to fend for yourself in London.

“Alright, please make it to your rooms and do not get into the damn kitchen again please.” John had pulled up outside of his apartment.

It was an agreement that any time you guys went out everyone would crash at someone’s apartment to make sure they were all doing well the next day. Simon was a tank when it came to alcohol, he could drink everyone under the table and still seem as if he was sober. Kyle could hold his own but he became very giggly and cuddly. John was your typical drunk guy, made bad jokes and laughed at everything. Johnny you were beginning to learn was a major flirt, and a damn good kisser.

“Alright captain, see you in the morning.” Kyle made himself comfortable on the couch, not even bothering to change into something more comfortable.

“You two better behave, don’t want the neighbors banging on my door because you kept them up.” John pointed his finger between you and Johnny.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be good.” Johnny steered you towards one of the extra bedrooms, shutting the door behind you.

You grabbed your pajamas and laid them on the bed, sliding your shirt off before unclipping your bra with a soft groan. No one liked wearing bras, they were uncomfortable and annoying to put on and taking them off felt so good.

“Jesus.” Johnny’s voice was breathless, gaze wandering over the skin that was now on display.

“Mmm?” You’d completely forgotten he was in the room with you for a moment, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs.

“All this for me?” Johnny walked over slowly, palms sliding over your back and sides.

His skin was hot to the touch, like fire and ice.

“Maybe.” You leant back against his chest, relishing in the feeling of his body and hands against yours.

“I’ll be sure to appreciate it very much.” His lips pressed against your neck, sliding down to the waistband of your panties.

You couldn’t stop the moan that slipped through your lips, not realizing you would be making those noises for the rest of the night.

—---------

Sunlight was streaking along your intertwined bodies, soft snores filling the otherwise quiet room as the two of you slept peacefully. Simon and Kyle tiptoed in the room, carefully pulling the sheet over your body so that you would still be covered in case Johnny flailed. Somehow both men had woken up completely fine, no hangovers in sight. Stepping away from the bed Kyle raised his hands to start clapping loudly. Simon prepared himself for however Johnny was going to react.

“Wakey wakey love birds! Time to get up!” Both you and Johnny lunged up in bed, grabbing onto the sheet to keep yourself modest.

“Jesus, what the hell’s wrong with you?” Johnny was more annoyed at being woken up than that they were seeing the two of you nearly nude.

“John’s making food and wanted us to get you.” Simon shrugged before heading back out of the room, letting Kyle shut it behind him.

You flopped back into the pillows, head throbbing with a hangover from all the alcohol you’d had the night before. Clearly they hadn’t been affected and now you were annoyed. Not only was your head throbbing from the hangover, your entire body was sore from last night as well. Johnny was a man who knew damn well how to make you feel good and leave you wanting even more.

“Mmm, c’mere.” Johnny slid his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush to his own.

“Don’t think I could take you again this morning, a little too sore.” It was a good type of sore, something that would resonate for a couple of days at the least.

“‘S too bad, could just eat you right up.” His lips pressed against your neck softly, trailing down until they reached the top of your chest.

“Johnny, please.” Your nails dug into the skin on his shoulders, breath shaky as you tried to stop the racing of your heart.

Unfortunately Simon chose that moment to start banging on the door, demanding the two of you come out and eat breakfast. Both you and Johnny groaned, pulling away from one another to grab your clothes. He didn’t bother to pull on a shirt, leaving his torso on display in all its glory.

“Better put on a shirt unless you want Simon pointing out all the hickies you have.” His chest and neck were littered with dark purple splotches, scratches lining the skin on his back.

“You just don’t want ‘em seeing your handiwork.” Johnny was a confident man, had every right to be considering how he looked.

“Maybe I want to keep you all to myself for a little longer.” The shirt you’d stolen from Simon a couple months ago landed on your mid thigh, covering the shorts you’d thrown on.

“After breakfast I’m all yours.” Johnny threw a wink your way, pulling on his shirt from last night before heading out to the kitchen.

You fanned yourself for a moment, memories from the night before flooding your mind. Hopefully they hadn’t heard you and their teammate getting down and dirty like two college kids. John was sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee and scrolling through his laptop almost absentmindedly. Gaz and Simon were both cooking breakfast and brewing tea, and coffee for whoever wanted to partake. The moment Johnny’s eyes landed on you he pulled you into his lap, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Keep it PG you kids, don’t want to see the two of you going at it.” You hid your face in Johnny’s neck, hiding the way your whole body flushed.

“No worries cap, we’ll behave.” It didn’t matter if he was joking, Johnny wouldn’t push you if it made you uncomfortable.

You went to make a retort at John, to tell him that you were going to be on your best behavior around everyone else, until a knock at the door stopped you. It could be a number of people, and now you were nervous that they were going to be sent on a mission and leave you here. John went over to see who it was, opening the door slowly and carefully.

“Can I help you?” His voice wasn’t friendly, whoever this was was a complete stranger.

“Uhh hi, I’m looking for a friend of mine and I think she might be here?” Wait, you knew that voice.

“Marc?” Your head whipped up, body straightening as you waited to see if you were correct.

“Y/N?” Marc sounded shocked, he’d finally managed to find you.

John stepped back to let him inside, shutting the door behind him to keep the sense of privacy to everyone else in the apartment. You were ecstatic to see him standing before you, it’d been so long that you weren’t sure you’d ever see him again. Pressing a quick kiss to Johnny’s cheek you pushed yourself to run over to Marc, hugging him tightly.

“It’s been so long! Where the hell have you been?” If you were an honest person you’d tell Marc he looked like hell, his hair was a little longer, a beard covering his normally smooth cheeks.

“I’ve been looking for you, I’m pretty sure we both got sent here.” Marc suddenly realized how many people were standing around staring at him.

Simon was glaring at him, arms crossed over his chest as Gaz simply raised a brow in a “who the fuck are you?” type of expression. You were too afraid to turn around and look at Johnny and see how he looked.

“Sorry, these guys have been keeping safe since I got here. That’s Simon, Kyle, John, and Johnny.” You turned back around to face Johnny, noticing that he didn’t look angry at all, he looked almost lovestruck.

“Nice to meet everyone.” Marc wouldn’t admit how nervous he felt, it was obvious these men could kill someone and make it look like an accident.

“How’d you manage to find me?” You pulled him over to the table, sitting back in Johnny’s lap while Marc took the chair between you and John.

He began to explain how he’d landed somewhere in the US and spent the first couple months trying to work odd jobs to help get enough money to find you. Khonshu had also followed him, so at least he was safe from anyone who wanted to harm him. And then he began to talk about how he illegally hacked into a military base and managed to find you through security cameras. Had you not gone out with the boys the previous night it would’ve taken him longer to find you, according to Marc at least.

“So, get your stuff so we can go home.” Marc stood up, brushing off his pants and waiting for you to comply.

“Oh..Marc I don’t think I want to go back.” Your life here has been happier in the last few months than back in your own universe.

“What? Are you serious right now?” Marc was getting annoyed, why the hell would you want to stay somewhere you didn’t exist?

“Yes, I actually have people that like having me around, it’s not like my parents are going to be so sad that I suddenly disappeared.” They’d move on within a few weeks, you were sure of it.

Marc wanted to retort, to say that you were making a horrible decision by staying with people you truly didn’t know, but with the way one of them was glaring at him, he thought better of it.

“If I go back without you, there’s a chance you’ll never be able to go back, I need you to understand that.” Marc was hoping you would understand where he was coming from, however you stood strong.

“Marc, you know I care about you a lot, but I didn’t have a purpose there, I was working a deadend job waiting to see what life would give to me. I was depressed and not even you cared enough to stick around for longer than a week.” You loved Marc, and Steven, but you needed something stable in your life.

“I’ll give you a few more days to think about it, but if your mind is truly made up then I’ll leave you to it.” Marc sighed, turning without another word and leaving the apartment.

Johnny gently squeezed your hip, trying to reassure you that he was here if you needed the support. You laid your fingers overtop of his own, his touch seeming to ground you even more than usual. John was frowning, it was a look that you didn’t prefer seeing on his face, or any of theirs for that matter.

“I need to know, I don’t want to push myself onto you guys if you don’t want me here, I know I just kind of got dropped here by accident but..yeah.” Your heart started to race, what if they didn’t want you to stay after all?

“Sweetheart, I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we would love nothing more than for you to stay here with us, you’ve been the best thing that came into all of our lives.” Johnny’s words warmed your soul.

You’d finally found your purpose, felt like you truly belonged somewhere you’d found yourself, albeit by complete and total accident. You would sit down and talk with Johnny before making the final decision, this wasn’t something to take lightly.

—-------

Marc was waiting inside the cafe near the apartment you were staying in, waiting to see if you would be coming home with him or if this was a final goodbye. He’d ordered himself a coffee, rolling his eyes at the looks he got from the barista. Sure, they were in England and he could’ve let Steven take over when ordering but he wanted to speak with you personally.

“Sorry I’m late!” You ran over to the table, pulling out the chair and sitting down quickly.

“I’ve only been here for a couple minutes anyway, you’re fine.” Marc wouldn’t tell you the truth, that he’d finished his coffee and nearly ordered a second cup.

“I’ve made my decision, I sat down with everybody and we talked about what would be best for them but also for me.” You looked down at the table, afraid to see the hurt that was coursing through his eyes.

Marc already knew the answer, he knew he wouldn’t be leaving with you by his side, that he was losing the one true friend he had. It was painful, deep down he would always think about your friendship and how even through thick and thin you were there for him. This wasn’t his decision though, you were able to make your own decisions and he needed to respect that.

“Umm, Stephen Strange contacted me last night, he found out about what had happened and offered to let us come back today and when I told him that I wanted to stay he promised that we could keep in touch.” You looked up slowly, watching the realization dawn on Marc’s face.

“Wait, he’d be able to let me visit?” This wasn’t something he thought possible, he’d always assumed it would be a one way ticket home.

“He gave me a way to contact him if I ever wanted, or needed to see you.” Your eyes filled with tears, a happy smile pulling up your face.

Marc threw himself around the table, pulling you into a vice tight hug. He wouldn’t lose you after all. Steven was rejoicing in his head, he seemed even happier with the news you had given them.

“Better let me be invited to your wedding.” Marc muttered into your hair, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’ll be the first to know.” You pressed your face further into his chest, letting tears soak into the cotton of his shirt.

“I’m gonna miss you a lot kid, try not to get into too much trouble without me around.” Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, this day was ending on a much happier note.

“I’ll try.” You pulled from his embrace, giving him one last smile before running from the coffee shop to where Johnny was waiting outside.

Marc watched the way he wrapped you up in his arms, smothering your face in kisses while you laughed loudly. He’d always been your protector, needing to keep you safe from the horrors of the world, but now you had someone else to do that for you. And he wouldn’t lose you, not anymore.

[notinthislife50]

Chapter 17

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Meanwhile, back at the compound, John entered the kitchen where the Avengers were sitting.

“You know John if I’d known you were coming I’d have rolled out the red carpet or at least made more pancakes.” Tony jabbed.

“Thanks, Stark but not necessary” John nodded and Tony rolled his eyes.

“As I’m sure you all know my beloved wife is missing and I’m very worried,” John rambled “and I believe she may have come here.”

“Why would she have come here?” Steve asked.

“Ah, my hero!” John smiled “You know I hope I’m filling up those big shoes of yours,” he smacked Steve on the shoulder.

“Hardly,” Bucky snorted making Natasha smirk.

“So yes to answer your question my wife has had some troubles lately. She thinks everyone is trying to kill her. She isn’t well. And I need to get her back home so I can take care of her.”

“Well she isn’t here,” Tony said, “You’re welcome to search the place.”

“Oh, believe me, my people are Stark,” John smiled.

You stood in a large room briefcase clutched to your chest. Thor stood beside you. A woman entered the room. The most beautiful woman you ever laid eyes on. You couldn’t help but watch her every move.

