#salsa anything cages

[urbanadventureleague]

Summer bike stuff tag sale

Hello, friends! The endless purging of unused items continues. All prices are USD, and do not include shipping. All photos at the bottom of the post. How this works (PLEASE READ!) Domestic shipping will start at $6 USD and go up from there, depending on what and how much you get. We are only selling to US addresses. Local contactless pickup can be arranged (around Mount Tabor in Portland), but…

[fullscoreshenanigans]

What sort of occupation do you think Norman would like?

Because I 100% agree he should not be a CEO

[Offshoot of this post]

I'm very biased by @officersnickers and @salsae and either see him as a doctor of some sort (default to pediatrician) or a university professor/researcher. Something that can incorporate his affinity for mathematics and science, provide him with mental stimulation and challenges, and allow him to achieve recognition on a global stage if he so desires without throwing away his empathy and humanity.

(Chapter 85 Bonus Comic | Mystic Code Book Chapter 7 Q&A)

I feel like that last element is a big thing for a lot of people given what he went through at Lambda. The worst year and some odds month of his life had him isolated away from his family in a cage, alone, and he suffered greatly for it.

It's an idea that's illustrated so poignantly in the chapter 128 cover art. Ray has become so much warmer and devoted to his friends and family after being afforded the chance to hope "for a future that is like a dream" and to care for them openly under Emma's tutelage, heart a wellspring of love and empathy. They're all shaping each other while he's left to wither, and the cunning and ruthlessness that save him almost lead him to a point irrevocable (by the narrative's standards; for some, he passes it).

(Chapter 181.4)

It's hard to ascertain what capacity a CEO operates in in this future, what ethical standards there are and what boundaries he sets for himself on top of the vast range of industries they dabble in, but that he's tied up in it at all with all the negative connotations surrounding the role and potential exploitation involved after overturning fate itself and restructuring a world order leaves a bad taste in a lot of people's mouths, even with the simplicity and flexibility it affords in explaining away financial woes.

With a doctor, teacher, or any career without that level of baggage, there's the opportunity for him to incorporate his interests and be met with engaging challenges while simultaneously tempering that ruthlessness via establishing interpersonal relationships and working toward a collective, communal good. The possibilities for him are endless, but that's what I like for him since he holds Emma as his guiding star.

(Chapter 14)

For Emma, I've seen multiple instances of her being a teacher, especially one who works with young children due to how wonderful she is at understanding and empathizing with people, but she also has the tenacity to become a political activist or some other role of leadership.

(salsae's to have and to hold and these hands could hold the world)

Like Norman, anything that gets her actively involved in the wider world for a communal or societal good and allows her to flourish works for me.

For Ray, I have such a big soft spot for him being a librarian and rekindling his childhood love of reading under kinder circumstances and sharing it with future generations, but with his aptitude for science that Shirai mentions in the mystic code book and we see crop up throughout the story

(Chapter 140)

there's a lot of possibilities for him too, though out of the trio I feel he'd be the least likely one to entertain the spotlight.

(Chapter 181.4)

But maybe an architect who blends art and science together to construct a community given one of the things he wanted to do in the human world with his family was see the Sagrada Família (another one influenced by Snickers).

Interestingly, I've yet to stumble across any fanfics or headcanons where he becomes a professional chef, and I wonder how much of that is a shared sentiment of viewing cooking as part of his love language that he'd rather stay personal, something he only does for his friends and family rather than making a career out of it.

(banana_slug_army's The Language of Cooking)

While also unlearning bit by bit the idea etched into his psyche after years as Isabella's spy that love is always transactional.

[billetwoes]

Food! Headcanon Smoke (Tomas Vrbada)

Just some food headcanons that have been "stewing" in my head for our Friendly Neighborhood Wholesoome Sidekick!

Rated: PG-13, mentions of alcohol and "Sex on a Beach" drink

Words: 932

-As an Earth Realm Protector, Tomas had been billeted by different hosts from all over our world during various missions that take place in different parts of the world.

-Tomas is always appreciative of homecooked meals prepared by his billet hosts because he understands that it takes valuable resources, time and effort, especially if it is evident that the billet family is poor. There’s nothing more delicious than a homecooked meal made with love.

-He eats a lot of vegetables and loves them! Tomas appreciates vegetables prepared in different ways: salads, roasted vegetables, pureed as a soup, battered and fried, as snacks, you name it. Authentic Mexican tortillas and nachos with a lot of salsa with juicy chunks of tomatoes, bring on the vitamin C!

-Tomas also eats a lot of fruits, his favourite ones being apples, oranges, grapes, stone fruits, pineapple, mangoes, and any fruits that are both sweet and tart, especially if crunchy. He doesn’t mind bananas, melons, berries and local fruits from different countries and will eat them when offered.

-Tomas doesn’t mind smoothies, but doesn’t normally consume this, since they weren’t available during his time in the Lin Kuei, and currently in the Shirai Ryu.

-Tomas’ favorite thing to eat is stew. It reminds him of his childhood days as a hunter, as his mother often cooked stews for him and his sister. Got a pot roast in the slow cooker, he’s game! Make sure that there are a ton of veggies in that Crockpot, and he’ll appreciate that. Happen to have a large Dutch oven of Osso Bucco in the oven, he’s inwardly drooling and counting the minutes until he can get his mitts on a bowlful of that tender beef shank on top of creamy polenta and topped with gremolata! Got some chicken or pork adobo and rice, he’ll take seconds! Got a big bowl of Caldo de Res (yes, I know it’s a soup), it’s gone in no time. In a mood for some comfort food, he’ll gladly accept a bowl of scouse made with lamb. Got butter chicken on coconut rice, yes, please! :D

-If a billet host can or is well off, Tomas loves being treated to different restaurants. If a billet host has recommendations and is enthusiastic to take him to a popular spot, Tomas is always happy and appreciative to go with. From a popular hole-in-a-wall noodle shop to a lively gastropub on a game night to a Michelin Star restaurant in an upscale part of downtown, he loves being exposed to different culinary experiences. Tomas always has a great time bonding with his billet families this way, and they always enjoy hearing about his stories and adventures.

-Tomas won’t eat anything that isn’t well-cooked or under cooked, not out of rudeness but for his own safety. If there is anything that is pungent in a bad way, he’ll try it once in small quantities, but that’s it. If an animal that is being butchered is illegally acquired and slaughtered in an inhumane way, Tomas wants nothing to do with it.

-It only takes only a few occurrences for Tomas to learn to have a sack of snacks or MRE’s, courtesy of Johnny Cage’s connection with the US army.

-Just because Tomas must keep a certain physique doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy any foods and beverages that are “less” healthy. Having been to different parts of the world has made him acquainted to the popular fun foods. If he’s in Canada, he must have some poutine with those squeaky cheese curds! If he’s in the Southern US, bring on the fried chicken with biscuits and gravy! If he’s in a Southeast Asian country, the street food offers a ton of options: try the fish balls on sticks, various fresh seafood cooked fresh, and shaved ice desserts, to name a few! If he’s in the Middle East or in the Balkan region, Baklava is a must!

-Tomas can generally hold his liquor and knows his limits. His alcoholic beverage of choice is beer, specifically the beloved pilsner. It must be the Czech in him or the fact that men can generally metabolize alcohol faster, or both, that he’s able to put away a lot of beer. In fact, Tomas is one of the few that can out drink most of the Earth Realm protectors.

-If Tomas is offered wine or Prosecco with some dinners, he will accept 2-3 glasses. He rarely drinks hard liquor, but if with a culture where it is customary and polite to accept a drink from a billet host, he will. He’s had quite a few tequila shots in his life.

-At one point, Tomas had been curious about Jello Shots at one point. Tomas enjoys them if he’s with younger members of billet families that offer them, especially when he can enjoy the more adventurous drinks like Sex on a Beach, Long Island, AMF (Ooof!), Ceasar, and other creative concoctions with no names. Tomas has also taken a liking to Baileys, by itself or in hot chocolate.

-Tomas has a sweet tooth. Ice cream, gelato, and popsicles are consumed in large quantities. He likes mini fruit tarts and cakes in general, especially Japanese sponge cakes with strawberries and light whipped icing. Anything matcha will always be welcomed, be it as tea, in cakes, ice creams, and anything creatively sweet.

-Tomas loves chocolate bars and protein bars. He also loves cookies and Nutella on fresh bannock. Have options of snacks in a basket, and that completes his billeting experience with you :D

[tracksterman]

So that was the trip: 600km, and 53m shy of an Everest's climbing. I was loaded heavier than I've been for many years, but wanted to take a bit more stuff than I do on the shorter 2-3 day trips I mainly do now. It all worked fine; stable, well balanced, surprisingly easy to push and manoeuvre over rough terrain. I'd forgotten the almost tank-like momentum you can build up on a well loaded bike! On the rare occasions I had to lift it over a locked gate, the two rear panniers popped off in seconds and the rest was light enough to just hoy over in one go.

In fact, I wasn't carrying a massive amount of luggage. The rear panniers are 10l each; about 10-12l in the seat pack (sleeping bag, fleece bag liner, pillow, folding saw, trowel); the fork bags are 5l each; the double ended bar bag can hold up to 15l but was generally folded down to about 8-10l. So, along with the tool kit, lock and tent poles in the frame bag, a total of about 55litres.

I took stuff I didn't use - but I might have used it and wouldn't necessarily rule it out next time. Folding saw, small tarp, extra clothes on the shoulder of the season, maps....hmm, maps. I didn't look at the paper maps once. It's been a journey but I might finally be post-map. I just designated chunks of OS mapping and downloaded them for offline use as the route evolved. Navigation was as much about battery management as anything else.

No real mechanical issues. The anti-sway hook on one of the panniers came loose and needed nipping up early on. The right fork cage came loose on its bolts twice. It's a Salsa Anything cage, lacking the cut-outs that the left PX cage has, which makes getting in there with an allen key a bit tricky. Once I got medieval on it, it was fine for the rest of the trip.

I didn't have any problems with the Ortlieb Quick Rack but still have reservations about it that I'll cover in future posts.

So that just leaves the odd metallic plinking noise that's developed at the rear of the bike - that's tomorrow's job...

[deputygonebye]

@florrentine asked: ❛ i don’t think i’ve ever seen you smile. ❜

On the cusp of fusty, rigidly old fashioned with all the trimmings of classic suburbia, cream colored walls and a fridge covered in artwork made by the community children, stuck in place with magnets and clips decorated in ribbon: Deanna's house was the jewel of Alexandria. Untouched from the world that had gone to hell on the outside, pristine on the inside with its lit candles and delicious scents, baked goods and bubbled wine. Snacks stacked on platters scattered across every counter space available - tortilla chips and cheese for dipping, hot stuffed peppers, popcorn tossed in salted butter. Laughter and smiles upon the faces of all who attended her party, the call to welcome the newcomers who decided to join the ranks. Bellies never so full, not since before the end, beneath the surface weary wanderers who were not yet entirely comfortable. Shane's lips covered in salsa, his chip almost devoured completely, his other hand occupied with a cold beer. Golden label wet from condensation; down his knuckles in careless droplets, the taste a desired burn, just enough to calm nerves, the feeling of being watched and eyed like an animal in a cage.

Post found in the kitchen, the space between the food and the living room, Shane fell into the merriment with ease. Smiled, joked with the best, drank his bottle and sampled some more, fingers dusted in the aftermath of an attack on both the bean dip bowl and the onion dip. Celery and potato chips alike stuffed into his mouth, teeth bared in grin and the itch of aggression. An iced shiver that dared to cross his spine - the cruel hand of reality, the ambition to snap the dreamlike state away forever. Wonder that sparkled Deanna's eyes - so certain in her ways, so sure that what she had done for her community was right. So foolish, nevertheless, brown eyes darted between her and the door, red hue on tanned skin from emotion that was anything but the influence of chilled drink.

Laughing at the tease that passed between he and Pete, a doctor who walked on ice that was too thin, cracked and splintered, unaware of dangers that were toyed with, a stumble from one room into the next, the jest from Em was fresh air. Sweet to the sense, the jolt of excitement that needed to be, the reason for another sip from a near empty bottle, mouth gone suddenly dry.

"Hey, don't get used to it, girl." Shane replied, an attempt to suppress the mentioned expression a failure, the corners of his mouth quick to lift again. "Offer me a drink or two, and you're bound to get a smile on my face, let me tell you."

Shane asked, body turned to Emilia's direction, attention danced between she and the others, the happy, unexpecting family, "where you been? For a little while, I didn't think you'd show up. Deanna, she don't mess around with these things, does she? Like New Years in this place. Never seen so many smilin' faces. Y'all even got Abe to loosen up - tough bastard."

[journeyneverends]

Some details on gear. Or what I use to contain gear.

Sea to summit 8L Big River for front fork bags. One side food other is tent, stove and cup. Attached with Voile 25” straps. The mounts are King Cage anything mounts. 13L Sea to Summit Big River handlebar bag contains sleeping bag, air mattress and sometimes pants and down jacket.

