#she’s had me believe that she may pop in randomly any day for the past two weeks

[chaseprice]

This landlord is so good at inflicting psychological torture upon me

[sporticus1234]

Catch Me if You Can-Laws of Attraction (Part 1)

Summary: After weeks of flirting, teasing, and close calls, Tessa is ready to take the plunge, but can Gabe overcome his own worse fears and join her?

Pairing: Gabe Ricci x Main Character (Tessa Michaels)

Link to my Master-List and Other works will be added once they have been re-edited and re-uploaded.

Perma-Tags and LOA Tags: @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythadon @nishas-paradise  @blainehellyes @mm2305 @suitfer​ @thegreentwin @pixelnutrookie​ 

I hope you all enjoy it and see you soon for some...adventures...in part 2.

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Rather than clumsy words, it’s your action that I believe. Don’t stop. Go past the limit. Go faster. I’m going to find my heart. So catch me if you can.

-Girls Generation, Catch Me if You Can (Korean Ver.)

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The once glittering ballroom filled with stimulating conversation, flowing bubbles of champagne, and decadent hor-dourves was now deserted and quiet, signaling the end of the extravagant weekend legal conference. As the last person Tessa was speaking to excused herself for the evening, she looked around the empty space littered with discarded champagne flutes and linen napkins, her spirits deflating at the sight. The conference ended as quickly as it began, and come Monday morning, she would be back in the office, the competition still at the forefront of everyone’s minds.

It may have been a short weekend, but Tessa was grateful for the time away from the office. The past few weeks were filled with nothing else but case after case coming one after another and nonstop talk about the competition, particularly from Martin. But for a tiny period of time, all of that vanished out of sight and out of mind. She laughed and joked with her colleagues and bosses like they were all good friends. She camped and ate smores in a beautiful forest, and she finally got her first full night of sleep since she started working at McGraw Byrne. She truly felt like she had been transported to a completely different world, one she found hesitant to leave behind for an entire year.

Stifling the yawn sneaking up on her, she left the ballroom behind, her spirits still thrumming with excitement from the evening, but her body yearning for a soak in a hot bath and some sleep in the oversized hotel bed. She was halfway across the empty lobby, gilded elevator doors in sight, when her feet came to a stop outside of the hotel’s bar. She didn’t even have to look to know exactly who was sitting in that dimly lit bar. He had a larger-than-life presence, no matter what room he was in, that was like a magnet, drawing everyone’s attention, even if he was just randomly passing by on the sidewalk.

Her tiredness completely forgotten, she hovers near the entryway and discretely watches him. He’s sitting by himself at the bar, nursing what Tessa knows is a glass of scotch on the rocks along with a basket of half-eaten chips and dip, his eyes occasionally flicking up to the large screen TV showing a basketball game taking place on the other side of the country. His jacket is discarded on the back of his chair, his tie loosened slightly and the buttons of his shirt rakishly undone at the top. Despite his disheveled, executive blowing off steam look, he is still just as handsome and attractive as he was just a short time ago when he was polished and buttoned up. Maybe even more.

A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she watches him. Gabe was such a surprise when she first came to New York, and she never expected to become so charmed by him. The man has such a lavish and lively personality on the outside, but on the inside is a man driven to be the best and passionate about using his vast knowledge to help everyone. His heart is as big as his office, a welcoming, refreshing contrast to the selfishness Tessa sees too often in this line of work. They have only known each other for a short time, but every time he came around, he put a smile on her face and made her stomach flip-flop. She couldn’t explain why he has such a pleasant effect on her. Perhaps it’s the way that when she flirts with him, he flirts right back with the same energy she gives him, maybe even more. Maybe it’s the way the two of them click when they’re together. Or maybe it’s the way he continues to keep her on her toes and excite her yet still make her feel a sense of comfort and familiarity at the same time. Regardless of the reasons, the one thing she was certain of was that she didn’t want this fluttering feeling to stop. Ever.

“Of course, you would be alone at a bar,” Tessa teases as she steps towards him.

Gabe swivels his head around at the sound of her voice, his eyes immediately catching hers as she approaches him. His lips twist into a grin, his spirits lifting like they always do whenever she is around. “Am I really that predictable?”

Tessa shrugs. “Maybe a little. But you wouldn’t be the Gabe Ricci we all know and love if you weren’t.”

Gabe chuckles. “Most people wouldn’t agree with you on that statement.”

“I’m not most people,” she fires back with a wink.

No, you are most definitely not Gabe thought. “What exactly are you doing still wandering around?” He glances down towards his watch, mildly surprised to find it still somewhat early. “The cocktail party ended almost an hour ago. I figured you would be in bed like everyone else.”

“I planned on it, but then I saw this guy sitting all by himself in this empty hotel bar and thought he could use some company.”

Gabe’s eyes twinkle with delightful mischief as he takes another sip of his scotch. He was hoping the two of them could spend some more time together before the madness hit them Monday morning. “I think I know who you’re talking about. And I, for one, know that he would love to have some company, especially if the company happens to be you.”

Tessa gives him a shy smile as she slips into the bar stool next to him. An electrical, buzzing warmth fills up the space around them as butterflies flutter in her stomach at the near closeness to him, the scent of his cologne invading her senses and tempting her to come even closer. As she peruses the small menu, the lone bartender comes over and places a napkin down in front of her.

“Anything to eat or drink?”

“A Manhattan please.”

The bartender nods before turning to Gabe. “Another refill for you, sir?”

“Please,” Gabe replies. “And put her Manhattan on my tab as well.”

The bartender grabs Gabe’s empty glass and heads down to the other end of the bar. Once he’s fully out of hearing range, Tessa turns to face Gabe. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says. “I am more than capable of paying for my own drinks.”

“I know you could pay for it,” Gabe responds before his lips curl into his trademark sly smirk, “or you could let Sadie pay for it.”

“Wait, what?”

Gabe nods, his smirk growing bigger. “Consider it another partner-only secret. This conference is one of the few events Sadie lets us have more…leeway…with the company credit card. Any food or drinks we buy at this conference gets covered by the firm.”

“And something tells me you’re taking full advantage of that offer,” Tessa says.

Gabe gives her a wink. “What can I say? A good attorney knows a good offer when they see it.”

“In that case,” Tessa flags down the bartender again. “I’ll do an order of the spicy fried pickle chips with that Manhattan.” The bartender nods and disappears into a back room. Tessa turns her head, seeing Gabe looking at her with an amused expression on his face. “What’s that look for?”

Gabe chuckles, shaking his head. “Just wondering if I’m going to regret sharing that secret with you.”

“Don’t worry,” Tessa grins at him. “Your secret is safe with me. But if Sadie cuts us off or starts questioning anything on the credit card bills, I’m placing the full blame on you.”

The two of them continue to make small talk until the bartender comes back a few minutes later. He places their drinks and her basket of food down before excusing himself and shuffling into the back room once again. Tessa grabs her glass and holds it up in a toast, prompting Gabe to do the same.

“To drinks on someone else’s dime,” she states.

The two of them share a laugh as they clink their glasses together. Tessa takes a sip of her drink, the whiskey a sharp contrast to the bubbly champagne of the reception. The liquid pools like fire in her stomach and flows throughout her body, warming her up and loosening her muscles. “Best Manhattan I’ve ever had.”

Gabe cocks his eyebrow. “Is it really the best?”

“Oh, not by a long shot. But since I didn’t have to pay for it, I consider it the best in my book.”

“You really are a woman after my own heart,” Gabe replies. Tessa tucks her gaze away from him, feeling her face grow hot at the combination of the whiskey and his spell-binding charm. She takes another sip of her drink before sliding the basket of pickle chips towards him. He throws her an appreciative “thanks”, taking a chip and popping it into his mouth before continuing their conversation. “How did you enjoy the conference?”

“I really liked it,” Tessa answers. “I never got the chance to do things like this with my old law firm.”

“What? Have free food and drinks on someone else’s dime with a devastatingly handsome senior partner?”

Tessa shoves him with a laugh. “No, you complete smart ass. I meant going out to events and connecting with other people.” She absentmindedly picks the coating off a pickle chip, her mind reminiscing. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my hometown, but there was no excitement in my life. It was the same boring routine every single day.”

“Sounds like you and McGraw Byrne are a perfect match.”

Tessa nods. “Honestly, I really have you to thank. If you didn’t recommend hiring me to Sadie, I still would be stuck in the same boring routine. It sounds really sappy, but you really did change my life for the better…in more ways than one.”

The raw honesty in her voice tugs at his heartstrings, his lips twitching into another smile. He’s used to hearing those words come from his clients, but hearing those words come from her just felt…different, and it made him feel something he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

“You’re very welcome,” Gabe earnestly tells her. “I wouldn’t have recommended you if I didn’t think you were a stellar attorney. You deserve to be here just as much as everyone else, and I truly mean that. McGraw Byrne needed someone like you. Hell, the legal world needs more attorneys like you.”

“What? Sappy and sentimental ones?”

“No,” Gabe says, stifling his chuckle. “I meant attorneys who are passionate about their job and passionate about connecting with people. So many attorneys don’t take the time to really understand or listen to their clients. Having someone like you, someone who actually connects with clients and goes above and beyond to help them, really does make a world of difference.” Gabe takes a pickle chip and pops it into his mouth. “But I really am happy you decided to take Sadie up on her offer to join us, even if the past few days have given you plenty of good reasons to quit.”

Tessa blows out a harsh breath, knowing exactly what Gabe was referring to. “Yeah, they have been quite…challenging.”

“I meant to ask you earlier, but how’re you holding up?”

Tessa sighs, dragging her fingertip over the rim of her glass. “Honestly, I’m still pissed that Beau stole the credit from me in front of everyone, but I should’ve expected someone to pull that stunt sooner or later.” She blinks back a tear trying to escape. “It just sucks to be the one it happens to.”

“I know, and I truly am sorry Beau pulled such a dick move on you.” He sympathetically lays a gentle hand on her bare shoulder, the touch sending comfort through her veins. “If I could’ve done something to make it better, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would’ve, but I do appreciate you not saying anything to Sadie.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t my place to tell her. Besides,” he takes his hand off her shoulder, already missing the feel of her smooth, soft skin, “the only thing it would’ve done was make you and me look bad in front of Sadie.”

“Sounds like someone has personal experience.”

Gabe runs a hand through his hair. “Happened to me once back in my early legal days, but instead of getting the credit and respect that I rightfully deserved, I got told off for being a bad ‘team player’ and trying to take someone else’s credit.”

“That’s so unfair,” she practically spits.

Gabe lets out a bitter, humorless guffaw. “Preaching to the choir on that one. You’ll find that every group will have one person who will do none of the work or the one person that will take credit for anything and everything. Fortunately for us, Beau happens to be both of those assholes wrapped up in one, so we save a lot on payroll.”

Tessa laughs weakly at his joke, the sting of Beau’s betrayal still fresh in her mind. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better. It just sucks knowing that Sadie is always going to believe that Beau solved the case.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m still incredibly proud of you, even if Sadie never knows the truth.”

“You…are?” she asks, surprise etched on her face as she turns her body towards him.

“Absolutely,” Gabe says, no hesitation in his voice. “Without you, we possibly would’ve never solved it to begin with, nor would Lydia have thought to make Joey sign a prenup. But what really impressed me was how you were the only one to step up and take initiative when needed. Not many of the senior partners would go to such lengths for a teenager like Lydia, but you did.”

“I guess,” Tessa mutters. “I just hope it will be enough come Monday.”

“It will be,” Gabe assures her as he steals another pickle chip.

“Really? I figured Sadie would shove Beau to the top of the rankings after he basically saved the firm.”

“Everyone in that room knows who really saved the firm, and it wasn’t Beau,” Gabe points out. “Even if Sadie believes he did, she’s also smart enough to know that one win, no matter how big it is, isn’t enough to judge how good an attorney is or will become. Beau may have stolen one win, but you’re still the one to beat.”

“I guess that’s true…”

“Plus, you showed her tonight how well you bounce back after taking a loss.”

“What do you mean?”

“Between moot court, the pro bono cases, the vaccine trial, and everything else we’ve observed, you had a major winning streak that Beau decided to snap. Most people would sulk in their losses, but you didn’t. You showed up tonight, looking incredible might I add, and managed to put everything behind you to impress the right group of people.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so,” Gabe confidently replies. He reaches out and covers her hand with his, trying to ignore the tingling buzzes on his skin. “You’re a wickedly smart attorney, Tessa. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.”

“Thanks Gabe,” she says, the goofy smile plastering on her face at his heartfelt compliment. “That…that really means a lot to me.”

“It should,” Gabe tells her, reluctantly pulling his hand away again. “I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t the absolute truth. Just forget about Vegas and the Rothswells and continue onto the next case.”

Tessa nods and takes another sip of her drink as the conversation between them dies down. She may have already forgotten the Rothswells and was slowly getting over from Beau’s stolen win, but Vegas was still on her mind. It wasn’t just the city that occupied her thoughts, but rather, it was the small wedding chapel and the night she played fiancée to the man sitting next to her. That night was an intense roller coaster of emotions, desires, and confusion; it was a night where lines became blurred and questions began to arise at the nature of her and Gabe’s relationship. It was one specific little interaction that made Tessa not only sense a shift in their relationship, but triggered her to start over analyzing and over thinking every little action from their first meeting up until now.

“Nothing but the best for the most stunning woman on the Strip.”

“Alvin’s gone, you know. You don’t have to—”

He raises a finger to her lips, laying it softly against them as he gives her a smoldering look that makes her throat dry up. “What if I want to, Tessa?”

Tessa truly felt at that moment they were no longer pretending. The things he said to her that night with such conviction in his eyes and voice. The way he softly caressed and touched her with such adoration and tenderness. The way his breath tickled her lips and sent shivers throughout her body at their near-kisses. They were not things done by someone just “pretending”; no one was that good of an actor. However, despite his actions in the wedding chapel, there was one moment that made her second guess herself completely. Just as she was about to admit her feelings for him, he brusquely cut her off and completely changed the direction of the conversation. What punctuated that gut-wrenching action was him dropping her hand quickly, as if he had been burned by her touch. The cocktail of mixed signals made her head pound in dizzying confusion, and it was becoming difficult to ignore for much longer.

She glances over at Gabe, worrying her lip between her teeth and mentally debating whether or not to step into that territory of complete openness. She has a nice, working relationship with him, and she doesn’t want to risk making it awkward to be around him if he truly doesn’t feel anything towards her. On the other hand, she wants to know for her own sake of mind; she has to know if Gabe’s confusing behavior and mixed signals mean anything. They’re off the clock, away from the office, with no interruptions coming between them. It’s the perfect opportunity to air everything out, and hopefully come Monday, there would be no more confusion or misunderstandings.

“Speaking of Vegas…” Tessa mumbles, carefully avoiding his eyes. “I think we should talk.”

Gabe’s spine stiffens in alert at the sudden shift in her demeanor. “About…what, exactly?”

She takes a deep breath, knowing it was too late to steer this conversation in another direction. “About what happened at the wedding chapel.”

“Ah,” Gabe interjects, “that was some brilliant thinking on your part, with the rat and all.”

“That wasn’t the part I wanted to talk about.” She turns her head to look at him. “I wanted to talk about the whole ‘pretend’ couple in love situation.”

“What was wrong with it?” he asks her, his nerves starting to creep up on him.

“Nothing,” she quickly replies. “I was just thinking…what you said…” She takes another deep breath, preparing herself to blurt it out before she lost her nerve. “Did you ever have a moment where…you didn’t think it was pretend?”

Depends on what your answer is going to be. “What do you mean?”

“I know the whole situation was supposed to be pretend in order to get a copy of Lydia’s marriage license, but…some of the things you said…and did…” her ears grow hot as a shiver races down her spine at the memory of Gabe’s gentle caress on her wrist, the pure intimacy behind it.

“Didn’t seem like pretend?” he finishes.

“Yeah.”

“And what do you think?”

Tessa sits there silently contemplating her answer. Up until this point, Tessa never had any reason to doubt Gabe. He is a man who never makes anyone second guess his true intentions or meanings. Every word he speaks is nothing short of the truth. But his reaction on the Strip was the first time she questioned his true intentions. If Gabe did mean what he said, then why did he quickly divert the conversation and act like he couldn’t stand to be around her? Her inner conscience was waving a massive red flag in front of her, but when Gabe gripped her chin and turned her head to focus on him, she caught herself slipping back into the warm pools of his chocolate-colored orbs.

“I really hope you weren’t pretending,” she softly says, voice barely above a whisper.

Gabe feels his stomach lurch at her confession, and the corners of his mouth tug up into a small smile at her answer. Gabe wasn’t going to lie. From the minute she stepped into the office, he became fascinated with her. She was beautiful, but what caught his attention was the way she introduced herself to the others. She was the only one who stood up and spoke with such confidence and conviction about winning the partnership that he would’ve given the spot to her immediately if his name was on the building.

“That’s because I wasn’t.”

Her eyes widen. “Wh…what?”

His thumb skates over her bottom lip, gently tugging it downwards, her breath hitching at the intense, smoldering look in his eyes. “I wasn’t pretending in the wedding chapel. I truly wanted to tell you that you were the most stunning woman on the Strip because you were, and I will always think you’re the most stunning woman I will ever come across.”

“And last night?”

“I still mean it,” he tells her, taking his hand away. “I really do enjoy spending time with you, and I want to spend whatever time I have with you and only you.”

“Good.” Tessa covers his hand with hers, the electric current running between them turning into tingling shivers chasing each other up and down her spine. “Because I really, really like spending time with you too.”

The smile on his face grows bigger, turning into the most genuine one he’s ever had with someone else. Their fingers tentatively move and twist together, the air buzzing with energy just waiting to be released. A sigh of relief floods through him once he sees their hands joined together. He feared he overstepped that night in Vegas, especially since he was sharply reminded of how Tessa flirted with the fireman a few weeks ago for her eviction case. But sitting here now, their confessions out in the open, their hands joined together, made all of it real.

“So where do we go from here?”

Gabe furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“We just admitted we like each other, Gabe,” Tessa states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The question is, what comes next? Are we together? Do we see where this goes?”

Gabe bit the inside of his cheek at her question, the bliss from earlier now getting replaced with dread and guilt. He knows exactly what he wants to do next. He wants to invite her to his hotel room tonight, spend hours tangled in the silk sheets together, then wake up and do it all again tomorrow morning. He wants to take her out to dinner tomorrow night and treat her to the most decadent food in the city while he teases and touches her until she can no longer bear it. He wants to be openly affectionate with her in the office…and maybe do a few more things behind the closed doors of his office. But he can’t, and he knew the exact reasons why.

The first reason was the more obvious one. She is currently in the competition for a junior partnership, and he is the one overseeing it and potentially making the final decision on who takes his former position. They are co-workers, and while Sadie has no real binding rule that co-workers cannot date or see each other outside of work, Gabe knows there will always be a cloud of doubt and speculation hovering over Tessa if the office discovers they are seeing each other and she wins the junior partnership. Gabe was already beating himself up for what happened between her and Beau; he would never be able to forgive himself if he was the cause of ruining her reputation and the potential she has at becoming the next great attorney. How could he look himself in the mirror every morning if this blows back up in their faces?