She stopped at Thor and took his face in her hands and smiled “Son you’re back. Thank the gods” she smiled. She then looked at you and you lowered your head immediately “Y/n please don’t be afraid to look at me, I know all about you, and you are safe here,” she tried to comfort you. “No one can reach here,” she confirmed.

All you could do was smile and nod. Wanting to believe her but at the same time not. What wouldn’t you give to trust someone. You thanked her meekly and then the ladies were ordered to show you your room.

You had been on Asgard for a few weeks but you always kept yourself to the room you were assigned. You were out of your depth here, how could you escape a God? Fuck why did you agree to this? But somehow Frigga sensed your fear. Every time you felt a panic attack coming on she seemed to appear and slow you down.

One day Odin announced a ball for some celebration. You were glad, it would mean no one would come near you for a while. You could have peace. Until Loki entered your chambers, you could never help but laugh any time he strutted in.

“Must you?” He would always ask faking annoyance.

“Most definitely yes, when you walk in like this” you laughed mimicking Loki.

“Okay little human sit down before I smite you” he warned.

"You love me, you could never do such a thing,” you smiled.

It’s true, Loki ignored you at the start, Midgardians were beneath him, then he had a conversation with you and he became intrigued by you. Now he had actually made friends with you. He was sure you were a witch. You obviously did some spell to make him care about you.

“Loki,” you said smiling always happy to see him. You flung one arm over him and hugged him. “Come tell me a new story,”

You were infuriating, acting like a child making him tell you stories of old. He would never admit it but he liked it.

“Must we little human, It’s so tiresome,” he groaned unconvincingly.

You smiled brightly “We must, I love it when you teach me things Loki,” You patted his shoulder, giving your best sad eyes.

Loki pretended to huff “I’m glad the gods never graced me with a sister.”

You poked him stating “You love me,”

“I am a god, we don’t love” he jested.

After the story he looked at you “Y/n,” he said I bit too serious for your liking “We want you to come to the ball.”

“Loki, please I can’t,” You started to panic and then took control of yourself.

“Anyway, I have nothing to wear and I don’t think anything would match my beautiful bracelet” you laughed raising your arm with the suitcase attached.

“Little human, you know Thor would only have to put his hammer on this suitcase and no one would ever be able to lift it. We could even do it in the grand room, so you could have an eye on it at all times.” He tried to convince you.

Then Thor had walked In and the both of them together tried to prove to you it would be safe.

"Please Y/n, I really need the most beautiful woman to dance with at the ball” Loki worked his charms.

“Okay,” You rolled your eyes.” You don’t need to try and feed my ego, I don’t have one.”

Thor and Loki tried to interject. But you raised your hand " I’m not looking for compliments they make me uncomfortable. Just bare with me and my trust issues. But I will try it.”

Thor clapped his hands while Loki just remained the same. But you swore you saw a hint of a smile.

@kandis-mom @silverfire475 @rivthejellyfish

[steveezekiel]

ALL THINGS ARE FOUND IN GOD 3

6-7 IN MY PROSPERITY I SAID, “This is forever; nothing can stop me now! THE LORD HAS SHOWN ME HIS FAVOUR. HE HAS MADE ME STEADY AS A MOUNTAIN.” THEN, LORD, YOU TURNED YOUR FACE AWAY FROM ME AND CUT OFF YOUR RIVER OF BLESSINGS. SUDDENLY MY COURAGE WAS GONE; I WAS TERRIFIED and PANIC-STRICKEN.

8 I CRIED TO YOU, O LORD; OH, HOW I PLED."

Psalm 30:6-8 (the Living Bible)

• Do not be wearied of God's Care.

- Being wearied or tired of God's sustenance and provision and protection amounted to being ungrateful or unappreciative of His love.

- This usually occurs when you begin to disdain or look down or take for granted His Care and goodness. When you begin to think that God is not doing enough for you.

- When you had been expecting certain things to be done, a condition to be changed or a level to be attained; but you are yet. At such a time you might want to take His consistent Care and goodness for granted—thinking that which He has done or has been doing are not enough.

- Whatever God has done or has been doing in your life should be highly appreciated, and whilst doing that you can demand for more.

- The prayer should be, 'That which you have done is good, however, once is not enough, do it again Lord.' You should not in your statement or thought ever despise God's goodness and Care.

• Some have ignorantly chosen to toe or follow their own path, when it seems to them that God is slow, or has abandoned them, or does not care about their matters.

- I want to enjoin you to stay under the protective care of God. What seems like a delay, or makes you think God does not care, could be a way of protecting you.

- He probably allow the delay that you might not fall into the traps which the devil, the enemy, has set up for you.

• God has plans for His children, those who are truly His.

- If you think you are suffering, or you are neglected by God, and decided to care for yourself. Thinking you would not want to follow God's leadership again; the outcome might not be good.

- If you had chosen to live a submissive life, and you have been following His leadings, but you seem not to agree with the pace of things in your life, It is As If God is too slow, in your sight.

- It is As If you are caged by the decision you made that God should lead you in all you wanted to do. You are now thinking of living your life, as you feel or think it should be. That there is no need of asking God to lead you in all you wanted to do. It means you want to take the leadership of your own life by yourself.

- The truth is, such a decision would lead to a regret. God's leadings or leadership might not seem to be good to someone who still want to gratify the flesh. Someone who has not been weaned off of the world, who's the things of the world is still appealing to (1 John 2:15-17).

- But whoever wants to serve and follow God would desire to keep following even when it seems the journey or progress is slow and tedious; tiresome or wearisome.

- God's leading or leadership might not be good to a person who walks in the flesh, who has not been weaned off of the world, Who does not want to be led or controlled, or unwilling to be submissive unwaveringly; but it is still the best If you accepted it, as a Believer in Christ Jesus, and followed faithfully.

• God is not tired of doing good. If you are willing and keep following, you will eventually discover the good He has in plan for you.

- Willingness and Obedience and Faithfulness in following is required for the eating of the good of the land:

19 IF YOU ARE WILLING AND OBEDIENT, YOU SHALL EAT THE GOOD OF THE LAND; 20 But if you refuse and rebel, You shall be devoured by the sword”; FOR THE MOUTH OF THE LORD HAS SPOKEN" (Isaiah 1:19,20 NKJV).

- Willingness and obedience and being faithful are important ingredients in getting whatever you want from God.

- God would not force you against your Will. If you had chosen to chart your course, follow your own path or plan, He would not stop you; however, be ready to bear the consequences of whatever choice you made.

• Stubbornness is the reason for some people's predicament.

- A believer who is being led by God in a particular direction, but would not want to obey, or go towards the direction, might be allowed to wander around in life for a long time—As the Israelites did in the wilderness.

- Some believers are in their problems because of self-will, wanting to have their way.

- Note: Christian life or living that is centred on God and nothing more, is a major prerequisite in walking intimately with God. When God is not given His place in your life, and does not have a final say in the affairs of your life, you might not be fully entitled to the benefits of the Kingdom.

- God determines the path which your life would follow. And until you totally agree with the plan, the path, the course He charted for you, you may not have Fulfilment.

- In other words, until you are willing and ready to obey, things might not change for better.

- What would ultimately help you, as a believer; who is submitted to God and pledge his or her allegiance to Him, is, total Submission—willingness to obey the instruction given to you.

• You will not fail in Jesus' name.

- Should there be an age long disease or sickness in your body, today marks the end of it, in the mighty name of Jesus Christ.

- Such disease or sickness is completely uprooted in the mighty name of Jesus Christ.

Peace!

STEPS TO SALVATION

• Take notice of this:

IF you are yet to take the step of salvation, that is, yet to be born-again, do it now, tomorrow might be too late (2 Corinthians 6:1,2; Hebrews 3:7,8,15).

a. Acknowledge that you are a sinner and confess your Sins (1 John 1:9); And ask Jesus Christ to come into your life (Revelation 3:20).

b. Confess that you believe in your heart that Jesus Christ is Lord, and that you confess it with your mouth, Thus, you accept Him As your Lord and Saviour (Romans 10:9,10).

c. Ask that He will write your name in the Book of Life (Philippians 4:3; Revelation 3:8).

- If you took the steps As highlighted above, It means you are saved—born-again. Join a Word based church in your area and Town or city, and be part of whatever they are doing there. Peace!

[cryptidsurveys]

Saturday, August 31st, 2024.

Who’s the first person you talk to via text in the morning? I don't text anyone first thing in the morning. There are times when I think about texting Ollie, but then I remember they're an hour behind and I don't want to accidentally wake them up and interfere with their sleep/work schedule. Better to save it for the afternoons/evenings.

Was that person your significant other? No. Ollie is my best friend. Also, I just want to brag about them a bit. They're a writer, an artist, and possess extensive knowledge regarding everything zombie-related, and they were recently on the Zombie Book Club podcast (link here). I haven't finished the full episode yet, but it's hilarious so far. It's one thing to witness their wit in firsthand conversation, but it's another thing entirely to hear them play off of the input of other people. They're so well-spoken and funny and I'm so proud of them! I really do think they could have their own successful podcast if they wanted to.

Does it take a lot for you to cry, or does it happen easily? Sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn't. Like, sometimes I feel strong and nothing gets to me too much, but then there are times when I feel really down on myself, overwhelmed, exhausted, etc, and I'll cry over things that I ordinarily wouldn't.

What was the last reason you cried? I've already talked about it. If you missed it, then you missed it. ;D

What’s hurting you right now? A (perhaps unjustified) feeling of giving more than I get. Part of it is my fault for putting myself in that situation in the first place (people-pleaser/over-giver tendencies here). Another part is attributing the actions of one or two people to "everyone," when in reality most people appreciate everything I do. It's probably 10% reality and 90% mindset.

Do you have someone who you can tell anything? My dad and my therapist.

What’s the one thing you regret more than anything? I'm not sure.

Do you remember important dates? Usually.

Do you like vanilla? Yeah.

Do people who judge bother you a lot? I think everyone judges to some extent. Sometimes it bothers me if it's something I'm sensitive about, but I can usually recognize that and let it go. It's when people judge constantly over every little thing or just nitpick someone to death that it becomes tiresome. That's when I have to grit my teeth and really ask myself if saying something retaliatory is worth the repercussions.

What about arrogance? It's not pleasant.

Do you tan easy? I have no idea. I don't even attempt to tan.

Do you have two of the same pair of pants? I don't.

Do you know anyone with Type 1 Diabetes? No.

Are you familiar with John Mayer? Yeah.

Do you have a lot of pictures of you and your friends? No.

What did you have for dinner last night? My usual sandwich and mixed veggies.

Do you own anything with the Playboy Bunny on it? I don't.

Where is the last beach you went to? I went to a beach in Ocean City, NJ when I was a teenager.

Have you ever been rock climbing? Yeah.

Do you own a bean bag chair? I do, but my kitties are mainly the ones who use it now.

Are you allergic to anything? What? Not that I'm aware of.

Would you be willing to be examined for medical research? Maybe after my death, but probably not while I'm still alive.

Where is your phone? On my pillow.

What is two feet from your right arm? A digital thermometer. It's 72*F and the humidity is 60%.

Do you own any vinyl records? I don't.

Are you the one in a group to talk a lot or do you listen? It depends on the group. Among certain people at the animal shelter, I'm starting to open up and do a lot more talking.

Have you ever touched a caterpillar? Yeah.

Do you enjoy staying at hotels? I loved it when I was younger, but now it's not so enjoyable. I'd much rather be in the comfort and familiarity of my own home.

Have you ever met someone famous. Who? Do tell! No.

When’s the last time you did something you knew was wrong? Hmmm.

Is there a guy/girl that knows everything or mostly everything about you? Yeah.

Who was the last person you cried in front of? Either my dad or Iris (in that case, I think I was more teary-eyed than actually crying, though).