Rear Pack contains all clothing and spare set of glasses

Triangle pack contains spare parts in bottom. Food while traveling pump, maps, spare water for long dry stretches.

Top tube gas tank bag hold electronics and food. Handle bars hold two feed bags which hold 1 liter water each sunscreen and Garmin.

This configuration is very good. I’m also very pleased with the Salsa Cutthroat bike. I’m riding about 25-35 psi in tires. This gives nice ride especially on washboard.

[piperjistic]

Ripping to Shreds - Migration

Saw that illumination Migration on Netflix. It was so fast paced, not even compared to the concept it’s named after, just in general. Maybe I was expecting too much from an illumination film but it was so damn jarring. It switched films and tone immediately at the half way point I presume when they find the bird farm. It goes from dad focused family trip about getting over his fear of literally everything and the outside world as he seemed to never migrated at all. Never with the kids. And possibly never ever before. To a father and son issue, and back to family movie. Ex:

Other ducks fly in and inspire the family to migrate but main duck says no and they sulk. Then they leave their pond to fly to Jamaica after his fearful awakening, go in the wrong direction, stop at the old heron couple’s house to cleanse themselves of stereotyping, get stuck in New York and attacked by Akwafina, she gets them to the trapped Jamaican bird TM, get the cage key in a Ratatouille sequence from asshole chef. Salsa dance romantically for a bit before freeing him and fly to Jamaica. Oh wait, we gotta stop because the daughter duck needs to poop but she’s shyyyy. They discovered the paradise bird farm that looks cool to show papa bird is super brave. Oh no, the farm belongs to the asshole chef so they escape again, brooding angst from dad yelling at his son for running into danger and losing the ability to fly, get captured by chef but Jamaican bird TM get payback on him for the imprisonment with fruit 🍎, family united since son steals some feathers for him and they vaca at Jamaica. 🎉

I did not cut out anything. The movie never slows down or have the characters personally talk about emotions and non-plot things or jags that’s outside of what is mentioned. I think that’s why it feels so fast because of the

This movie really nailed it for me how many authors/writers forgets about character’s history, not background, their history. Why is he terrified of literally the outside world? Doesn’t get answered but fine. I can infer maybe something traumatic happened, whatever with his past family or something. Wait, his uncle is here… and no one else. Did the rest of their family members die from predators? Had to since they never met humans before. Oh wait, the uncle is a shut-in that causes the main duck to realize if he doesn’t change his wats, he’ll he lonely and die alone. Oh nooooooo~ So did the family just leave them there? You know what, I’m looking too much. Moving on- oh wait!

His wife knows he’s scared of everything/paranoid. She’s the opposite of him, like, completely. Adventurous, imaginative and confident! She wants to experience the world! … Wait how did you fall in love with him again???? Did he zap you with the hetero-ray? In the movie, it felt like she didn’t know him at all except for a gag “I know when my husband says stupid shit sometimes teehee. :)”. Like, it you knew how he is, why did you have kids with him???? And before anyone says it, duck biology dictates it can’t be an accident or anything else. It you know, you know. And even then, never migrating? You were okay with that?

It’s so glaring that the writers just created the characters, said they love each other, hug and that’s it. I like the dynamic they have of optimism/pessimism but otherwise they’re just together because of the plot.

Again, fine. I’ll let it be. He doesn’t want to be alone and finally conquer his fears…. Well he did actually which was cool. At the halfway point after freeing the Jamaican parrot TM, he completes his arc via 💃💃💃 with his wife. Shoot to he’s excited to go to new places at the end of the movie- Wait a minute how do we get there again???

The movie proceeds to shift where it suddenly has a son-father relationship thing happens. Up until this point, the movie has ignored the kids unless for gags.

So when they “courageously” explore the secret back entrance to the bird farm, which they could have avoided- they think its a paradise for birds as there’s slide and whatnot. But apparently the asshole chef gets his duck meat from here which the son notices. He tells his dad and wants to help but like any reasonable father, he tells him no and to stay back. He doesn’t listen and gets his feathers stomped on by the chef so he can’t fly. After the father rescues him and everyone else, he scolds him.

The son duck goes pouts in a corner for the night. His sister hugs him which was a cute moment before everyone else gets kidnap and they have to save their parents. And for some reason he gets to lead the pack into the Jamaican island as if he had some sort of arc???? If the arc was trusting his son to do (dangerous) things or lead, they didn’t do it correctly.

It really felt like they were gonna do something…. like the Croods. I literally just realized that. The basic concept and plot direction is the same. A family travels to a new location and face troubles but also an ally. They even have a grumpy older relative and a guide character that was trapped at one point. That’s where the differences end tho. At least that movie actually had characters have private and personal talks that wasn’t banter.

Migration was an alright movie. All I know is I know why the birds never feared their old home. Their pond is as shallow as their movie.

[nikkilbook]

Dear fanfic writers of the world:

Please. I’m begging you. If your blorbos are supposed to be dancing together, PLEASE stop writing that the leading partner put their hand on the other’s waist.

When dancing, the following partner (traditionally the lady) puts their left hand on the leading partner (traditionally the dude)’s upper arm, usually just below the deltoid. Just barely off the shoulder. The leader puts their right hand IMMEDIATELY UNDERNEATH THE LEFT ARM OF THEIR PARTNER, ON THE SHOULDER BLADE OR UPPER RIBS.

Your waist is the bendy space between your rib cage and your pelvis. Bend to one side; see the crease where your skin kind of pinches together? That’s your waist. If the dude puts their hand that low, it absolutely hamstrings your ability to lead properly and do things like spins or lifts or anything like that, AND it can cause SERIOUSLY PAINFUL HIP CRAMPS. Like, socket pain, low back pain, muscle aches in your thigh, etc. It hurts so bad.

Also, if your blorbos are dancing somewhere with other people, like a fancy party or something, or anytime they want to be able to do something other than list off “hey, let’s go in this direction” or “let’s do this move next” or anything, or if they aren’t familiar with their partner and the dance doesn’t have exact choreographed steps that everyone at the party knows, basically any time one person is ACTUALLY leading and the other is expected to follow whatever they do, hips are going to be touching.

This doesn’t apply AS much to Latin dances (cha-cha, rumba, salsa, etc.), but for something like a waltz, foxtrot, Viennese waltz, etc., the ones that have the big elegant ball gowns and the fancy tuxedos and such, the way one partner leads is A) with their arms in proper position, and B) with their hips touching their partner’s. It’s staggered, crotch-to-thigh, so that if the dude steps forward with his right leg, he’s stepping between the girl’s legs, and if she steps forward with her right, it’s the same. This way you know exactly what the other person is doing at any given moment, and you’re less likely to trip over each other’s feet.

Also, hips and face are basically magnetic. Hips are N/S, so they stay stuck together. Faces are N/N or S/S, and are repelled from each other. That’s where the elegant arching of the back comes from. I’m sure you don’t need my help figuring out the implications for your slow burn enemies-to-lovers unresolved sexual tension fic there.

Please. I’m dying here. Just, put the hands in the right spot. That’s the main thing. It’s all I’m asking.

Signed,

- I did ballroom in high school

[snaileer]

Chips & Salsa - Chapter 9

“-remember-?”

Who was that?

“Do you-”

What are they saying?

Why does my head hurt?

Light burst into Lance’s eyes with the pain in his chest.

He jolted forward, stuck, hurt-

Haggar.

He could see her glowing eyes now. Staring at him from just under the darkness of her hood. Even without pupils, he could tell that she was focused solely on him. As if he would tell her anything.

Lance jerked against his restraints. Restraints? “What do you want from me, you hag?!” He shouted, pulling against the metal cuffs again. Though they already felt bruised. His head pulsed with similar aching.

“I said, What..” She creeped forward, clamping her hand around his chin, “Do you remember?” Her voice crawled out of her throat like slime coating his skin.

What do I know? He tried to pull away from her again, “What the hell are you talking about, you freak!?” She was asking about his team, his family… Voltron. “I won't tell you anything. You’ll never get your hands on Voltron!” He struggled for lucidity against another flash of pain in his ever-growing headache.

An odd mix of satisfaction and anger flitted across her face, curving it into a sneer. “We will see about that yet, Paladin.”

He had no idea where the satisfaction came from. The anger, he understood. He’d seen plenty of his math teachers with the same expression; but satisfaction? She had nothing to be satisfied about. Not if she thought she could get anything from him.

“You’re not going to be able to break me, not in this lifetime or the next. I’ll never betray my team!”

A strange hissing growl came from her as she pulled her hand back and turned to the other druids. Other druids? Why hadn’t he seen them? He should have noticed them. Was he really that focused on just Haggar?

“Take him to the cell,” She glanced back at him out of the corner of her eye, “Leave him there for a while. We’ll see how he responds when I come back with further improvements from this information.”

He barely had time to panic before a druid had placed a purple hand on his arm and he felt magic course through him. It wasn’t electricity, thankfully, but it tensed every muscle in his body, paralyzing him in place.

God, the cramps he would get from this. He needed a massage. With coconut oil. And music. Hell, at the very least, a hot bath and copious amounts of bubbles.

When the other druid reinforced the magic to carry him out of the room, he came to the unfortunate realization that he would be getting neither any time soon.

The hallways faded past him in a blur. A tingling feeling niggled at the back of his neck, You should remember this. Pay attention. Listen! It screamed. This has happened before! SOMETHING’S WRONG! It whispered.

It sounded familiar.

Lance tried to pay attention to his surroundings, he really did. He knew it would be important if he wanted to escape. To know where he was going. But every time he tried to focus, the directions and pathways slipped from his mind like sand through a net.

What felt like seconds later, Lance was thrown into the darkness of a cell. And suddenly, feeling rushed back to him in a tsunami. Pain, pins-and-needles, sharpness, bruising, the sting of wounds rubbed raw at his wrists.

The druids moved away, uncaring at the shout he gave in shock when he hit the floor. The door closed behind them unceremoniously.

Lance groaned from his place crumpled on the ground, “Nothing like little torture and paralysis to get ya’ kickin’ in the morning, amiright?” He sighed to himself.

Displeasure sunk into him as the grime crawled its way into his pores.

Reluctantly, Lance pulled his hands and arms under his body, pushing up from the floor. At least he could lean against the wall, presumably less dirty than the ground. God, his head hurt. And his arms. Everything was sore, the thick manacles on his wrists feeling heavier by the second.

With a series of grunts, Lance finally settled himself into a corner of the cell. There was very little light, and most of it seeped in from the space under the door or the half dead purple-lightbulb-in-a-cage right above it.

Still, when he rolled his head to the side in exhaustion, there was enough light to catch on something written- no, carved into the wall next to him.

He raised his shaking fingers up to it, trying to feel what marks he couldn’t see.

D-n--or--g-t

-o--for--

No, there was a space in between there.

Do-t- fo--q-t

He squinted at it, leaning closer. The light caught on the curves of some of the letters. The ones he couldn’t accurately feel. It was an ‘N’, a ‘G’, an ‘R’ and maybe.. an ‘e’?

Oh.

Don't Forget.

Lance dropped his shackled wrists to his lap and huffed a laugh at his efforts. At himself. And then he spoke to the darkness.

“Oh don't you worry, creepy wall carving, I think it’d be pretty hard to forget this.”

-x-x-x-

Lance sat in the darkness for hours, days, however mind-numbingly long it was that allowed him to actually recite his entire family tree through 4 and a half generations. Extended family included. He even started including hypothetical nieces and nephews based on what he thought his sisters would name their kids.

He absentmindedly wondered if all of them were still hypothetical. How long had he been gone? What had he missed?

What had changed without him there to see it?

Something rumbled in the back of his head. It felt hidden behind his absolute monster of a headache now coming back.

Except… wait. No. He recognized that rumble…

Blue?

Blue! It was the Blue Lion! His Lion!

Something broke free in his mind, a small section of fog lifting.

Her presence and his own pressed against each other in his mind. A piece he hadn’t quite noticed was missing.

How could he ever have forgotten Blue?

Her presence purred, the vibrations automatically soothing him, comfort pushing through his bond. Something still felt… off. The bond felt farther, more strained, even though he could feel Blue on the other side. Feel her desire to come closer, feel the worry tinging the edges. Something still kept a distance between them.

He didn’t know what it was but something in his own mind told him to leave it be. It was important. It had to be like this.

Whatever this was.

Lance wasn’t able to figure it out soon enough, their mental conversation interrupted by the harsh grinding opening his cell door.

“Get up,” a discourteous voice commanded.

He looked at them with hooded eyes and a forced smirk, “Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt somebody?” Not that they knew he was having a conversation, but still… point stands.

Their glowing eyes narrowed, “Get up, or suffer, Paladin.”

“Didn’t anyone teach you manners? I didn’t even hear a please. Honestly, people these days have no- AAH!” Lance’s scream cut off his own words as purple lightning struck his body.

The druid barely even moved their hand and pain ran through his muscles. When the lightning stopped, Lance was left heaving for breath on his side.