But the less obvious reason was a hidden secret, one that he hasn’t shared with anyone else. It was the one reason that stopped him from taking her up to his penthouse in Vegas and doing all the things he fantasizes about doing with her. It was the one reason for the walls Gabe built up over the years that no one else has been able to break down. It was the one reason that prevented Gabe from crossing the lines he wanted to cross. As easy as it would be to cross them tonight with nothing stopping them, he knows he has to make the tough decision, not only to protect her, but also to protect himself. He just hopes it doesn’t change anything between them.

“As much as I would love for us to be together,” he runs his thumb soothingly over her knuckles, already feeling guilty for what he was about to say to her, “I don’t think it would be wise to pursue it.”

“O…oh,” the smile on her face falters at his stinging rejection.

“It’s not that I don’t want you,” Gabe quickly assures her.

“Sure feels that way,” she blurts out with a bitter laugh.

Gabe sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “You’re stunning Tessa, and whatever would happen between us would be so goddamn mind-blowing, because I know exactly what I’d do with a girl like you.”

As much as his rejection stings, the dark tendrils of desire twist and twirl together inside at the sound of that highly promising and exciting invitation, the rush of desire making her shift in her seat at the tingling sensation. However, his tone tells her he was about to say one little three-letter word that was going to take the invitation back and make the rejection even worse.

"But...?"

Gabe shakes his head and averts his eyes from the pain blooming in hers. “We can’t act on it. I can’t act on it.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I…can’t,” he relents. He untangles their fingers and pulls his hand back to his side of the bar, no matter how painful it is for him to do so. “You already saw how low Sadie’s own blood would go to push himself ahead. Just imagine how low the others would go if they suspected—”

“You and I were seeing each other?”

Gabe nods, a small twinge of relief pricking his heart at her understanding. “Opportunities like this bring the worst out in people.”

“Considering I just had firsthand experience on how shitty people can be, I do understand it.” She takes another drink of her Manhattan, the sting now turning into simmering annoyance. “What I don’t understand is why us being together is now such a big deal for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, you didn’t seem too concerned with people seeing us together or what they thought when we went to Hoi On and that business dinner you specifically invited me to,” Tessa shrugs. “I’m just curious about the change of heart all of a sudden.”

“I didn’t have a change of heart. Those situations were entirely different.”

“Different how?”

Gabe pauses for a second to gather his thoughts. He had to tread lightly going forward, or else any chance the two of them had with each other in the future was going to be destroyed. “When I invited you to Hoi On, the other associates weren’t in the office. I knew Aislinn wasn’t going to say anything to Sadie, so no one was going to question why I brought you there.”

“And the business dinner?”

“It truly was supposed to be a business dinner and an opportunity for you to network yourself,” Gabe admits. “I didn’t know beforehand that he was going to cancel on me, and as far as the office is concerned, no one knows that he canceled on me, so everyone still suspects the three of us had that business dinner.”

“But then…oh…” Tessa trails off, another wave of disappointment crashing into her chest. “I get it.”

“You do?”

She nods. “You’re embarrassed to be seen with me. I get it. The senior associate and the top senior partner being seen together would hurt your image with the other partners.”

A tinge of frustration punches his gut. “That’s not what I mean. I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. If I was, I wouldn’t have invited you to join me at the lake.”

“Good point,” Tessa tells him. “You certainly didn’t mind taking me out to the lake last night with Sadie and the other associates sitting around.”

“That was different too,” Gabe bluntly responds. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me to understand,” she sighs, exasperated.

“There’s no point in tell you,” Gabe shoots back. “You’re intelligent and observant, Tessa. You know exactly why we can’t pursue…whatever there is between us.”

“The only thing standing in the way of pursuing whatever is between us is you,” Tessa points out.

He runs his hands through his disheveled hair again. “It’s not that I want to stand in the way of us. There’s so many reasons on why we shouldn’t pursue this.”

“Well, so far, you haven’t given me one that we can’t find a way to work around. So please enlighten me, Mr. Ricci,” she crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a hard stare. “Is your reasoning really about the partnership and my reputation, or is it about something more?”

As Gabe sits there in silence, Tessa’s mind flashes back to their previous interactions. Last night was the most unguarded she has seen Gabe since she started working at McGraw Byrne. The business dinner was the first time the two of them ever got physically close to each other. Vegas was the first time the two of them were fixing to jump across those boundaries and become one. But each time, Gabe pulled back, and his action spoke volumes. And with the way Gabe was currently avoiding meeting her gaze head on and how his fingers are tightly gripping his empty scotch glass makes the light bulb go off in her head. There was another reason Gabe was hiding, one that has to do entirely with himself. She just has to hope that she is important enough for him to be honest with her.

“Well?”

Gabe sighs. “It really is about the partnership,” he lies, firmly keeping his gaze locked on the bar top. “The partnership is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you shouldn’t waste it or throw it away.”

The air turns icy and frigid at his words. Tessa grabs her clutch off the bar top, knowing there was no more reason for her to still be around. “You may be able to bullshit other people, Gabe, but you’re not going to bullshit me. You and I both know this is more than just the partnership, and out of respect for your privacy, I’m not going to pry. Only you can make the decision to share it with me, but until you do, I think it’s best to forget whatever we feel for each other.”

Tessa gives his hand a soft pat before downing the rest of her drink and sliding off the bar stool. Before she could go far, Gabe’s hand reaches out and wraps around her wrist.

“Tessa…”

“Don’t worry about it, Gabe,” she says, gently prying his fingers off her wrist. “I’m honestly a little hurt and disappointed that you can’t be honest with me, but I’m not mad at you.” She places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I really do like you, Gabe, but I also like and respect myself too much to go after someone who isn’t as crazy about me as I am about them, nor will I go after someone who keeps pulling back when I want to get closer.”

“That’s not—"

She ignores his plea, digging into her clutch and pulling out a platinum-looking card. “You know where to find me when you make up your mind and have an answer for me, but don’t expect me to be waiting around forever for it.”

She places the card down on the bar top; with a sad smile, she brushes past him and heads out of the hotel bar, the tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Gabe watches her figure retreat until she disappears behind the gilded elevator doors.

“Dammit!” he slams a fist against the bar top. The empty glasses jump a little at the impact, but what catches his attention was the quick flash of light reflected on the platinum card as it jumped into the air. Gabe reaches out and slides it towards him, his spirits deflating even more when he sees what she left.

The spare key to her room.

To anyone else, it may be just a room key, but Gabe knows that it is so much more meaningful than that. It symbolizes the key to her heart and the key to their future together, a key that would only work for a short amount of time until Tessa closes both of those doors on him. The decision to walk through those open doors was entirely in his hands, but before he could do that, he has to make one other decision. The time had come for him to do the one thing he has avoided doing for years, the one decision he found easy to avoid until tonight.

It was time for him to confront himself and his fears.

__________________________________

This was going to go up a lot sooner, but because my job decided to go through some technology changes recently, it meant something that previously worked is now broken and no longer works. Unfortunately, that was me this time around, so my usual break times where I work on stories was used to help fix what someone else broke. 

Sorry about the delay, but I really do anticipate part 2 being uploaded soon, much sooner than LOA coming back from its hiatus.

For all of you who have read this story and made it this far, thank you so much for your support! It means more to me than you could ever imagine!

I love you all so much!

Second Chance Tagging in case Tumblr becomes Tumbroke again:  @choices-addict @choiceskatie @lady-calypso @chemist-ana @kat-tia801 @chrissythadon @nishas-paradise  @blainehellyes @mm2305 @suitfer​ @thegreentwin @pixelnutrookie​

[pink-bird-30]

Missing Moment

Okay, I've been sorta fed up with Titans not giving us these in between scenes where Kori and Dick interact and they find out things about each other.  So I decided to write a missing moment that would have happened in 3x06.

(I don't think this story has spoilers, but I guess read at your own risk if you haven't seen 3x06)

You can find the full story here at my FF.Net

As always, happy reading!

---------------

It’d been a rough couple of days. Between Hank blowing up and Dawn leaving for Paris….things were not the same. Kori often finds herself in the kitchen cleaning whatever nonexistent dishes were in the sink, taking the time to focus on something she can control.

Kom was here, that was a new development. And Dick was not happy about that.

Kori scoffs as she tosses the soaked sponge back into the sink and grabs the blue dish rag on the counter, drying her hands. Deep in her thoughts, she missed the lithe steps coming from down the hall.

“Hey.” She jumps slightly, caught off guard at Dick’s sudden presence. She looks up at the black clock on the wall.

1AM.

She tosses the rag on the counter and brushes past him to the living area, not wanting to hear what he had to say to her about Kom. She has to deal with her shit and he has his to deal with, and by the looks of the time, she figures he may have “figured out” his issues with Barbara given the late hour, but she won’t let her mind drift there.

He sighs, “Kori-“

She turns, giving him a sharp look. Her green eyes slightly flash bright, “What? More judgements, Grayson?”

His thick brows furrow in confusion before relaxing in understanding, “Look, I was being-“

“A dick.” She cuts him off, a smile gracing her lips.

Dick rolls his eyes at the comment, nearly hearing it more than he’d care to admit. But he couldn’t help the laugh that leaves his chest.

How does she do that?

“Sure, whatever. I was rude and didn’t respect you when you told me something was going on and I’m sorry.”

Kori’s eye widen, “Wow, Dick Grayson is apologizing.”

He bashfully grins. “It’s known to happen on occasion.”

Kori arches her brow at him and shakes her head, causing her curls to flutter at her shoulders. She doesn’t miss how Dick looks at her, but she pushes that light feeling down.

Not yet.

He walks over to the fridge and pulls out two beers, “Here.” He slides one across the counter, she catches it gracefully and pops the cap with her thumb as she watches Dick reach for the bottle opener on the fridge.

They take their drinks to the living area and settle on the sofa. They didn’t speak for a few moments, just savoring the few silent beats near the raging fire. Kori noticed Gotham was a very cold place. Hardly any sun during the day and the night a deep shadow of darkness. No wonder no one goes out at night.

“When I first came to Wayne Manor, I tried every way I could to leave.” Dick started. His beer rolling between his hands, peeling at the red label. Kori noticed this as a nervous tick of Dick’s, always fiddling with his batons or scratching the back of his neck. Whatever he was going to say, it was in confidence to her.

“Being back her has been…” he takes a swing of his drink. “It’s been tough. I feel myself reverting back to who I was before I left. Back to the guy who goes off on his own and acts like-like”

“Like Batman.”

He looks over at her and nods, “Yeah.”

“You know you’re not him, right?”

“Hm.” He doesn’t seem to believe her.

Kori leans forward, her thigh brushing against his lightly, “Listen to me. You are not him. Okay? You’re Dick Grayson, leader of the Titans. Sure, you have your flaws-”

“Hey!” his face brightens up at the jab.

“But you’re you. No one can take that.” She sips at her beer and settles back against the couch. “Besides, I think you’d look ridiculous in the Bat-suit.”

Dick lets out a hearty laugh making Kori smile.

He should laugh more.

He stares at her for a moment, his dark eyes gazing at her. She knows that look, it takes her back to the last time they were alone like this.

But now isn’t the time.

She clears her throat, breaking his gaze to stare into the fire lighting the room.

“I’m sorry about your parents, Kor.” She wasn’t expecting him to bring it up, hell she hoped she could chug the rest of her beer before having to continue this conversation.

She shrugs her shoulders, “I don’t really know how I feel about it right now.” It was her turn to distract herself from the inevitable. She lets her long fingers tangle in her curls, wrapping and unwrapping them from her fingers. She hadn’t seen her parents for a few years now. And even if she had, she doesn’t remember. Her memories have come back randomly, but not completely. If anything, it makes her feel even worse. Not remembering the last time she saw them.

She first feels the couch dip next to her and then Dick’s warm, callous hand wrap around hers, pulling it free from her hair. He rests their clasped hands on his leg, his thumb running slowing over her knuckles.

“Hey,” he tilts his head slightly, giving her that typical soft Dick Grayson look. The same look he gave her when they decided to figure themselves out first before seeing what this could be. It breaks a small part of her, not meaning to, but a small tear falls down her cheek. Dick, being who he is, wipes it away without thought.

Kori takes a deep breath and close her eyes, letting herself feel comforted. Usually she’d just suck it up and be a tough bitch. But after a while…it builds up.

She lets her head rest on his shoulder, taking whatever comfort he’s offering.

“Dick?”

“Yeah?”

“Who were you before this, before Wayne Manor?” she feels his hand tighten in hers. She can feel him contemplating what to say. She didn’t expect him to tell her everything, but she would like to know him better.

“It’s-it’s complicated.” He sighs, the rush of air moving through him.

“Then uncomplicate it.”

He shakes his head grinning slightly, “You’re a pushy person, you know that?”

“Stop stalling, Grayson.” She looks up at him seeing his eyes brighten looking down at her and then looks towards the fire place. But then his eyes became clouded, like he was preparing for something horrible to happen.

“When I was a kid, my parents and I were part of the circus. Hayley’s Circus. We’d travel from city to city preforming all over…” his eyes glazed slightly, watching the fire intently. Kori lets her free hand settle on his heart, letting him know she’s there.

It was enough to help him keep going, “We were called ‘The Flying Graysons’. Our act was the main attraction because we wouldn’t use a safety net…” Dick takes another sip of his nearly empty beer and sets it on the side table.

“Our first night here, in Gotham, a mob boss named Tony Zucco threated Mr. Haly to hire protection while the circus was in town, but refused. Later on during our act…” Dick stops, needing a moment before continuing. “Zucco hired someone to tamper with the trapeze ropes, so when it came to my parents swinging towards me, they fell.”

“Oh, Dick…” Kori’s heart never felt so broken. She could feel Dick tighten his hand around hers, holding on to whatever life line he had here in the present, while working through his troubled past. She could feel his heartbeat fast under her hand. His face was impassive, solely focused on the light of the fire, but his body was reacting for him.

He seemed to come back to himself after a moment, closing his eyes and opening them again to peer down at her. “I was angry for a while after, but then Bruce showed me how to transform that anger into something else. But it took me a few years to realize he turned me into a weapon.”

Kori nods in understanding, not trusting her voice to say much.

“But after I left Gotham, went to Detroit to start over. I hadn’t changed much. I was still doing the same shit just in a different city. But when Rachel came along things changed. I felt myself change. I think I actually had hope things might get better again.

“And they were. Well, besides all the Trigon bullshit and Slade. I think things have been good.”

“Until you came back to Gotham.” Kori added. Dick nods in agreement.

“Yeah, before I came back here and fell back into old habits.”

“You mean going off on your own, finding old friends to fight with and getting shot at? Yeah, sounds about right.” She grins at him, lightening the mood.

“Yeah, that’s me.” His face changed again. Kori is surprised that someone that is well trained to be impassive, he shows all his emotions through his eyes.

“And you?” he asks. Kori looks at him questioningly. “What’s going on with you and Kom?”

Kori scoffs, “Trust me you do not want to know that mess.”

“Try me.”

She contemplates it for a moment, trying to figure out where to start.

“Well…um…” she huffs in frustration. “Listen, the relationship between me and Kom has always been strained. She always had issues following the rules and listening to our parents. It often led her to getting in trouble all the time. She’s my older sister and she always had to rebel.

“As for me, I followed the rules. I did what was expected of me and since I’m-“ Kori stops, realizing she was about to tell Dick she’s a princess, technically a “queen” of Tamaran. But she keeps it to herself.

“I’m just not sure her true intentions here, but I also couldn’t leave her down there with the scientists for the rest of her life. It wasn’t right.”

Dick nods in understanding, “What do you think she’s up to?”

“I have no idea, but I hope she’s changed.” Kori knew it was foolish to believe that, but part of her wants her sister to be better, to do better.

“For the team’s sake, I hope so too. We can’t have a possible threat living with us.” Kori rolls her eyes and untangles herself from Dick’s side, letting go of his hand in the process. She can already feel the cold feeling of loneliness creeping in already, but she shakes it off.

“I should head to bed.”

Dick runs his hand through his hair and stands up, “Shit—Kori, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“Yes, you did. And you’re right. We have to be careful.”

She turns to leave the room, but not before glancing back one last time. “Thank you for telling me about your past.”

Dick grins in return, watching as Kori ascends up the stairs to her room.

Part of him wants to follow her, missing the warmth he knows she can provide. A warmth the deepest parts of himself remembers all too well. But he shakes himself from the thought and tips back his beer for one last sip before heading to bed.

[sweetchup]

💌Love/Hate💌

Type: Pariston Hill x Reader

Prompts: Soulmate Au (Colorblind) + 7– Innocent/Corruption Kink

Author Note: OMG I am so so so sorry this took so long. I’m not sure what it was but my brain couldn’t write for Pariston. Like it was if the zodiacs took over and put it into a total shut down mode. It was insane. (ALSO Small warning, this is Pariston and, as expected, he’s an abusive dick)

(Valentine’s Day Masterlist)

When you had first accepted the job of being randomly assigned someone’s secretary, you hadn’t expected to be assigned to the CEO of a high end tech company. You mean, who in the world would have known that by just calling a flyer on a street corner would have led to working with someone so prestigious.

It almost sounded too good to be true!

….And, you wished you hadn’t jinxed yourself in that moment. The CEO of that high end tech company actually turned out to be only 21, having inherited the company from his father. He was not only a spoiled brat and a player but, my god, was he lazy. You were sure that if you hadn’t spent hours on the phone discussing ideas with his father and done all the paperwork for him, that the company would be in ruins before someone could say “We’re broke!”.

Though, no matter how hard you worked your ass off these past couple months, nothing could prepare you for this moment.

“Dear god someone help me…”

You and his father had told him many times over this week. On February 14 at noon, you have an important meeting with the Hunter Association. You can’t miss it.

But, of course, that lazy ass was running late. By 45 minutes to be exact.

“Miss (y/n), is Mr Avoli going to be showing up any time soon? It isn’t like him to be late.”

… And it surely didn’t help that you were standing in the meeting room, waiting for him with the Hunters Association's very own Zodiacs.

Shamefully, you turn to the doglike woman who had introduced herself as ‘Cheadle’ earlier and give an apologetic bow, “I-I deeply apologize. You see Mr Avoli's son, Hunter Avoli, recently took over the company. I reminded him constantly this past week about the meeting but I’m afraid he may have forgotten...”

“Oh that guy.” You hear the monkey zodiac ‘Saiyu’ spit out in disgust, “He is almost as bad as that dirt bag, Ging.”

“It’s not a problem Miss (y/n). I’ve met Hunter many times before so I’ve seen first hand how unprofessional he acts. This is clearly not your fault.” Cheadle reassures, giving you enough confidence to lift your head up from bowing to look at her as some of the Zodiacs complain in the background.