What is one thing you would love to see happen today? Today is almost over. I'm going to finish this up, listen to some YouTube for a bit, get a small snack, and then get ready for bed.

Have you kissed any friends on your Facebook? N/a.

What’s irritating you right now? Nothing right this second.

Who else is in the room with you? Esther and Karenna, two of my kitties. Last I checked, Lacy was curled up in the armchair in the family room.

Could you go out in public looking like you do now? I mean, I could. But would I? Naw.

Do you think age matters in relationships? There are definitely times when it matters.

Can you recall the last time you really liked someone a lot? It's been years, but yeah, ofc I can still recall it.

[zmediaoutlet]

hello liz!! happy wincest wednesday!! can you do a director's commentary on the constant vow? like what inspired it, how the story changed along the way, what you had to leave out, stuff like that?

helloooooo happy wincest wednesday, and we shall all politely ignore how many wednesdays ago this was sent [ 😓 ]. To slightly fuck up my most-quoted line from the West Wing: let's forget about the fact that I'm late to the party, and embrace the fact that I showed up at all!

Tricky q, though! It's a lot of just like... sheer volume of fic to comment on, haha. But I'll use your questions as a starting-off guide, and given that it is wincest wednesday (wincest week, wincest life), I'll keep that in mind. So --

what inspired it?

What inspired it was how I was reading like every single genderswap/sex curse/etc etc fic that had been written in fandom at the time -- the time being roughly when s8/9 was airing, so... like ten years ago, lol -- and noticing a trend, and also getting kind of increasingly annoyed at that trend. To wit: isn't Dean Winchester just the most terrible womanizing horndog, and doesn't he just really need to be narratively punished for his Crimes? The answer to both is... uh, no. Not at all. So: a fic, haha.

Fandom takes Dean's whole womanizing naughty boy thing as received wisdom a lot of the time and I find it completely bewildering. It's subverted in episode 2 (if you didn't notice it was a total act in episode 1). Like... hello. Use your eyes and ears, friends. But what's more interesting to me on that level is that Sam takes it as received wisdom, and while it's also tempting to ask Sam to use his eyes and ears it's a lot more excusable for him to be confused about that whole... thing. Dean performs it very well in public -- and tbf, he does fuck! Not like he's not getting tail -- but womanizer is a very particular kind of pejorative and one I pretty roundly reject (for interesting and good reasons I'm right about that I've gone into elsewhere). But so many of those fics had both the flawed womanizer assumption at the heart and also a Sam who tended to buy it, even if justice was asserted by the end, and it was just driving me slightly nuts, lol. And because the only reason I ever write a fic is because I want to read the one I actually want, it went on the list. To be very eventually written, haha.

(more babbling below the cut)

how the story changed along the way

Things I always knew: I wanted the witch to be stupid/bad at magic, because I was also getting tired of Oh So Wise Arch Bitch Witches who somehow manage to laser-focus a punishment spell. (Can you guess that I found Rowena tiresome, lol.) I always knew I wanted it to be a reset every day for a month for the iterative game of 'there's no getting away from this, we have to keep having sex, and how will the relationship evolve as we do?' I always knew I wanted it to be a True Love game, a) because it's a classic of the genre but also b) because it'd be fun to see them circling that inevitable conclusion, especially given that c) I wanted Bobby to have to try. Just to be mean to Dean, basically. :)

That said: in the ten years of contemplation I really went back and forth on the setting being s2 or s7. I knew all along that I wanted it to be true first time, i.e. neither of them had any secretly pining wincest wants (beyond what's true of their codependency in canon), and for it to be a slow coming together over the course of the curse. s2 first time is one of my favorites because of the seismic effect John's loss has on their relationship; s7 is one of my favorites because of the weird sense of true freedom they've got, when Sam's mind is back in place and he's all whole and he's still standing right next to Dean, exactly where he wants to be. (Gah!) But what I realized is that s2 was just... too early. They're babies, still untested. If the story's about True Love then... I'm just not interested in their early-seasons True Love, frankly. It's nice, it's intense, but it lacks the tempering of real tests that'll come in s4/5/6. There's a reason I'm a mid-seasons girlie.

Of course, then I realized it was better to shift it back a little more to the second half of s6. You still get most of the revelatory pleasure of s7's unspoken We Choose To Stay vibes, but without the added complication of Lucifer talking to Sam throughout (did not want his color commentary on Dean's pussy of the day), or the Leviathan plot ramping up. Eve's just out there doing her thing in late s6; it provides a nice narrative breather. Not that they realize it, haha.

what i had to leave out

Very little, actually. Over 120k of decompressed sexy navel gazing you can cram in a lot of stuff, lol. But one thing that did keep coming up and I kept very deliberately cutting right up to the edge of it so you could see the shape but not the thing itself: gay/bi Dean.

Obviously it does come up, with Sam's very careful questioning that starts in the cabin -- Dean dropping hints himself; Sam having little fireworks going off in his brain. I think in those OKC conversations it's a little more bald, in a way that I think/hope was appropriate for that stage in the relationship -- once you've slept with someone like 28 times it's reasonable to ask more about their background, I guess.

Given, though, that a lot of the fic is circling around the concept of Dean-as-object, I really wanted to keep some opacity in him. Some little bit of mental privacy, especially with how he's being cracked open physically. I hope that in all that's not being said there's a lot of room for all kinds of history, stuff Sam might learn more about (or not!) as they continue. Obviously prostitution was part of it, but to what extent? Did he hook up with guys just because he wanted to? (Was Dean/John ever a thing?) All stuff that the fic needs to be aware of, e.g. in how it informs how he does not want to open that door with Cas, but that doesn't need to actually be on screen.

Oh, I also left out period sex and pregnancy kink. Both wildly tempting but would've dragged the fic to yet another place.

random this-fic trivia

I had no idea how the curse was going to get solved until the day I wrote that it was going to be solved in 'two parts' and went, oh fuck. Now I gotta come up with the two parts.

I initially hated Denise and then she became my bestie. She makes really good lasagna. :/

In a lot of ways the most important part of the whole 120k is the line Dean has about saying that even the cure is stupid -- because he loves Sam, and loves making him feel good, and so what's good for Sam is good for Dean, so how do you differentiate? Sam and Dean are both bibros, news at 11.

For me the sexiest part of the fic by far is one of the middle nights at the cabin where Sam wakes Dean up in the early morning to be fucked and then is just playing with his body after, wide-awake while Dean's sleepy, vaguely possessive and smug. It's just a good look on them both.

Not-on-screen headcanon from me: Dean was treating it like prostitution even through the first 'date' where Sam asked him not to, and it wasn't until Sam tried to kiss him at the beginning of ch5 that the careful mental shield of it being a 'job' cracked, and never repaired. No going back, at that point (even if he had another mini-crisis over the blowjob, later).

Future headcanon for the fic: Dean is way less shy about showing Sam his lingerie kink. In contrast, Sam develops an almost-crippling breeding kink. (Dean is delighted when he finally figures out why Sam's acting so weird.)

[ripeteeth]

fragments: 03 (fitzier)

[I'm clearing out my incomplete wips and posting fragments that might stand alone as a bit of an amnesty of old projects. This is part of that series.]

The porcupine quill of his pen poises over the questionnaire from O'Byrne, hesitating over his service history. Most of the questions were simple, just question and answer, but this one, this appointment to the HMS St. Vincent, that had been different.

He had travelled alone to Portsmouth, rattling in his carriage like bones in a coffin, arriving early one December morning. “How was your journey?” The captain had asked. Captain Hyde Parker, James had found, was an queer old man, bent and bulbous, with a great scar on his upper lip that marred his speech. What James wanted to say was ‘Rather tiresome. There were six of us inside all thirteen hours and every inch of the way and I was in between an old lady and gentleman who hardly let me have a wink of sleep all night by their fidgeting.’ But he did not. Instead, he only said, “It was well enough, sir.”

“Good.”

His things had been brought aboard. James found his sea chest; when he bent and opened it, the most horrid smell arose. Gingerly, James reached in, lifting out one of his old uniforms. The very wool had grown mold.

His first time aboard the St. Vincent would grow to be miserable. His mess was dark and lonesome, in a part of the ship where few went. Only the caterer spoke to him. He sat on the bench, hands in his pockets, numbering the spots in the suet pie. He thought of Rose Hill. Of William! What would William be doing right then? Perhaps packed in the halls of Eton, shoulder to shoulder with other friends? If I were a Midshipman, he had thought, I am sure this would not be the case, but because I am in the second class there is no one speaking to me. If I could I would rather begin over again than stay one day longer in it, but I suppose that it is quite impossible I should ever get into the first class. 

He had written to his uncle of his misery and, with the assistance of his uncle and a few vague and misleading letters to Sir John Barrow, second secretary of the Admiralty, had succeeded in resigning from Captain Parker and the St. Vincent and being appointed instead as a midshipman to Captain Senhouse of the HMS Asia. James shifts as he recalls the careful way he had worded his letters to Barrow, skillfully avoiding the bare fact that he had not completed the prerequisite year as a volunteer of the first class. Barrow had neither thought to check his service record nor to ask and James, as he reminds himself, could not be blamed for allowing both Barrow and Senhouse to believe that he had.

Any man would have done the same, he thinks. Though it had not been long before Senhouse had realized his mistake, it had been long enough to be an embarrassment if anyone were to find out. “Do not ever,” Senhouse had hissed, “ allow me to see your certificates. Let me continue in this, for if I were to know that you had not served in the first class, I could not be justified in giving you the rating.” When, three weeks later, the crews of the St. Vincent and Asia had traded places, James had counted it as a stroke of luck and never again listed the Asia on his histories. Instead, he simply wrote St. Vincent and Volunteer, as he does now, knowing that no one would ever ask. Volunteer of the first class, everyone would assume, and he would let them.

-------

“Do you not understand?” Francis chokes. God, how he chokes. If God were merciful, he would choke on his own spit and be spared altogether. 

“Let me go!” James yells. 

“No,” Francis says, dropping his hands anyway. 

James backs up, breathing heavily. “I’ll yell.”

“So yell. Who’s to hear you?”

“The men - “

Francis cocked his head to the side, half in amusement, half despair. “And they’re to what? Release you? Tie me up by my neck and drop me off a gallows of the mast?”

“Yes.”

A dry laugh. “So go on then, do it. Death comes already, why not hurry it along?” Francis drops into a chair and shakes the whiskey bottle, eyeing the little precious liquid they have left.

“By God, you’re sour tonight.”

“Seems to me, you’re not sour enough. Do you not comprehend our position?”

“I know our position perfectly well,” James says. “It’s just that I haven’t yet given up the ghost of hope.”

Francis shakes his head. He picks up a sextant from the desk, spinning it in well-worn hands. Verdigris now, the color of oxidized copper. Of impermanence. “This was brown once,” he murmurs. “But then again, so was my hair.”

“Copper never lasts out here.” James’ eyes take on an amused glint. “Was your hair copper too? Decades ago, old man?”

Francis smirks. “Something of the like, yes.” He sighs. “Christ alive, that was a long time ago.”

A long pause lays claim to them. 

“I dream of his death,” James says. “Every night, Francis. All nights.”

“As do I.”

“We should have buried him.”

“In what?” Francis asks. “A cairn of ice? There aren’t even stones to build a cairn to cover a body, bleeding black and blue.”

“It would have been better if we’d done something. Perhaps we should have built a pyre and burnt him.” 

“It would have taken our wood,” Francis mutters. But in private, he agrees. The way Sir John’s body was left to the open, to beak and claw, did not sit well with him. But wood is precious now. James does not know what is coming; Francis does.

“So we left him out there for what - the carrion eaters?” 

“Suppose if they come, we can at least follow them back,” he says, sighing. “It haunts me too, James. Truly. No man’s body should be left in the open. We’ve only done what we’ve had to do to survive.”

James stares out the window. “I wonder if God takes that into consideration.”

“From what I know of Him,” Francis says grimly, “He won’t.”