He felt like the Extra Crispy option on a fried chicken menu. Was God trying to make him go vegetarian through sheer number of shared experiences? Screw that. In fact..

Lance glared back up at them and forced out the words, “Screw. You,” from between clenched teeth and struggling breaths.

He wished he could see the fury he knew was behind those masks.

The druid lifted their hand again and though Lance tried to fight the flinch, he wasn't sure if he succeeded. Instead of lightning, he felt the tight restraints of their magic envelope him and lift him up. He couldn’t even struggle out of it.

“Bite your tongue, child, or Haggar may decide to teach you some manners,” The druid growled and turned around, making their cloak swirl dramatically. Lance wished he could scoff at them, but the paralyzation made that difficult.

“And she will not be as merciful as I was.”

He settled for a particularly scathing, derisive glare. Lance thought they got the message anyways.

He was so focused on trying to burn a hole through their back that he almost missed where they were going. Almost. He hadn’t thought any of the directions stuck through his headache, but now… they were going back to the same room as before.

To Haggar.

He knew he was right when he spotted the Lady Hunchback herself leaning over a table. Seriously, when was the last time that woman stood up straight all the way? When she finished sharing tips and tricks with Satan and Hitler?

“I’d hate to be your chiropractor, lady. I bet it’s costly to find someone even able to tolerate your presence.” He was hoping for at least a twitch as the Druids forced the manacles into place on the table.

Instead, it was his heart that skipped a few paces upon realizing it must have been the same table he’d woken up on.

“I can’t imagine anyone would willingly come near you, despite being paid,” He sneered. It worked as a good enough distraction from what he knew was gonna happen. At least, it worked until she turned around.

“Quite the contrary, little Paladin,” Haggar reached her hands out to his head, clawed fingernails keeping him from leaning away, “I think you and I are going to get very close.”

Lance screamed again as pain shot through his skill. It felt like needles being shoved through his eye, he couldn't even-

It burned. It burned. It burned!

Please! Please Somebody! Help!

I can't-!

“Show me your team, Paladin,” A voice whispered, “SHoW ME Voltron!”

Pain surged again in time with his screams. Idly, some part of him wondered if he could burst his own eardrums.

His thoughts were crushed beneath crashing waves of searing, hot, burning, hot, it’s too hot, it hurts, it hurts it hurts, please please I can't do this I don't want-, somebody please!

Sharp claws cut a path through his mind. These ones didn't hurt.

No.

These claws came from soft padded paws. Metal and yet somehow gentle. Cold and soothing. He walked towards them, down the path they had laid for him, desperate for whatever small relief they could provide. Some distant piece of his soul recognized his bond between lion and paladin. But she was so far away. He could see the doors opened for him, welcoming him home, home to the water. But the path was so long and so dark.

He glanced down.

Dark?

No. It wasn't meant to be dark.

Burning tingled at his fingertips when he looked harder. His lion was blue. A gorgeous sky blue, ocean blue, ice blue. Then why….

Why was there purple leaching its way across it?

He looked behind him.

The heat worsened, pain closer than he remembered it.

His footsteps were clear behind him, each one oozing sickly, purple slime that curled its way around the light. Covering every inch of the gentle blue.

This wasn’t right. Something wasn't-

Sharpness spiked across his skull, snapping his head forward.

“Focus. Focus! Closer. Get closer! You cannot resist me! Not weak like you are!”

Something forced him forward and he stumbled on the path, falling to one knee. He reached to steady himself on the path; and different worlds flowed through his mind.

You’ve done this before, Cub. You can do it again.

They were his words. And they were Blue’s.

But he knew what they meant. He remembered it now. How Haggar was trying to get to his team, to Voltron, to Blue.

What she wanted from them. From him.

no. No. No!

“You cannot have her, Haggar! Not ever!” Lance turned around and moved away from the doors. The bond. Away from Blue.

Fresh agony layered on his skin. Heavier and thicker and stronger with each step.

He could hear Blue behind him now, calling out for him in mewls and cries. She wanted them to do this together. But he couldn’t, they couldn't do it together without endangering her. Endangering everybody. So he kept running. Pushing through what felt like thick slime until he was struggling to keep moving.

The smog pressed itself down his throat, burning, scalding and tearing him up on the inside.

Haggar was shouting out behind him too. She could only go so far, only get so close to her goal with him.

“I will take control, Paladin! You cannot stop me!” Claws grabbed his upper arms and pulled him back. They left deep gashes on his biceps and shoulders, but he pushed against their leverage.

“You don’t think I can stop you Haggar!?” He glanced over his shoulder at her glowing yellow eyes, “Watch Me!”

He turned around and reached into the darkness of her body without form, clutching onto the thickness he felt inside of it. Even as its essence burned like hot acid on his skin.

And then he threw his body backwards, taking her with him.

Away from the doors and through the barrier of Haggar’s magic. Away from Blue and through the pain.

Off of the path.

Almost immediately he felt Haggar get thrown from his mind.

He gathered what little peace he could find. The crashing waves came to a standstill for just one moment. It was enough.

It had to be.

He wanted to cry. Tears welled up in his eyes. He knew this was the best chance he would get to do so, but he couldn't. Not until it was over. Then he could break, could cry, or do whatever the hell it is that is supposed to come after this.

He looked back to stare through the thick, writhing purple of Haggar’s magic. He could see the glimmer of his bond with Blue. Of the ‘path’ they had laid that first day together.

It was dimmed now. Not just by the smoke obscuring his view, but by the purple sludge seeping into its bricks.

She’d gotten farther this time. Closer. More so than Lance had ever wanted Haggar to get. He knew he was struggling, struggling to keep the distance between his bond and her corruption.

It was weird. To be able to look back and remember himself forgetting something. Forgetting how many times they’d had this battle. This push and pull in his own mind.

He still didn't know just how long he’d been fighting back to keep her away. Just that he had. And that he’d keep doing it.

But he was losing.

A traitorous part of his heart told him this couldn’t go on forever. Something had to give, and as it was, Lance was not liking his odds. Something would have to break eventually.

But not yet.

He couldn't let go of her yet. He couldn't. Even if that made him weak, he couldn’t.

Not yet.

He just wanted to stay here a little longer. Stay with her a little longer.

The corrupted magic clearly disagreed with this prospect. Its char-colored surface rippled back to life. Waves were heard in a distance that did not exist.

They were not the bright, colorful waves of his home, nor the cold but fierce waves of his lion, these were riptide waves. Powered by the undertow and ready to pull him under. Drowning and suffocating him, farther, farther down.

He lost sight of the glow at some point, and the darkness snatched him under instantly.

-x-x-x-

The druids stared at the body of their mistress over the Voltron Paladin. So many times before, it had been the same. The same resistance and weakness from him. The same ignorant stubbornness as he protected what their Emperor deserved. He would fall to their magic eventually. As the one before him, and the countless subjects before that. He would fall.

But there were doubts.

They watched as Lady Haggar was flung back from the Paladin as she had been so many times before.

The doubts stood still. Ever wavering, faltering but not falling.

Lady Haggar lifted herself up and neither druid so much as twitched to help her. They knew better.

“He thinks himself strong, thinks himself righteous,” She crowed in that tone that said he so clearly wasn’t, “But his naivety costs him. I grow closer by the day.”

They saw barely a flash of white when Lady Haggar bared her teeth, “But that Lion keeps reminding him, keeps undoing my spells. He needs to be broken; and soon.”

The Druid refrained from mentioning that the spells for the invasion of his mind could only be broken by the strength of ones own quintessence. Reminded of strength, yes; but not given it or shared.

He was a Paladin of Voltron for a reason, though flawed that reason may be.

Lady Haggar finally turned attention to her druids, to fulfill their purpose under her command.

“Rid him of his weaknesses. No weaknesses, and nothing to chance.” She growled as low as a female galra could, “I will get that Lion from him, one way or another.”

As Lady Haggar stepped back, the druids stepped forward, up to the helpless paladin. His face was clear, unburdened and untense. That would change soon. They reached out with their arms and their magic, delving into the surface mind of this Paladin. Only the surface, Lady Haggar would do the rest.

The druids looked to each other, then to their mistress. He was ready, the spell prepared once again.

And from the front of the table, magic shot forward from her fingertips, into the mind, body and quintessence of the Child Paladin.

Their druid magic was nothing to the level of Lady Haggar, the Dark Witch of the Galra; and yet, it was their magic that ripped into his mind and made it possible for her to latch onto his memories.

They laid him bare, and she took what she needed.

The Paladin could do nothing. Would continue to do nothing. Not in the face of the empire’s power.

Then why must we keep repeating this process. The doubts whispered.

The druid ignored the words, focusing instead on the drawing of their power for the spell. When it was finished, the Druids stepped back once more, and Lady Haggar drew forward.

How would the Paladin awake this time?

His face began twitching. Slow, just as the last time.

“What do you remember?”

Nothing.

“Do you remember?”

Why did she ask him this? Their spell would only fail at the interference of the Voltron Lion. It was infallible to tricks of the mind.

The Paladin’s consciousness came closer to the surface. Still too slow. Always slow, this paladin. Magic was infallible and uncompromising, but Lady Haggar was not as patient.

She threw a spark of her magic onto the boy’s chest and instantly, he awoke. He jolted forward against the cuffs, no doubt hitting bruising from the pain of his struggles during Lady Haggar’s procedure.

Recognition flashed across his face. Focus drawn only to their Mistress, just as he was meant to. This was important, his mind still laid open for her to search, she drew her eyes onto his as her magic probed for information. Voltron could not hide forever.

The Paladin jerked forward once again, as if he had not learned the first time, “What do you want, witch?!” He shouted, pulling against his restraints. They would hold, this child was weak. Too weak.

“I said, What..” Lady Haggar creeped forward, clamping her hand around his chin, “Do you remember?” Her magic crawled forward, coating the recesses of his mind as she worked to pull forward his thoughts, his knowledge on Voltron.

His efforts to pull away were futile, though expected, “What the hell are you talking about, you freak!?” Voltron. Voltron. The Other Paladins. Tell us. Tell us of Voltron, the magic chanted.

“You won't get anything from me, I won’t betray Voltron!-” Lady Haggar pushed deeper and pain flashed beneath his eyes, “You won't find my team, not through me!” The trench opened in his mind began to close, Lady Haggar’s magic pulling back.

Accomplishment flitted across her face in pairing with irritation. He was still resisting then… surprising but not irreparable. “We shall see if that is true, Paladin.”

The Paladin seemed confused, but then again, he always did. He was weak and feeble-minded after all, nothing more could be expected.

“I’ll never betray my team and you'll never be able to make me! That will never change!” He shouted. So loud, so foolish.

Lady Haggar pulled back her hand as the last of the Druid’s spell closed, they would have to try again. She looked to the druids, and drew the Paladin’s eyes to them as well. He had not noticed them. Poor awareness, weak yet again. This is why the spell worked so well on young, unguided minds. It led them to purpose. The Empire’s purpose.

“Take him to the cell,” She looked back at him slightly, “Leave him there until I summon for you again. We shall see his results after I have viewed the information gained. Succession is at hand.”

“Vrepit Sa,” Both Druids nodded and turned to the Paladin, their hands coated in magic. A paralytic, they were too close to risk escape with this prisoner.

But you have been ‘close’ for a while now, haven’t you?

The paladin’s eyes widened, his heart jumped pace and his quintessence fluctuated before being frozen by the spell. As if the body could fight it, the spell was instantaneous with contact. Simple and complete.

The Druid’s magic worked in concession to lift the Paladin and disconnect his restraints without removing them. Silently, they began the walk to the cell.

They could see the panic and confusion in the child’s eyes as they turned each corner. It was pitiful that the magic coating his mind would leave him helpless for hours. Still, the effort was commendable. A sign of potential perhaps.

His eyes started to glaze over dim, perhaps not then, if he lost presence that fast. He held little use past his title as Paladin.

It was with this thought that they tossed his unpresence into the cell. Without a fight, this Paladin was nothing more than knowledge to be collected and tested.

The Druids moved away, uncaring at the shout when the Paladin came back to himself as he hit the ground. They closed the door without mind.

Then stepped to the side.

Magic made one weak if you allowed it to. Weakness made one vulnerable and vulnerability was to be exploited. So, they waited; to see if the Paladin had changed in the hours under Lady Haggar’s influence.

His groan echoed quietly through the metal door. After much hesitance, and many pauses, the Paladin began moving. His shuffles were quiet, but his vocalizations of his pain were not.

Lady Haggar had left marks on him this time, his upper arms and shoulders were marked with scratches like a wild Krelshi.

They listened to him rest again, presumably sitting rather than laying now. As he always was when they came back.

The metal of his cuff clinked softly against the cell walls. The druids looked to each other, a wonder if the Paladin would remain the same in his patterns.

Indeed, not a minute passed until they heard the unsure sounds of his untranslated, broken language whisper through the air.

Neither of them understood it. These were not words. They could not be translated. They were just sounds. Gripped by craziness or something else, they were still just sounds.