As you stare at the grayish colored woman, you can’t help but wonder what color she was wearing. Due to you still not having found your soulmate, you can only see the color of your soulmate’s eye color. Which, in your case, was brown. A chocolate brown to be exact.

And, usually dogs were brownish in color so you kind of wondered what color Miss Chealde chose instea—

“We are still waiting on the chairman and two other zodiacs so why don’t you take the chance to try and give Hunter a call.” Mizaistom, the ox zodiac, suggests suddenly.  

“O-oh of course. Thank you very much Miss Cheadle, Mr Mizaistom. I’ll be very quick— Eep!”

Oh god why me?

Just as you made your way to the door to exit the room, someone on the other side had already swung it open. Making you, in pure surprise and shock, take a step backwards. Though, just like how your day is going so far, Luck truly didn’t seem to be on your side as you end up tripping on your own two feet and begin to fall backwards.

You expected to land hard on the cold tile floor in front of everyone, extremely embarrassing really, but instead you don’t. You still hit something firm and hard but… it was different. Actually, now that you think about it, you felt higher up than you were before…

“Ah, Ging this is why I said you shouldn’t barge into rooms so suddenly! You scared our poor guest!” A voice suddenly calls out from behind you, his breath slightly tickling the shell of your ear. Quickly, in surprise, you whip your head around to—

…Shit.

As your eyes lock with the male’s chocolate brown ones the room suddenly bursts into a flurry of color. Blues, reds, greens, maybe yellows? You honestly didn’t know the proper names for all the colors you were seeing for the first time. However, in all this chaos, you happened to know two things.

One, That you had just met your soulmate and Two,...

… it was none other than the Vice Chairman himself, Pariston Hill.

“Oh my! How unexpected!” Pariston chuckles out, causing what seems to be sparkles to pop out around him, “I never thought our guest here today would end up being my soulmate. Not at all!”

“I—“ “Shut up Rat!”

You freeze as something suddenly comes flying past your head. What the fuck...

“You have a soulmate? Not a Chance! Not a Chance! Not a Chance!”

“Quit joking.”

“I doubt the King Of Kickbacks would have an ordinary soulmate.”

It was as if a bomb had erupted in the room, everyone was in pure disbelief at what Pariston had just said, Suggested, he even had (Well everyone except Ging, of course). Hell, some of them haven’t even found their own soulmates yet. So, why did the heartless ass Rat get to have one?!

“I assure you, I’m speaking the truth. Why would I lie about something like this?”

We can think of many reasons…

“U-uh…” You suddenly speak out, slightly flinching as everyone’s attention turns to you, “He is telling the truth… I saw colors other than brown for the first time when we locked eyes.”

“See!” Pariston says happily, pulling you affectionately closer to him in his hold. As you are flustered by the act from the handsome man, he takes the chance to walk to what you believe is in the direction of an empty seat. However, you soon realize that wasn’t what he was intending as he walked right by it and leaves through the other door located in the room.

“Hey Rat!! Where do you think you are GOING!?!” The tigerlike man screeches out, storming through the door you two just left as well.

“Well, I’m going to spend time with my soulmate of course.” Pariston exclaims, his smile not even flinching as bloodlust from the other zodiacs creeps out from the room.

“As if I—“ Suddenly, a loud chuckle behind you rings out, cutting Kanzai off.

“C-Chairman Netero!” You squeak out in surprise at the older man. Oh god, what a disaster. As someone trying to make a deal to him, this looks bad. So bad.

“My, what a twist!” The Chairman rings out, stroking his beard as he thinks as he walks past you two. “Hmm… You and (y/n) can be excused from today’s meeting, Pariston.”

“B-But, Chairman!” Kanzai rebuts. Soon shutting up however as the chairman grabs onto the collar of his jersey.

“It only makes sense to give them alone time, Kanzai. We will just call Mr Aloisi for the meeting instead of having (y/n) give it to us.” Netero explains, giving you a small wink as he drags Kanzai as if he was some kitty cat back into the meeting room.

What a strange group…

As you sit there stunned at everything that has happened so far, you don’t realize Pariston has already begun walking again. It takes you a while to realize as well, precisely the loud sound of the door of his private office being closed. He must have walked pretty fast…

“A-ah. Umm you can put me down now.” You mumble out to the… Blonde man (unable to tell if that was the correct color).

“Hmm. What was that?” Pariston asks, as if he didn’t quite hear you from before.

“Oh. I was wondering if you could put me down.” You tell him again. Shit, the way you said that came out bad. “I-I mean I’m really appreciative of you saving me but you are likely getting tired of holding me and I can walk on my own.”

“Oh!”

You expected at that exclamation that Pariston would instantly put you down to the floor, but instead he walks over to his deck and places you down in front of that. Odd, but you don’t question the sparkly man.

Speaking of odd, as you looked around the room, you realized it was really cold in here. Much colder than the conference room and hallway. God, what a bad day to wear a skirt but no tights. Especially those insulated ones you recently bought.

“Are you Cold?” Pariston suddenly voices up, causing you to turn behind you to look at him. He still hadn’t moved from his spot right behind you.

“A-ah yes I am. I don’t want to be a bother but could you possibly turn it down a couple of notches?” You ask, taking a step back a little to give a little bit of space between you two.

“I’m afraid I can’t. My thermostat broke this morning.” Pariston exclaims, his smile turning into a bit of a frown. However, that didn’t last long as he soon had a full blown out smile again. “But, I do have my jacket that I wore to work this morning. It should be… Ah! There it is! Right on the seat of my chair if you want to grab it.”

“Oh.. thank you.” You give Pariston a small smile before leaning over the desk to grab the brown coat.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it but for some odd reason you didn’t feel fully comfortable around him. Which was even weirder because you didn’t understand what was causing it. Shouldn’t you naturally feel comfortable around your soulmate?

Perhaps, you just needed to get to know him better. That’s likely it. Your just nervous since he was supposed to be your clien—

“Ah!” You let out a yelp as you feel pressure and sharp pain in your lower regions. At first, you thought it was perhaps a weird cramp or something like that. However, once you fully grasped what you were feeling, you realized you were just trying to make yourself believe that.

“Oh whoops! Tight. Tight. That must have hurt.” Pariston chuckles out, rocking his hips back and forth as his eyes watched his cock disappear and reappear out of your hole. Harshly letting go of the strap of your panties that he had pulled aside to watch as an ever so slight bit of blood comes out in your slick. Delighted to see such results.

“P-Pariston. Please be gentle.” You gasp out, turning yourself by your waist to place a hand on the man’s chest. Ever so slightly fisting the fabric of his suit when he suddenly gave a really hard thrust. “Let’s slow down… too soon…”

“How come? I thought you said you were grateful to me right?” Pariston teased out, pulling your hand off his suit as well as pushing your front down against the desk. Making it so you were trapped underneath him.

“I-I am but—“ “Shh… I’m only taking my reward!”

However, even with your constant pleas for him to be slower, gentler, Pariston continued his actions. Watching you grow more and more wet as that uncomfortable burning sensation suddenly turned into pure ecstasy.

It was perfect…

Pressed down against the desk, unable to move as you were essentially being taken advantage of by him. Your very own soulmate.

It was embarrassing, agonizing and traumatizing.

Surely, you hated him. You despised him.

Having waited long enough, Pariston decided to finally pull out and flip you over so he could see you and the results of his hard work. “Now, Now my dear. It’s not so—“

Pariston feels himself blink a couple of times.

Oh… So, you were one of those types huh?

It was if you were some humanized version of a golden retriever. Your eyes that were supposed filled with terror or hatred were still as sparkly and innocent before you began. You were loyal to him to a fault and he honestly doubted you could bring it in your heart to even hate him.

It was annoying but it wasn’t that big of a problem. He could always break you in other ways.

However, that’s not exactly what was troubling him right now.

Fluttering? Or, Bubbles?

Whatever it was, he didn’t understand why he was feeling this sort of way. Especially seeing you look at him like that. With that love filled look…

“Pariston…” You mumble out, your voice slightly slurred. “Are you okay? Are you done?”

Are you okay?

Those three words ring in Pariston’s head. Eventually, causing him to break his composure and let out a light laugh.

“Aw. Did I leave you high and dry? Here I’ll fix that.” Pariston calls out. A slight shiver going up his spine as he hears you let out a small moan as he slips back into your dripping cunt.

You know what, he didn’t care how strange you were making him feeling.

Whether you looked at him with loved dazed eyes…

Or cried out how much you hated him with those kissable lips of yours.

Either way, he would enjoy every bit of playing with you. You had the rest of your miserable lives to try it out after all.

[marvelslut16]

Can’t live without you

Pairing: Stanley Uris x reader (adults)

Synopsis: (Y/N) finds out that her best friend didn’t arrive back in Derry with the rest of the losers club, and finds out that he tried to kill himself. Glimpses of her past with Stan are seen as she visits him in the hospital. Will the best friends that have been pining over each other since they were kids finally get their happy ending, or will Patricia and the very different lives the lead get in the way?

Word count: 5,314 this is a lot more than I originally planned, guess I got carried away.

Warnings: Attempted suicide. Talk of self harm. Blood/gore/violence, typical for the IT fandom. Brief implication of domestic violence from a father and a wife. A little angsty at times, but fluffy. Swearing. Tooth rotting fluff near the end.

A/N: Stan may be OOC, but I tried my hardest for my first IT story. Stan the man Uris is fantastic and deserved so much better. AU where the characters I love don’t die. The reader in this story isn’t Jewish, if you are Jewish, I apologize. There is a cute little story-line that relies heavily on the reader not having the same faith as him.

It had been just over twenty years since you were last in your home town of Derry Maine, and you hadn’t thought if it once. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to remember, you just couldn't. There were days when the name Stan would randomly pop in your head, and from a place buried very deep in the back of your brain, you were sure he was an important person in your adolescent life. 

When Mike Hanlon called to tell you that Pennywise was back, your heart started pounding so hard you were convinced it would leap from its place inside your chest. You didn’t exactly remember Pennywise, but you remembered the fear. You also remembered a mop of curly light brown hair that you immediately associated with Stan. 

Upon arriving at the Chinese restaurant in Derry flashes of your childhood came back, they were so unfamiliar it was like watching somebody else's life. Stan was the center of almost all of them, your old best friend and boy you had been in love with since you were six. It was great catching up with your old friends, but it didn’t feel right without Stan. 

The other six members of the losers club opened their fortune cookies, spelling out; ‘I,’ ‘cut,’  ‘not,’ ‘it,’ ‘guess,’ and ‘could.’ Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach as you open your own and see the thick black letters spelling out Stanley. 

“No,” you gasp out a plea to no one in particular. You lean forward and numbly move the papers around to say, ‘I guess Stanley could not cut it.’ The rest of the losers club had remembered enough over dinner to remember just how much Stan meant to you, causing them to stare at you as you try to blink back tears. 

The group running from creatures breaking out of fortune cookies happens in a blur, your head isn’t clear until the cool night air hits it. Mike gives you Stan’s number as soon as he comes to his senses. You walk away from the group, wanting privacy for whatever you get on the other end of the call. 

“Who is this?” a female voice answers the phone. Your furrow your eyebrows in fear and glance over at Mike who is watching you closely. 

“Uh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you state nervously, picking at your already chipped nail polish. “I’m sorry, I thought this was Stan Uris’s number.”

“It is,” the voice says slowly. “How do you know him?”

“We grew up together, we were best friends,” you smile as you remember gripping onto his hand as the wind whipped around you two the first time you jumped into the quarry. “Our friend group was having a mini reunion back home, and we got worried that he didn’t show up.”

“He’s in the hospital,” she says with no real emotion in her voice. 

“What?” you ask in disbelief. Not your Stan. 

“He’s in the hospital,” she snaps. “Do I need to say it slower for you? He slit his wrists and lost a lot of blood.”

“Oh my God,” you murmur, knees going weak at the thought. “Which hospital? I’d like to visit him before I go back home.”

She tells you the name of the hospital and hangs up before you can say anything else. Your knees buckle as soon as the line clicks dead, causing you to fall and scrape up your knees on the dirty pavement. Tears stream down your face and silent sobs shake your body. Ben and Bev immediately rush to your side, Bev kneeling beside you as she rubs soothing circles into your back. 

“(Y/N)?” she asks nervously. 

“He’s in the hospital,” you sob out weakly. “He tried to kill himself.” Bev helps you stand and sets you in Richie’s car so you can head to the hotel.

The rest of your time in Derry is a blur, it’s over so quick, but feels painfully slow. You instantly knew that your token was the menorah necklace that you’ve worn everyday since you had gotten it in sixth grade. Stan had bought it for you for Christmas as a joke, his father had made a not-so-pleasant comment about you not being Jewish the week prior. You knew you loved him the moment you tore the ribbon off of the box; he knew you better than anyone else, he let his guard down when he was with you, and he was the kindest, sweetest boy you had ever met especially when he stood up to his father about your religion.

Before you know it you’re assaulted by the smell of bleach and shiny white floors as you walk into the hospital Stan is in. After finding out the room number from the receptionist you slowly head to his room, wondering if you should really be there. 

Through the small window of Stan’s hospital room you see a blonde woman sitting on a couch on the far side of the room, typing away on her laptop. When you enter the room she slams her laptop shut and walks over to you, making sure to stand between you and Stan’s bed. 

“I’m Patricia Uris,” she makes no move to stick her hand out for you to shake, but makes the diamond on her left hand noticeable. 

“I’m (Y/N),” you give her a small smile that drops as you look behind her, seeing Stan’s body lay there unmoving. “We briefly spoke on the phone the other night.”

“Right,” her eyes squint as she looks you up and down. “What happened to your face?” She’s referring to the healing cut that reaches from your hairline diagonally to your eyebrow, you should really look into getting side bangs or something. Pennywise was always great at mentally and physically scarring everyone. 

“I was taking a shortcut through the forest in Derry when I slipped and cut it on a sharp piece of bark,” you lie effortlessly. She rolls her eyes but seems to believe your terrible excuse. “Is Stan getting any better?”

“The doctors say he should wake up any day now,” she doesn’t sound as excited about that as a wife should. “They say he should be awake, he just doesn’t want to. It’s all psychological apparently. It’s just like Stan to not want to do anything, always wanting to bird watch instead of going shopping with me.”

“Stan always loved to bird watch,” you smile at Patricia, pushing away the anger you feel at her ignorance and disdain she seems to hold for her husband. “He used to always drag me to the park in Derry to show me the different types, I was the only one in the group to enjoy it with him.”

“Yeah, well, it gets old fast,” she rolls her eyes, turning around to pack her laptop in her bag and grab her purse. “I’m gonna go home and shower, sit with him as long as you want to.”

Her heels click loudly on the linoleum flooring as she walks past you without a second glance towards Stan. You frown at her back as she walks down the hall to the elevator. You pull up a chair next to Stan’s bed and lightly grab his limp hand, running your thumb over the back of his hand.”

“You can’t leave me alone in this shit world, not after I finally remember,” tears spill down your cheeks. “I need you Stan the man. I’ll even go bird watching with you. Richie said, and I quote, so you can’t get mad at me for saying this when you wake up and remember me saying this, that you need to wake your ass up Urine, there are still a shit ton of birds to go look at. It’s all over Stan, we killed IT. And we all made it out, so you definitely need to wake back up. I’ve lived twenty years without you Stanley, I can’t go twenty more without you. I can’t even go one more without you.

Richie and Eddie finally got together, it was really cute. Eddie thought he was dying, he got stabbed by IT, so he confessed his love to Richie. But Richie was determined to get him out of there alive, and he did. So now they’re finally together, even though he married a woman that’s essentially his mother. Ben and Bev finally got together, we used to always say that they were made for each other. Ben is super fit now, but he’s still the biggest sweetheart I have ever met. And Bev is still so strong willed and fierce. 

Bill is a horror writer now, which to me is pretty ironic. They’re making his stories into movies, where they always change the ending because they want something happy. He married some actress, who he’s divorcing as we speak. She isn’t great, insulting his work and not really caring that she’s hurting his feelings. Mike has been living in Derry this entire time, he took over his family's business. He was waiting these past twenty-seven years for IT to come back. Trying his hardest to protect the next generation from the horror that we faced. 

I guess that just leaves me, I moved to Colorado, far far away from Derry. I worked my ass off to become a lawyer, the dream you always pushed me to go after. Even when I couldn’t remember you, your encouragement was in the back of my head, keeping me going when it got difficult. There were days that I would get foggy images of us getting ice cream, or splashing each other in the quarry, all of those times when you would let your guard down and have fun with me. Even after the losers club drifted apart as we went into high school, you stayed at my side. You defended me to your father when he hated that we were so close, even though I wasn’t Jewish. We were always there to pick each other up when Bowers or Greta and their friends would tease or beat us up. Stanley Uris, please wake up. I need you, we all miss you, and I definitely miss you the most.”

--

After spending hours with him, you head to the nearest hotel for the night. The next morning you stop by the hospital with the intent to say goodbye to Stan before heading home. When you walk up to the room Patricia and the doctor are talking. 

“There was more brain activity yesterday,” the doctor’s voice drifts out through the open door and into the hall where you’re standing. “Whatever you did, do it again, because it was the first time we saw evidence that he could wake up.”

“Great,” she has a fake grin on her face, and she’s using a fake tone. Why doesn’t she want Stan, the most amazing man you have ever met and her husband, to wake up? “What are you doing here again?” she snaps as she notices you in the doorway. 

“I have to head back home, so I wanted to say goodbye to him,” you nervously fiddle with the hem of your sweater. 

“Didn’t you have enough time with him yesterday?” she glares at you. Why is she so defensive about you seeing Stan again?

“You were here yesterday?” the doctor's eyes widen as he looks at you for the first time. 

“Yeah,” you answer shyly, flattening the side bangs you cut last night. Making sure they cover your stitched up forehead. His eyes light up in excitement and goes to talk to you once more, Patricia cuts him off. 

“Well, as Stanley’s wife, I’m not sure I feel comfortable having you spend more time with him,” as she goes to continue with a string of complaints, a hushed and broken sound comes from the hospital bed. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper, your hand covering your mouth. Your knees go weak, almost collapsing with relief as Stan repeats the sounds he had just made. 

“I’m right here Stan,” Patricia forces her excitement once more, limply grabbing his hand. 

“(Y/N),” his voice is clear this time, and your heart flutters as your old best friend says your name again. You rush over to his other side, gently grabbing his hand since that's where his IV is.

“Stan?” your voice breaks as you try to keep a relieved sob from escaping. Stan slowly and carefully flips his hand over, threading his fingers with yours. “It’s over. IT is gone, we got rid of IT this time.” His eyes open at your words, head turning to look you in the eyes. Tears finally escape the moment you can finally look into his deep brown eyes again. 

“Did you call me urine?” his voice is rough and scratchy from not being able to use it for a week. More tears spill down your face as you laugh, because that was the first question he decides to ask you. 

“I said I was quoting Richie,” your whole body shakes as you laugh, far too relieved to care if Patricia thinks you’re being over the top. 