“I don’t like the way you speak about death.”

“What do you mean?”

“As if it’s inevitable.”

Francis raises a brow. “Has it ever been anything else? Sometimes one must cut off the leg to save the body.”

“How long do you suppose it might take to freeze to death?”

Francis breathes in. Look at James, bent in upon himself, his arms wrapping tightly around his own chest. Like an orphan, Francis realizes, an orphan trying to soothe himself.

“We will find a way, James. I will get us home.”

James smiles. It is bitter. “I trust you believe this. I think God has other plans.”

“God always has other plans. Have some little faith. If not in me, then in your own dogged persistence to cause trouble. Even God, I think, must reckon with one James Fitzjames.”

[whatdoesshedotothem]

x Monday 24 December 1832

8 10

10 50

very fine morning ground whitish with frost F48 ½° at 8 10 am incurred a cross just before getting up thinking of Miss W- exactly as if she had been my regular mistress   respect for her is quite gone in those matters at least   what can I think of her better? mused first time on sending her anonymously from Bradford or London Ovid’s Art of Love Mr Jeremiah Rawson came at 9 5 kept him waiting 10 minutes and went down at 9 ¼ and had him ¼ hour or 20 minutes - had the coal plan - he thought they could not get 10 acres - I made sure of it, for Hinscliffe could get about 3 acres all which JR- agreed to take (not to pay for what may have been stole and got before) and seemed persuaded of getting 7 acres more - not to go lower the Wakefield read upper wall - I said 10 acres should be stated in the agreement but that if they really could not get so much with the present loose, I would not, of course, insist upon their paying for so much - it was not my intention to take any unfair advantage of  anyone - he said I might now send down into their works whenever I liked - still maintained the coal would cost them getting 6d. a corve and there would only be 4 corves per square yard - said the collier ought to have as much as the landlord i.e. Messrs. R- and I ought to divide equally the profit - all the terms before proposed agreed to, I conclude, as no objection which made [to]

 SH:7/ML/E/15/0169

 thus has ended this tiresome business tho’ I shall not feel myself secure from pother till all is signed and sealed Mr R- said Holt had the coal was not worth more than £160 per acre - ‘did you hear him say so?’ ‘no!’ ‘then I don’t believe he said any such thing’  Mr R- said he was never beaten but by ladies and I had beaten him   said gravely I it is the intellectual part of us that makes a bargain and that has no sex or ought to have none – Washington was waiting for me – Gave me his own bill, and all the bills for the mystal at Southholm and other work done yet unpaid for, at Dumb mill etc – told him to come the day after the rent day, and I would pay him the balance of £52.12.6 – spoke to him of the stewardship concern – limiting it to the landed property, saying I meant Mr. Parker to have the personalty matters – told W- to think about it, and consider what percentage he would require – breakfast with my aunt at 10 40 in ¾ hour – wrote all but the 1st 3 ½ lines of today till 11 50 – off to H- at 12 ¼ - Washington gave me check on the bank – ‘Leeds and Whitehall turnpike Road no. ------- H-x 8th December 1832. Messrs. J.W. and C. Rawson and co. Bankers H-x Pay Miss Lister or bearer five pounds 2/. for one hundred and two yards of stone – which place to account of John Waterhouse Emmanuel Emmet, and Thomas Teale. John Waterhouse  £5.2.....’ - - down the o.b. to Mr. Parkers’ to send him the trust deed to look at respecting Mr. Firths’ money – should be glad to throw the money into chancery – asked if I could have (supposing I did this and bought Godley) £4000 at 4p.c. on bond – wanted 4 ¼ p.c. – no! – well then on my bond, could get me the money – had it to dispose of for Mr. John Daniel Dyson. then mentioned my intention of making him my agent for the personalties and Northgate rent to the amount of 6 or 7 hundred a year – making him at the same time a handsome speech – asked him the percentage – thought he on my uncles’ death in naming the subject said 1 ½ p.c. did not remember but thought he had – yet what I mentioned would be no trouble – he would do it on my own terms – behaved very handsomely – said I should merely give Washington (as I had told him (W-) the rents of the farms to receive and pew-rents – Mr. P- would take the coal concern, and settle with Holt – and tho’ did not say so, mean him to pay my aunt – Mr. P- said in respect to the Godley road meeting that as to Mr. Waterhouse whom we had expected to do all for us, were better without him - Stocks and Emmet and 1 or 2 others of that set made no difficulty in giving me the order about plating the East side of the embankment, and would make no difficulty about anything else, only did not like building me a boundary wall – they had not done it for Emmett but I might make all the ground in as soon as I liked – mentioned the 360 yards of scale and 140 good grass land I was to pay £10 for – P- said they had forgotten all that – I might take it in, and do as I liked – said I would write a note to Stocks to say that I understood from P- and that I meant to wall of the ground immediately – then went to the bank – the navigation dividend not paid – perhaps would be next Saturday – gave in to be placed to my account the check (vid. line 11) to be placed to my account, and get order on a sheet of letter paper, as before, for £12.10, payable on demand on Carr Glyn, and co. and wrote a few lines saying I would not inconvenience Miss Bolland by keeping her waiting for her money, but begged she would send me her mothers’ address as soon, as she could – wafered and left my letter at the bank (to be sent by them) to ‘Miss Bolland at ‘Mr. Grahams’, Surgeon, 17 high street Stockport Cheshire’ Mr. Rawson just came in before I had finished my letter – looked grave or crossed – a mere civil how-do-you-do on both sides – not a word about coals – called at the Saltmarshes’ – Mrs. S- very poorly but particularly engaged with Miss Somebody – hoped to have the pleasure of seeing her some other time – then about 1 ½ went to call on Mr. and Mrs. Holmes to thank them for their very civil message by my sister about Godley – he was out shooting but she at home – apparently very much pleased at my visit and kept me talking and seeing her house near an hour – thanked her for their civility about Godley and congratulated her on being so comfortably fixed and making so many improvements – laying out 3 or 4 hundred pounds – the white marble chimney piece Mrs. Walker brought from Italy cost £60 there – in very chaste and neat style – Mrs. H- looked perfectly astonished when I told her, in confidence, Carr had asked me £3586 for Godley – sure Mr. Holmes would do anything he could for me about it – he would not like me to give more than £2000 for it – he and Mitchell very good friends – would manage the thing together – then went to Wellhead for an hour (till 4) – tête-à-tête with Mrs. Waterhouse after the 1st few minutes that Mrs. Musgrave and her sister were there – very civil and good friends as usual – mentioned, en amie, the report I had heard of Miss (Ann) Waterhouses’ putting herself into passions with her tradespeople – yes! it was a pity – want of tact rather than of good heart – up the o.b. and turned along by Bird-cage and got into the Godley road and thence by the Lower brea breach road – (saw nobody at the stubbing in Wellroyde brow – no Pickles) to Lidgate in ¾ hour at 4 ¾ - Miss W- was at her door just returned from distributing things at the school - very glad to see me – asked if I had got her note - no! had come direct from H-x - had been miserable ever since she had sent it it was to beg me not to come again till she had had her sister’s letter Miss W- asked me to stay all night - refused at first -  then consented – wrote a little note to my aunt and sent it off by Miss W-‘s servant to say that I was staying all night and not to expect till her breakfast time 10 or 11 tomorrow - dinner at 6 - then tea - cheerful chitchat - Miss W- read prayers and went upstairs at 10 10  - damp small rainy day

[cruxifisies]

Relentless Redemption

Jakarta, June 24, 23.

“Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!”

Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and will glorify it again.” – John 12:27-28 (NIV)

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What comes to your mind when you are faced with obstacles? Some words can be linked closely to it; fear, tiresome, hopeless. It's apparent to us that as we grow up, getting older, we're getting way familiar with obstacles. It seems like obstacles come after one to another. It's an unending phase of trial. The form of obstacles might be varied for each of us.

But I can surely announce it to you—that you would never be free from obstacles. Yes, it's the truth. Even if we have entrusted our lives to Jesus? Especially if you have entrusted your life to Jesus.

"Yes, and all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution." – 2 Timothy 3:12 (NKJV)

Then, some of us might be starting to question, "What's the point of these challenges in our lives?" To taught us how to live in His discipleship

We are brought—He has chosen us even before we chose Him to rule our lives—to this universe by His love. He is processing us everyday, through every single moment in our lives, to ensure us that none of these obstacles are ours to bear. You would always be surrounded with obstacles, always and it's all because you are blessed by His grace and His power. He wants to show you what He can does to your life with His power, through your obstacles. So that you no longer rely the obstacles all to yourself but rather to His power and solely by His grace.

Profoundly saying, you are not given obstacles day to day because you can survive through it alone. No, you wouldn't be able to endure it alone. But, His presence can. His presence can guide you to walk even in a dark cave without flashlight. Obstacles are not given to test out your ability, they're there to strengthen your faith. How faithful you are to the truth that He will keep you safe in His lane? So, if you're still battling with obstacles to this day, still getting beaten up and feeling it's hard to get back up. Accept His presence in your life. Ask Him to guide you with His light. Let your Holy Spirit to talk to you. Stop relying and taking it all to yourself. Starting from today, raise your hands to Jesus. Let Him lead you along the way.

May His wisdom will always surround our lives and let His blood wrap our prayers. To His name that we pray to. Let the blessings of Holy Spirit come upon us. Amen.

[magnificentpatrolstudent]

Sunday mornings with y/n 🌥🌸

aot x reader 

Eren

“Honestly y/n, they should’ve hired me,” Eren said as you applied the serum to his face. Eren lived for the feeling of your gentle touch on his skin. “Okay, reenact the end scene but like how you would’ve written it.” The two of you were doing your skincare routine together in the bathroom while talking about how bad the movie you watched last night was and basically rewriting the script. You giggle as Eren impersonates the actor and does different accents. You give his face one final pat “All done!” Next on the agenda was your yoga routine. Ever since forcing Eren to try it out with you, he always joins you. He says it calms him down but he only likes to do it with you. “Look at this new move I learned,” Eren says as he goes into a perfect headstand. “Woahhh! you say in sheer shock, lowkey pissed that he’s getting better than you 🙃.

Armin 

It’s 8 am and you and Armin are on your way to the farmer’s market, excited to buy fresh berries and bright flowers to place all over the house. As you walk to the market hand in hand, you share a pair of Bluetooth earphones, both listening to ELIO’s “When U Saw Love” as the morning breeze tickles your face. “We could visit the Botanic Gardens and go on the cable car!” Armin exclaimed. “Yeah, and we could go to the gallery and museum!” You two chatted about the trip to Singapore you’re planning for next summer and all the other places you want to see together. “We gotta figure out where we wanna go for our honeymoon,” Armin said in complete earnest. “We’re not even engaged,” you said, giggling as a fluttering sensation filled your stomach. “Not for long!” Armin declared. You literally stopped walking; you looked so stunned that Armin began to laugh.

Jean

“Say cheese y/n” Jean took the picture and feigned a heart attack after gushing about how cute the two of you looked. You and Jean woke up at 5 am to go for a hike to catch the sunrise, something you’ve been wanting to do together for a while. You packed the perfect breakfast picnic together which you guys practically inhaled after the tiresome 3-hour trek. At the crest of the small mountain, you two sat there for hours sitting and talking and taking cute pics together. “I’m gonna send this one to my mom,” Jean said with the brightest smile on his face. “No, take a better one 😠.” When you spot a couple in the distance with their 2 small kids, he says that’s gonna be you guys in a few years. He always says stuff like that and every time he does, your heart literally constricts; he’s literally gonna give you a heart attack omg. 