Then, a small laugh. A chuffing. Even in a place like this for the prisoner. Always the same.

“Oh don't you worry, creepy wall carving, I think it’d be pretty hard to forget this.”

Always the same, the paladin. Always the same.

-x-x-x-

In some other world, Lance might have wondered why the words carved into the wall were written in English.

He may have even noticed that the handwriting looked scarily similar to his own despite the pitch black darkness.

This was not one of those worlds.

And he did not notice.

First Chapter: https://snaileer.tumblr.com/post/613092735756402688/chips-and-salsa-chp-1

Next Chapter: Not Out Yet! But Soon!

Also double-posted on fanfiction.net and Ao3 under the same name!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 4: Caged

CW: Referenced whump of a minor (sorry, Trainee!Chris), brief implied noncon of a minor reference, noncon touching (of adult), referenced pet whump, referenced bruising, referenced dubcon/noncon of adult

John Ferrick and B (referenced, unnamed) belong to @moose-teeth and is used with permission

“Hey, Manning, look at this.” Luke waggled his phone - standard company-issue, big enough to be more a tablet than a fucking communication device, but the company paid, and they didn’t care if Luke had a few game apps installed on the side. 

Connor glanced up from his own lunch, where he was picking at “shrimp fettuccine alfredo”, which at least got the pasta and sauce right, but contained the three smallest shrimps that Luke Petrus had ever seen. A side salad, some garlic bread, and Connor’s usual bottle of made-at-home iced coffee completed the meal.

This was why Luke volunteered for overnight multi-day shifts and got to have his little studio apartment down in the long-term halls. He ate whatever the fuck he wanted. Which, granted, was mostly nachos and cups of soup, but the point still stood. 

“What is it, Petrus?” Connor sounded bored, but he mostly sounded like that all the time these days. Moping around like he had a stick up his ass, and Petrus kind of missed the fun Connor Manning, but whatever. Some of the handlers got that way after a while, and they’d cycle through the fucking mopery and come out the other side, in the end.

Or they’d quit.

Or pop up in a white shirt and shorts.

“Look at the stupid shit my trainee’s doing right now.”

Connor didn’t even perk up a little at that, and his eyes shifted away, looking across the bustling cafeteria, eyebrows furrowing just a little. Petrus shifted in his seat and turned to look as well - he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just a few handlers and Ferrick from Acquisitions in line for lunch. He sighed and turned back. 

“Come on, Manning, try to look like you have a well-paying job with great benefits for five minutes, huh?”

Connor blinked, looking back at him. “Uh, yeah. Right. Sorry. I’m just…” He waved his fork near his head in a vague gesture. “Not having the best week.” He shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. “What did you want to show me?”

Luke grinned, flashing bright teeth. “My trainee. Look at him.” He handed over the phone, pulled up to a live view from the camera installed in the corner of the ceiling of his current favorite trainee’s room.

Connor’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Fuck, this is one of the underagers. You know I hate that shit, Petrus. Fucking sick.” He handed the phone back over, but Petrus only pushed it back.

“Nah, forget about that. Just look at what he’s doing.”

The short little trainee, drowning in the white t-shirt and black shorts, and with his shock collar cutting apart the pretty line of his neck, was pacing. 

His coppery hair shifted in the constant cold air blowing into the room from unseen vents as he moved - a few steps from end to end and back again, over and over, stepping one foot carefully in front of the other, heel-to-toe, heel-to-toe. There was no sound to the video, but Petrus knew if there was, the boy would be counting, one step two step three step four step, in his low voice, stammering through the words. 

The stammer was cute, but he’d get rid of it before the prospective took him home.

The trainee turned and walked back the way he’d just come, toe-to-heel-to-toe-to-heel, until he hit the wall again. Then turned around and repeated it. Covering every single inch of tile along the floor, from one side of the tiny room to the other, before he started it all over again. His hands were twisted into his shirt, kneading and pulling at the thin cotton. His head jerked to the side on occasion, bumping into the wall, in a rhythm only he understood. 

Petrus snorted, while Connor only looked at it, almost blankly. “Pacing like a fucking tiger at the zoo in his little cage.” Luke’s voice dipped into affectionate warmth. “He’s gorgeous, right? Pretty little thing, now that I fixed his little defiance problem, and so eager to-”

“Stop.” Connor snorted, jabbing his fork back into his pasta.

“You can’t tell me he doesn’t look good like that.”

“He looks like a fucking teenager, and I stopped thinking high schoolers looked good when I stopped fucking being one, you perverted piece of shit. On the outside, someone like you would be in prison.”

“Oh, and you wouldn’t, you fucking rapist?”

Connor sat back, pale except for bright red spots on his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, good point. Maybe we should all be in prison.”

“Manning, that isn’t… Jesus.” Luke sat back, staring slightly wide-eyed, caught off-guard. “I just don’t see why you give a fuck if he’s under eighteen.”

Connor glanced up, and there was a weird spark of anger in his dark eyes that made Luke oddly uneasy. “Because I don’t go for that, and you know it. When I was-… it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. 499’s got energy like you wouldn’t believe, you’re missing out. Although it’s a pity watching him wear himself out. Hate to let him get it out in there when he could be using it correctly on my training table.”

Connor handed the phone back over, shrugging, his eyes back on the line over on the other side of the room and not on Luke at all. “Then go fucking train him, Luke. Stop showing me underagers, you know I hate that shit. I don’t think we should do that, I don’t want shit to do with it. The Director made a monster fucking decision and-”

Luke leaned forward, voice dropping into a hissed whisper. “Jesus Christ, Manning, shut the fuck up, you know it gets back to her when you talk shit about her ideas. She was the one to introduce the program-”

“And it was gross, and a fucking mistake. Gross as fuck.”

“Oh, like you’re so fucking innocent. Sanctimonious asshole.” Luke pocketed his phone, swallowing against a mix of defensiveness and residual unease. “Keep your holier-than-thou shit to yourself if you know what’s good for you.”

“I don’t give a fuck who hears me, let them go pass it along to the Director. I don’t give a fuck. All of this… no. I don’t care about it anymore. I just… I just don’t.”

“Then quit. It’s a free fuckin’ country - leave if you hate your job so much.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ well will.”

“When?”

Connor’s anger died, all at once, and Luke was struck by how much he looked like one of the pets, in that moment - haunted and uncertain. Luke wondered what the fuck was wrong with him these days. Connor had been a top handler once, always cheerful, always smiling - now he was calling in sick all the time, acting like this in public where anyone could see him do it… criticizing the Director, for Christ’s sake. 

“As soon as I can,” Connor said, in a low voice. “As soon as I fucking can. As soon as he’ll sign off on my baby.”

“Your what-”

“Don’t make me look at that poor kid again, Luke.”

“That poor-… he’s a fucking pet like the rest of them, Manning. You should talk to the company therapist or something if you’re feeling like this.”

“And have the Head of Training Operations hear about my fucking feelings? No fucking thanks, Luke.”

“Yeah, well. I’m going to go wear the shit out of that trainee. Get your fucking head on straight, Manning, before someone important notices it’s crooked.” Luke pushed himself to his feet, thumb rubbing over the camouflage phone case, frowning in thought as he walked away.

John Ferrick’s lunch tray dropped onto the table next to Connor with a clatter and Connor jumped, keeping his eyes down, red flaring in his face. “What the fuck was that, Manning? You and Petrus don’t chitchat.”

“He wanted to show me his fucking trainee. You know how he is.” Connor picked at his food, not looking up as Ferrick settled himself comfortably into the seat next to him. He tensed when Ferrick’s hand slid over his thigh, rubbing into the inside through the fabric of his work pants. “Ferrick, stop it-”

“Try again,” Ferrick said, smugly, sliding his hand up even higher, pressing hard into just the right-

Connor hissed through his teeth as Ferrick’s thumb pressed into a bruising set of teeth marks. “Shit. Fuck, Ferrick-”

“What, already? I didn’t wear you out during our ‘poker game’ last night?” Ferrick began to rub in circles over the bruise, around and around the spaces where his own teeth had dug so deeply into Connor’s skin that you could probably use dental records to identify who did it. “You want me to stop, use your fuckin’ manners.”

Connor’s teeth ground together audibly. “Please stop, sir,” He managed to spit out, barely moving his lips, in a whisper.

Ferrick’s hand shifted back to pick up his own little plastic fork. He’d chosen the vegetarian option, black bean cakes with salsa and sour cream, and hummed happily. One of his favorite cafeteria meals, really. “Better. Maybe I’ll let you see your dog later, if you keep being so polite.”

“I can’t wait until he’s ready so I can tell you to fuck off as I drive the fuck away,” Connor muttered. 

Ferrick just smiled. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m damn good and ready to let you go, Manning, and you know it. Not if you don’t want me to declare your fucking dog too broken to be fixed… or let the Director know about your hot little pain problem.”

Connor swallowed, and honestly… he wished he could start pacing right now, too.

There was more than one way to be caged.

[jae-daddy]

Red Rose (1)

Jaebum mafia au 

two / three / four

pairing: Jaebum x Reader  genre: mafia!au, romance, drama, angst, mature plot: your high school sweetheart, Im Jaebum, is the most feared criminal and you’re his one true love a/n: a long time ago, i asked y’all which one of my stories you wanted. you have probs forgotten about it by now, but here y’all go. Red Rose. I’m so excited! hope y’all like it <3 not edited

The golden lights of the diner spilled onto late night streets outside. A rag clothe hung from your swinging waist, as your feet lightly tapped to the sound on the radio. 

“I love you baby!” you belted into the mop you were using to wipe the cream floors, your shoulders moved to the rhythm. Your whole body felt alive as the words left you. 

You loved staying at the diner during late night shift. The easy feeling of nostaglia hung into the air, the streets empty and quiet, and the world before you drowning in golden halo from the lights hanging low from the ceilings. 

Everything was happy, the whole would was yours and only yours. 

You liked being at the diner; up, alive and happy. It was better than being holed up in your house; alone, sad and dying of bordoem. 

You loved the song on the radio. It was a favourite of you and your boyfriends. Well, your ex-boyfriend, and the only boyfriend you’ve ever had. 

You smiled at the memory of him. 

You were both sitting in his retro car, staring down at the city lights replacing the starry night that might have been. He looked over at you, a mischevious glint in his eyes. He reaches out and turns the dial up making the radio louder. 

A little giggle leaves you, as he starts moving his shoulders dancing to the beat, as he scrunched his face jamming to the song. 

His sweet voice softly began singing along to the songs. 

“I love you, baby!” suddenly, he sang dramatically. He threw his head back and shaking his troussled dark locks. Your giggle turning into a laughter, as he attempted some fancy salsa moves in his seat. 

His warm hands traced in your jaw, in dramatic seduction, singing with all his soul. He nodded his head at you, telling you to join in. 

You hesitiated for a moment before giving in. 

“Oh pretty baby! Don’t bring me down I pray!” You joined him, belting at the top of your lungs. 

You sang louder, giving it your best, getting lost somewhere in between the song, reality and love. 

Just as the song ended, he leaned in placing a kiss on your lips that took your breath away. Your shy eyes met his playful brown ones, gleaming with want and love. 

“I love you, y/n,” he bit his lip unsurely. “I know it’s a bit too soon, but I - I just can’t pretend that I don’t. You’re the first thing I think of when I wake up, and last before I go to sleep. When I’m with you everything else leaves my head, and when I’m not with you, you’re all that I think of. I am loosing my mind being in love with you. There’s no way I could hide it.”

He looked away from your glazed eyes; his eyes searching the console inbetween us as he spoke so rapidly. You felt tears filling your eyes, as a smile grew on your lips. 

“I’m sorry if I-”

“You idiot.” You grabbed his collar, before cutting him off, pressing your lips against his. 

“That idiot,” you whispered shaking your head at the memory. 

The song had finished and another one started playing. You hummed along, trying not to think of him.

He was perfect. He was the kindest and sweetest guy you had ever met. He was always a gentleman. Even in moments, when you were begging for him, he’d make sure you were a hundred percent sure. And he was always there for you. 

He taught you how to drive, how to dance. How to be free and happy. He taught you how to love yourself. 

He was your ‘the one.’ It had been six years since you both broke up in college. After his dad had passed away, he completely fell apart. You had tried to be there for him, but he began pushing you away. No matter what you did he would always push you away, until one day, he just disappeared without a trace. 

You searched him up on social media sometimes, but nothing ever came up. 

He was the one that had gotten away. 

He was the one for you. 

He was the one you thought of whenever you watched a movie or listened to a song. Every time something reminded you of him, you got swept away in memories of him. All the good memories he left in your basket; all the happiness and light of the world. 

If only you could meet him one more time. 

The bell rang from the main door, as a group of men walked in. 

“Make your self comfortable, I’ll be there in a sec,” you greeted them, before rushing to put away the cleaning supplies. 

You returned with a coffee jug, and a welcoming smile. 

“Hey guys, coffee? What can I get for you guys?” You poured coffee into the cups. “The waffles are normally a hot sale at this time.”