“I can remember,” his voice is softer, just like his eyes. “I remember everything. What ever happened to your necklace?” his other hand reaches across his body, but stops and hovers a few inches away from where the necklace once hung. You instinctively reach up to touch your chest where the pendent once fell. 

“We needed tokens of our past, the most important thing from our childhood, that was mine,” he grips your hand tighter, the other one falling to his lap and away from Patricia. “I wore it everyday these past twenty seven years.”

“What necklace?” Patricia’s strained voice brings you back to Earth. You carefully let go of Stan’s hand and pull it back to your side. You had forgotten about Patricia, forgot that you aren’t allowed to love him anymore. 

“I got her a menorah necklace,” Stan laughs at the memory, not noticing that you got awkward and pulled away. “She’s not Jewish, and my dad always hated that we were so close and she wasn’t. I used to joke that I would convert her one day, so I thought it would be funny to get her it for Christmas.” The doctor grins at you and Stan with a knowing look before backing out of the room quietly. 

“Cute,” Patricia rolls her eyes and glares at you. You frown in response, wondering what on Earth you ever did to her. Ignoring Patricia, you hand Stan the unopened water bottle from your bag, sure that he’d need some water. He smiles gratefully at you before taking a large sip.

“What are you even doing here?” his stern gaze landing on Patricia. You furrow your brows, the Stan you knew would never treat his wife this way. 

“I’m your wife!” her voice is shrill, hurting your ears and making you cringe. Stan on the other hand doesn’t seem amused with the outburst. 

“We aren’t married anymore Patricia,” Stan’s voice is harder than you have ever heard before. “I divorced you three years ago, the only reason you're here is because I haven’t changed my emergency contact.” 

You run your hands through your hair as you process the new information, Stan was available. You could love him without being guilty. You could finally tell him that you love him, that you always have. 

“Well have fun with your deformed klutz over there,” she gestures towards you with a mocking grin. You had pushed your bangs back a moment prior without realizing it, Stan’s gaze on you quickly goes from confused to anger as he pieces together what happened to you. 

“Leave Patricia,” the anger in his voice is kinda hot. “I never want to see you again.”

“Don’t come crawling back to me when you get bored with her,” and with that she leaves, slamming the door loudly behind her. 

“What happened?” Stan brings his hand up and gently glides his fingers over the stitches Eddie put in. 

“You aren’t married?” your heart is beating so fast you swear it would break out of your chest and fly away. 

 “No, I divorced her a while ago, I realized she was treating me terribly,” you start crying at his words. “Why are you crying?”

“I thought you were dead, and then I thought you were married and slowly dying,” you sob. “But now you’re suddenly single and very much alive. It’s a lot to process. 

He lifts his hand back up to your face, wiping away your tears even if they’re being replaced as soon as he moves his thumb away from your skin. His hands are a little rough, but soft enough to know that he works behind a desk. His hand starts to caress your cheek, you have to fight the heat from rising to your cheeks and push away the excitement you feel from the tender touch. You’re just an old friend he hasn’t seen in twenty years, nothing more. 

“What happened to your forehead?” his voice is soft again, and his fingers brush along the angry red cut once more.  

“I was facing my fear,” images of a young Stan abandoning you in order to save himself, saying that you mean nothing to him, after you had fallen and your abusive father was closing in on you, race through your mind. “And Pennywise, as my father, cornered me after a young you pushed me down and ran away. As my father was hovering over me with a knife, he morphed into IT and he used his long sharp nail to cut my face, and try to gouge my eye out. I got lucky because there happened to be a large rock next to me, which I hit IT with so I could run away.”

“I would never leave you,” Stan says sadly, a hurt look in his eyes as he stares at you but can’t look into your eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see him again, even if he was just IT’s illusion.”

“It’s fine,” you reach up to play with your necklace, forgetting it’s not there anymore. Playing with the necklace had become a coping mechanism for your anxiety. The nervous tick had developed almost immediately after you received the present. “Really, everything is in the past now. I’m fine.”

Stan gives you a disbelieving look, you look around the room to avoid his gaze. Your eyes lock onto the clock, causing them to widen as you take in the time. How had that much time passed already? It felt like you had entered the room five minutes ago, it certainly didn’t feel like two hours had come and gone. 

“What is it?” Stan grabs your hand, keeping you from standing from the uncomfortable hospital chair. 

“I have a plane to catch, in an hour,” you pull your hand from his grasp, standing and backing away from the bed as well. “I need to go now if I have any chance of making it through TSA and to my plane in time.”

“Don’t go,” his voice is soft, broken even. “I lost you once, I can’t lose you again.”

“You’ll be fine Stan,” you flash him a watery smile. “You have healing to do, and then you can go bird watch all you want. We’ll remember each other this time, we can keep in touch.” You walk over to the side of his bed, pushing the curls off his forehead so you can give him a soft kiss. A tear slips down your cheek and lands on his curls as the fall back into place. “Goodbye Stan.”

--

It had been weeks since you had left Atlanta, and you’ve thought of Stan every hour of every day since. It’s like your mind is punishing you with thoughts of him since you had forgotten him for so long. You and Stan texted a couple times, you still had his number from when Mike gave it to you. And just like Mike gave you Stan’s number, he gave Stan your address. Because two and a half weeks after you arrived home, a small package from Stan arrived in the mail. 

You stare at the package in shock for a few minutes, before finally opening it. You gasp as you see a menorah necklace inside, almost identical to the one you had gotten so many years ago. Your heart thumps against your rib cage at the thoughtful, heartfelt gesture. 

You immediately send Stan a text, thanking him for the necklace, while lightly chastising him for spending money on you, and asking him to give you a call as soon as he could. It has been almost twenty four hours since your text, and you've gotten no reply. You start to fear the worst, that this could have been his last act before trying, and succeeding, to kill himself. As you contemplate finding a way to get a wellness check on him, there's a knock on your apartment door. Probably just the guy from down the hall that doesn’t understand that rejection isn’t playing hard to get. 

When you open the door Stan is standing in front of you; his dark brown curls are styled instead of the chaotic mess they were at the hospital, his face clean shaven, his striped button up and pressed khakis are reminiscent of the outfits he would wear as a child. This is how you always imagined Stanley Uris would look like as an adult, well without the small almost unnoticeable scars on the side of his head. 

“Come in,” you finally snap out of your trance and step to the side, leaving more than enough room for him to walk into your modest two bedroom apartment. He takes in the living room and kitchen, but his eyes light up when they land at the necklace hanging delicately from your throat. “Wh-what are you doing here?” you glance down at the small carry on he’s holding.

“I thought I should tell you why I did it,” his voice is strained. “And I didn’t want to do it over the phone, since I know you were getting ready to make some smart ass remark about telephones.” Stan really was your best friend, because he’s spot on with his prediction about what you were just about to say. “I don’t know if it’s because I saw the deadlights for so long or something, but as we kept getting closer to twenty seven years I started to remember. It started with you and the rest of the losers a few years ago, but as soon as Mike told me IT was back I remembered all the pain we went through. I knew that we all needed to go back to Derry, but I knew I couldn’t do it. I knew that if I went my fear would be putting you in danger. I thought suicide would be the only way to keep you safe and where I didn’t have to face IT again.”

“Bev saw visions of everyone's death, how we would all die if we ignored IT. She saw you in your bathtub, and ironically she saw me bashing my own head in with a law textbook,” you laugh awkwardly, changing the subject from his reasoning and proof that he isn’t alone in this. “IT found a way to get to us, no matter how strong we are or how far away from Derry we were. Do I think you and Bev had it worse because you two saw the deadlights? Yeah, I do. I’m sure you got memories back as IT was waking up, you saw the deadlights the longest. You never should have made it out of those sewers alive that summer, but I’m glad you did. That probably made you more susceptible to that rush of fear you got again. And I just want you to know that you aren’t alone Stan.”

“I’ve missed you,” his voice frail as he pulls nervously at the bottom of his button up. 

“It’s been two weeks Stan,” you try to ignore the warm fuzzy feeling growing in your stomach. “You couldn’t have missed me that much. Plus, you could have called to talk.” Stan takes a deep shaky breath, and you frown in concern at his actions.  

“I’ve loved you my entire life (Y/N), it’s been two and a half weeks and I can’t stand to be away from you,” Stan says earnestly, his words warm your broken soul. “Not for two weeks and three days, I don’t think I can even go a day without you near. I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“I love you too, Stanley Uris,” a grin spreads across your face, the joy mirrored in your eyes. “I knew I loved you the moment I got my first menorah necklace from you. It showed me just how special I was to you, you stood up to your father for me and you got me something that would forever remind the two of us of that moment.” 

Stan doesn’t say anything, he just leans forward and captures your lips with his. The kiss is electric, you swear there are fireworks, just like those cheesy movies. With your left hand you caress the scars on his head from all those years ago, and your right tangles into his styled curls. Stan’s hands grip your hips tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll float away if he lets go. When you pull apart your lips are tingling, both you and Stan panting heavily. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” Stan breaks the mood smiling shyly, causing you to laugh. “I kinda just threw stuff in a bag and got on the first flight out of Georgia, didn’t really plan ahead.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my Stanley?” you laugh lightly, his ears turning red at your teasing. “He would never leave the house without having a well thought out plan first.”

“What can I say?” his smile grows, and so does yours as you watch the dimple on his right cheek deepen. “Your spontaneity and want for adventure always rubbed off on me.”

“You can stay for as long as you want,” you lean in, gripping his shirt and pulling him into you. This kiss isn’t soft this time, it’s rough and needy. Twenty seven plus years of wanting this and it’s finally yours. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, you sure as hell weren’t going to complain about the amount of passion in it. The kiss was finally a way in which the two of you could express every deep and long buried feeling. 

--

It was four months to the day since Stan showed up at your doorstep, and the two of you had only been apart for a week the entire time. You couldn’t get away from work again so soon and Stan had to go back to Georgia to pack up his belongings. The apartment that you had resided in soon turned into a home, all thanks to Stan. You two invited the rest of the losers over to visit, figuring that you had settled into your new relationship so easily you didn’t want to hide it from your friends. This time there would be no IT, no life threatening tasks to complete, and it’s the first time in twenty seven years that you would all be together. What you don’t know is that Stan is planning a big surprise, with the help of the most important people in your lives. 

You run out to grab salsa from the store you swear you picked some in preparation for today earlier in the week, but Stan said there was none in the fridge. You drive as fast as you can, the losers club should be over within an hour, and you didn’t want them to beat you home. 

The apartment is strangely quiet as you swing the door open; Stan isn’t muttering to himself as he goes over a client’s finances, and he isn’t sitting at the table working on a puzzle. Where is your Stanley?

Before you can get too worried, your brain immediately racing to the possibility that he is in your bathtub, that seeing everyone after all this time was too much for him, Eddie appears from the kitchen. You go to guilty greet him, feeling bad for being a bad hostess and not being there when he and Richie arrived, bet the hypochondriac cuts you off. 

“Your smile that can light up a room,” he grins cheekily at you, like he knows something you don’t. 

“Your smokin’ bod,” Richie joins the two of you, his laugh ending when Eddie smacks his gut. “Fine, fine, your eyes that sparkle when you’re truly happy.”

“How incredibly smart you are, especially when you find holes in the other lawyers arguments,” Bev winks at you, you look around desperately for Stan. Where is he? And what's going on?

“Your perseverance, you always make the hard days look easy,” Ben walks out and wraps his arm around Bev’s shoulders.

“How caring and understanding you are,” Bill stands beside Richie, the grocery bag with the salsa in it, on the floor and long forgotten.

“And that your voice can calm me with just one word,” you furrow your brows at Mike. 

“Those are all things I love about you,” Stan’s gentle voice comes from behind you. You whip around to see his grinning face, no trace of fear or sadness from his past anywhere to be seen, only excitement for the promising future. “I could write a whole book of things that I love about you, but that still wouldn’t cover it all.”

“Stan?” your heart leaps at the glint in his eyes and the softness of his voice, things you want to experience for the rest of your life. 

“I love you (Y/N) (Y/L/N), with my entire being. I always have. When we were kids I knew I would marry you one day, I knew, even then, that there was no way I could live without you. So (Y/N)-” Stan pulls out a little black box from his pocket as he gets on one knee. 

“Yes!” you exclaim a little too loudly as soon as he flips the lid open. The diamond is sparkling up at you, your eyes fill with tears. 

“I didn’t even get to finish,” Stan pouts, humor and happiness twinkling in his eyes.

“I don’t care,” he laughs, sliding the one carat ring on your finger. It’s a perfect fit, meaning good luck through some old superstition. “Just kiss me.”

Stan shoots up from the ground, grabbing your cheek in one hand and caressing it softly, the other slipping into your hair. You pull greedily at the front of his freshly ironed button up as he deepens the kiss. A moan escapes one of you, and from the sounds of how deep it is, you’re sure it was Stan.  

“Get a room,” Richie wolf whistles, you and Stan pull away embarrassed. 

“I can't wait until I can finally call you Mrs. Uris,” he breathes, ignoring Richie, as he rests his forehead on yours. 

“Neither can I,” you close the distance and kiss him again, not caring about the audience, or the quiet sound of disgust from Eddie. Just because he makes out with Richie often, it doesn’t stop the thought of thousands of germs being passed back and forth when he sees someone else kiss.  

You finally get your happy ending with Stan, after all of those shitty years without him, you two will never be apart again. And there is no better way to start the rest of forever together than with the help of the losers, your chosen family.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

[animated-moon]

Good morning my little lamb! How was your sleep? I hope you have been getting more sleep since you haven’t been for the past week.

*blushes* if you really must know then yes, I do dream about you my moon *turns head away*.

About you though, some birdies on the team have been telling me about how you keep having mental breakdowns. Do you want me to come over? I know that it isn’t a full solution, but since you love me so much I figure I can at least make your day shine my sweets <3.

My day could’ve been better my lovely. Wakatoshi-Kun and Semi semi have caught me practicing when I wasn’t supposed to, and have lectured me for hours. I It wasn’t that bad though! It was only 3 and half hours of extra practice, I would’ve called you but then I would be risking getting you caught as well.

But how are you doing so far Mx.Tendou? Should I send over some chocolate milk to your place? Or just bring to you directly if you want me to come over?

Love you my paradise~

- your husband💜

ah, my sweetest! it’s been a while hasn’t it? i’m so sorry for responding to this much later than i usually do, but i know that you know things haven’t been the easiest lately :,) i’ll explain more at the end of this reply!

yup!! i’m getting more sleep than usual! all thanks to you, my lovely~ <3 oho? it was just a teasing statement, but now i’m curious. what do you dream of me? hmmm?

oh! you DARE go to extra practice WITHOUT ME? forget getting caught, my sun, i’d do practically anything to spend time with you <3 besides, i’ve been playing more volleyball recently (my thighs and arms are SORE :,) and i have bruises on my arm from the stupid balls, but SOON! i’ll be good enough to at least play in the court)

FROM THIS POINT ON IT WILL BE ME RANTING ABOUT MY PROBLEMS AND THERE MAY BE SENSITIVE TOPICS. PLEASE PLEASE DONT READ IF YOURE UNCOMFY. I DONT GUARANTEE ANYTHING

well,, about that. since we ARE wedded, and i’ve been running from my problems, i think it’s time to come clean to this. i’m not exactly doing well anywhere and my mental health has been far from okay. still better than many, though. i should really be grateful for that but i just can’t. anyways <3

also tendou anon: ily. the short version is just: i have insecurities and i am mentally unstable and i am being unnecessarily sad about it 👍👍 followed by me being stupid and having parental issues <3 summed it up in case you didn’t wanna read all t h a t

i’m having a series of small but important exams recently and i can’t say i’m really doing well in school either, so i’ve taken it upon myself to at least work hard and try my best to finish all my schoolwork, get enough sleep and still have time for some more relaxing things, like tumblr. i dont know if you know just how alleviating it is to see people pop into my ask box to chat or to request or just ANYTHING, which is why i really, really love and appreciate you (i’m getting off topic, let me steer back). well, anyway, how should i say this? tumblr has been like my escape from reality, like my paradise. somewhere i can be without having to meet already-made expectations, without having to pretend like everything in my life is fine and without having to simply pretend. lately i’ve been less and less active because of all the personal problems i’m facing, and i do apologize for that, although i know i don’t need to.. i just- gosh i don’t even know where i’m going with this at all.

since i’ve addressed my inactivity, i’ll talk about my mental health. it’s been months since i’ve had any insecurities popping out randomly to taunt me and pick at every single thing i do. since around the start of july, though, everything started falling back onto me. i started realizing and criticizing every little thing i did and myself as a person. recently it’s only gotten worse, and it’s disgusting for myself to doubt some of my closest friends and their friendship with me, but i cant help but think they’re all going to leave me for some newer, more fun and more interesting friend. after all, in reality, i’m just plain old me. i sound so unbothered by everything, i look unapproachable, i’ve even given up on almost every aspect of myself. why would they want someone like me, right? it’s stupid, and i shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts, but i can’t do anything about them. sometimes it feels like i give so much but they never give in return. i pick up their siblings from classes, i take time out of my already packed schedule to help them solve their boy problems, i always try my best to take their feelings into consideration. at least in my point of view, i did nothing wrong? did i? i don’t know why everything’s going wrong and why everyone’s slipping out of my lives when they’ve barely even been there.

tw//suic*de and de*th and starving and really bad parents under this

i’ve been suicidal since a few years back and i only have a single reason to live. that single reason is my one of my two best friends. he’s amazing in every way possible, and i don’t truly know what love is, but if i loved someone, it’d be him. he brought me out of my darkest times when i’d attempted suicide and we made a promise to both live on. we still do talk, but since he’s older and busier, these times just get less and less frequent, and i’m so scared to lose the one thread still tying me to the world.

and, my parents. i think they’re the largest contributing factor to my current situation. lord, i can’t tell you how many times i’ve passed out from exhaustion, being fucking forced to study for exams. how many times that woman has threatened to k*ll me and starve me for the tiniest things ever. in my entire life, no matter what happened to me, she’s never said a genuine sorry to me before. her nonexistent social awareness is almost funny, if it weren’t so fucking annoying. whining and babytalking with my dad all fucking day at max volume as if i weren’t in the house. all that slandering of the lgbtq+ community and being racist, all that shittalking about me as if i can’t hear them at all. all they know is how to be disgusting, manipulative shitheads, thinking theyre the boss of everyone and that they can order me around like im an inanimate object. IM EIGHTEEN, FOR FUCKS SAKE. IVE BEEN TAKING CARE OF MYSELF SINCE 13. LEAVE ME TF ALONE.

i just,, i dont know. fuck them, fuck everyone, fuck everything. i want to just end it all so bad but i know i’d just be more of a burden to everyone like that, or so i’d like to believe.

that is all. that’s the longest i’ve ever ranted in ages, lord. i won’t say i’m fine right now, but i won’t say i’m doing good. i’m just barely hanging in there, and i don’t know what else to say about this.

sorry for the long rant! i have lots more i’m upset about, but i’m not ready to share it with anyone yet, sorry. for anyone who actually read until this part, please just somehow ignore this. thanks

[silverblogs]

@dr-nero-is-god here’s your present for the gift exchange! I took the exchanging presents thing and expanded on it a bit. Sorry for the long post, I dont know how to put something under a cut on mobile, but I hope you like it :)

“Okay okay okay, it’s the most wonderful time of the year,” said Shelby, flinging herself down on the bed next to Laura, “which means.... drumroll please...”