Connie 

“Hmmm…what should we make today?” You asked Connie while looking into the fridge. “I have no idea. How about we make whatever’s on the page I open in this cookbook?” Connie said while holding up the cookbook you were gifted last year and never got around to using. “Good idea!” “Super Creamy mushroom, Brie, and pancetta croissants,” he said, pronouncing pancetta in his best Italian accent. “That sounds amazing except we don’t have mushrooms, brie, pancetta, or croissants,” you laughed. “How about…coffee walnut banana bread?” Connie looked up at you questioningly. “Okay, I think we can actually make that!” you exclaimed.  “Alexa, play  “Carry Me Away” by John Mayer” Connie shouts at your smart speaker and you both get to work on your (hopefully) beautiful banana bread. While measuring out flour and cracking eggs, Connie tells you about how excited his family is to meet you soon, reassuring you that you have nothing to be nervous about. When the chorus comes on, he twirls you around and then you twirl him around and now you’re having an impromptu dance sesh. 

Levi

You wake up to a quick, soft kiss on the check from Levi. “Wash up and come to the living room, I made you coffee.” The living room smells faintly of the lavender candles you love mingled with the heavenly smell of freshly brewed coffee. You see Levi curled up on the couch sipping on the tiniest cup of tea. He pats on the space next to him, indicating for you to join him. You plop down right beside him, reaching for the mug he set down on the coffee table. His hand resting on your leg, the two of you talk about anything and everything--gossiping about coworkers, showing each other recipes you wanna try and make together, the books you’ve been reading, new music you’ve been into, and Levi raves about the new cleaning product he found the other day 💀. With the morning light filtering in from the windows and John Mayer’s “Say” playing softly in the background, you couldn’t think of a better way to spend your Sunday morning.

[nnightskiess]

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ₊° -𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫.

series masterlist

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

i kindly ask you to not copy, republish, translate or reproduce this imagine on wattpad or on other platforms. respect the author’s work <3

By day's end, the campfire crackled and it was hard not to let yourself get lulled to sleep after the tiresome walk up the hill and the few hours of sleep you'd had the night before. You were in the sand with your arm over your forehead, but your eyes shot open when Shelby's enthusiastic voice filled the silence,

"Look what washed up!"

A black duffle was thrown in the middle of the group, a proud and cheerful Shelby standing behind it,

You sat up on your knees, hoping this was your duffle, but you definitely weren't the grey-haired guy on the nametag picture.

"Gotta figure this was our pilot... Davis Michael Crane..." Dot mumbled.

"Guess we found our John Doe."

Leah playfully shook her head at your inside joke.

"Now, sir, I don't have a great feeling about where you're at right now, but the shit you left behind will not be wasted." Dot spoke before throwing the nametag away and opening the duffle bag,

"Dottie, don't be morbid."

"Uh, well, sorry-" She turned to Shelby, "-but this bag is a haul... Pain pills... disinfectants, basically a whole medicine cabinet. Y/N, get over here so I can clean that wound of yours."

"It's nothing." You shook your head and hid your elbow, not wanting to accept the help.

"She's going for that hot castaway busted-lip kind of look, don't you get that?" Fatin shot a smirk your way, "It'll have all the ladies at your feet the moment the press posts our photos after we get rescued."

"The hell, Fatin? Way to expose my secret."

She sent you a flirty wink, "I can read you like the back of my hand, I'm onto you."

"That's not intimidating at all."

Fatin laughed, then pointed at the obvious recent scar on your underarm, "Bank robbery of '33, Bonnie?"

"No, actually- got this when I was held hostage in my own house after they broke in and tore the place apart because I couldn't give them any money."

"That was a really descriptive story, I feel like shouldn't believe you."

"It happened." You shrugged.

"Y'all, listen-" Dot stood up to address the group, "I know we're all down in the dumps after the news they brought back... but we have some cokes, some food from the plane, a fire to keep us warm and a bag of medicine. I know it doesn't look too promising, but if we need to, then this will bring us through the next couple of days until help has arrived. Let's not lose hope, okay? We can't afford to."

"I never thought we'd still be here by now..." Martha spoke softly.

Rachel nodded, her eyes focused on the flickering of the flames, "Really thought we wouldn't have to spend another night sleeping here. Do you think they at least know where we are?"

"Vaguely, perhaps."

"Modern-day's technology is smart enough to pinpoint the exact location." You tried to give her an uplifting smile, already hating how you had fought with her. You were not that kind of person, "Help will come soon."

She tried to smile back but it was clear she didn't totally believe you. However, your effort hadn't gone unnoticed because as you sat alone to watch the sunset an hour later, Rachel appeared next to you.

"May I?"

"Sure, but keep your distance, I might go all Cena again."

She rolled her eyes when she saw you were joking but sat down nonetheless.

"About that...Sorry if I came across too strong...and for targeting you."

It took you a second to hide the shock on your face. She was apologising to you? Someone... was apologising to you?

"Uh... oh- yeah, I mean... we all use different coping mechanisms, don't we? Yours has just caused you to butt heads with me... twice."

"Third time's a charm?" A playful grin washed over her face.

"Please, no, you're scary when you're angry."

Rachel chuckled, "Thanks for climbing up the hill with us and um... for putting me in my place."

"I didn't like doing it, but I'll do it again if I need to."

"That's fair." She nodded absentmindedly but cracked a tiny smile again when you offered her a handful of peanuts, "Thanks."

It got a little awkward, the munching of the peanuts the only sound filling the silence, but you were relieved that this conversation had taken place.

You felt Shelby hover again before you saw her, and when you looked over your shoulder, you saw the familiar blonde ponytail bounce sideways when she quickly turned around. You had been too occupied watching your step walking up that hill to also be busy stopping yourself from breaking down your walls, but the tiny crack she had seen, you had already cemented shut again. Whatever tiny slip-up had happened up there, whatever tiny smile you had given her, was past tense now and you weren't too keen on facing her again.

So when Nora approached to talk to her sister, you dusted yourself off and walked back towards the light of the camp.

"Back home, whenever the air gets this stuffy, it usually means you've gotta brace yourself for some heavy rainstorm."

"If you're trying to lift our spirits then you're doing a really shitty job." Toni grinned and moved aside to make room for you around the campfire.

A harsh gust of wind made the campfire flicker. It lost all its fire momentarily before slowly picking up again. The wind rose again, blowing sand in your faces. The army of dark clouds advanced. It began to drizzle.

"Um, that might become a problem."

"You're kidding."

"Don't think that's going to be our only problem." Toni held up a finger, signalling for you all to listen to the rumble of the sky.

"That doesn't have to mean anything. It might pass us."

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"It might pass us?!" Fatin yelled out over the howling wind.

The booming of the thunder crashed through the night and mixed together with the screams of all of you girls.

The sand blew into your eyes, making them irritate and water. But the water in your eyes could also be from the rain. Your vision was a teary blur while you tried your best to stop things from getting taken in the wind.

"Please make it stop!"

"Come here, I've got you-"

Strands of hair stuck to your face, your whole body was drenched. Some girls scrambled together to hide under jackets, others were out stopping things from flying away as well. Shirts and other clothing articles flew out of Fatin's suitcase which she tried so hard to close, but the wind made it difficult.

"I used to think thunderstorms were, like... majestic."

"That still your take?!"

Another thunder clapped through the sky, and soon after your faces lit up for a short second.

"No..." Leah mumbled out.

"All right, come on- everyone grab an end! Get under!" Dot grabbed the emergency slide she had found that day, "Leah, come on!"

The thunder rumbled again, making you shrink at the sudden loud clap that followed. It was close.

"Y/N, get under!"

"The meds!" You yelled back, "Where are the meds? And the food!"

"Forget about that! Grab an end!"

"No, we need-" A thunder interrupted you.

"Y/N, let's go-" A hand grabbed a fistful of your shirt and pulled you backwards, under the slide.

There you all sat, shivering and shrinking with each loud clap of thunder. The wind howled through the trees, and the waves of the sea seemed to answer with loud clashing in return.

"My ankle's so itchy." Martha's voice trembled from the cold.

"My leg is kind of itchy, too..."

"Yeah, mine too."

"Shit, sand fleas." Dot spoke from next to you.

"Sand what?!" Fatin snarked with obvious distaste.

"Sand fleas! Well- they're not really fleas, they're more like tiny little shrimp."

"They're not lethal!" She continued after Fatin's whining and words of protest, "They're just annoying. Once the rain stops, we can just go scrub them off."

"What do you mean scrub them off?! I don't want to scrub them off!"

Not being able to hold it in any longer, you started to scratch and scrape at your exposed skin.

"Uh...you know... before they get a chance to burrow."

Fatin let out a strangled yelp, her skin getting even itchier thinking about it.

"Can't the rain was them off?!" Leah wondered, she too being busy scratching her legs open.

"Um... all I know is that the rain makes them climb to the surface of the sand."

"So we're sitting on an Atlantis filled with fucking shrimp?!"

"Pretty much."

Fatin turned to shout at the uncaring sky, "Fuck my life!"

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Each girl had shivered all throughout the night, even when the rain had stopped, you being no exception. The storm had left you drenched and the fact that you were still in only a t-shirt had made it worse.

Wanting to provide for the group, you had offered to walk around to find stuff that had gotten lost in the storm. So there you were, trailing along the coastline, with the wind trying to blowdry your clothes simultaneously. So far you had found two bags of nuts, a red crop top, purple joggers and one of the swagbags, as Fatin liked to call them.

When you walked back, you stumbled upon Rachel, Nora and Leah who seemed busy preparing for something.

"What are you guys doing?"

"Gonna swim to the plane wreckage, wanna come with?" Rachel asked.

"No, thanks. Deep water isn't my thing."

"You're probably scared of what's in the depth of the waters, not the water itself."

You turned to Nora, "Still not going. Good luck, though! Be careful."

"We'll leave in five, if you change your mind."

The smoke that Dot wafted into the air and filled your lungs when you walked to the group made you think of home. It maybe wasn't the best memory to think of right now, but it happened.

"Hey, you're back! Anything new washed up? What did you find?"

"Just some nuts, more of Fatin's clothing and a swagbag." You put emphasis on the last word and threw it against Fatin's chest.

"Yeah, no, this is your Hawaii souvenir. It has your name on it." She threw it back.

"Fantastic." You muttered sarcastically before dropping onto the sand next to her.

Fatin snorted, "You look like a wet dog."

"You look like Pink Panther."

"Wow, add witty comebacks to the list too. It's getting longer and longer, girl. It's a leopard, by the way."

You let out an indifferent grunt, still grumpy from the events of the night before and the lack of sleep, "Potato, potato."

Fatin just snickered from beside you.

"How's your ankle, Martha?"

The girl looked up at you, immediately sending a tired but grateful smile your way, "Better, thank you."

"Anyone hungry? Toni?" You pulled the bags of nuts you had found out of your pocket and gave her a package.

"Thanks."

She started sharing with Martha. Fatin dismissed your offer.

"Um, Shelby?"

"Oh... yeah, sure! Thank you, Y/N." She accepted the other one.

"How are you all so dry already? Did she hide a blowdryer in that overpriced suitcase of hers?"

But your eyes took in the new clothes they were all wearing, which probably belonged to Fatin.

"I would need an outlet for that, dipshit."

"One-thousand dollars and it does not have an outlet?! Abomination."

Fatin rolled her eyes, and the other girls smiled.

"Whatever. Want a sweater? Pants? A hairbrush? A thong? You name it. Mi suitcasa es tu suitcasa." Fatin had already gone to open her suitcase but you stopped her.

"No, thank you, it's alright."

"Suit yourself."

"Dottie- what is that?" Shelby watched Dot work on the fire.

"Wet wood gets us black smoke, gets us a signal fire. Probably a good idea to keep it going during the day." Dot stood up when she noticed Nora, Rachel and Leah were about to leave,

"And, guys... I was pretty slack on this yesterday and it cost us— we've got to get real about shelter. If we all, you know, pitch in, grab the materi-"

Fatin’s hand went up like a missile and she wiggled her fingers to get Dot's attention,

"-Yes, lady in the leopard?"