“Clearly,” one of them chuckled looking around the empty diner. You offered him a tight smile as you nodded before noting down their orders. 

“Cool. Got it, your order will be ready in a bit.” You started walking away, ripping the order from the notebook. 

“Can we have one more cup, another person is joining us,” the tallest one asked. 

“Sure, no problem.” 

The bell rang as someone entered the diner. You assumed it was the one person the group was waiting for, as they all greeted him.

“Over here,” one of them called out.

“Yugyeom, I can see you,” the new guy spoke, making you freeze in your place. “this place is emptier than a graveyard at midnight.” 

No, no it couldn’t be... right?

You gulped and took a deep breath, as you dusted the imaginary dust from your apron. 

You picked up the cup, and began walking towards the group. 

A sigh of relief left you, as you couldn’t spot the face you were looking for. 

However, the sigh wasn’t one of complete relief. Worry wouldn’t have caused your heart to speed up like this. It wouldn’t have made your hands shake so nervously. 

You placed the cup on the table, and poured coffee into it. 

“Would you like to add something else to your order?” You asked looking at the two boys infront of you. 

“I’d like to add a chocolate sundae,” the tall one said making you turn to face him. 

“Hey! It’s three at night, Yugyeom!” One of the others said. 

Yugyeom replied, but you couldn’t hear him. You couldn’t hear anything. 

A heavy silence blanketed over you as your eyes met his melthing chocolate eyes wide with shock. 

It was him. It was Im Jaebum. Your first boyfriend. Your first and probably only true love.

Your jaw slightly hung loose as you stared at him, unable to find the strength look away. 

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.. 

“Your order will be right up.” You turned, unblinkingly, and told the rest of the group before walking away. 

Your back fell against the kitchen wall as soon as you were out of sight. Your heart beat loudly in your ears, as your knees felt weak beneath you. 

Oh my god. 

It was him, wasn’t it? 

What was he doing here? 

Did he recognise me? No, there’s no way he did. 

Your hand clenched the front of your collar, doing nothing to calm your racing heart. that was beating out of its cage. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths. 

“I have waffles to make,” you muttered to yourself, as you got off the wall and began doing did just that. 

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from "Clerks"

Man goes into cage. Cage goes into salsa. Shark's in the salsa. Our shark.

Bunch of savages in this town

There's a million fine looking girls in the world. But they don't all bring you lasagna to work. Most of them just cheat on you.

What do you mean there's no ice? You mean I gotta drink this coffee hot?

Ooh! Navy seals!

Do you have that one with that guy who was in that movie that came out last year?

That's beautiful, man

There's nothing more exhilarating than pointing out the shortcomings of others, is there?

This job would be great if it wasn't for the fucking customers.

Yeah. [NAME], your a rude motherfucker, you know that? But you're cute as hell. I could go down on you, suck you, line up three other guys, make like a circus seal.

That's what life is, a series of down endings.

All 'Jedi' had was a bunch of Muppets.

My mom's been fuckin' a dead guy for 30 years. I call him dad.

They say so much, but they never tell you if it's any good.

I don't watch movies

Well, have you heard anything about either one of them?

I find it's best to stay out of other people's affairs.

I don't appreciate your ruse

Hey! You're not allowed to [THING] here anymore!

My love for you is like a truck, BERZERKER! Would you like some making fuck, BERZERKER!

Are there any balls down there?

I'm gonna fuck this bitch, I'll fuck this bitch, I'll fuck ANYTHING THAT MOVES!

Yo, what the fuck you lookin' at? I'll kick your fuckin' ass! Shit yeah.

Doesn't that mother fucker owe me 10 bucks?

You know, fuckin' tonight, we're gonna rip off this fucker's head, and tear out his fuckin' soul.

I'm gonna shit in the motherfucker's bag

What's up sluts?

Noinch, Noinch, Noinch, Schmokin Weed, Schmokin' Weed, Doin' Coke, Drinkin' Beers...

I had some girlfriends too, but all they wanted from me is weed and shit.

What's a good plate with nothing on it?

I don't care if she's my cousin or not, I'm gonna knock those boots again tonight.

Hey what you want, Grizzly Adams?

Someone jammed gum in the locks.

A woman makes a guy cum, it's standard. A guy makes a woman cum, it's talent.

You'll sleep with anything that says 'yes.'

My girlfriend sucked 37 dicks!

Shocking abuse of authority.

I'm a firm believer in the philosophy of a ruling class. Especially since I rule.

People say crazy shit during sex. One time I called this girl "mom."

She broke your heart and inadvertently drove men to deviant lifestyles.

That's what high school was about. Algebra, bad lunch, and infidelity.

He said he has to find the perfect dozen.

Why doesn't he mix and match?

He said it was important to have standards, and he says nobody has any pride anymore.

It's not like you laid the eggs yourself.

That seems to be the late motif in your life, ever backing down.

You always back down. You assume blame that's not yours. You come in on your day off. You buckle like a belt.

Insubordination rules.

How did you get here so fast?

Do you always talk this weird after you violate a woman?

He just sat there and let me do all the work.

We didn't just have sex in the bathroom?

Well I didn't just fuck myself!

Who the fuck's in our bathroom?

You sucked that guy's dick?

How many?! How many dicks have you sucked?!

Why couldn't you sleep with them like any other decent person?

Don't look at me like I'm the town whore, because you were plenty busy yourself before you met me!

I only had sex with the guys I loved

Try not to suck any dick on the way through the parking lot!

That article's accurate

Something just never sat right with me the second time around.

I'll bet they brought independent contractors in on that thing

They'd hire anybody who could do the job

Casualties of a war they had nothing to do with

Along come these left-wing militants that blast everything with their lasers

I'm a contractor myself

A [PROFESSION]'s personal politics come into play heavily when choosing jobs

I'm alive because I knew the risks involved in that particular client

Could never put my finger on it but something just wasn't right.

You knocked the casket over!

Her fucking body fell out!

He broke his neck trying to suck his own dick

Come on, haven't you ever tried to suck your own dick?

You're as curious as the rest of us

I guess everyone gets curious and tries it sometime

You haven't said anything for like twenty minutes.

My life is in the shitter right about now, so if you don't mind, I'd like to stew a bit.

You should shit or get off the pot.

You'll sit there and blame life for dealing a cruddy

hand, never once accepting the responsibility for the way your situation is.

If you hate this job and the people, and the fact that you

have to come in on your day off, then quit.

There are other jobs, and they pay better money. You're bound to be qualified for at least one of them.

This is a life of convenience for you, and any attempt to change it would shatter the pathetic microcosm you've fashioned for yourself.

I'm satisfied with my situation for now.

Melodrama coming from you seems about as natural as an oral bowel movement.

I can't make changes like that in my life.

I'm not the kind of person that disrupts things in order to

shit comfortably.

Women as lovers are basically the same, they just have to be there

Making a male climax isn't at all challenging. Insert somewhere close, preferably moist. Thrust. Repeat.

What an embarrassing way to die.

Title does not dictate behavior

I think the idea or the conception of us dating is a lot more idyllic then what actually happens when we date.

You want to blame somebody? Blame yourself.

I'm stuck in this pit, working for less than slave wages. Working on my day off, the goddamn steel shutters are closed, I deal with every backward ass fuck on the planet. I smell like shoe polish. My ex-girlfriend is catatonic after fucking a dead guy. And my present girlfriend has sucked 36 dicks.

Oh, hey [NAME], break his heart again this time, and I'll kill ya

Such a sordid state of affairs.

I'm not even supposed to be here today!

[dabblescrawl]

Saving Santos - Part 2

Read Part 1 Here

Oscar’s POV

I’m posted up at the grill like normal.  Tonight I am making burgers, it’s easier and el novia always seems to like it when we have that.  I won’t admit it to her or anyone else but I don’t just feel like I have to take care of her, I mean all the Santos feel that way, I want her to be mine.  I want her to stay here at the house where we can spend time together.  

A few of the homies are standing around at the grill chopping it up with me.  I can feel her before I see her, I always do, but I see el novia out of the corner of my eye.  She approaches with that hesitant look she always has but she looks happier to be here tonight.  I hold out a taste of the grilled pineapple I am making for the salsa.  She smiles and leans towards me.  I can feel the heat of her breath on my hand and I wish she’d let me hold her close so I could feel the heat of her whole body against mine.

The others greet her with nods or salutes with their beers and she nods.  She may not speak but you can always read her face.  Tonight, she’s open, she’ll hang around outside.  Some nights I can tell when she first approaches if she’ll stay and hang or if she’ll go inside and make herself useful cleaning up after others.  I tried to stop her from it once but that seemed to make her more nervous so now I let her.

She’s nodding her head with the music and it’s least reserved I have ever seen her.  And I am admiring how beautiful she looks when she’s letting herself have fun.  I turn back to the grill as she turns to look out over the crowd.  Before I can register what’s happening I hear her intake a gulp of air, feel the back of my shirt rise and the heavy gun pulled from my belt.  I don’t even have time to turn before my shirt falls back into place and I see her back sprinting across the yard.  When she reaches the fence post she stops on a dime, sets her feet, and pulls the gun up in one fluid motion.  Two things register pretty quickly, first she knows what she’s doing, she’s pulled up and sighted, her feet are set and knees slightly bent.  The right hand holds the gun but not too tightly and her finger is on the trigger.  In fact she’s ready to pull.  Her left hand holds the base of the gun so she’ll have a clear and steady shot.  She knows what to do and isn’t fucking around I follow the barrell of the gun.

And second, standing across the other side of the road part way to the house is a guy.  He looks about my age, give a few years maybe.  He doesn’t look like a cholo.  He’s dressed in a pair of more fitted jeans and a brand t-shirt.  He’s muscled but he I know I can take him.  He’s got his hair cropped like he might be in the military.

I take a few steps towards her and then realize that she has my gun so there’s not much I will be able to do if I have to.  I falter, I clench my fists and chomp my teeth.  I have more pieces inside but I am not leaving her out here without eyes on her.  Sad Eyes and a few of the others realize what’s happening a second after me and pull their guns out of their belts.  They start heading in her direction.

I realize that he’s smirking now and continuing to cross the street.  He’s talking too low, I can’t hear him but I’m furious at this point.  I can feel the rage burning through my veins.  Puto.  Who does he think he is.  Doesn’t he know who we are?  I spare a glance around me since my homies are already moving in as back up.  As I notice one of the new guys I decide I can take his gun.

The guy across the street now decides to pause as he sees the Santos start to flank her into position.  “Alright” he says raising his hands in the air.  “Match point” he smiles at her again, humor in his eyes and laughs as he turns around.  

There are a couple of midlevel Santos to my left.  “Follow him” I say, “And DON’T let him see you.  Someone will come switch later.  24 hour eyes homies”  I finish through my teeth.  They take their orders bumping the table they are sitting behind twice with their fists before they take off down the yard.  

It’s not until he’s down around the corner and has to be down the street a ways before she relaxes her stance and turns back towards the party.

“Not as innocent as you seem are you novia” someone says she smiles at them giving a half smirk but her eyes are still tight.  I know it’s not possible but I still feel like I can see her heart pounding through her veins.  Sad Eyes claps her on the shoulder and I’m sure I see her flinch away a little.  She nods at him in thanks and fist bumps him.  

As she strides back over to me I hold out my hand for my gun.  She raises it, flips the safety back on and drops it in my hand.  The metal piece feels heavy in my hand and hot from her touch.  But what I notice more than any of that is the trembling in her hand.  I reach out to her but she turns out of reach and picks up the things she toppled on her sprint through the yard.  No one else seems to notice how fake those smiles are as she makes it look like she’s cool and thankful for the back up. 

I can see her eyes wide with fright still well after I am done with the food and put it out.  I go back over to her with a burger and she waves it off.  I kiss my teeth, she’s blowing me off and it's pissing me off, what was that?  

She heads off towards the dance floor.  I watched her a few minutes before turning around and sitting to eat the food I prepared for her.

An hour or two later Cesar approaches me, “You want to stop her or you want me to?” he asks.  I follow his gaze and see el novia near the bar.  She has a tequila in each hand downs them, drum rolls on the table as it burns down her throat.  She shakes her head and bends down to the cooler.  So she’s drinking now.  Pulling two Corona’s out of the cooler she pops them open and sets to drinking them.  And she’s drinking quickly.  “Shit, how many have you seen her have?” I ask Cesar.

“I haven’t been her long” he says, taking a breath like he’s counting, “but when I got her she had a beer in each hand just like that”.  He says.

“Fuck, I got it” I say and make my way through the crowd.  When I get to her she can barely even stand and she has finished most of the beers.  I’ve seen angry drunks, I have seen happy drunks, stupid drunks, sad drunks you name a kind of drunk and I thought I had seen them all.  But I have never seen a drunk like this.  It’s a completely defeated kind of drunk, it’s like I am looking into the eyes of someone who is already dead, or thinks they are.  She’s like a caged animal, like one of those tigers we saw at school once on a trip to the zoo, the kind that pace out their stress and then refuse to eat and end up killing themselves.