The other five provided it with feet on the floor, and Shelby flung her hands up in a dramatic flourish.

“Presents!”

Since H.I.V.E. didn’t have normal school holidays at the end of every term, Nero seemed to consider it no great loss to their education to give the entire school time off for every religious celebration. It still amounted to less than half the holiday they would have at an ordinary school. So on Christmas Day, Otto, Wing, Shelby, Laura, Franz and Nigel were gathered in the girls’ room for secret Santa.

There was no legitimate way of getting presents at H.I.V.E., so when Otto had suggested secret Santa, it had been clear they would all have to rely on ingenuity. H.I.V.E.mind had given them all a name, and over the course of the last month, they had all found some way of getting a gift.

“Sounds good to me,” said Otto, “okay, everyone close their eyes, and one by one we’ll open them and leave the gift next to the person.”

The boys had all put their gifts inside their school bags to maintain the secrecy, and everybody closed their eyes while Otto deposited his present. One by one, all six of them left them, Laura last.

“Okay, all done,” she said as she sat down.

“I think we should be starting alphabetically,” said Franz with a grin.

The others laughed, and Shelby nodded.

“Go on then,” she said, looking at the cardboard box in front of him that was much too big to have fitted in anybody’s school bag, “we all want to see what’s in there anyway. Franz first.”

Franz lifted the lid of the cardboard box, and his face lit up. He pulled the lid further back to reveal a slightly messily iced, but still delicious looking gingerbread house.

“That is it,” he said, “I have already won.”

“Damn, you kinda have,” said Shelby, “who and how is what I wanna know.”

“Me,” said Laura with a grin and a wave, “I helped Mandy in the kitchens automate some of their systems and she let me come in in a free period and make it.”

“Thank you!” said Franz through a mouthful of the roof, “it is being excellent.”

“Ok, your turn, Laura,” said Nigel.

Laura tore open a small package to reveal a necklace with several tiny but quite definitely real jewels hanging from it. It wasn’t hard to guess who it might be from.

“Oh my god, Shel,” she laughed, “Ms Leon’ll kill you!”

The jewels were recogniseable as those that had been used as goals in the Maze during past lessons.

“Nah, I leave no trace,” said Shelby, “I put trackers on them when I got them in class, so when I returned them I know where she put them, then waited til the year above had a lesson in the Maze and stole them that night so they’re the suspicious ones.”

“Aww Shel,” Laura knocked their shoulders together, “you really put in the effort, didn’t you? Thank you.”

“Anything for my favourite geek,” she said, “my go?”

Without waiting for an answer, she tore open the tiny square at her feet, revealing a little black cube with a lens on one face, a screen on the opposite one, and two buttons and a joystick on top.

“I may as well reveal myself to explain,” said Otto with a grin, “point the lens at a lock and it’ll scan it for you, and show you an image on the screen. I built it in the professor’s lab.”

“Damn,” said Shelby, turning the cube over in her hand, then pocketing it, “and portable. Thanks Robotto. Maybe you’re my favourite geek after all.”

Laura shoved her lightly, and Shelby grinned and tossed an arm around her shoulders as Otto reached for his own package, small and flat. Peeling it open, he revealed an iPod, and a gasp went up.

“Okay, that’s definitely the most impressive so far,” said Nigel, “no offence everyone. Who got something from off the island?”

Wing grinned, and gave a small wave.

“How?” asked Otto, “we haven’t left since the hunt, and that was hardly an occasion to pop into the apple store.”

“I have my connections,” said Wing with a cryptic smile.

“Spill, big guy,” said Shelby.

“I simply asked Raven nicely.”

Franz choked.

“You were asking for Raven’s help?”

Shelby huffed.

“He just loved to rub it in that he’s her favourite.”

“Aww, someone’s jealous,” said Otto, pinching Shelby’s cheek.

She pouted at him and nodded to Wing’s dubiously wrapped present. He carefully peeled it open, and his smile broadened as he lifted out a tiny bonsai tree in a pot.

“I hardly need to ask whom I have to thank for this,” he said, turning his smile on Nigel, who turned pink.

“Well I heard you say Lao used to have a lot, and I thought you might like one. Miss Gonzales doesn’t let me experiment anymore, but she let me use the Violet spot again for a normal plant.”

“It is lovely, thank you,” said Wing.

“I wonder who Nigel’s could be from,” Otto said with a grin as Nigel picked up the envelope that had been left in front of him.

He opened it and read the slip of paper inside, then looked at Franz, shocked.

“You’re joking.”

“I am very genuine, my friend.”

Nigel broke into a huge smile.

“I beat you all,” he said, then read the slip aloud, “coupon, good for ten pieces of finance homework.”

Cries of jealousy filled the room for a few seconds, then gave way to laughter.

“Good idea Otto,” said Shelby, poking him with her toe, “this was fun.”

“Thought it might be,” said Otto, “happy Christmas everyone.”

***

Professor Pike came into the staff room to find Colonel Francisco and Ms Leon already inside, the Colonel drinking coffee and Ms Leon pawing at her tablet, grading essays. He avoided eye contact with Ms Leon, making a beeline for the colonel.

“Colonel,” he said as he hurried over, “I believe today is the day for secret Santa deliveries.”

“Well I must say this is very secretive, Theodore.” said Colonel Francisco, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, well, I didn’t just want to leave this lying around in a pigeon hole in case someone else picked it up, but Merry Christmas.”

He reached into one of his deep lab coat pockets and retrieved a pistol, handing it over grip first.

“I’ve already got a few of those.”

“Not like this one,” said the professor, eyebrows leaping in excitement almost to join his hair, “I call it the sandboy. Just like the sandman rifles, but condensed.”

The colonel eyed the pistol and grinned.

“Looks great,” he said, “though the name could use some work. Thanks.”

“Pleasure.”

“Professor.”

A French accented voice made him cringe and he looked down the table to see a small box sliding along it, pushed by a white paw.

“Merry Christmas.”

Even her synthetic voice conveyed her irritation at being given him for the staff secret Santa, but he gave a grateful if slightly fearful smile, and opened the box. Inside lay a grid of chocolates and a typed note.

Merry Christmas. Enjoy the chocolates - one of the many benefits of a human body.

“Thank you Tabitha,” he said weakly, inwardly deciding not to risk eating any of them.

She didn’t reply, and Colonel Francisco rolled his eyes.

“Well since nobody seems to care about the “secret” part of secret Santa, here’s yours, Tabitha.”

He slid a package down the table, and a terrifying flurry of claws and a few seconds later, a small cat outfit was visible on the table. Ms Leon gave as much of a glare as a cat can manage.

“I am not a pet, Colonel.”

“It’s an ISIS suit,” he said hurriedly, “tailor made.”

Ms Leon paused, then eyed the suit.

“It’s lovely,” she said, “and very useful. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

***

Raven stepped off the shroud’s ramp, heaving a sigh of relief. She hated going to Moscow on assignment - it was uncomfortably familiar and it always threw her off her game - but she had achieved her goal, and even completed the mission she’d been assigned along the way.

“Where do you want the cargo?” the pilot asked.

“I’ll have the crate now,” she said, “send the rest to the professor for analysis.”

“Got it,” he said.

A few seconds later he came back to the ramp with a crate, complete with penguin gift wrapping he hadn’t dared to ask about. She hadn’t lost the edge of fear with the staff, even if a few of her students were getting unacceptably unafraid of her - Wing had asked her to pick up a Christmas present! And she’d done it!

She took the crate with a nod of thanks, and set off in the direction of her quarters. She’d arrived back just in time for secret santa. She’d finally given in this year and agreed to participate. Much to her relief, she’d been randomly allocated Nero. She suspected H.I.V.E.mind had made that selection less than random so she wouldn’t bail.

Thankfully, she passed nobody in the corridors while carrying her festively wrapped gift. She reached her room without incident, and quickly changed, then put the crate in a suitcase. She had been lucky enough not to pass anyone on the way here, but it was a decent walk to Nero’s office. When she arrived, she let herself in - she was the only one who had that security clearance after the Contessa incident. Nero looks up from the work on his desk and smiled.

“Ah, Natalya,” he said, “was Moscow alright?”

She knew he hated sending her there, mainly because she hated to go there, but the business had been unavoidable. Besides, one of the only crates in the world of the kind she had in her suitcase resided there, in the home of an oligarch she’d broken into purely to get it.

“Fine,” she said, “I got it done.”

“You always do,” he said, “you can fill me in tomorrow. Is that for the professor?”

“No, the stuff is on its way to him already, this is for you. I’m just in time for secret santa, I think.”

She opened the suitcase and removed the crate, lifting it and nodding to the things on Nero’s desk, which he cleared to the side to allow her to put it down.

“I’m intrigued,” he said with a smile.

He took a letter opened from his pen pot and sliced along the top of the wrapping paper, then pulled it back to reveal a wooden crate, which he opened. Inside sat a dozen bottles of some of the rarest brandy in the world, and Nero’s face broke into a smile. The one bottle he’d gotten his hands on five years ago was almost empty, and he had despaired of finding any more.

“My dear, you’ve outdone yourself,” he said, “thank you.”

“My pleasure,” she said, “don’t drink it all at once.”

“Keep Mr Malpense and co. under control and I won’t need to,” he said wryly, “coincidentally, I am also your secret Santa, but this feels a little... well, little, now.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a box big enough to fit in the palm of his hand, perfectly wrapped. Raven tore back the wrapping paper to reveal a black box, and inside, a bracelet. It was soft, braided black leather, with two connecting silver angels’ wings as the clasp. It looked comfortable, the wings didn’t dangle inconveniently, and it wasn’t flashy, though Nero being who he was she was sure it was obscenely expensive - she’d never been a fan of jewellery, but this she would wear. She took it out with a smile and fastened it around her wrist, turning her hand to look at it.

“I saw something similar when I was last in London, and it made me think of the “guardian angel” joke everyone’s always making, so when I got you for secret Santa I had one made.”

“It’s lovely,” she said, “thank you.”

“No problem. Now, have a glass of this with me.”

***

Watching the cameras around H.I.V.E. as he always did, H.I.V.E.mind’s wireframe face curved into a smile. The secret santas were far from random, and organising them was the highlight of his year. Another successful Christmas at H.I.V.E.

[poeticandors]

Come What May Part 3

Poe Dameron x F!Reader (Moulin Rouge!AU)

Summary: You and Poe are sent undercover in order to gain information about the First Order and hope to recruit. But what begins to bloom as you and Poe continue to work closer throughout this mission? And, what happens when you happen to catch the eye of one of the most dangerous men?

Warnings: none in this chapter

A/N: Wooo finally got this chapter out! Hopefully you guys enjoy it! 

Part 1 Part 2

After a week or so, everything seemed to slowly work into place. No one bothered you after that day anymore, but constant bawdy gazes were still thrown your way. Sometimes it was hard, but you learned just to ignore it. Everyone who went to the Crimson Club knew not to touch you in that way now— they realized they still had the other girls, unfortunately, and they didn’t want to mess with you or the bouncers after how roughed up that guy got.

He hasn’t even come back since. 

A knock is heard at your door, and after checking your appearance, you move to press the button to allow access. Standing there was Poe, his hair slicked back and a navy blue suit— a new look compared to his black suits he had been wearing. Looking down at your dress, you realized you matched unintentionally with him. 

The last few days had been… more work based between you and Poe. He would still do his job— stand in the back of the main room and linger around while you talked to anyone who had information. But after that night, he’d seemed to become more protective of you, but the conversations between you both had been short. 

You wondered if it was because you asked him to undo your dress for you? It couldn’t have been that because he had offered to help you plenty of times and still did. Was it because he realized he called you sweetheart? Not that you minded, but you wondered why he suddenly called you that not once, but twice. Whatever it was, you wished things would go back to normal— or as normal as it could get in this situation. 

Deciding not to bring it up, you give him a small smile.

“Hey, how are you?” 

“I’m fine,” Poe nods, although you notice that it’s more stiff along with his posture and then you realize…

This was Tel talking. 

He steps to the side, and there you see two other girls who worked mainly as dancers giving you friendly waves and smiles. 

“Oh! Hi, Zoras. Hi, Tin.”

“Hi, Kyla,” Zoras said. You noticed right when you first met her the slight lilt in her voice— almost innocent. Had you met her randomly on the street, you wouldn’t have known she worked in a place such as the Crimson Club. 

“We just wanted to see how you were doing?” Tin smiles. 

Looking upon them, you would have been a fool not to notice how gorgeous they both were. The light blue dress of Zoras popped against the deep copper of her skin, and her dark curls bounced with every shake of her head. Tin’s red hair cascades over her fawn, freckled shoulders, to the middle of the waist of her black dress. No one was able to resist the urge to watch them as they danced upon the stage each night.  

Both girls had been the first to check on you as well as welcome you here after that night. They were both very sweet— they at least took the time to try and get to know you while others simply turned their noses up at you. Rix was another one who was friendly, at least you were thankful to have a few other people to talk with. You mentioned recruiting them to Poe, who agreed that they could be more trusted over others here at the club and he would send their information to the Resistance to get more in depth information.

“I’m fine, I was about to head down,” you smile, turning to Poe. “Tel was just getting ready to escort me to the club.” 

The girls look at Poe, who gives them a slight nod. “That’s right. Whenever you’re ready, Kyla.”

“Is it alright if we join you down?” Zoras turns back to you. 

“I don’t mind at all.” 

“Perfect!” Zoras smiles and loops her arm through yours, while Tin does the same. You begin to walk ahead, while Poe trails behind you three at a safe, close distance. 

“By the way,” Tin leans in close, whispering. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Manage to hold yourself back from jumping in the sack with Tel. He’s so handsome. I would have done it long ago.” 

The heat rises to your cheeks as you look away from Tin, “O-oh, well… I mean… his job—”

“Also allows him to have any of the services we all give out,” Zoras gives a cheeky grin, her dark curls bouncing as she tilts her head at you. 

“Well, not all of us. Our Untouched One, on the other hand…”

“Unless Tel over there pays the requested amount of credits.”

“No offense, Kyla, but I would have just given him the full session— no credits charged,” Tin snickers, while Zoras smacks her arm. 

As much as you try to force yourself not to, you turn back to see Poe still a few feet behind you. While you knew they were whispering, the hallway was empty— and you knew there was no way Poe didn’t hear what your friends were saying. His eyes connect with yours, and your suspicions are answered by the small smirk he flashes.

Cheeky bastard, you think, shaking your head as you head into the elevator. 

You, Zoras, and Tin press up against the back of the elevator while Poe stands in front of you— his back facing you three. An awkward silence fills the elevator, so you distract yourself by staring at the floor only until you feel Tin nudge her elbow against your ribs. Looking up, you see how the corner of her mouth quirks up and she nods her head forward, wiggling her brows. 

You follow her gaze, only to realize it was fixated on Poe’s… assets. Eyes widening, you quickly look away, hearing the faint giggle Tin was giving Zoras. Poe pretends not to hear, and quickly heads out of the elevator as soon as the doors open, looking both ways. 

“Alright, ladies,” Poe turns towards you. “It’s safe.”

“Thank you, Tel,” Tin bats her lashes as she walks past him. 

“Tin and I have to go get ready for the stage,” Zoras steps out of the elevator. “But we’ll see you later Kyla. Thank you for escorting us, Tel.” 

Poe nods, giving a friendly smile to Zoras as she walks down the hallway. You knew they were just teasing you, of course you did. So why did you get this overwhelming urge to glare at your friends? 

The stinging pain in both palms of your hands has you unclenching them— you didn’t even realize you were digging your nails into your palms in the first place. 

“Kyla? Are you ready?” 

Poe’s voice pulls you and you face him, your expression pinched as you nod. He furrows his brows, stopping you as you try to move past him. He gently grabs your arm, and all you can do is freeze at his touch. This time he says your name, not Kyla’s, in a mere whisper. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong. Why would anything be wrong?”

Poe studies you, and you do well not to give in to the look in his eyes. You know he is searching for something— some kind of hint  to let him know there is a problem. He raises his brow as the corner of his mouth lifts up and he releases you, stepping back while you fix the sleeve of your dress. 

“Like I said, nothing—“

“What, did you get jealous because of what Tin was saying?” 

He’s teasing. You know he is— the playful glint in his eye gives it away. It’s also the first sign of Poe that you’ve seen in the last few days. 

“Jealous?” You scoff. “What— why would I get jealous?” 

“You tell me,” Poe leans against the elevator doorway. 

A tense silence stirs between you both and while you did enjoy that Poe was actually talking to you, and not your alias, all you can do is shake your head and look away. 

“I have to go find Boz, he said he needed to talk to me.” 

“Of course.”

You move to walk past him, and only freeze when you hear him say your name softly. Not turning your head, you stay staring ahead through the hallway. Even when he walks up behind you, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

Because you didn’t want him to see just how much you love hearing him say your name.

He leans close, his breath fanning against your ear— a shiver crawling up your spine. “Be careful out there, apparently a larger group of First Order officers are supposed to be here tonight. I’ll be close by, don’t worry. Okay, sweetheart?”

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say, but calling you sweetheart for a third time definitely wasn’t it. And you definitely didn’t expect him to stand so close to you— close enough that his chest was almost pressed up against your back. All you had to do was lean back a little more, to feel him completely pressed up against you. 

Stop it, stop it, stop it!

“I know you will,” you quickly say. “You always are, I can count on that.” 

You didn’t even wait for him to respond, because you were already making your way out of the elevator, down the hall to the club— the faint sound of the music growing louder the closer you got to the door. Poe quickly manages to catch up, opening the door for you, and you see the same sight as you would every other night here. 

Making your way through the club, you push past the large groups until you spot Boz all the way at the bar. Poe moves close to you, shielding you from others as they all gawk at you. You always felt safe when Poe was near you, so you became more relaxed and paid no mind to the straying eyes. 

As you approach the bar, Boz turns to you, his face filled with glee. “There you are my darling!” 

He comes up, cupping your cheeks with his hands so lightly— like you were a delicate flower he didn’t want to bruise. 

Boz was actually a sweet man, and he did seem to show favor to you more than the others, some of which showed their displeasure at that. He did seem as though he was a bit protective of you, but also you believed it was mainly because of the situation— he didn’t want anything to happen to you before the right man came along with the highest payment.

You smile as Boz lowers his hands, “You said you wanted to see me?” 

“Yes!” He claps his hands. “We may have actually found someone who may be perfect.”