"That sounds really unappealing and I'm exhausted... and there's rescue coming, so for those reasons... I'm out."

"Hey- where y'all going?!" Shelby walked to the three girls that had left quietly.

"We're swimming out to the wreckage, see if we can find anything useful."

"All right, just real quick- what do you guys think about building a shelter?" She rose her voice so that her message could be heard over the distance that grew now that they started to walk away.

"Not interested in laying down roots!"

"Au revoir!"

Shelby turned to Dot, who begrudgingly put on one of the swagbag visor on her head and grabbed a stick, "Dot, where are you going?"

"If we're not building a shelter, I'm at least gonna look for a cave or some kind of big rock that we can duck under...because believe it or not—the elements don't fuck around and neither should we."

"Wait, Dot-" You followed her, "I'm going with."

"Good to know there's at least one other person with a decent brain."

She waited for you to catch her pace,

"Hey, so, I'm thinking we should go inwards a bit. We're so out in the open and vulnerable to all the elements on the beach."

Dot pondered over your option, "I agree, but if rescue's coming, it's best we stay in sight. For now- at least." She explained with assurance when you had already opened your mouth to discuss, "Besides, fewer threats of dangerous animals and insects when we're not in the woods."

"Gotcha. I guess you heard them too, then."

"Those low growls and weird-ass screeches? Shit, yes. I did."

"Yeah... those kept me up all night. I couldn't tell where they were coming from exactly— left, right, behind me..."

"With your plan, to go into the woods, you probably wouldn't sleep a wink." Dot flicked some sand your way with the stick, a teasing grin on her face.

"But at least we wouldn't have to worry about sand storms, disgusting sand-shrimps, the harsh wind and the sun burning us alive."

"Touché." She nodded at you, "I guess there's just no such thing as finding a functional place for a shelter without any downsides. There's a risk to everything on this island."

"But hey, if we do need to build a shelter then I'm willing to help. I was a Girl Scout when I was younger and each year they sent us on these wilderness trips where we had to hone expertise in outdoor survival skills."

Dot stopped walking and looked at you, "Shit, I would've never guessed."

You nudged her with your elbow, "Well, the more you know."

"Did you sell those cookies too? Because-"

"Dottie! Y/N, hey! Wait up."

A big sigh left Dot's mouth as Shelby approached. You wiped the sweat off your forehead and looked away. The universe wasn't making things easy for you.

"Figured you could use the help. Hope that's alright with you guys. The others weren't keen on doing anything anyway."

Dottie looked away, leaving you to mutter under your breath, "Three's a crowd..."

"What?" Shelby squeezed her eyes at you and tilted her head, acting oblivious, "What did you say?"

"That it would be rude to make you walk all the way back, so, why not." You sarcastically lifted your arm and gestured for her to walk. She stared you down, seeing through your act.

Dot cleared her throat, "Let's get going then."

Deciding to trail behind them, you listened to their talk about their town back home, about the school picture debacle, about Dot's father having coached their youth soccer team. Soon, you realised there was a sharp edge to the conversation. It seemed like Dot didn't want to engage in it at all, but Shelby kept it going. Finally, she engaged in a topic you knew something about.

"I bet we're gonna be big news back home."

It took you a lot of self-control to not mumble out an unhappy, Sure, as if I wasn't already, but they didn't need to know about that.

"I guess so."

"I'm wondering how it's going back there."

"It's probably chaos. A flight with ten girls crashes and goes missing? Talk of the week." You flailed your arm when a bug flew in your proximity.

"Do you think our parents are aware of what has happened by now?" Shelby looked over her shoulder only to see that same distant expression take over your face. She corrected herself, "Or- you know, whoever we care about."

Your eyes met Shelby's and you realised she meant your broken family back home. You fell quiet, thinking of them.

"Sure, I guess." Dot shrugged, "I mean, they must be. It's been... what? Gotta be at least more than 24 hours? I have no idea what time it is."

The three of you walked along the crescent coastline.

"I heard, by the way, about your dad. That he was, you know, sick."

Dot shook her head in disbelief and stopped her step, "We don't have to do this, you know?"

"I'm sorry, do what?"

"Go all Breakfast Club on each other, peel back the layers. As far as I'm concerned, you can go on thinking I'm the "not pictured" girl, and I can go on thinking about you not at all. Have a lovely day." Annoyed, Dot turned around and walked a good ten paces in front of you before the two of you followed.

You blew a low whistle, "She got you good."

"Y/N." Shelby shot you a warning look, but not one that said she was mad or upset with you. She could never be, not even when you kept pushing her away. Besides, she saw this as the perfect opportunity to reunite and catch up, now that you were together.

"Hey, so, how are your grandparents? How's Riley?" Although her voice sounded cheery again, you could sense she was testing the waters.

"I don't know, Shelby, how are they? I haven't been able to call them."

She sighed, "You know what I meant."

You started to fumble with the bracelet on your wrist, "I'd rather not talk."

A tug on your hand suddenly pulled you back, "Come on, Y/N/N, how long will you keep on doing this?"

"I need space."

"Hear me out, please, let me explain. I really think you'll see things differently if you'll just-"

"I said I need space."

"Please, I just need you to know-"

"No."

"Y/N! Come on-" She yelled after you, but you had already stormed off into the woods.

"What's up with her?" Dot had stopped as soon as she heard the ruckus and walked back to meet Shelby halfway.

"Asked something I shouldn't have. I suppose."

"Did you put your nose in her business?" Dot's reply was sarcastic, but Shelby's cheeks flushed and she stammered and stumbled over her words,

"Excuse me?"

"Word of advice? Don't pry. People don't like that shit."

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Another dried fawn was fumbled into the swagbag. Your hands were dirty from rummaging through the piles on the ground but you couldn't care less as you wiped the droplets of sweat from your forehead. The forest was no joke. The sun wasn't blazing onto your skin, but there was no wind to cool you off either. Like Dot had said— there was a downside to everything on this island.

The confrontation with Shelby had been inevitable, although you knew you had barely even grazed the tip of the iceberg. It was childish of you to run away and not give her a chance to speak, to not hear her side of the story. Somewhere you knew that, but your frustration with whatever had happened couldn't just be brushed under the carpet. And after Shelby had brought up your grandparents and your sister, she had practically ruined all chances of a peaceful conversation with a good end.

You didn't know Shelby had joined Dot again, you didn't know of what had gone down and why her voice now sounded from somewhere to your right, in the woods, while Dot's yells came from the beach.

"Dot! Dot!" Shelby's voice echoed through the trees, making exotic birds finding their rest nearby, fly away.

"Shelby, where are you?"

The panic in her voice was not played. Without thinking, you dropped the pile of branches you had foraged and made a run for it, towards the sound of Shelby's cries.

Shelby's pleas and cries neared and soon you saw the back of her head as she sat perched against a rock, her eyes focused on something on the ground.

"Shelby!"

She squeezed her eyes shut at hearing your voice. Relief washed over her, knowing you used to make every problem of hers seem less severe and wanting to find peace at the thought of you helping her out this time as well. But these were very different circumstances. Your had voice made her want to whip her head around to calm herself down after taking a look into your familiar eyes, but the creature hissing in front of her made her body frozen in place as if she had just looked into Medusa's eyes. Shelby trembled and soft sobs shook her body while her eyes followed your approach.

A bundle of brown vines started to recoil in front of Shelby's feet and you then realised it wasn't part of the jungle's greenery. It was a slick and slimy snake that hissed and rattled its tale at the blonde.

"Holy fucking mother of-"

"It's a snake, it's a snake, it's a snake-" She rambled,

"Fuck, okay, don't worry. You'll be fine." Your subconscious took over and answered for you. Of course, she should worry. Of course, she wouldn't be fine, not if you didn't do something to help her anyway. You looked around for anything to keep her safe.

Although cliché, Shelby knew the saying was right when she saw her life flash before her eyes. Her memories flitted from one random image to the next. From her first soccer game to the daisy chains she used to make with Becs when they were kids, to the first time seeing your face on her screen, to her dad finding her phone and demanding answers. She shot her eyes open,

"Y/N, I'm so sorry I left you and-" She whimpered.

The snake's mouth opened slightly to reveal a set of sharp teeth and red, swollen gums.

"Shelby- shut up! Stay still!" Now was not the time, you needed to act quickly. But the blonde had other plans,

"No! Please, listen to me this time, I really need you to-"

You shut her voice off, letting her ramble on, as you searched the ground. You grabbed a large rock and approached, your arms already feeling like spaghetti as you tried to get your aim right.

The snake lunged right before you threw the rock. It missed its target completely.

"You scaly bitch!"

"Y/N, please!"

"Hey!" Dot approached fast, the stick in her hand and outstretched in front of her, "Don't move! Okay?!"

"Please, kill it, please, please-"

"Shelby- hey, it's okay." You forced her to look at you, "It'll be alright."

Dot's first attempt missed, causing the snake to hiss and shoot forward slightly. It was beyond angry right now, that much was clear.

"Oh, my God. Get it, get it, get it!"

Another hit and the stick perched through the snake entirely. Shelby lunged forward as soon as she saw the opportunity, and accepted the arms you held outstretched. Her hands clawed at the back of your shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in your shoulder.

"See? You're alright." You whispered into her hair.

"You piece of fucking reptile shit."

Shelby let go of you and the two of you turned to Dot, who started to slam into the snake,

"I was supposed to be in fucking Hawaii-" She breathed heavily, "-the 50th fucking state, at an aromatherapy massage, not in this fucking hellscape... trying not to die!!"

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Deciding to give Dot some space, you stood to the side and kept to yourself. No one said a word. Each of you needed to take a breather after the confrontation with the snake.

Shelby's eyes had watched you carefully. Her mind had been a whirlwind ever since she had locked eyes with you on the plane. She had beat herself up about everything that had happened once more, had felt every available emotion all at once, but had also caught herself realising how good it felt to have you close. To not have to imagine what it would be like. Even just the knowledge of having you around had calmed her down. But whenever her eyes had occasionally and sometimes accidentally gazed over you, she had also been caught with an immense feeling of shame, guilt, fear and pressure. Right now, though, all she could think of was how thankful she was.

"Hey." She mumbled and a soft smile was sent your way while she rubbed the dirt off your forehead with the back of her sleeve. It took you off guard. And just like that, with that kind gesture of her, or maybe because of the look she gave you that had made your heart quiver, she had made you forget that you were supposed to hate her.

"Thank you," Shelby spoke as she looked right into your eyes, the hazel colour on full display for you.

"Dot's the hero here. Not me."

"You tried. You were there. You came."

You nodded your head sheepishly, still unsure of what to make of this all.

Her voice turned to a whisper only the two of you could hear. For all Dot knew, you could be talking about her emotional breakdown just now, "Listen, I know I messed up, majorly, incredibly so, and I'm not looking for excuses. But you do deserve an apology. So... um, whenever you're ready... come find me. I want to explain." She played with her hands, "I hate that I've hurt you, all I ever wanted was to put a smile on your face. And I-" She paused but shook her head— this needed to be said, "I have missed you every day since."

"Shelby-" A deep sigh left your mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N/N. If it had been in my hands, I wouldn't have done the things I did. I'm still here should you need me, okay?"

A faint smile appeared on your face.

You cleared your throat, wanting to get out of this situation. And quick, if you didn't want to lose yourself again, "I'm gonna... go back to camp. See what's happening there... if they need help."

"Are you sure?" Shelby's eyes flashed towards the dead snake momentarily, afraid there were other surprises waiting for you all in the woods.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I left some kindle somewhere back there, should pick that up."

"Sure, okay. Be careful."

Shelby watched you leave before going to check on Dot.

"Hey, uh, thanks for saving me... us, just now."

"Least I could do."

"So...this might not be the best time to ask for a favour, but... could you not tell anyone about...my teeth."

Dot chuckled tiredly, "Take it to the grave."

"No, I mean... seriously."

Dot rose an eyebrow, "Sure."