When I started over here I was pissed she was pissed but as I look into her eyes all that fades away.  I desperately want to know what happened.  She’s always been like a wounded bird but this is different.  I want to hold her and solve all her problems. 

“El novia” I say quietly, but she’s so drunk when she looks at me I can tell she can’t really sort out where she’s supposed to be looking.  I grab the beers from her and put them on the counter.  Now her nostrils are flaring and she’s angry.  But rather than coming at me she starts clawing at her throat.  “Ay, ay” I reach for her holding her hands still.  “Come on, let’s get you inside”.

We make our way inside and though I want to grab her and haul her inside I know that’s not the best idea.  Instead I support her as she stumbles inside.  I open the fridge and grab the gatorade I purchased for my own hangover tomorrow and we continue into my bedroom.

When I get there I haul the door shut and sit her on the bed.  Handing the bottle to her I order her to drink.  She takes the cap off and sips obediently.  Taking that as a good sign I turn and head for my clothes.  I grab a hoodie off the floor and walk back.  She grabs the hoodie from me and holds out the gatorade shakily.  I take it and she stands.  Pulling off her pants she’s standing in her underwear.  She leans over fishing her phone and a pair of earbuds.  She goes to straighten and nearly falls over.  I stead her on her feet.  And before she’s even fully stable she starts pulling off her top.

I would have been thrilled about this even a few hours ago, but it's dark in here so I can’t really see her body.  And the look in her eyes is haunting me.  I want her to want to be here, not like this.  She pulls the sweatshirt over her head and crawls off balance up the bed.  When she gets to the corner between two walls she pushes herself hard into it and puts the earbuds in.  Connecting them to her phone she hits the button and drops it into her lap pulling her knees in and her hood over head and the top of her face she circles her arms over her knees.

Since she doesn’t really talk anyways I hadn’t expected her to say anything but I thought there would be more than this, she has completely cut herself off from me.  I sit on the edge of the bed closest to the door and watch her for a long time, she seems to be asleep.  After a while I lay on my back legs still bent over the bed and touching the floor and fall asleep myself with that look on her face burned into my brain.  I need to fix her, I need her back.

Read Part 3 Here

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

Sehun was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by the pull, overwhelmed by his circumstances, and most of all, overwhelmed by you. He’d sworn that he would just ignore it for now, but that was proving to be impossible. Each time he came close, he was consumed by your scent, egged on by it to just give and taste you, drink you in until he was finally satisfied. But he couldn’t. He was still holding back. Still resistant to the idea of being tied to someone forever. There was nothing wrong with you. Hell, he was even beginning to think that you were nearly perfect for him. However, the idea of being mated… it didn’t scare him necessarily, but he couldn’t give in to it. Not yet. 

There was no answer as to why. It was simply part of being a wolf, something that he’d known would happen eventually. But he still held back. Even as he came so close to falling apart. 

The garage had been the first time that Sehun had almost lost the grip on his wolf he’d worked so hard on to control. Talking to you - hearing your voice - was something that he enjoyed more than he’d expected. Then you mentioned seeing a white wolf in your vision and his heart began to fight to be free from its cage. Before he knew it, his muscles were pushing him up to his feet and eliminating the space between the two of you. It was only when he could feel your breath and body heat against his skin that he came back to his senses. He pulled away and went about his business like it had never occurred in the first place. A scoff left your lips, but Sehun didn’t even flinch. He’d once again regained the upper hand on his own actions and that was all that mattered. 

However, that upperhand was slowly crumbling away again. For the past few months, whenever a group made up of mates and wolves had mentioned going to town or grabbing something to eat, Sehun had declined, preferring not to be in the middle of that kind of atmosphere. When Dana and Kyungsoo had stopped by Kris’ garage where he was helping out for the day, they’d wanted to invite Sehun along with them. He was ready to say no once again. Until Dana got a text and said out loud that you and Harper were to be joining as well. The word “yes” was out of Sehun’s mouth before he could even think it over. 

Keeping an attitude of disinterest - as per his usual method of keeping control - Sehun was both relieved and irritated when you weren’t sitting in his direct eyeline at the restaurant. The empty seat across the table taunted him, mocked him. His eyes drifted back and forth between the chair and you on the end. Occasionally, your eyes would meet and Sehun would feel his heart rate rise. You quickly looked away, the focus on the chips and salsa in front of you a bit too obvious, a bit too forced. When Dana’s friend Mina finally showed up, things took a turn that he hadn’t expected. Certainly one he didn’t want. 

All the flirtation and attention was making Sehun uncomfortable. Mina didn’t seem to pick up on the lack of response and that grated on Sehun’s nerves. He was starting to wish he’d stayed back at the shop. Only the glass of water spilling all over her lap seemed to stop her attempts at securing a date from him. It was relief, one that was making him consider an escape before the food would arrive. 

While everyone else fussed over Mina’s wet lap, Sehun looked to you, wanting to know if he could sense how you felt about the whole thing. As soon as he met your eyes, he knew. How you were able to do something like that he only just learned a few minutes ago. To be honest, he was impressed. The fact that his mate could do something like that….

He shook his head. You weren’t entirely his mate, not completely. The pull was there, that couldn’t be argued. But you weren’t his. Not in that sense, at least. Not on the level that he could call you his. Should he- 

Sehun picked up a handful of dead leaves and threw them at the river to stop that thought before it could finish. The leaves landed softly on the water’s surface and slowly drifted along with the current. A few, too full of holes, filled up with water, causing the leaves to be pulled down into the river where they were caught on the rocks resting at the bottom. Dirt stuck to his palms and clung to the space underneath his fingernails. For several minutes, he stared at the black specs that covered his hand. A painful ache was developing behind his eyes for how hard he was furrowing his brows. But the tension didn’t ease up. He had too much on his mind. 

The sounds of the crunching forest floor as you ran back to the house were still echoing in his ears. He wanted to go after, apologize for making you leave in the first place. Maybe even tell you the truth. He wondered how you would react when he finally told you - and, yes, it was a matter of “when” not if. The rope that he was holding onto was unraveling. Soon he would fall. The only question left was this: would you be waiting for him at the bottom or would he land on the concrete, broken and bruised?

**

You were back in the living room, staring at nothing, bored once again. The forest was no longer an option to you since you knew your feet would probably go searching for Sehun. You wanted to give him a piece of your mind, but you had a feeling that the words wouldn’t come out in quite that way. Groaning, you fell back onto the couch, a wish to have something to occupy your mind. At this point, you would even accept a new vision just to have something to do. You’d given up trying to put together the ones you’d already received. They were simply fragments that would never fit together in their current state. 

“Hey.”

Blinking, you sat up to see who’d joined your lonely existence. Harper stood off to the side, arms crossed over her chest. 

She certainly looked the part of someone who had spent years training, learning to kill creatures of the supernatural kind. The sleeves of her gray-green bomber jacket were pushed up to her elbows, exposing tiny scars on her otherwise perfect skin, and her tight pants looked like they had enough give to let her run or jump or perform any other movements that might be necessary. From her posture to her stance, she gave off an air that whispered the kind of confidence that didn’t need to be constantly shoved in anyone’s face. It was there, end of story. 

“Hey,” you greeted back with a quiet voice. 

She pointed to the open space next to you on the couch. “Mind if I sit there?”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

With a soft nod, Harper sat next you, pulling her feet up and under her. She didn’t say anything for a while, her eyes wandering around the living room. You tried to find something to say. It was uncomfortable, the air suffocating you. It would be rude to just get up and walk out after she’d asked to sit with you so escape wasn’t exactly an option. Besides, you didn’t mind Harper, in fact you liked her from the small time you’d spent with her. It was just the awkwardness hanging between you.  

“Can I ask you something?” Harper finally spoke up. Once again, you picked at your cubicles, fairly certain of what she wanted to know. But you nodded anyway. “Why did you make the glass tip over?”

The phrasing of the question took you by surprise. You looked at Harper with wide eyes. Over and over, you opened your mouth just to close it again in an instance. 

“It wasn’t that hard to put together,” Harper chuckled. “But you don’t have to worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

It wasn’t, really, since Sehun knew as well, but you had a small amount of faith that he wasn’t going to say anything to anyone. “I didn’t mean to do it. Things like that just sort of... happen.” You didn’t really want to go into detail about your powers and your life for the second time that day. It was exhausting to explain and the others didn’t give you the same open feeling that Sehun did. “I was just annoyed, so....” You mimed the glass tipping over. 

Harper made a face. “Yeah, Mina was kind of… a lot. It was a nice change of pace after that happened.”

You laughed. “That’s an understatement.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure how those two are friends. Dana is so sweet.”

“Maybe there’s something there that we don’t see?” you offered up. You weren’t sure why you were giving Mina a defense, but out it came anyway. Maybe it was because you were used to others judging you so quickly. 

“True,” Harper agreed with a nod. “Then again, we all have different sides to us, don’t we?”

“Some of us more than others,” you agreed. Taking a deep breath, you took a risk. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“How do you survive here?” You wanted to slap your own forehead for how you phrased it. Too blunt, too forward. 

“It’s hard,” she admitted. “Some still don’t trust me. But having people on your side helps.”

“Like Luhan?”

Harper smiled. It softened everything about her face, making the hunter melt away and bringing the loving mate to the surface. “Yes, like Luhan. But Hae In and Lottie have helped, too. Friends are just as important.”

“So, basically, you’re saying make friends?” It made sense. Only having one person to rely on when you felt so alone was draining. And Soomi was often off doing her own research with Junmyeon and Kita. She couldn’t be by your side twenty-four-seven and you certainly didn’t want that either. 

“If you want one.” 

The offer was right there on the table. And you were eager to take it. 

At the smile broadening across your face, Harper jumped up from the couch. “Come on,” she urged. “I don’t think you spent enough time in town today. Luhan’s working tonight and I think we can score a few drinks. What do you say?”

What did you say? Yes. Yes, yes, yes! It sounded exactly like the kind of night you needed. A night spent not thinking about Sehun or your powers or whatever the hell was supposed to be coming for you or the pack was surely an answer to your prayer. 

Pushing yourself up from the couch, you said, “Let’s go.”

Harper threw an arm around your shoulders and the two of you walked out of that house as if you’d been friends for years. Part of you thought for a second that you should tell Soomi where you were going, but you decided not to. You were with Harper so you would be more than fine. 

**

When you came back from the bar it was about two in the morning. Luhan had driven the two of you home since neither you nor Harper were in any condition to drive. 

Soomi was furious. Luhan had texted the others almost as soon as you arrived at the bar so they knew where you were, but that didn’t mean she was okay with your decision to leave without saying something to her first. She lectured behind you all the way up the stairs. You were sleepy thanks to the drinks you and Harper had bonded over and really just wanted to go to bed. Hardly any of her words were actively storing in your mind. Too much was going on in there to really focus on her, anyway. Down in the living room, Sehun had been leaning up against the wall, frowning at you in a disapproving manner. What did he care what you did with your own time?

Thankfully, your tipsy brain didn’t allow you to think about this since almost as soon as you hit the bed, you were out. But it wasn’t a peaceful rest. 

You were back in the forest that you’ve visited before in your previous visions. The trees that surrounded you were all too familiar even if the clearing that you stood in wasn’t. A pale hand gently gripped your shoulder, urging you on. You weren’t sure how you could tell what the person behind you was trying to make you do, but you did. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the wisps of blonde strands blowing in the wind. You didn’t turn around to see the face that the hair and the hand belonged to. Instead, your focus was honed in on the fallen logs and trees that were scattered around the clearing. 

The hand squeezed your shoulder in a way to signal to you. You raised your arm, your own hand stretched out, fingers taunt and stiff. 

“Think of hate,” the voice behind you commanded. “Think of your pain.”

You obeyed. You could feel the ache in your chest rising up as if it were real, happening to you in that moment. Your eyes swelled with tears as you remembered all the times that you were ostracized, judged, ridiculed. All of that manifested itself in your powers. You could feel the surge building up in your hand, begging to be released. 

“Good,” came the whisper. “Now let it go. You are so full of potential. Don’t hold back and see what you can do.”

The wood in front of you burst into flames. They weren’t tiny flickers or small, dancing fires dotted here and there. They were the kind that roared dangerously, on the verge of raging out of control. You could feel the heat even though you thought you were a safe distance away. Beads of sweat grew on your face. They slid down your cheeks and dripped from your jaw to land on your shirt and exposed collarbone. You flinched back as little sparks of ash jumped out from the glowing logs, rising into the air before dying out. 

Laughing erupted behind you. It was maniacal, like from a madwoman who’d spent years in an asylum and had finally broken free. 

“(y/n)!”

You jumped forward in your bed, pulled from the dream by the new voice crying out for you. That was when you saw what you had done. 

Fire surrounded your bed, trapping you within its circle. It grew in ferocity. Inching in closer and closer, the flames licked at the blanket that covered your legs and the frame that held up the mattress. Soomi stood on the other side of the room, terrified. Your own panic was rising. What had you done?