“Oh? What do you—“

“A gentleman has arrived,” he turns you to face the private booths. “See him there? The one in the black suit with the red handkerchief in his chest pocket.” 

You follow Boz’s gaze, until your eyes settle on a man taking a sip of his drink. His clean cut, golden blonde hair is perfectly gelled back— if there was a sliver of grey in his hair, you couldn’t tell. A few women, your coworkers, try approaching him but he simply waves them off, not giving them a chance to speak. By his appearance, especially the lavish black suit he was wearing, you knew he had to be of high status. 

“Who is—“

“Let’s go my darling,” Boz quickly pulls you away before Poe gets a chance to speak. 

Giving Poe a solemn look, you turn to follow Boz as he leads you through the crowd. As you get closer, a strange familiarity washes over you. You swore you’ve seen this man before. Maybe you’ve seen him around the club before and just didn’t notice him right away?

“Boz, do you know who he is?”

“Tyris Pic, made out of credits, mind you,” he chuckles. “Now, why don’t you work your charms on him, dear.” 

Your heartbeat quickens— you know what Boz wants you to do. Putting on your best smile and nodding, Boz grins before he walks up to Tyris while you stray behind him. 

“Hello Mr. Pic, how have we been settling?”

“Fine, thank you,” he says, each sound articulated with his smooth accent. You believed he might have been from Chandrila. 

You watch as he takes a drink, the liquid a bright blue like his eyes, which flicker over to you. He sets his glass down, leaning back into his seat. 

“Might I ask who this beautiful creature here is?” 

“Of course,” Boz simpers, stepping out of the way to reveal you. “May I introduce our Untouched One, our Sparkling Kyber… Kyla Tille. Kyla, my dear, this is—

“Tyris Pic,” the man says, straightening his suit as he stands up, holding his hand out. “Charmed.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Pic—“

“Please,” he gently takes your hand, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “Call me Tyris.” 

You put on a gracious smile, pulling your hand back as Boz claps his hands. 

“I’ll let you both get acquainted.”

As Boz walks off gleefully, Tyris motions towards the booth, waving down a server droid.

“May I interest you in buying a drink?” 

“If you insist.” 

++++++

Poe’s jaw tightens as he watches the blonde haired man wrap his arm just above your shoulders. He’d been watching you both for a while, since you walked away with Boz, and so far he doesn’t like what he’s seen. 

He doesn’t like the way the man is touching you. He doesn’t like the way he leans close to whisper in your ear. And he especially doesn’t like the way you laugh at something he says. 

Something about this guy— whether it was how he looked or just the smug grin he kept on his face— made Poe feel uneasy. 

Just as Tin walks by, Poe manages to grab her arm and pull her to the side. Tin smirks, leaning against the wall. 

“Well, I knew you would come to your senses—“

“Easy, Tin,” Poe releases her. “What do you know about that guy over there with Kyla?” 

“What makes you think I know who he is?” She raises a brow, crossing her arms. 

“You always walk up to the same men— you’re good with faces and names— mainly because you know which ones pay well and which ones won’t.” 

She narrows her eyes, an amused look on her face. “Glad to hear you’ve been watching me.”

“Tin,” Poe’s voice becomes stern and she gently pats his chest. 

“I’m teasing. But, I overheard Boz talking about some important guy coming in. His name is Tyris Pic.” 

Poe repeats the name a few times, stepping back. “Thanks, Tin.”

“No problem, but you might want to ease up a bit.”

“Ease what up?”

“Don’t want anyone to see just how jealous Kyla’s bodyguard gets when she is with other men, right?”

Poe’s mouth opens and closes, struggling to come up with coherent sentences. Tin gives a teasing laugh, stepping away from him. 

“Don't worry, your secret is safe with me,” she turns away, latching onto another man’s arm. “How are you today, handsome?”

Poe shakes his head, glancing over to the booth where you still sit with the man— Tyris. Now that Poe has a name, he needs to know exactly who he is. 

Poe asks another escort to watch over you while he heads to the fresher, and quickly leaves the club. Stealing glances both ways, he heads into a utility closet, where he pulls out his comm device. 

“Finn? Come in, Finn.” 

It takes a moment, but Poe let’s out a breath of relief when he hears Finn’s voice on the other end.

“Poe? I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. We got the information on the names you gave us: Rix, Zoras, and Tin? They—“

“We’ll get back to them, buddy. But I need your help, I got another name for you.” 

“Alright, who are we checking on, now?”

“What do you know about a Tyris Pic?”

++++++

FIC TAGLIST: @tintinwrites​ @sheridans-dynamos​ @agoldpixie​ @shakespeareanwannabe​ @starkiller-queen​ @netflixandsnuggle​ @nowheredreamer​ @blackhawklove​ @jennibradley​ @rewritingstars​ @chewymoustachio​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @spider-starry​ @roserrys​

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Dazed and Confused (Part 2)

Summary: Dean Winchester grew up wanting to be a cop. When he gets kicked out of the police academy on a fluke though, he turns to a life of crime. After breaking up with Dean and seeing him committing a crime in the act, the reader becomes an officer herself and eventually a detective. Four years after that day, the reader is sent undercover to figure out what Dean is up to. Only she has no idea how far Dean is willing to go to keep her from finding out the truth…

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 3,500ish

Warnings: language, scary situations, violence, murder, etc.

A/N: This series has been on Ao3 only for awhile now and I am finally reposting here as well. It’s not new but it may be new to you. Please enjoy!...

______

It didn’t take long in a town as small as Elk Ridge, Washington to figure out where Dean was staying. There were parts of the place that were laid out as you expected. Suburbia was near the one school. The main street housed almost all of the businesses. The lumber mill where probably most people worked was nestled near the east outskirts of town. There wasn’t a whole lot else there. If you wanted some peace and quiet, it was probably a quaint little place to stay.

Some homes were spread out far and wide though. The feds had set you up in place that made your college dorm room seem like a mansion, located on the west side of town. You had a few neighbors but they were nearly a mile down the road. It had plenty of privacy which was great for investigating but you weren’t a huge fan of the isolation personally.

Dean was to the north, in some old hunting cabin that he was slowly fixing up. At least that’s what Kat, the town gossip, told you. She’d always say hello to Dean when she saw him around and he was cordial back but he kept to himself for the most part. He worked at the mill and frequented the one garage that would special order car parts for him. For the most part though, you had no leads.

“Well,” you said, sitting in your car shortly after lunch, the sound of an Impala driving back towards the mill giving you an idea. “I don’t think you’ll mind if I do a little poking around, Dean.”

You drove to his place in less than ten minutes, seeing nothing in terms of security around the property. You parked your car a ways down the road and doubled back through the tree line and to the home. You went to the backdoor first and found it unlocked, opening straight into a laundry room that smelled of sweaty clothes.

“You really better not be some psychopath, Dean,” you mumbled, walking into his kitchen, finding it sparse but Dean had always liked to keep his spaces clean. You opened a cupboard, finding it crammed full, a smile on your face. “That’s more like it.”

“I told you to stay away,” said Dean, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. You turned your head over your shoulder, Dean right behind you, arms crossed. You stood up, spinning around and finding his hand in your jacket, shoving you through the backdoor.

“Dean, I-”

“I told you to leave me alone,” he said, clenching his one hand, twisting his body back like…

You dodged most of the punch but Dean had some weight behind it, knocking you to the ground regardless as he grazed your cheek. You stared up at him, moving to hit him in the groin when he dodged, getting his feet under your legs and flipping you onto your stomach. His hand caught your jacket collar and started dragging you on the ground, pulling your hood over your face.

“Be quiet,” he grunted, moving one hand away for you in time to see him open a shed door and push you inside.

“Dean!” you shouted, throwing your shoulder against the door the second it shut, the metal not budging. You were barely there more than a minute before you heard the Impala in the background tearing out of there.

Lawrence, Kansas

Two Days Later

“You’re off the case in case no one’s told you yet,” said John in the conference room at the station, sliding a cup of coffee over to you.

“I fucked up. I get it,” you said, staring at your statement for the hundredth time that morning. “I should resign.”

“You should take a leave of absence,” said John, taking the file away. “And go find Dean on your own.”

“Excuse me?” you said, John’s face hard set. “What-”

“He knew you were there. He had to. You checked in before you went to Dean’s place and somehow he randomly went home in the middle of his shift? I think he got tipped off. I don’t think we were ever supposed to catch Dean, kid. Just help give him a bigger rap sheet,” said John, leaning back in his seat. “Assaulted a detective. That’s not something people ignore. It gives him credibility for something bigger.”

“Yeah, and I’m the zodiac killer,” you said, John rolling his eyes. “Why would the feds-”

“Because we’re small town cops and they think we’re dumbasses,” said John. “Maybe we were but think about it. He saw you first on the street you said. An anonymous call came in saying where you were in that shed. He could have hurt you, killed you, but I think he’s the one that made sure you were found.”

“It’s too early in the day for a conspiracy theory, John,” you said, running your hands over your face, reaching for your coffee.

“Did Dean seem like the guy in his file?” asked John.

“Sorry, I didn’t think about it too much after he punched me in the face ,” you growled.

“He could have killed you Y/N,” said John.

“You know what? I’m calling in sick today,” you said, standing up and storming out.

“Y/N,” he said, grabbing your arm in the hall.

“I am done with the Winchester family. Leave me the hell alone.”

“Hey, open up,” Sam said for the tenth time that night, banging on your apartment door relentlessly. You growled as you got up from the couch and flung it open. “Good. You’re home.”

“Go away Sam,” you said, trying to shut the door, Sam simply pushing it back open. You groaned and walked back inside, Sam shutting the door behind him, dropping a bag on your table.

“I got you some of those Italian dessert things you like,” said Sam, leaning over the back of your couch, rubbing your shoulders. “I heard Dad gave you shit at the station today.”

“Dean didn’t kill me so he must be a good guy,” you said, glancing up at Sam, your swollen and bruised cheek on full display. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You sarcasm is duly noted,” said Sam, moving around and taking a seat next to you. “You got scared again, didn’t you, with dad saying that stuff.”

“Fuck, Sam, is that why you’re here? You think I need a babysitter?” you spat back at him, Sam keeping his face soft.

“Not every Winchester is trying to be an asshole to you this week,” said Sam, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “I’m sorry Dean scared you. I’m sorry my dad doesn’t understand that. He wants to believe that Dean is good so badly, he didn’t realize he was willing to let you get hurt along the way.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m taking his advice and taking a leave of absence while I figure out what to do with my life because I sure as shit suck at this job,” you said, grabbing a pillow but Sam ripping it away.

“Don’t hide. And don’t quit either. You like helping people, Y/N,” said Sam.

“I’m scared again, Sam. I can’t be scared and do my job. It doesn’t work that way. All thanks to your stupid jackass of a brother,” you said.

“Get pissed then. Shove it to Dean,” said Sam, your head cocking. “You heard me right. Catch him. He’s wanted now for an actual crime, right? Bring him in.”

“He’s your brother Sam,” you said.

“My brother who hurt us both badly, who did that to your face. You’re like my sister, Y/N. He doesn’t get to push us around and make us feel like crap anymore. We aren’t a pair of little kids,” said Sam.

“Alright,” you said with a sigh, Sam ruffling your hair. “You want to order a pizza and have one of our Dean bitch fests?”

“You read my mind.”

It wasn’t until Sam was passed out on your couch and you were crawling into bed hours later that no matter which way this thing turned out, you knew you had to find Dean. You grabbed your phone, typing out an email to John, requesting your leave of absence while you got your head on straight.

A text popped up as you put the phone down, your eyes glued to it.

Meet me at the place I told you I loved you. 15 minutes.

You swallowed hard, knowing it could be from anyone, could be meant for anyone.

The place you said it back.

“Fuck, Dean,” you said, running your hand through your hair, climbing out of bed. You tossed on jeans and a tee, pulling your jacket and sneakers on, staring at your bedside drawer. “Dammit.”

You opened it up, pulling out your gun and shoving it in the back of your pants, grabbing your phone and walking into your living room quietly. Sam was snoring heavily as you thought about waking him up. The thought quickly disappeared as you went past, slipping out of the apartment and out of the building.

It was cool, the streets quiet at nearly 3 in the morning. You were on edge the whole way down the few blocks to the park, walking as fast as possible towards the only playground in Lawrence. You didn’t spot him which was troubling. There was barely any cover there apart from the enclosed tower by the slide. He was either up there or you were early enough that you could use it for yourself.

A quiet whistle punched a gasp from you, your gun in your hands in the next second. You took a wide sweep, approaching over the bridge you remember falling off of and scraping up your knee as you laughed, climbing up the steps you’d sat on for hours talking with him…

You paused and took a deep breath, raising your gun up as you spun up the last step, staring into the dark tower top.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” said Dean, flicking a lighter on, a small light filling the space, showing his hard face, body sat in the corner all in black. “I’m not-”

“Turn around. Hands on your head. Cross your ankles,” you said, Dean staring blankly at you. “Now.”

“Am I being arrested?” he asked with a chuckle, setting the lighter down, crossing his arms.

“Yes. You have the right to remain-”

“I’ve been silent for four years. I’m getting tired of it to be honest,” he said, glancing at the empty spot across from him. “I figured this would be a safe place to meet up...considering you’re on leave now and everything, I don’t have to worry about keeping you up too late for work.”

“How do you-”

“We need to talk,” said Dean, nodding again. “If you want to cuff me to do that-”

“Turn around, hands behind your back,” you said, Dean glaring up but nodding his head. He did as told, his body more muscular than you remembered. You slid a pair of thick zip ties around his wrists, Dean turning back around as you backed up, sliding down into the spot nearby.

“You don’t need to keep pointing that gun at me,” said Dean. “I am cuffed.”

“Considering what happened last time I was with you, I’ll keep the gun out,” you said, Dean’s eyes flickering to your healing cheek, scrunching up his nose.

“Sorry for that,” said Dean. “I can’t be too careful nowadays.”

“Poor you,” you said, Dean straightening his shoulders. “Start talking.”

“How’s Sammy doing? He’s in his third year of law school, right?” asked Dean, your eyes blinking fast. “He’s okay?”

“Why do you give a shit about him?” you asked. “After what you said. It took him two years to tell me what you-”

“He’s my little brother. Of course I give a shit about him. You too. I never stopped,” said Dean, staring at your cheek. “You really don’t know how awful I feel about hitting you.”

“You got two minutes before I drag you down to the station,” you said, Dean leaning his head back against the plastic wall, wearing a sad smile.

“You became a cop. Junior Detective. Top of your class. Perfect scores on your exams. Your arrest record is flawless and you bring in bagels on Fridays from the shop on fourth with the little-”

“Are you a fucking stalker or what, Dean?” you asked, Dean shaking his head.

“It’s how I knew you sent that email to dad,” said Dean, glancing down. “I...I didn’t get kicked out of the academy, Y/N. I...transferred if you want to think of it like that.”

“Transferred to what,” you growled, Dean scrunching up his face.

“Agent Winchester. FBI. Special Undercover Unit. It’s not really common knowledge it exists. We don’t go through the normal training academy. You work undercover so they keep you separate from almost everything. It’s why the FBI, the people I work for, sent you after me,” said Dean. “Well, they needed to build up my credibility but that’s not the point.”

“You’re saying you’re a federal agent,” you said, Dean nodding. “I’m Mary fucking Poppins while we’re at it.”

“How do you think I know shit I shouldn’t Y/N? I can hack into your computer, accounts. Your credit score is 740 by the way,” said Dean, cocking his head.

“You work for the government,” you said.

“I’ve been working one job for four years now, Y/N. I’ve done bad things but I’ve never hurt anyone. But I got a bit of a promotion recently and...somebody on my team is dirty. They’re working with the guy we’re trying to catch and I’m about to throw years of my life away to catch the dirtball. I need help. From someone I can trust,” said Dean.

“They teach officers to know when people are lying you know,” you said, Dean laughing.

“Then you know I’m telling you the truth,” said Dean. “I had to cut myself off from my life and hurting you and Sammy was the one sure fire way to stop you two from coming after me. I’m not asking for forgiveness, Y/N. I just need to bring down this guy and then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of your life.”

“Sam gets fucking nightmares over the shit you said to him about your mom, Dean. You fucked him up. Both of us up,” you said. “Everyone you ever cared about over what? A job?”

“I agreed to do this on one condition and only one fucking condition so you can back the fuck off,” spat back Dean, trying his best to relax. “The guy I’m trying to stop, the guy I’ve been trying to stop for four years? He’s the one that killed our mother. I know I have done a lot of things but she deserves that the guy who killed her goes down. That is why I am doing this.”

“How can I believe any of this, Dean? How?” you asked. “What proof do you have?”

“If you don’t believe me, feel free to shoot me right here and now. Say whatever story you want, no one will care. Hell, dump my body if you want. I threw away everything to try and do the right thing for her, to stop this guy from doing it to someone else. If you think I’m nuts or making it up, go ahead and pull the trigger. I can’t do this on my own. Not when I can’t trust my team. I don’t deserve your help. But I’m begging for it, Y/N,” said Dean. “Just help me catch the son of a bitch.”

“Was it you at the bank four years ago?” you asked, Dean nodding his head. “Why’d you say you’d kill me?”

“I thought you’d understand,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a threat, Y/N. I knew once I saw you looking at me you’d figure out it was me. I was...don’t you remember that movie? We watched it a million times. The bank heist one. The undercover cop says it to his girlfriend at the bank...it was code that he’d make sure nothing happened to her, she’d be okay.”

“You expected me to remember a stupid movie scene during one of the most frightening moments of my life?” you barked, Dean shrugging. “I didn’t get that message, Dean.”

“I know. I know,” he said. “I couldn’t say, ‘hi honey, long time no see. I’m working this super secret undercover job and I gotta do some bad stuff for a little while but I love you and I’m not going to hurt you and I’m not the bad guy. Bye!’ It’s not how this works.”

“What were you doing in Washington,” you said.

“Testing a theory. I was trying to figure out who on my team is responsible. Nobody showed any tells though so nothing came of it,” he said. “I didn’t know they’d put you on it. Hoped but couldn’t know for sure. You just went through your secondary undercover training so I played the odds on that one.”

You lowered your gun, letting it rest by your side, tucking your knees into your chest.

“It wasn’t your fault either,” he said, your chin resting on your knees, eyes darting over to meet his. “Telling you and Sam those things...that was one of the worst days of my life.”

“Why did we meet here Dean,” you said quietly, Dean smiling.

“This was stop number four on the best date ever. I told you I loved you for the first time over by those swings. You said it back when you remembered how to speak,” he said, staring at his lap. “Figured this place is lucky for me. Less odds of you shooting me on sight.”

“There are so many things I should do right now,” you said, grabbing your gun in one hand, his arm in the other.

“Y/N,” said Dean, a crack in his voice as you pulled him down the stairs and onto the wood chip covered ground below. “Please don’t turn me in. I have to…”

You snipped his zip ties, grabbed them and walked over to a nearby trash can, tossing them inside. Dean was staring slack jawed at you, stuck in place while you wandered over to the swings, taking a seat on one.