"Even Andrew doesn't know."

"No offence, but you should probably lighten up about it. My fucking kingdom for a problem as big as some dentures."

"It's not dentures... it's just two of my- Anyway..."

A silence fell upon them.

"In my mind, it feels like...i-it feels like this super-thin wall...holding back all of this...I don't know. Ugliness.... He's cheating, isn't he?"

"Don't know. Just gossip, really. But for what it's worth, I think you deserve better."

Shelby stared aimlessly into the abyss, her mind going to you and how she had ruined that.

"This one time, we were on a mission trip to Mexico and we were watching the sunset together. Because the light was just right, the sun made this beautiful green flash just before it sunk below the horizon...and I was like-"

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"-isn't that just the purest thing you ever saw?"

Andrew's arm was wrapped around Shelby's shoulder, but all she could focus on was the buzz of her phone in her pocket, the realisation you had texted back, that you had seen the beautiful sunset picture she had sent you with the most cheesy line in existence— 'it reminded me of you'.

She so badly wanted to grab her phone and see your reply, to text you back, to call you and hear your voice and to have this moment together. But she had already made Andrew get her a drink so she could send you the picture in the first place, and couldn't come up with a new excuse to check your message. This one had to wait. And although you weren't with her in person, if she squinted her eyes, she could try and pretend like the warmth of his arm around her shoulder belonged to you, and that you'd make a comment that would make her grin from ear to ear, that your legs and hands would be entangled with her own while you watched the sun go down. That the safety of having you close would calm her down, ease her senses. Maybe someday, and if never, she always had her imagination to fall back on.

Andrew shook his head and smirked, "You're so random," Then his hand moved up her shirt. It ruined her daydream of having you there, not only because it was a strong reminder whose large and rough hand slithered up her shirt, but also because she knew you would never cross her boundaries like that.

A fake laugh left her mouth as she softly pushed him away in a playful manner, "Andrew, you can't do that!"

He smirked, "What if I want to?"

Suddenly, all she wanted was to swat his arm away, to push him off, to create some distance, to run and to run and to run. To run to you. All she wanted was you.

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"Dear Leah, I dreamt about you last night. You wore a dress like this, only it was red, and you were also wearing rollerblades. A person only gets a handful of perfect dreams in one's life. For me, this was one of them..., Juicy, right?"

"Hey, what are you two getting up to?" Your mouth formed an 'O' as soon as you saw the book on Fatin's lap, the book Leah had been glued to ever since the plane had crashed and the reason behind why she hadn't given you the light of day during the flight.

"He's written all these kind love notes for Leah to find. He's super in love with her." Martha beamed.

"Oh, you're snooping?"

She shrunk slightly, embarrassed, but Fatin kept turning the pages, "Here he just wrote, 'Shetland ponies forever.'"

"What does that mean?"

"Well, they are very adorable."

"It's obviously an inside joke. God, there is nothing grosser than couples and their inside jokes."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Fatin stopped, reclined and gave Martha a once-over, "Do you want some solid relationship advice?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Enlighten us." You crossed your arms over your chest, knowing whatever Fatin had to say would probably entertain you.

"Okay... there are only three things that you have to remember— skip the handy, dry humping is underrated, and always carry a stash of Uqora."

"What's Uqora?"

"It's for UTIs, like, after you have a lot of sex."

You snorted and looked away, shaking your head, "Martha, ignore everything she just said."

Fatin feigned offence and held her chest.

"Listen, as cliche as this sounds— don't look for love. You'll never find it when you seek for it around every corner."

"Well, that is true. You just stop paying attention to them and then they just, like, appear out of nowhere."

The thud of something being put onto the sand made you all look up, where Toni stood with the upper half of a male mannequin, "So this guy washed up. Is he good for anything?"

"See?! It's already coming to fruition." You gave Martha a cheeky grin, "He needs a good scrub first, though. He looks disgusting."

"Oh, that's easy— just let him sleep a night on the sand with us and his whole body will have had a good sandy scrub, even his buttcrack."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Don't look at me." Fatin deadpanned, her face stoic.

"So, what do you say, Martha? How about that first date?" Your voice was a few octaves deeper as you stood behind the mannequin.

"The fuck is this about?" Toni laughed.

"Operation Help Martha Get A Boyfriend."

"Wow, Marty, you're in luck today then? Although, see, he doesn't really read as straight to me. I mean, look at those abs. Straight boys don't rock an eight-pack that hard."

"Hmm, he could also be a straight gym-rat fuck boy, you know? All about his 'Gram channel, sprays Acqua di Gio on his balls, and he will always leave you on read."

"Speaking from experience again?"

Fatin turned to you, "Girl-"

You playfully held up your hands and snickered together with Martha.

"Marcus here will break your fucking heart."

"Marcus?"

"Yeah, where did Marcus come from?" Toni made a face.

Fatin shrugged, "It's a vibe."

"I mean, it's kind of close to my name," Martha spoke.

"It must've been written in the stars."

Fatin playfully eyed the mannequin, then Martha, "Honestly, I feel the chemistry."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Marty, get it."

You all laughed. The moment got interrupted by the return of Shelby and Dot,

"We are back. Unscathed." Shelby announced. You noticed she looked at you with a different kind of air around her. She seemed calmer, more like herself, more like the Shelby you had gotten to know. She didn't hide anything behind a smile this time. This was your Shelby. She smiled at you.

Dot continued, "And we found a cave. So, if rescue doesn't show in the next couple of hours, I suggest we get a move on."

"Thank God!" Fatin piped up from above you and leaned on your shoulders, "I cannot take another night with wet sand in my crack."

"Knew it." Your mumble immediately received a playful slap to your cheek from above, from Fatin.

"Who is this?"

Martha turned the mannequin around, "This is Marcus. Toni found him."

"Marcus and Martha... sitting in a tree-"

Now your other cheek received a slap.

Shelby watched the interaction, felt her chest tighten and her eyes turn cold again. But she couldn't deny that she loved seeing you comfortable and joking around. She cleared her throat,

"I don't have a ton of experience, but doesn't that seem especially large?" She gestured at the male genitals Martha had cheekily drawn onto the mannequin with one of Fatin's lipsticks.

"Martha likes them hung."

Now it was your turn to slap Fatin, your slap hitting her thigh. Before she could shoot a witty reply your way, Rachel's yell sounded from a distance and echoed over the beach,

"Hey!"

Rachel, Nora and Leah approached— all drenched, shivering and looking exhausted from their time spent in the water, but it was what Rachel was carrying that caught all your attention. With a proud smirk, she put it down— the black box.

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"Why's it called the black box when it's orange?"

"Orange is an alarming colour, it stands out and is easier to find. The phrase originates from World War II but the concept of a black box has changed over time. That's why it's not an up-to-date name anymore." Nora shrugged, giving you the answer.

"Well, that makes sense."

"So what do we do with it?"

"What are you all looking at me for?" Dot spoke up, "I don't know shit about planes. Two days ago was the first time I'd ever even been on one."

"We should open it." Leah stared the thing down, needing to know whatever information was held inside.

"But it says right on the thing-"

"-Martha, I know, but if we were to get inside, we might find the actual recording, like...like, the actual tape of what happened to us up there."

"Don't we kind of already know what happened?"

"Do we? Can somebody tell me, like, the full account? From the turbulence to the moment you woke up here?"

The circle of girls fell quiet. No one remembered a second, and you all knew it.

"Fuck no! We're not opening it." Rachel spat.

Your eyes flickered to hers, a silent warning that she was doing it again, but she didn't look at you.

"You said there was maybe, like, a transmitter in here, beaming out our location?" Dot turned the attention away from Rachel and back to her sister.

Nora nodded, hugging her legs close to her chest in an attempt to keep herself warm, "Yeah, it's called a beacon... I think. It's a... nautical term?"

Shelby sat up on her knees, "Okay, but it's been three days. If they haven't found us yet, can't we assume that this beacon thing is busted? I mean, maybe if we just try..."

"Do Not Open! What part of that is unclear?" Rachel started again, "What if we open it and break a completely functional beacon? That would wipe us off the grid entirely. Is that what you want? 'Cause if it's what you all want, you're fucking damaged."

"Rachel-"

"No! Y/N! I was out of line before but we should take this seriously! What if opening this will ruin our chances of being found?! Do you fucking want that?! Huh?!"

Leah and Fatin shared a look, obviously because of Rachel's intense outburst again.

"There's a bulb inside, but it's out."

"Okay... so... that means it's definitely broken, right?" Martha tried, hoping that would make everyone agree it would be wiser to open it.

"If someone suggests opening it one more time, I swear to God." Rachel tried to keep her cool, but struggled.

Fatin rolled her eyes and turned to Dot, "What do you think, Dorothy?"

You inspected the girl's face, she was clearly still shaken up from the snake attack and whatever emotions and memories had resurfaced after. You looked towards Shelby and nudged your head. Shelby took the hint,

"Okay, y'all, what we choose to do right now should not be in the hands of just one person. Okay? Not that Dottie couldn't handle it, but we shouldn't put that much responsibility on her. So, all those in favour— raise your hands."

Everyone's hands went up except for Rachel's, and Nora who seemed to do it because she wanted to back her sister. Her face was buried in her lap, as if she didn't want to face what would come next. A sour frown took over Rachel's expression and she crossed her arms.

"All righty, then. Majority rules."

You sat next to Dot as she fumbled to get it open. When she found the trick behind opening the lock, a click was heard and the orange container could be slid open. Inside were all kinds of metal boxes that looked like the back of a very old desktop computer. Lots of wires and buttons and nubs seemed to have kept the thing going. Dot played around with it all until a beep was heard.

"Holy shit."

"What's the sitch, Wade?" When no one seemed to catch on or laugh your smile faltered, "Okay, guess not."

"Do you think that means it's working?"

Dot turned to Nora again, who seemed to know a lot about whatever situation they found themselves in. It had come in handy already.

"I mean, I don't know, but we have to assume... yes."

"So it's on? Now they're gonna find us?"

Rachel's eyes started to glow. The girls had a renewed sense of hope.

Toni pulled a grinning Martha into a side hug, "Yeah, boy! Fuck to the yes!"

Relief washed over most of your faces at the realisation of the end of your island trip coming near, but Dot spoke up again,

"Wait a second. I think this is it..." She pulled an audio device out of the black box, "...the recording from the flight."

Leah took it and didn't waste time. She pressed play,

"This is November Delta 294, are we cleared for departure?"

She pressed forward,

"294 out of range, engaging distress signal. We've gone off course. Mayday, Mayday, May-"

The mood changed and no one was seen smiling anymore.

"Lost thrust in both engines. We're off course—"

Your skin started to itch, grow hot and cold, your chest tightened, and a boulder was dropped on your shoulders again. A sudden sweat made its entrance and you couldn't breathe. You put your hand on Leah's to stop her from pressing play again,

"I-I.... I don't think I want to listen any longer?" It sounded like a question, since you suddenly felt so vulnerable and weak again, as if you had been shepherded into that same corner that had become so familiar to you back home. You tilted your head to the side, the anxiety already back in tenfold at even the thought of the terror you had felt right after waking up after the crash.

But Leah's curiosity was too hard to tame.

"Cabin pressure is gone, Captain. The girls are unconscious. We got complete engine failure, I'm gonna have to put this down in the water."

An ever so soft and begging please left your mouth, but the audio device beeped again as Leah fasted forward.

"Leah! Stop it!" Shelby raised her voice, having noticed your behaviour, but Leah's bright blue eyes were filled with focus.

"Unlatch the exits! Make sure the girls have flotation devices! 294, Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! We've lost thrusts in both engines and are attempting a water landing!"

Your shallow breathing had started to make you lightheaded. You stumbled away from the circle, from the girls, from the sound of hearing your doom get played again.