Crash! 

The door to the room slammed open to reveal Sehun, a look of horror on his face as he took in the sight that he’d discovered. You tried to call out to him, but the smoke coated your throat, allowing you to do nothing besides cough to try and keep breathing. The fire was well over four feet high now. You had no chance of escape as they continued to grow. 

Something in Sehun snapped into action. He ran to the other bed, ripping off the blanket before running back over to you. With the blanket held out in front of him, he jumped and wrapped you in the blanket as he tackled you over the flames and down to the floor. As soon as you were out of danger, he turned back around and smothered the fire with the blanket as quickly as he could. 

More pack members arrived. They crowded the doorway with dropped jaws and wide eyes. Junmyeon and Kris pushed through them with buckets of water, extinguishing the fire for good. 

In heavy breaths, Kris straightened up and looked around the room before his eyes settled on you down on the floor. “What the hell just happened?”

[sebastianshaw]

RP meme from "Clerks"

Man goes into cage. Cage goes into salsa. Shark's in the salsa. Our shark.

Bunch of savages in this town

There's a million fine looking girls in the world. But they don't all bring you lasagna to work. Most of them just cheat on you.

What do you mean there's no ice? You mean I gotta drink this coffee hot?

Ooh! Navy seals!

Do you have that one with that guy who was in that movie that came out last year?

That's beautiful, man

There's nothing more exhilarating than pointing out the shortcomings of others, is there?

This job would be great if it wasn't for the fucking customers.

Yeah. [NAME], your a rude motherfucker, you know that? But you're cute as hell. I could go down on you, suck you, line up three other guys, make like a circus seal.

That's what life is, a series of down endings.

All 'Jedi' had was a bunch of Muppets.

My mom's been fuckin' a dead guy for 30 years. I call him dad.

They say so much, but they never tell you if it's any good.

I don't watch movies

Well, have you heard anything about either one of them?

I find it's best to stay out of other people's affairs.

I don't appreciate your ruse

Hey! You're not allowed to [THING] here anymore!

My love for you is like a truck, BERZERKER! Would you like some making fuck, BERZERKER!

Are there any balls down there?

I'm gonna fuck this bitch, I'll fuck this bitch, I'll fuck ANYTHING THAT MOVES!

Yo, what the fuck you lookin' at? I'll kick your fuckin' ass! Shit yeah.

Doesn't that mother fucker owe me 10 bucks?

You know, fuckin' tonight, we're gonna rip off this fucker's head, and tear out his fuckin' soul.

I'm gonna shit in the motherfucker's bag

What's up sluts?

Noinch, Noinch, Noinch, Schmokin Weed, Schmokin' Weed, Doin' Coke, Drinkin' Beers...

I had some girlfriends too, but all they wanted from me is weed and shit.

What's a good plate with nothing on it?

I don't care if she's my cousin or not, I'm gonna knock those boots again tonight.

Hey what you want, Grizzly Adams?

Someone jammed gum in the locks.

A woman makes a guy cum, it's standard. A guy makes a woman cum, it's talent.

You'll sleep with anything that says 'yes.'

My girlfriend sucked 37 dicks!

Shocking abuse of authority.

I'm a firm believer in the philosophy of a ruling class. Especially since I rule.

People say crazy shit during sex. One time I called this girl "mom."

She broke your heart and inadvertently drove men to deviant lifestyles.

That's what high school was about. Algebra, bad lunch, and infidelity.

He said he has to find the perfect dozen.

Why doesn't he mix and match?

He said it was important to have standards, and he says nobody has any pride anymore.

It's not like you laid the eggs yourself.

That seems to be the late motif in your life, ever backing down.

You always back down. You assume blame that's not yours. You come in on your day off. You buckle like a belt.

Insubordination rules.

How did you get here so fast?

Do you always talk this weird after you violate a woman?

He just sat there and let me do all the work.

We didn't just have sex in the bathroom?

Well I didn't just fuck myself!

Who the fuck's in our bathroom?

You sucked that guy's dick?

How many?! How many dicks have you sucked?!

Why couldn't you sleep with them like any other decent person?

Don't look at me like I'm the town whore, because you were plenty busy yourself before you met me!

I only had sex with the guys I loved

Try not to suck any dick on the way through the parking lot!

That article's accurate

Something just never sat right with me the second time around.

I'll bet they brought independent contractors in on that thing

They'd hire anybody who could do the job

Casualties of a war they had nothing to do with

Along come these left-wing militants that blast everything with their lasers

I'm a contractor myself

A [PROFESSION]'s personal politics come into play heavily when choosing jobs

I'm alive because I knew the risks involved in that particular client

Could never put my finger on it but something just wasn't right.

You knocked the casket over!

Her fucking body fell out!

He broke his neck trying to suck his own dick

Come on, haven't you ever tried to suck your own dick?

You're as curious as the rest of us

I guess everyone gets curious and tries it sometime

You haven't said anything for like twenty minutes.

My life is in the shitter right about now, so if you don't mind, I'd like to stew a bit.

You should shit or get off the pot.

You'll sit there and blame life for dealing a cruddy

hand, never once accepting the responsibility for the way your situation is.

If you hate this job and the people, and the fact that you

have to come in on your day off, then quit.

There are other jobs, and they pay better money. You're bound to be qualified for at least one of them.

This is a life of convenience for you, and any attempt to change it would shatter the pathetic microcosm you've fashioned for yourself.

I'm satisfied with my situation for now.

Melodrama coming from you seems about as natural as an oral bowel movement.

I can't make changes like that in my life.

I'm not the kind of person that disrupts things in order to

shit comfortably.

Women as lovers are basically the same, they just have to be there

Making a male climax isn't at all challenging. Insert somewhere close, preferably moist. Thrust. Repeat.

What an embarrassing way to die.

Title does not dictate behavior

I think the idea or the conception of us dating is a lot more idyllic then what actually happens when we date.

You want to blame somebody? Blame yourself.

I'm stuck in this pit, working for less than slave wages. Working on my day off, the goddamn steel shutters are closed, I deal with every backward ass fuck on the planet. I smell like shoe polish. My ex-girlfriend is catatonic after fucking a dead guy. And my present girlfriend has sucked 36 dicks.

Oh, hey [NAME], break his heart again this time, and I'll kill ya

Such a sordid state of affairs.

I'm not even supposed to be here today!

[rocket-remmy]

Bent, But Not Broken||Morgan and Remmy

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: A long needed talk. And a well deserved cry. CONTENT: PTSD metions, kidnap mentions, death mention

The door stood in front of them and Remmy felt like it was a canyon. Morgan was just on the other side. She’d been at the ring. She’d tried so desperately to reconnect with them and Remmy had pushed her away at every point. The fear that Jax had pounded into them still hadn’t quite left, but they needed to explain themself. They needed Morgan to know that they never meant any of that, anything they’d said. They needed her to know that they weren’t mad and that they never were and that they missed her and they needed her. God, did they need her. But there was a door between them and her and they couldn’t find the strength to lift their hand and knock yet. Their mind was racing. What if she didn’t want to see them? What if she said no? What if she’d only come for Nell? Morgan was part of their coven, it was logical. It would make sense if she never wanted to see or talk to Remmy ever again, even though she’d agreed to let Remmy come over. They had to believe that was good, right? That had to be a good sign. And they owed it to her, to at least explain everything. To finally explain everything. Maybe they even needed to explain everything to themself. Finally, they lifted their hand, and knocked. And waited. And when the door finally, opened, Remmy looked up at Morgan with as much of a grin as they could manage. “Hey,” they said, “Um...can I come in?”

Morgan stood on the other side of the door, hands numb and idle. She just had to look through the peephole or the window to confirm it was Remmy, but her legs were heavy and slow. It was easier to stay here and run over all the things that this could be about. Maybe she really had done something wrong and not realized. Maybe Remmy had thought things over and decided they really didn’t need her hovering at the corners of their life like some stray puppy that didn’t know what ‘go on and git’ meant. And maybe they were going to say that it was fine now and they could try to go back to something good or close to it. The only thing keeping her from finding out was that door. Morgan put her fingers to the handle and searched for something inside herself to brace against for impact. Finally, the ache of not knowing what kind of talk this was going to be won out over her nerves and she opened it quickly. 

“Remmy…” she whispered. Her eyes looked them over, sad and searching. They didn’t look that much better from when she’d left the hospital. Clean and healed, but still too lean from being starved by those awful people, and there was still the collar to deal with. No matter how much she tried to hold their gaze, she couldn’t figure out if this was going to be one more push to get lost or something else. “Y-yeah, of course,” she said, stepping back to give them room, flashing a small timid smile. “I said you could, you know?” She closed the door carefully behind them. “It’s just us right now, but if you wanted to stick around to see Deirdre, she’d be really happy to see you too?” Her voice croaked on the last few words. Stupid nerves. Stupid anxious lungs. “W-we um, can go sit, if you like? I could grab snacks, if you’re hungry? I um, I tried out this..brain salsa experiment?”

Remmy wondered at what point it was too late to turn back. They weren’t sure why their nerves were screaming at them to run, as if their flight sense had not turned off even though the arena lights no longer shone in their eyes and the cage bars no longer rattled in their head. It occurred to them that they’d lost the will a long time ago to fight their senses anymore, even if running at this moment wasn’t an option. It wasn’t the cage that had made them feel as if their only options were only ever fight or flee, but it was the place that perfected it inside of them. The place that beat it so soundly into their skin it felt like a part of them now. Like they were nothing without the jitter of their hands or the tense movements of their muscles, even as they stepped inside a house that had once felt like a sanctuary. Everything on alert, body taught, as if preparing itself for the blow that was surely coming. Physical or emotional, it was always the same response. The pain was the same, after all. Especially to an undead creature that could no longer feel fully anyway. 

“M-maybe,” they stuttered, unsure why the thought of seeing Deirdre made them want to dash for the door again. It was two feet behind them and they were already finding themself wishing it were still open. The walls closing in temporarily before they blinked and looked out the window and remembered that nothing here was locked. This place was not a prison nor a cell. It was just a house, with a door, and a friend. They turned back to look at Morgan, finding it near impossible to catch her eyes, their gaze shifting to the floor, the walls, their hands wringing together in front of them. “Let’s sit,” they said through an exhale, “o-outside?” There was a second question that needed answering, but Remmy couldn’t remember what she’d said. “Um...that’s...that’s okay.” Looked back at the front door again, as if memorizing where it was from the spot they stood in, and from the spot they were heading to. 

Morgan couldn’t tell why Remmy was nervous and all at once she couldn’t remember if she’d ever been able to read Remmy well. Maybe what times she’d thought she had were lucky breaks. Maybe she hadn’t understood them at all, maybe even all the times she thought she was helping she was really just-- Morgan wrestled her sense around the thought and stopped it before it could get any further. She did not have any comforting truths to anchor herself with, besides that Remmy was here and there was at least a fifty-fifty chance this going to be okay. It did not soothe her very much, so she counted her senses down from five as she nodded along to Remmy’s words. “Sure. Um, the back porch? There’s lots of wildflowers growing there now. We can--yeah, we can sit out there?” She started leading the way, pinballing her attention to as many sights and sounds as she could so she didn’t go off the rails. She sat down at the edge of the porch bare feet on the grass, knees pulled up to her chest. She looked up at Remmy, still coiled tight in themself like a spring. She wanted to reach out to them, or to reach out and muss their hair, give them a hard time about something stupid. But she couldn’t tell what they really wanted. So she looked up at them, searching, silently pleading for a hint, and waited.

Remmy wasn’t always decent at reading emotional situations, but something inside of them always felt as if they had an inherent understanding of another person’s needs in times like this. But now, as they watched Morgan flit and fiddle on their way to the back porch, they found themself lost as to what to do. As to what she needed. As to if they could even give it to her if they tried. At a loss, they scooted forward and sat next to her, trying their best to not fall directly into a springboard of explanations. They didn’t know what to offer first, arms folding into their stomach as they leaned forward, picking at spots on their knees. The silent plea of Morgan’s look hadn’t gone beyond them. But how could they tell her what they needed when they didn’t know themself? They’d convinced themself they’d never get this moment, and so they hadn’t prepared for it. Jax had taken all hope from them, little by little, until he knew they were nothing but a broken mess. And when something else had given them hope, he’d broken that, too. Made them break it. Their hands shook as they remembered seeing his blood on their palms, red and dirty and smeared. They closed their eyes to try and make it go away, but all they saw behind them was the floor of that cage, the multitude of bars standing between them and Nell. The fence of the arena. Jax’s sharp eyes from the other side. 

Remmy snapped their eyes open and looked over at Morgan. “Are you mad at me?” they finally asked, still unable to hold her gaze. Shame and guilt wrought through their body as they curled into themself, making themself as small as possible. Taking up as little space as possible. “I-- it’s okay if you are. I haven’t exactly been...a good friend lately. Or a good-- anything. And I-- I understand if you are. If you don’t--” but their voice caught and they couldn’t finish because the fear of the answer was almost as great as their fear of the cage.