“Y/N,” said Dean, standing in front of you while you kicked at the ground.

“You know, Sam and I have this sort of vent session about you sometimes. We basically bitch about everything we hate about you,” you said, Dean gulping. “Every single time, just like the one we had tonight, we always end up talking about good memories and how we hope we’re both so wrong and that you’re still good and something crazy is going on. Now that’s it happening, I can’t believe it’s real.”

“Y/N, I’m-” said Dean, letting out a oomph before he hit the ground, your gaze moving from the ground upwards, Sam panting over Dean’s unconscious body.

“Sam what-”

“He’s a dumbass,” said Sam, bending down, tossing Dean over his shoulder. “We got to move to a secure location.”

“Sam! What is going on?” you asked, Sam nodding for you to follow. “Sam!”

“Dean’s a good guy, Y/N. Loyal to a fault. To a fault, Y/N . He’s getting setup,” said Sam, walking away from the playground, you hot on his tail.

“Sam,” you said, tugging on his arm.

“Dean’s got his facts wrong. He never should have dragged you into this,” said Sam. “But you’re in it now so you better come with us.”

“He had nowhere to turn he said. He-”

“The guy at the FBI Dean is investigating? It’s the guy who killed our mom. He works for them. He’s on the team Dean works on. He’s setting Dean up to take the fall for everything he’s ever done,” said Sam.

“How do you even know that?” you asked, a million more questions flooding your mind.

“Y/N. You weren’t the only one that went into law enforcement when Dean went off the rails,” said Sam, your head cocking, Sam breaking into a soft smile for a brief moment. “Agent Winchester. FBI. Internal Investigations.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[storiesforallfandoms]

hideaway ~ jesse pinkman; el camino

word count: 2822

request?: no

description: when his car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, jesse find shelter with a woman who doesn’t judge him for his past

pairing: jesse pinkman x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mention of abuse, smut

(I can’t find any El Camino gifs yet and it makes me sad so here’s one from Breaking Bad since it technically is also kinda from El Camino)

Jesse thought he was home free as he drove as far away from Albuquerque, and from the horrors he had to endure. However, he was sadly mistaken when Badger’s Fiero started to sputter and slow down. He noticed the gas gauge hovering over empty.

“No, no, no, no,” he said. When the car finally came to a stop, he hit the steering wheel in frustration. “Shit!”

He got out of the car and looked around. There wasn’t even another house for what seemed like miles. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He wasn’t about to try and hitchhike anywhere, not with his face and name plastered everywhere as “Wanted”.

He decided to hope that Badger may have a gas can in his trunk just in case of moments like this. As he popped the trunk and went looking (to no avail), he heard a car pulling up behind him. His heart began to race and he really hoped the person would just drive along and not stop to ask for help.

He cringed when he heard the engine cut and a car door open then close.

“Hey! You alright?”

Jesse reluctantly closed the trunk and turned around to see that the friendly passerby was a woman. She was approaching him, and he really didn’t want her to get any closer.

“I ran out of gas,” he responded, trying not to meet her eye. “Didn’t realize my tank was so low.”

“Well, you’re pretty shit out of luck. There’s not another gas station for god knows how long. You’re essentially in no man’s land,” the girl responded. “You got a gas can or anything?”

Jesse shook his head. “Nope.”

She whistled. “Yeah, you’re really shit out of luck. Where are you headed?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Just trying to get out of town, get away from my past.”

The girl nodded. “Well listen, I know we just met and all, but I live maybe 20 minutes away. If you want, you can stay to my place the night and we can see what to do about your gas in the morning. You can leave your car here, nothing will happen to it. You’d be shocked how many people have been in your same predicament before.”

Jesse really wanted to turn down the offer. For all he knew, this girl was setting him up to be caught. But then again, he believed her when she said there wasn’t another gas station anywhere close, and he couldn’t just stay in the car hoping someone would pass by with a gas can. It’d be a bigger risk than going with this girl.

Finally, he nodded. The girl smiled slightly and nodded towards her car. Jesse followed her, getting into the passenger seat. He sank down just enough that he wouldn’t seem all that recognizable if a cop should pass by them while they drove to the girl’s place.

“You’re pretty trusting,” Jesse commented. “Asking a guy you just met if he wants to stay the night. I could be a crazy serial killer or something.”

The girl chuckled. “I guess that’s right. So, in case you are a serial killer, I should let you know that I have a knife hidden in a strategic place just in case.”

Jesse raised an eyebrow. Smart girl. Although, he couldn’t help but wonder where this “strategic place” was.

She pulled into the driveway of a very small house. She didn’t have any nearby neighbours, which was definitely a good thing for Jesse. He was still very weary of this girl. He couldn’t tell what her game was. She had to know who he was, everyone did. His name was being broadcasted far and wide, police were looking for him everywhere. He was having trouble believing she didn’t know who he was.

She got out of her car and went to unlock her door. He followed her, making sure to keep his head down just in case anyone happened to be passing by.

Her house was very small, definitely perfect for someone who seemed to be living there alone. She threw her keys on a nearby table and shrugged off her jacket, discarding it on the couch as well.

“My couch is a pullout, you can sleep there if you want,” she said. “I’ll just have to grab some blankets and a pillow for you. Feel free to eat whatever is in the kitchen.”

She disappeared down the hall for a moment before returning with some blankets and a pillow. She started pulling the couch out into a bed for Jesse while he watched her. When she had the bed set up, she looked back up at him.

“What?” she asked.

“Do you know who I am?” he finally decided to ask her.

She raised a confused eyebrow at him. “You’re the poor fool that broke down on the side of the road. Should I know you?”

Jesse could tell she was being serious. Somehow, she actually didn’t know who he was.

“No, no sorry forget I said that,” he said. “Thanks for letting me stay here the night.”