"Hold on for the attempt! Oh, shi-"

The Captain's words got cut off as Fatin slapped the device out of Leah's hands and onto the ground,

"Read the fucking room or learn some boundaries, you fucking idiot! What the hell was that?!" She gave her a shove. It was as if it had shaken Leah out of her haze, since now her big eyes followed you stumble away in a panic, Shelby close behind.

"I'm-I'm sorry... I just wanted... I just needed to-"

"-let us relive our trauma?" Fatin shot her a nasty look before going in the direction she had seen the two of you leave.

You clumsily sat yourself down into the sand, your limbs too shaky, and at the same time incredibly heavy. Your hands were ice cold and clammy and the shaking of your fingers made you move to open your pocket until Shelby's face filled your view.

She sat crouched down in front of you, holding you up.

"Shit, Y/N, shit, shit-" She cursed, not having the slightest clue what to do. You had always been so composed and had seemed to confident and in control. This was new to her and she had no clue what to do. Usually, you had been the one to calm her down, not the other way around.

She squeezed your knees and your eyes fluttered open.

"I don't know what to do,-" You mumbled, "I don't want to feel like this, please, I don't know what to do, Shelby-"

She sensed this was going very badly when your breathing turned shallow and fast, she squeezed your knees again and your eyes opened once more.

"Hey, hey, hey- Listen, I'm here... I'm here. I'll help you through this." It was scary and intensely unsettling to see you like this. She tried to keep her own panic under control and cleared her throat,

"Feel the warmth of my hands on your knees?" She squeezed them. She did not get a reply so she continued. Her hands moved up to where you were tightly holding onto your legs, dinging your nails into your skin.

"Do you feel the touch of my fingertips?" She lightly tapped each knuckle on both your hands, then massaged the hills and valleys of your knuckles, "Remember to take a deep breath in, push it all the way to your belly."

She had learned that taking deep breaths whenever she was anxious before a show usually worked to take the edge off her nerves.

Shelby softly pried your fingers off the bracelet that you held tightly. So tightly that she was sure it would snap if you continued. Her ponytail hung over her shoulder and she got an idea.

"Does that tickle?" She moved the tips of her hair across your underarms and you twitched slightly at the ghost of a tickle. You suddenly felt the pad of her thumb grazing along your collarbone. Then it appeared in a pattern on the back of your hand again. Then the tip of your nose got a few soft taps. She squeezed your knee, then started on your knuckles again.

"Deep breaths." She reminded.

After Shelby did the same pattern once or twice more, you knew where her touch would follow next. Having kept yourself busy by counting and following Shelby's touch, eventually, you realised your breathing had started to normalise again. The cold sweat still coated your back and forehead, you were still exhausted and shakey, but the itching of your skin and the boulder on your shoulders had left.

"That's it, Y/N/N." She coaxed you through it.

Fatin watched, not uttering a word, not wanting to announce her arrival. She knew it would put a spanner in the works of calming you down. So, she gave the two of you some space and stood to the side.

You dared to open your eyes again and a sigh of relief left your mouth when the world was no longer blurry or spinning. Although your anxiety still hadn't disappeared, Shelby had helped you through the worst of it. Still, your hand ghosted over your pocket. When you moved around and felt the strip poke your side, another relieved sigh left your mouth. You were too tired to give a flying fuck that both girls had witnessed this moment of your weakness, that it had been Shelby that had calmed you down, the girl you had sworn to ignore.

"Fatin." You croaked out, seeing the girl watch you with worry flashed across her features.

Shelby turned around in an instant, her cheeks grew hot. She stood up and walked a few paces back, "Um, I should see how the others are holding up... after the whole... debacle."

Fatin furrowed her brows and gave Shelby a confused side-eye. She approached you and sat down in the sand next to you.

"It was a lot to take in, wasn't it?"

You merely nodded.

"You'll be alright, Bon-Bon." She awkwardly patted your knee when your head dropped to rest on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I gave her a good beating. Not literally-" She added when she felt you make a move to remove your head.

Your voice sounded exhausted but you smiled nonetheless, "Thanks, Clyde."

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"Listen, guys, about that cave we found earlier today- we should probably get a move on if we want to reach it before dark. Try to pack up everything and carry whatever you can. I know some of you don't feel like doing it, but it was really cold the first night and last night we had that storm. I really think the cave is gonna be a better shelter." Dot spoke like a true leader.

And so it went. The nine of you walked along the crescent coastline, the waves serving as calming background noise.

"Toni?"

"Hm?" The girl glanced back as much as she could while pulling the bundle of tied up stuff along with her.

"Did you by any chance take a basketball with you on the place because if that thing washes up, we'll have our very own Wilson."

She laughed, "The fuck are you going on about?"

"From that movie? Cast Away?"

"That was a volleyball!" Dot yelled from her place upfront. "Get your facts straight." She teased.

"Yeah, well, I haven't watched it in years, excuse me."

"It was too iconic to not remember it was a volleybal. You should watch it again in honour of our adventures as soon as we get back home."

You let out a sound of indifference, "Don't think I'll want anything to do with anything tropical or deserted island-ey."

"That's fair. Hey, but, one of us should, like, totally write a book about all of this."

"Not me."

"Yeah, no, not me either."

"Leah, wanna take that one? Since you seem to be glued to that book." Rachel played around.

Toni nodded, "That shit will probably sell like crazy."

Fatin piped up, "As long as you'll share the royalties with me. If you're gonna write to the whole world about how I woke up with sand in my crack then I at least want to get something in return."

"You sure mention that a lot, don't you?"

She gave you a look, and then puckered her lips to make kissy faces at you.

Although you had started the conversation and seemed to be in for a joke again, Shelby kept a close eye on you, still unsettled at what you had gone through a few hours ago. You seemed fine now, but was that the same as what was going on inside your head? Was this just an act? Besides, it had appeared that she barely knew you anymore, so whatever ability to be able to read you she'd had in the past, was sure gone now.

"It's.... cave-y," Martha noted, getting chills as soon as she stepped into the cool cave.

"It's a cave, what did you expect?" Dot smiled slightly.

Each girl took her time to help set everything back up. You yourself had decided to re-organize the kindle you had found that afternoon into piles for signal firewood, dry wood and dry logs.

A soft tap on your shoulder broke your concentration.

Leah.

You clenched your jaw. You hadn't had a problem with Leah before, on the contrary— she had been one of the first girls who you had felt comfortable around. But the stunt she had pulled earlier, the thing that had filled you to the brim with anxiety and had made you relive an anxiety attack again, hadn't been forgiven or forgotten yet.

"Hey, um, so, I was way out of line... back there... earlier. I don't know what I was thinking. I mean- I don't think I was, truth be told— which is, like, totally not an excuse or me trying to swerve my way out of an apology because this is... an apology. So, I'm so sorry, Y/N. I shouldn't have done that. Are you... are you alright?" She shifted in her spot and bit her lip when you kept staring at her, barely blinking.

You rose to your feet, levelling your gaze with hers.

"I told you to stop. Did you not hear that?"

"I-I don't know, I don't remember. You have every right to be mad at me but... listen-"

"-Listen?! Oh, so the thing you did not do?"

"Y/N-"

"Leah, this place is already horrifying enough as it is. I did not want to go through any additional hell but that was exactly what happened after you kept playing that tape."

"You could've walked away earlier," She tilted her head, unsure of her own comment. "I really needed to hear it all, we all did... I think."

"Oh- so now I'm the one at fault?"

"No! I said sorry, Y/N! And I wholeheartedly meant that! I fucked up, okay?"

"You triggered an anxiety attack, did you know? Have you ever had one?"

"Y/N, I am so sorry."

Taken aback by the glistening of her eyes, you blinked... once, twice as you stood there, dumbfounded. Someone was actually sorry for what they had done to you, for the first time in ages. This wasn't your fault, and she had admitted that.

She looked at your outstretched hand with a puzzled look on her face, but grabbed it when you gestured for her to shake it.

"Never again."

"Never again. I promise."

She gave you a hesitant smile when you left to walk outside, walking into Dot and Shelby who stood to admire the sun going down.

"Oh- hey." Shelby whispered softly when she stepped back, letting Dot have her moment alone, "It's beautiful isn't it?"

You hummed, being enamoured by the view.

"Reminds me of-"

"-that picture."

"I mean, yeah!" Shelby breathed out, surprised that you would acknowledge it, that you even remembered it at all.

"Good times, good times." You mumbled, somewhat sarcastically, under your breath before retreating back inside, realising you wouldn't find your much-needed peace outside either.

After the sun had gone down, the sky only stayed slightly alight for a few more minutes, leaving you all in total darkness until Nora helped Dot with the campfire.

Still, the flames and the heat that bounced off the walls of the caves barely kept you warm. You rubbed your arms and put your head in your lap, your breathing now trapped in a small space and therefore warming your face.

The soft fabric of a jacket was thrown around your shoulders and you pulled your head out of your lap. Fatin stood over you, smiling softly.

You pulled the jacket off you and inspected it. It was red with a black panther print and stripes.

"You sure do love your panther prints, huh?"

"Rawr. You're welcome, bitch." She clawed her manicured nails at you before wanting to turn on her heel, but frowned when she saw you neatly fold her jacket up and put it beside you.

"I'm pretty sure it's not allowed to return or refuse gifts from royalty."

"Royalty?" Martha joined the conversation, which caught Toni's attention as well,

"Says who?"

"Says the literal royal rule book!"

"What else is in that book of yours?"

Fatin cleared her throat, getting ready. She tilted her chin, "Uh-hum, no politics!" She playfully wagged her finger, "When the Queen stops eating, everybody does. Royalty cannot eat shellfish!"

"The hell-"

"I call bullshit."

"Do you want to smell like Seaworld when you're royalty? No, exactly."

"You're taking the piss with us." Dot laughed, glad that there was someone doing her best to lighten the situation.

"Actually, everything she said was all true." Nora chuckled dryly.

"Even the seafood bullshit?"

"Yeah... but not for those reasons. Just because it's risky food."

"Risky food? It's fucking delicious. When I went to Thailand with my family, we went to a place that had the best Poo Cha in the area. Let me tell you- when it touched my lips—" She kissed her fingers and made a sound.

Toni rolled her eyes, "Way to make me feel like a fucking commoner."

The conversation had taken the attention away from you, but Fatin remembered why the discussion had even started. Deciding to involve the whole group so you had no other way but to answer her, she raised her voice,

"Why do you keep refusing my clothing?"

Eight sets of eyes stared at you.

You shrugged, focusing on the ground where you were drawing circles in the dust of the cave with your finger. You felt all their eyes on you and you could slap Fatin right about now for putting you on an unwanted pedestal with her comment.

"I've also got this leopard camo jacket if red is not your colour?" She tried to play it off as a joke but already started to rummage through her suitcase again, "Or wait... maybe..." She pulled out a fluffy dark green coat from the bottom of her suitcase. She tamed the hairs to get it neat again, "This will definitely keep you warmer than that shirt of yours."

"I'm fine. Thank you."

Her smile dropped and she stared at you, trying to read the expression behind your eyes while you kept busy patting the non-existent dust off your pants.

Without saying another word, Fatin sat down next to Dot, who leaned over to whisper, "It’s probably not my place to assume, but I always hate when people give me stuff I know I can’t repay them for."

"It's just a jacket?" She shot back.

"And it's just an assumption."

Fatin stared back at you, letting her mind run with every possibility of why you just wouldn't take any of her clothes, in contrast to the other girls. But if you thought that she would let you shiver through the night while she had a suitcase filled with things to keep you warm, then you definitely thought wrong.

"Goodnight, everybody." Marthe yawned, curling into herself on the ground, close to the fire. A cacophony of goodnights followed, and you decided it was time to try and sleep as well.

Your hand grazed your pocket, where the strip of pills was still safely tucked away. The thought crossed your mind for only a split second, but no, you would not cave. Not today.

The anxiety attack had left you exhausted, so it was no surprise that you fell asleep almost immediately.

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