“W-what?” Morgan’s look turned into one of confusion. “I’m not the one who-- You hit me. You hit me and you yelled at me and you wouldn’t talk to me and you left me and--” She stopped, trying to swallow back tears. “You said it wasn’t my fault, okay, but am I supposed to believe that when you wouldn’t explain and you won’t even look at me. And I’m right here and--” Her efforts were not going very well. She scrubbed her hand over her eyes. It all still hurt like new,  just alluding to everything that had happened had microwaved the pain fresh again. “I think I’ve said the same thing every time,” she whispered. “I just want to be your friend, Remmy. I was just trying to be good to you and listen to you and I’m sorry if I did it wrong but it…it’s still the same stupid answer. I still do. How can you ask me a question like that? Shouldn’t I be asking you?” She heard her voice rising with exasperation and grimaced, digging her fingers into her knees. Tried again. “You don’t have to answer that. Just...talk to me, Remmy. At least tell me what you want. Just tell me and I’ll do whatever it is. Whatever it is this time, I’ll just do it, okay?”

“I-I know I did! That’s why-- that’s why I thought you were mad at me!” Remmy exclaimed, suddenly nervous, hands shaking. “I-- I was so cruel to you. I was-- terrible. I don’t-- I don’t want anything from you, Morgan, I just want to explain myself. Because I-- i owe you that much, don’t I?” They pressed their palms into their eyes, rubbing hard, before shaking their head and looking back up again. “I can’t look because I’m ashamed. I-- I gave up, Morgan. I gave up and I let them take me and I hurt a lot of people in the process, it--” they paused, trying to regain their balance on what they were trying to say. Or what they even needed to say. Nothing made sense in their head, words and memories a jigsaw puzzle spilled across the entirety of it. “It...the collar,” they pointed to it, “he put it on me after...the gargoyle incident. Um-- Jax. I-- I don’t know if Lydia told you about him. But he-- he tricked me into a promise and then he put this on me and he-- he used me. He took-- he took everything from me and when I finally had something back he just...he took more, and I--” they wrapped themself up and bent over, burying their head in their knees. “I don’t know anything anymore, Morgan. But I’m not mad at you, I’m not, and I’m sorry I hit you, I just didn’t want-- I couldn’t let you get hurt because of me. I couldn’t let that place get you, too.”

Morgan listened, heartbroken, as Remmy finally started to unload the terrible things they’d been carrying. They hadn’t been trapped for a week, it had been months of torture, and Remmy, in their sad, awful way, had been trying to protect them all. “Oh, Remmy…” She whispered, reaching out for them. “Hey. Hey....it’s okay. It’s okay, alright? You’re not there anymore, okay?” She placed her hand on Remmy’s arm, knowing they would barely feel it at all unless she squeezed, and bent her head down to be at their eye level if they would only look up at her. “I’m not mad. And you don’t have to be ashamed. You can look at me, okay? I’m right here. I’m still right here.”

Remmy stayed curled in on themself. They could still remember the pain of being torn apart, and they could still remember, vividly, the smell of their cell. The sound of water dripping. Voices just outside. Food just out of reach. And Ben. His soft, kind eyes. They could still see his dead body as they tore through him. Still see his blackened blood crusted on their hands. Remmy didn’t try to fight the tears that came but they swallowed sobs as they tried to claw their way up their throat. “I killed him,” they finally croaked, “I-- we found him and I killed him, Morgan. With my own two hands. I saw him and I tore into him and I did it because I-- because I wanted to. Not because I had to or because I needed to, I did it because-- because he’d taken so much from me and I just...I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to know how I felt.”

Morgan moved her hands up to cradle Remmy’s tired head. “Good,” she said. “I know you’ve never wanted to hurt anybody. I know you are kind and you want to be better than that, and that taking a life is awful. But if anyone had earned their death that night, it was him. He deserved what he got after what he took from you and I’m not sorry he’s gone or that you did it. Fae or not, I’m glad you gave him hell. You can feel however you want about it, Remmy, but I’m not going to guilt you about it.” She combed her fingers through their hair, dragging through the roots so they might feel it. “I’m sorry he put you in that place to begin with, that he took from you, that he drove you that deep into the pit. But I still love you, Remmy. You’re still a kind person and I still love you.”

Remmy broke. They couldn’t hold it in anymore. They’d thought that perhaps they’d broken inside that cage, but it wasn’t true. In there, they’d just given up. They hadn’t truly broken, even when their fist had torn through Ben’s chest and ripped out his heart. There had been something left inside of them, but now it was all pouring out. So suddenly, so wildly. Overwhelmed with the choices they’d had to make and the things they’d had to do, Remmy couldn’t hear Morgan’s words without feeling a hole rip into their heart. How could they be good after everything they’d done? How could their hands be gentle when they’d done so much violence? Remmy folded, crumpled, leaned into Morgan and sobbed. Loud, and painful, and strained. Crying for all the things they’d lost in there, and for all the people they’d lost along the way. A wail not unlike the one they’d let out in the arena, bent over their friends’ dead body. They couldn’t hold onto it anymore, onto the strength that kept them standing. There was still so much distance between them and Morgan and they didn’t know how to cross the gap, how to close it up. They couldn’t reach the otherside anymore. “I didn’t want to,” they managed to say through their grief, “I didn’t want to do any of it. I never wanted any of it. I just wanted to feel better. I just wanted to be better.”

Morgan caught Remmy as they fell into her arms. She bundled her arms around them close, crushing their body against hers. Stars, they had gotten so thin, so hard. How badly had they been starved? What other kinds of torture had they been put through? Morgan tucked Remmy’s head into the crook of her kneck and pressed one hard kiss to their hair. “I’ve got you now,” she said. “And I know, Rem, I know you’d never. You’d never want that, that’s not who you are. And you don’t have to anymore, not ever. You don’t, okay? You’ll find a real way to ‘better.’” She dug her fingers into them, tight enough that they were sure to feel it, tight and heavy and safe. (Oh Earth, how long had it been since Remmy had felt safe?) She repeated her words over and over and variants of the same theme. She didn’t know how much Remmy could even hear over the tide of pain moving through them, but maybe the meaning of it, the intent, could pass through her and into Remmy like magic and skip all of the worries and insecurities between them.

How were they supposed to explain all of this to Morgan? Where were they even supposed to start? Remmy leaned into Morgan and let their head rest in her lap, bones creaking as they went. And despite the collar no longer functioning, sometimes they swore they could still feel its pulses. Like ghosts under their skin. Haunted by something they’d longer for. They needed to stop crying, they needed to get themself together. They needed to be able to explain everything to Morgan, because she deserved it. She deserved the whole truth. Sitting up slowly, they rubbed their hands across their face, trying to scrub away the tears and weariness and the shaking in their bones. Fingers curling into skin. “I-- I need to tell you,” they said as evenly as they could, voice wavering, “I need to tell you the whole story. Please. I want you-- I need someone to know,” they swallowed, “I need someone to understand.”

Morgan tumbed away Remmy’s tears and brushed her fingers down their cheek. “You can,” she said gently, straining up to kiss their forehead. “I’ll listen, okay? But you can take your time too, Remmy. There’s no rush, and I’m not going anywhere. You can tell me however you need to.” She let her hands fall down towards theirs. She thought she could sense the pain these hands had endured, had carried in their fists. Had there been a better way to go about getting them free? A way that hadn’t left so many dead bodies behind? Morgan frowned as she thought. She would do it all again and maybe ask the universe to bring them worse if she had the chance. Their suffering wasn’t even close to balance next to what had happened to Remmy. “I want to know, too, okay?” She said softly. “I want to know everything you can tell me, Rem. However long it takes.”

“I killed him,” Remmy said, words tumbling out of their mouth like they no longer fit inside their throat. “I killed him because I-- I didn’t want to die.” Their hands shook as they looked at them and all they could see was the dark brown and red of Ben’s blood. The bright, angry red of Jax’s blood. The blood of all the creatures they’d slain on their way out and the blood of all the creatures they’d slain thinking somehow the violence was alright. They’d chosen that path again, after everything they’d said. They’d chosen the path of violence because it was a familiar feeling and familiar place. And it had destroyed them, yet again. When would they stop? Why couldn’t they stop? “He made me kill him. I-- there should’ve been more of us...that got out. He should’ve been able to be free again, too, but I--” they clenched their fists, tight enough to press imprints into their palms. “Jax made me fight another prisoner, and I--” they choked, “I killed him. He was like me and I killed him.”

“It’s okay,” Morgan said, pressing her head to theirs. She didn’t know who Remmy was talking about, if this was some guard or some opponent in the ring. She grimaced bitterly because it had all started so stupidly, because Remmy just didn’t understand, didn’t trust their friends to talk to them about it first, or didn’t listen to the right people if they had. They had paid for it too many times over since, but Stars, things this bad were so much more cruel when they started out so simple, so easy to turn back until they weren’t. “You did what you had to. You survived, Remmy. You came back home. That’s what matters most. You survived, Remmy. If it was either do that and live or lay down and die again, I’m glad you picked your life.” She took their hands in hers, cradling them gently. “You made the choices you had to. And now that you’re free, you have the chance to make better ones. You can have more. It wasn’t your fault you had so few choices in there. It wasn’t; I hope you know that, okay?” 

Survival wasn’t something Remmy had thought about in a long time. The base instinct of survival. Was that really what it had been? Survival? Had they chosen to survive over death this time? Were they once again the one left behind? No-- it wasn’t quite the same, was it. Remmy closed their eyes, tried to draw in a calming breath. It was the motion itself that gave them a small relief, a moment of calm. “I don’t-- I don’t know anymore. I should’ve-- I tried to listen to you but it was too late.” They looked at Morgan with a tired eye, one still empty. Their heart felt like a stone in their chest. “I’m sorry. For everything. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you or-- I was so angry because I couldn’t understand. I didn’t know what I was feeling and I-- I’m sorry,” they said, their voice hiccuping, “Please forgive me. I’m sorry I made you like this, I’m sorry.”

At Remmy’s look, Morgan’s eyes spilled over. “Yes,” she said, shaking them. “Yes, you should’ve. You should’ve told me, Remmy. You should’ve told me sooner! You shouldn’t have been there, putting yourself through that in the first place.” She pulled them back close again, squeezing tighter than ever. “You’re kind, Remmy, you’re a good, kind person and I still love you. And you don’t have to be sorry for what you did to me. You don’t, okay? It’s fine. It’s fine, okay? I forgive you.”

Remmy finally wrapped their arms around Morgan and let the next wave of pain rush through them, tearing apart their chest. “I never wanted this life for you,” they said into her shirt, “I wanted you to be happy. And I thought-- I thought I took that from you. I didn’t know what to do anymore, I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t-- you were so far away and I didn't know how to reach you anymore.” They shook in her arms, finding stability in the stiffness of her body, the coolness of her skin a distant comfort. They shook their head. “Please don’t leave me like that again,” they murmured, “please. I need you. I know it’s-- I know it’s not fair to say that but I need you.”

“I know,” Morgan whispered, face pressed near their ear. “I did too. And it went away for a while, but that’s not all that happened, you hear me? It came back, and even if I’m not the same person who died, I’m still someone who loves you, okay? I love you so much, Remmy, and I won’t go anywhere you can’t get me back from. I want you to come get me no matter what, and I’ll be right here. I’ll be here with you no matter what. Because I need you too, you doofus.” She sniffled, hiccuping a sob. “I need my best friend too.”

“I’m sorry,” Remmy repeated again, no other words finding their way through the maze in their head. “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. I’m sorry I was mad. I was-- I was jealous and I took it out on you and I’m sorry.” Pressing closer, holding her tighter. Finger digging in, knowing they couldn’t really hurt each other. Knowing that Morgan truly was the only person that could understand how they felt. Knowing that she was the only person they could hold this close, to their body, their heart. “I won’t do it again, I--” but the word stuck in their throat and a flash of Jax’s face, his silver tongue, was all that replaced it. They clenched, shook their head. “You’ll stay? You’ll-- keep your word?”

Morgan felt Remmy clench and shudder in her arms. She bundled them that much harder against her, squeezing as if she could wring all the pain out and leave them with just gentleness inside. She squeezed Remmy until she felt one of their ribs give way beneath her arms and even then, she held them. The promise binds Jax, the ones Lydia had worked to undo. Stars, she couldn’t even promise them anymore. What else had been stolen from Remmy? “Yeah,” she whispered shakily. “I’ll keep my word, okay? I mean it. I swear--I--I just will. Believe me that I will. I’m in this with you, Remmy, as long as you’ll let me.”

Their bones could bend and stretch, but never break. Maybe it was an obvious metaphor, but Remmy couldn’t help but think about how that was the same as the bond between them. They’d thought they’d lost Morgan for good, but after everything that had happened between them, it was obvious, now, that what they had could only bend or stretch, never break. And so they let her hold them so tight their bones bent, and they took in her words and kept them safe in the place in their head where nothing could touch them. “I believe you,” they said after a quiet moment passed, “I believe you.”