“It’s no trouble,” she shrugged. “If you need me, my room is down the hall to the left.” She turned to start walking away, but paused to call over her shoulder, “The name’s (Y/N) by the way.”

~~~~~~~

The minute Jesse’s head hit the pillow he was out like a light. He slept so solid for the first time since he showed up on Skinny Pete’s doorstep, he didn’t even hear (Y/N) get up and start cooking breakfast the next morning. He finally woke up on his own to hear a TV on in the distance. He didn’t pay much attention to it until he heard his own name.

“Authorities are still looking for Jesse Pinkman, who may now be driving a Ford Thunderbird that was once owned a friend of Pinkman’s. According to our insider, Pinkman made a stop to this friend’s house once he escaped and left soon after before the police managed to track down his original get away car, an El Camino.”

Jesse got up and followed the sound of the TV to the kitchen, where he found (Y/N) leaning against a counter watching a small TV she had tucked away in a corner. The first thing he noticed was that she was dressed only in a silk looking robe. However, he was more distracted by the news report she was watching than what she was wearing.

(Y/N) looked over her shoulder, as if sensing his presence. Jesse wasn’t sure what his next course of action should be. He definitely wouldn't get far on foot, but if he left with (Y/N)’s car he’d be caught just as fast. It felt like he had no real options, just to hope he could convince her not to call the cops.

Neither one of them spoke for a while, but when (Y/N) did break the silence, Jesse was shocked by the first thing she said. “Did they really keep you in a cage?”

Jesse winced at the memory. “Yeah...yeah they did. They’d take me out but only if I was chained up, or if I was aware that if I ran they’d kill me.”

“For...for how long?” she asked him.

“Too long,” he responded. “So...is this the point where you turn me in?”

(Y/N) switched off the TV. Jesse glanced at the phone, which right next to (Y/N). He was waiting for her to make the call. He knew there was not much else he could do if she decided to.

“No,” she responded, surprising him. “You’re safe to stay with me as long as you need. My family lives a few hours away and they don’t visit without letting me know first, I’m not exactly friendly with my neighbours so they don’t just pop over for a visit. I can run to the gas station and see about your gas.”

“Why?” Jesse asked. “You could get in a lot of trouble for helping me.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “I’m not turning you in when you’re the victim in this situation. The cops won’t listen to a thing you say, they'll never believe you. They’ll place the blame on you with whatever substantial evidence they can come up with and throw you behind bars just because they can. I refuse to let that happen.”

She looked away from him and crossed her arms. Jesse was shocked by her outburst, and knew it came from somewhere personal. He approached her slowly, lightly touching her arm. She reluctantly looked up at him again.

“Did something happen to you?” he asked. He wasn’t quite sure why he cared so much, but he suddenly felt protective over this girl. She was kind enough to open her home to him, to keep a fugitive in her home when she knew how much trouble she could get into if they were caught. She had known him for one night and already made him feel safer than anyone he had known for longer, his own parents included.

A single tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. “I had this ex...he used to go out and get drunk with his buddies and when he came home he’d be violent. Usually if I was asleep he’d just go right to bed, but if I was awake for any reason he’d find a reason to hit me - would say that I looked at another guy in a flirty way and he didn’t like it, that I treated him like garbage, that I talked back to him. Any reason, he’d use it. He’d wake up in the mornings and look at my bruises and tell me that he hoped it taught me a lesson. It got to a point where I was walking on eggshells around him, I felt like I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t go anywhere, like I had to bend to his every whim in order to make it all stop.”

She looked down at the floor, the pain from the memory written across her face. “One night, I was in the kitchen making lunch for the both of us for the next day. He got home a lot earlier than I expected. He yelled at me because he didn’t like what I was making and tried to swing at me. I had a knife in my hand and finally decided to fight back. I stabbed him, yelled at him to get the fuck out and never return, that I’d have his stuff on the front doorstep in the next morning. For a minute, I thought it worked...until his lawyer showed up on my doorstep with an assault and attempted murder charge. Claimed that I randomly went insane and tried to kill him after he went out to a ‘friendly dinner with some work pals’.”

Jesse was so invested in his story, he started feeling very angry at this unknown ex-boyfriend. He wasn’t a violent person, despite the shit he had gone through recently, but he knew that if he ever happened to find out who this guy was he might not be able to stop himself from giving him an impromptu visit.

“He took me to court, cried crocodile tears, showed off the scar I gave him, claimed that I supposedly ruined his life because of it even though it happened like a week prior. I kept my composure, explained everything he did to me to the court, said that I only stabbed him in self defence. I even had some bruises from a previous time that I showed everyone. His lawyer claimed I gave them to myself to win over the jury’s sympathy. The jury, which was 80% men, were on his side and it looked as though I was going to jail, until our neighbour...our male neighbour, took the stand to admit he had heard the abuse many nights. Said that he called the police but nothing was ever done. I don’t know if they ever showed up at our door and my ex chased them away, or if they just didn’t care. After that, I was ruled innocent and he was charged with domestic abuse. Was served a measly year long sentence and got probation not even 6 months in. I filed a restraining order when I heard he was getting out and got the hell out of Dodge so I’d never have to see him again.”

Her story lingered in the air. It was silent besides the TV, now playing a story that wasn’t about Jesse. (Y/N) refused to look at Jesse as she bit back her tears. She shook her head, although wasn’t sure what she was shaking it about; in anger? To erase those memories that she was still struggling with?

“The system is so corrupt,” she finished. “If you’re not a rich man, they’ll rule against you. I’d never send you out to be a part of that, to be wrongfully convicted of something you never did. I wouldn’t let you go through the bullshit I did.”

Jesse gently touched her chin with his hand, causing her to look up at him. Her beautiful eyes were full of tears as she looked up at him. He wiped them away and cradled her face in his hands.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” he said. “I’m glad you got out of that situation, and I’m grateful that you’re letting me stay here even if it would get you in lots of trouble.”

She smiled. “It’s the least I can do. Besides, if I get to wake up to see stuff like this every day, I’m not too mad about it.”

She eyed Jesse’s naked torso. Although he wasn’t in the best of shape, and he had scars on his body from the torture he endured, he looked incredibly hot. (Y/N) was having a bit of trouble keeping her eyes off him.

Jesse chuckled slightly. (Y/N) looked up at him again and, feeling bold, leaned up to press her lips to his. Jesse was taken back at first, his knee jerk reaction being to push her away. (Y/N)’s face turned a bright color of red as she looked away from him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. That was super inappropriate.”

Jesse took her face in his hands again and pulled her back to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply and passionately. He held her tightly to him, never wanting to let go. He grabbed her ass, picking her up and placing her on the counter, never once breaking their kiss. She wrapped her legs around his waist, now trapping him against her completely.

Jesse moved his hands over her thighs, sending chills through her body. When he got close enough, he came to realize that she really was wearing nothing but the robe.

Her hands traced the hem of his jeans, as if debating on whether or not she should try to take the jeans off. Jesse beat her to it by unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them, along with his underwear, down just enough to free what it was (Y/N) was looking for.

She gasped against his lips as he pushed into her. It had been so long since she had been intimate with anyone, it took her a moment to get used to him inside of her.

“Am I hurting you,” he asked, looking at her with his beautiful blue eyes full of concern.

She giggled. “No, I’m fine Jesse. Continue at your own pace...please.”

He smirked slightly at her begging and began to thrust into her. Her hands curled against his back, just narrowly avoiding his scars. He hissed in pain at first as her nails dug into his back, the sting far too familiar, but soon enough the pain turned into pleasure.

Both of their moans filled the house. (Y/N) put her head against Jesse’s shoulder, her eyes almost rolling in the back of her head with pleasure as she clung to him. It didn’t take her long until she was hitting her climax. Jesse kissed her deeply again as he felt himself nearing his own.

They were both tangled together for a long time after it was all over. (Y/N)’s robe had come undone and fallen open, leaving her completely exposed. Both of them had a slight sheen of sweat over them. They both pulled away from one another, fixing themselves up.

(Y/N) sighed. “I’ll have to sanitize this entire counter before I can make breakfast.”

Jesse chuckled. “Sorry, my bad.”

“I mean, I wasn’t completely complaining,” she responded, winking flirtatiously back at Jesse.

He smiled, suddenly feeling very happy about his current living arrangements.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 1x6 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

It’s been literal months since my last rewatch, and you guys were obviously not satisfied with my randomly dug-up first impression of the show that I posted a couple of days ago to make up for the lack of reviews, so here I am with another one. Today we’re delving into the penultimate episode of the first season. I have completely forgotten what to expect, so this will be almost like a first time watching. Here we go:

Oh, that’s right. I remember now. This is one of the parts that I loved most from the original book, and it’s a really important moment in the show as well, one of the parts that were satisfyingly closely adapted. It’s the time when Minnie May is ill and Anne is the only one who can help. A very dramatic scene, and a crucial one for DiAnne’s friendship after they were forbidden to fraternise in the previous episode. 

Wait, Aunt Josephine was there? This is the situation in which she appears first? I had forgotten and I honestly thought it would have been something different. Apparently I’ve forgotten that at first she didn’t act like the cool old lady we’ve since come to love.

I’ve always thought it was incredibly impressive how Anne immediately knew what was happening to Minnie May from just a vague description of the symptoms. Her difficult childhood experience comes in handy sometimes, I guess. That’s at least a slight silver lining to it. 

I love how fiery, passionate Anne transforms into a sound, sane, level-headed nurse when Minnie May needs to be taken care of. It just popped into my mind - does Gilbert know about this? And how come it was never brought up in later seasons?

In my commentaries on the third season, I've said more than once that Minnie May was like God - she often fixed whatever trouble and misunderstandings the older characters would get in. Now I see she’s doing it again, in a way - her illness and Anne helping her get over it is what convinced Diana’s parents that Anne is a very good person and a suitable friend for their daughter after all. I wonder where everyone would have been without this little one. 

“It’s a big world, son.” It is indeed, and Gilbert will see at least some of it - but at what cost, really, at what cost? Having never lost a parent, nor a loved one of another kind, I can’t possibly imagine the pain this boy would go through later in the series. Now, seeing John Blythe on his deathbed breaks my heart. 

It’s amazing how much some people need to forgive. Accidentally get her daughter drunk, and you’re the devil. Save her other daughter’s life, and you’re suddenly a saint. I was never a big fan of Eliza Barry, and, well, this case is not helping. I mean, it took so much for her to forgive Anne’s minor innocent mistake. I can’t help but wonder - how much would Jerry have had to do to get her approval, had things not turned out the way they did (I’m referring to both his eventual falling out with Diana and the unjust cancellation of the series here #renewannewithane)? How many favours would he have to do her family before she would have been able to forget his origin? I guess we’ll never find out now. Unless... #renewannewithane

Anne seemingly equating herself and Diana to Josephine and her “companion” makes me suddenly see why people ship them romantically, although I personally don’t. I mean, neither Anne nor Diana knew at the time what exactly Josephine’s relationship with her partner was like, but still, for me as a second-time viewer, the subtext is certainly there. 

Diana’s prospective future as the wife of some “wealthy, handsome gentleman” could very well have been foreshadowing to her eventual marriage to Fred Wright in the books, but it is a bit of an ironic statement in the series where she first went for Jerry, who, to quote Aunt Jo from earlier, is “one, but not the other”. But I’m getting carried away here. 

Listen, I dislike Mr. Philips as much as the next person, but he’s sort of (unwittingly?) acting as a matchmaker for Anne and Gilbert, like teachers sometimes do. By making none other than Anne go give him his school materials every day, he is making them interact even when Anne might otherwise have chosen not to. So that is one good thing he’s ever done. I’m keeping score from now on. 

Anne’s sudden realisation that when Gilbert comes back to school, he will likely be an orphan, reminds me of her reaction later when it happened. And it’s not so much later either. Having been an orphan all her life, she seems not to realise quite how much he’s going through. Gilbert has been forced to become an adult all of a sudden by his father’s death, but Anne still has a lot of growing up to do.

John Blythe’s funeral is an odd contrast to Mary’s Easter which would come later - both are people Gilbert loves dearly, both deaths make him grow as a person, both die of an illness - but while his father’s funeral and the days before it are gloomy, dark and achromatic, Mary goes with a smile on her face, surrounded by her big family, in the middle of a colourful festivity. I don’t know why I’m commenting on this right now, I just suddenly became aware of the parallel and simply had to point it out. 

The snowflake that thaws on Gilbert’s palm and slowly rolls down reminded me of a tear - a tear that didn’t roll from his eyes. It might as well have been meant to symbolise that precisely. If that’s the case, job well done.

The blue ribbon that Anne wears now - John Blythe gave it to Marilla... I wonder if Anne was ever made fully aware of what exactly went on between her adoptive mother and Gilbert’s father when they were young. I mean off-screen, of course. 

Much better off than you were? I don’t think so, Anne. I mean, of course she might be right to a degree, but right now Gilbert’s pain is something she can’t comprehend. She shouldn’t try to. She shouldn’t assume she does. Being an orphan is not something to pass on “extensive knowledge” about. It’s an experience that everyone goes through differently. Saying Gilbert is lucky was definitely not the right thing to do. Not right now at least. But I should stop saying how I think Anne should have reacted, or I might come off as hypocritical. I’ve never experienced what either of them has, after all. Moving on.

It seems Aunt Jo has become the cool old lady we know and love. Her conversation with Anne in the clubhouse reminds me so much of the one they had at the end of season 3. I think that one was, in a way, meant to parallel this one. Of course, I’m not going to try and reinvent the wheel here, I just think it’s beautiful how subtle this show is when it comes to foreshadowing and callbacks, even to a viewer who goes into it having read the books first. I’m glad I get to rediscover this now when I’m rewatching it, and my reactions get to be a mix of re-encountering forgotten details, judging earlier episodes with regard to what happens in later ones, and just overall basking in the magic of AWAE once again. 

Anne wanting to be a bride but not a wife is so novel yet so relatable all at once. I mean, don’t get me wrong - I don’t want to be a wife, nor a bride myself, but I can definitely see why a girl, especially in Anne’s time, but even today as well, would want to walk down the aisle wearing a white dress without being burdened with the conservative version of a wife’s duty. 

Anne’s first encounter with Aunt Jo happens in such a different way from the book, but it’s even better, the way I see it. 

Anne is so unapologetically feminist and I’m all in for it. This character is so important even today, and it was so horrific to see her story cut short over trivial issues. #renewannewithane

As both Anne and Ruby are rambling away and Diana is trying her best to say the proper things, I figure Gilbert must think, at least for a moment, about how weird and incomprehensible girls are. And with Anne’s especially apropos mention of the word “wife”... I can just see his eyebrows doing the confusion dance - you know, despite the pain he must be in. 

I just love how Gilbert never even remotely hides his great respect and admiration of Anne. And even though there are underlying feelings of a different kind here, I’m quite sure he would respect and admire just as much any other intelligent, independent young woman deserving of it. Meanwhile, Billy has shown that he’s just a misogynist of the worst kind, no matter if the girl is an “ugly” orphan or a conventionally attractive girl with both parents alive and a substantial wealth. I don’t mean to deem anyone incorrigibly bad, but I do think Billy might as well be. 

What about “Gilbert’s father just died and you’re still acting like the petty little misogynist you are” doesn’t Billy get? I know what Gilbert did was sinking to his level, but I believe he deserved every bit of it. 

I wonder - I might have forgotten - if Gilbert knew before this conversation with Marilla, about the kind of relationship she and his father had. I wonder how much of it he found out from this conversation.

Ah, here we go, the Shirbert written communication begins. And it doesn’t begin very smoothly - as if to foreshadow how many bumps on the road its future holds. 

See, Josephine would have liked very much to be married to Gertrude - only the times she lives in wouldn’t allow it. She is of the marrying kind - just not of the conventional wife kind. And that’s beautiful, and exactly what Anne aspires to be - and will be one day, of course. She has done a good, nay, brilliant job choosing a role model.

To sum up this episode: Minnie May’s illness brings DiAnne back together; Aunt Jo’s first appearance is a meaningful one, as expected; John Blythe’s last days and the aftermath of his death; an important detail of Marilla’s past; thoughts on what it is to be a wife; Shirbert’s written communication begins, very clumsily, of course. 

[golden-buddle]

Kind Eyes

Mary's earphones blared as her feet hit the leaf-covered sidewalk.

She wasn't one to actually go jogging, but her brother, John, had managed to convince her to at least try. Apparently, there was a fifty-mile long marathon happening next spring, and John had wanted to win the prize. The problem was, it was a team race. And he didn't know anyone else who could go with him.

So here she is, running down the sidewalk and trying to avoid getting the song John gave her stuck in her head. But knowing her own luck, she probably shouldn't even try as it's probably embedded itself into her brain by now.

A small puff of air blew past her lips as she turned the corner, leaving her neighborhood behind as she entered the business part of her town.

Wasn't much there, just less leaves to purposely stomp on and more people lingering around the stores.

A majority of the people were teens, but the ones that weren't either kept to themselves or had a cardboard sign propped up around themselves.

Mary kept her eyes up as she got closer to the scattered homeless group. Most of them already had people chatting with them, dropping quarters to dollar bills into their cups or hats.

Her shoulder's tightened as she continued down the road, there was a reason she kept telling herself to stop bringing her wallet with her, and that was because there was always at least one person here that-

"Spare some change, Miss?"... had no one near them.

She very briefly debated just ignoring his voice and blowing past him, but the white cane laying on the cold concrete beside him had her stopping. And the sunglasses on his face had her pulling out her earphones and wallet.

"Thank you, miss." The hooded man smiled as Mary placed a few coins into his gloved palms. As his bare fingers wrapped around the coins, Mary smiled back, trying to meet her own eyes with the eyes behind the man's sunglasses, his hair was pulled back into a beanie, and the previously mentioned hoodie covered said beanie. Definitely a weird outfit, but not too odd in the fall. Or on a homeless man.

With a quick smile and, "Your welcome!" She was jogging away from the man and plugging her earphones back into her ears.

It took her a block to realize the man had no way of knowing that she was a woman, and it took her less than a second to groan at the realization.

No wonder he had no one near him, his act was horrible if he met everyone with 'miss' or 'mister'. She was just the lucky one to fall for it.

A quiet huff escaped from her chest as she winced. Well, no use going back. The man obviously was not going to give her her money back. And besides, if he really is homeless and he's being forced to use that horrible disguise, he probably does need it.

Doesn't make her less happy about it, though.

With another huff, she returned to her jog. Fifty miles is a long way, and she needs to be able to easily do it. John's counting on her, and she isn't going to let him down.

Still, even though it was already late in the day, it took her until sundown to get back to her house.

The next evening, she was back on the same route again, listening to the same songs and trying to avoid running into anyone.

...She still somehow ran into the same homeless man again.

Different place, but he was still in the same getup. And when Mary glanced at the cup, same emptiness as before.

A slight hiss escaped from her. Everyone was ignoring him and, crap she's going to do it again, wasn't she?

Her hands glided to her pockets before she pulled out her wallet. He was homeless, still dirty looking, and he wasn't getting anywhere with it either.

Mary grit her teeth into a rough smile as she slowed her jog into a stop, the man lifted his head, pushed his hands forward, and said: "Spare some change, Miss?"

With a quick nod, she had pushed some silver quarters into his hands. A smile spread across his face as he dumped the coins into his cup. "Thank you, miss."

And with a quick "Your welcome." She was back on her jog. She really hoped this wasn't going to be a pattern.

...It became a pattern.

Every day, the man would be somewhere on her route, always further along than he was before, and he either looked like he was there for a while, or he looked like he had just settled. But none the less, she always gave him a few coins. And every time, he would give her a smile and a thank you in return.

After a couple weeks of that had passed, of him being randomly dotted along her route, it became a game to her. Trying to spot his dark brown zip-up hoodie in the rapidly cooling town.

Trying to see where he had set up shop that day, and trying to see if he had gotten any money before she jogged up to him.

But, He never had, and she never brought it up to him, until the third day of nearly falling over him right outside her house.

As he gave her his usual greeting, she passed him the coins and finally opened her mouth. "Hey, uh, this may be weird, but I was wondering why you never had gotten any money? You are busking, right?"

The man chuckled slightly, "No, no. It isn't rude. Not to me, at least. And, as much as I'm sure you aren't using that word right-" A small blush spread across Mary's face, "-I understand your confusion."

The man sighed slightly before he waved to his cane. "It's probably because I greet everyone with Miss or Sir. Not really believable for someone with a cane and sunglasses to know what gender you are."

Mary figured that was the reason, but if he knew that.. "...Then why do you greet people like that?"

The man smiled. "Because I'm not rude. And, well, I don't like to lie."

Mary blinked if he didn't like to lie-?

Her head was jerked out of her thoughts as the man lifted his hands to pull off his sunglasses, revealing his mostly cloudy grey eyes to the woman in front of him. Blue dotted the eyes, but the grey easily overtook it.

"...Oh."

His smile turned crooked. "Not entirely blind, but close. Old eyes aren't that nice to me."

"...Old anything usually isn't nice to their owners."

A bark of laughter immediately burst from the man. "I can't say you're wrong with that statement." He paused as his crooked grin faded slightly. "The only problem is that I'm still young. Might need to get new eyes before the month is over."

If only that was possible for him, Mary tried to keep her smile from being filled with pity. "If I could, I'd lend you my own eyes."

The smile returned to the man. "...I might take you up on that offer someday. My eyes may suck, but I can still see your kind green eyes. Reminds me of emeralds, actually."

Again, Mary blinked, was he.. flirting with her? ...No, probably just a compliment.

"But where are my manners, we've been doing this song and dance for weeks now, and I still don't know your name." With a quick movement, he had redonned his sunglasses, and his hand was in front of him. "Names Morgan, you?"

It didn't take long for Mary to take the man's, Morgan's hand. "..Mary. I'm Mary. It's nice to formally meet you, sir."

Another bark of laughter escaped from him. "Hey, I think that's my job, Miss."

Mary's smile returned as she pulled her hand from his, "Well, if you're going to borrow my eyes, I think I get to borrow your job."

"Touché Miss Mary, touché. I guess that's what I get for teasing someone who's been giving me money on her daily jog."

"Yup!" Her lips popped as she started to rock on her heels. As much fun as it was finally getting to know Morgan's name and finding out that he was actually losing his eyesight, she still had to go on her jog. After all, John's still hoping she'll help him win the marathon.

Even if it means running through the cold late fall to help, she'll- Her smile drifted off her face. It was getting very close to winter, it was a miracle it hadn't snowed yet. "...The weather channel said it's going to snow in a few days, will you be alright?"

Morgan just smiled as he waved her off. "It'll be fine. Don't worry, Miss, there's plenty of places nearby that can help keep me warm."

With a bob of her head, she turned, before pausing. "...Hey, if any of those places get full, I live down the road. Just look for the yellow house. If I'm home, I'll let you in."

Morgan's smile widened. "Thank you, Miss Mary. but I don't think I would need to take you up on the offer."

"Still, just keep it in mind, okay? You seem like a nice man, and hypothermia is no joke."

"Miss Mary, it's fine. The most the cold does to me is make me sleepy and slow my movements, it's fine." Morgan sighed. His smile was quickly fading.

Mary's eyes narrowed, that.. didn't sound good. But she couldn't get up and drag him indoors. She just properly met the man. "Still."

Morgan sighed before leaning back slightly. "...If I tell you that if it does get too cold, I'll come to you, will that get you back on your jog?"

"...Maybe."

"Then I'll do so. Now shoo, you're scaring my potential customers away."

A small burst of laughter escaped from her mouth, "Alright, Alright, Sir Morgan, I'll get going. Just remember-"

"If I get too cold, and all the places are full, your yellow house is open to me." He quickly interrupted her before he shook his head. "Really, Miss Mary, you are too kind. Not everyone opens their home to a stranger."

Mary took a step away from him, "I think after a few weeks of us chatting, we aren't strangers."

Morgan shrugged. "Believe what you want to believe."..And Mary does have to concede to that, though they've been interacting for a little under a month, all their conversations were at most three sentences long.

But still, she would feel horrible if something bad happened to the man. He seemed nice, even if it was odd that he always seemed to be on her route.

After a quick goodbye, Mary returned to her jog, and like before, Morgan stayed behind.

And a new song and dance appeared. Though Morgan didn't seem to move from his newfound spot outside her house, Mary always somehow tripped over him. And after an apology and a trade of coins, she resumed her daily jogs.

The days got colder and colder, slowly inching towards the icy cold of winter as the days and weeks have gone by. But luckily, at most it just flurries, no actual snow had stuck to the ground.

Still, it got to the point that Mary would check outside each night, making sure Morgan hadn't passed away due to the cold. As much as she wanted to, Morgan was a grown man, and she couldn't just drag him into her house to make sure he didn't die of hypothermia.

That thought didn't help her, though. Morgan was a grown man, but as winter slowly approached, it was harder and harder to convince herself not to go outside and drag him in or drag him in during her increasingly sparse jogs.

But, one morning she couldn't stop herself. After watching a newscast reporting that a blizzard was on its way, what a way to start winter, she bundled up a bunch of blankets and pillows, dumped them onto her couch, and marched outside to the man at the end of her lawn.

"Morgan."

Morgan seemed to jolt in place before he turned towards her. "...Afternoon Miss Mary! You're out early on your jog!"

Mary swallowed the lump that was growing in her throat. "Morgan, it's ten am. Not.. the afternoon."

The man froze before his hands fell to his sides. "...Oh. Uh."

..How long has he been out here? Mary had hoped while she was at work, he would leave to go do his own things, but.. his spot hasn't even been moved since the first time he set up shop.

Mary had to bite back the frown that was quickly furrowing itself into her expression, but she couldn't bite back the quick words that fled from her.

"Do you want some hot cocoa?"

Morgan's head tilted up towards her as Mary's own hands dug into her pockets. "I.. don't have any work today, and I have a few packets of hot cocoa inside."

The man's expression softened. She knew the answer he was going to give her. "Miss-"

But she wasn't going to give him a chance. "Please."

Morgan's shoulders slumped before he softly nodded. "...Alright. Just... let me get my stuff. I can't leave this out here."

The knot that had been wounding in Mary's chest for the past few weeks slackened, and for once, she was able to breathe without worrying for the man in front of herself. "That's fine. If you need any help-"

"It's fine Miss Mary, I've been doing this for years." Mary had to bite back the retort, the question of 'if you have been doing this for years, why are you still out here?' After all, The nights had gotten into the negatives lately.

Morgan just slowly grabbed his stuff, his cane, sign, blanket, and, a blue duffel bag Mary was sure he didn't have the last time she came out for her jog. 

..She probably just missed it.

Within no time, he had everything bundled up in his arms. "..I hope you don't mind Miss Mary, but," He paused to swallow, "the cold isn't that good for my eyes. Could you maybe guide me up to the door?"

Mary didn't even hesitate as she offered him her arm. "Of course, Morgan. Here, my arm is to your left."

His one free arm reached out and easily connected with her own. And in the next moment, she was guiding him up to her front lawn and into her home.

With a quietish click, Mary closed her front door and guided him into her kitchen. "Here, the counter is a few feet to your left. You can put your stuff on it as I start the water."

Morgan just nodded as he moved to the counter, only bobbing his head back in forth as he placed his gear on the counter.

Mary stayed quiet as she pulled out two white mugs, trying to ignore how fogged up Morgan's sunglasses had gotten in the short amount of time he was in a warm home. And trying to ignore as he quietly guided himself around the counter to the stools.

...She should've done this a long time ago.

The two stayed quiet as she filled the mugs up and threw them into the microwave, and after a few minutes had passed, she pulled them out and placed them onto the counter, both of them directly in front of Morgan.

The quietly clinked against the granite, and Morgan reached for them. His fingerless gloved hands moving them slightly towards his gear. Mary didn't say anything about it. She just turned towards her cabinets and pulled out the box full of hot cocoa mix.

Behind her, she heard Morgan unzip his bag, probably just putting his blanket away. So she ignored it and cleared her throat. "...Marshmallows or no?"

It took a minute for Morgan to respond. "Hm? Oh! Uh, Marshmallows, please. I haven't had them in a long while."

Mary bobbed her head as she reached up again to her cabinets. "Alright. ...Damn, where did I put them?"

Even with the slight confusion to find the marshmallows, It took her no time at all to fish them out of her cabinet and for her to turn back to Morgan. But when she did, she paused. The man had a small white packet in his hands, and he was dumping it into the white mug closest to himself.

Mary coughed slightly, and his head immediately popped up with a slight dusting on his cheeks. "I.. know this probably looks rude, but... I read somewhere that chocolate can taste better if you add some salt."

Oh. "Oh, you could've asked Morgan," She quietly started as she placed the packets and marshmallows onto the counter. "I could've saved you from wasting your own seasonings."

Morgan's head ducked. "... You're giving me something I haven't had for a long time, Miss Mary. I couldn't ask you for anything else."

Mary smiled as she pulled the mugs closer to herself, Morgan quickly released his own mug once she touched his hand. "Nonsense. You're a guest, Morgan. I'm perfectly fine sharing some salt with you."

Morgan didn't look up, he just looked away from the woman as she ripped open the packets and dumped them into both mugs. "...Still."

The spoon quietly dinked against the mugs as she stirred. "As long as you didn't put any salt in my mug, it's fine, Morgan."

Morgan's head popped up immediately, "No, I would never do that. Your mug is yours."

Mary tapped the spoon against the side of her mug before she places it down, and she turned towards the marshmallows. "Then what's the problem?"

The worried expression on Morgan's face faded somewhat. "...I guess there isn't one."

Mary dropped a handful of marshmallows in both mugs before she smiled. "Right answer, Sir Morgan."

Morgan just smiled back as he reached forward and grabbed the mug closest to him.

The two fell back into silence as Mary bent over the counter and picked up the remaining mug.

The two lifted their mugs up to their lips, and each took a sip.

A beat passed, and Mary suddenly winced. Yeah, he grabbed the wrong mug, as the cocoa currently in her hands tasted salty as hell.

Morgan, however, just smiled as he quickly took a much larger sip of his- no, her mug.

He looked.. elated. Excited and thrilled as he sipped from the mug in his hands.

...Screw it, she can deal with the salty taste. He was happy, and she wasn't going to subject the poor man to this awful mix of ingredients that should have never been mixed.

She could just.. not drink it. But, yeah, Morgan can see some things, and while he could easily miss a wince, he probably would notice if she was drinking from her mug. "..Sooo... where'd you read about mixing salt and chocolate?"

Morgan seemed to perk up even more. "Oh! The newspaper! I think it was the Daily Sun? I'm not sure."

Ah. Yeah. The Daily Sun, known for posting wrong things almost daily. Yeah, that explains it. "I had to hold it close to my face, and without my sunglasses, but I'm thrilled it actually worked. I haven't had a cup of cocoa in a long while." As he spoke, the corners of his lips turned upwards even more than before.

...He was pleased about the cocoa mix working, huh?

Yeah, she's still not going to tell him the truth. She just took another sip before she nodded. "Neat." The word was slightly strained.

The salty chocolate tasted horrible, and it was causing her head to pound with each sip. She would stop, but that would be rude, and it could let him know that he had the wrong mug. And she wasn't going to do that.

Morgan suddenly cleared his throat, and Mary leaned forward slightly. Her posture has slackened somewhat. "So. Miss Mary, when are you going back to work?"

"..Ah. In, a few days, I think. I know I have, today, off. But-" Mary paused mid-sentence as her grip on the counter slipped, she had to fall forward to catch herself, and during the fall, her mug of salty cocoa started to tip before Morgan's hand lashed out and grabbed it.

"I'm, sorry, Morgan, but I don't, don't feel too good." Her words started to slur together as she held onto the counter. Her legs felt like jelly, and her arms were quickly following suit.

Morgan just continued to smile a sharp grin. "That's fine, Miss Mary. I'm almost done here anyway." His tone was filled with joy as he pushed back the stool and stood up. "Oh! And remember the time you said you'd let me borrow your eyes?"

Mary slumped further.

"I think I'll take up that offer!"

Mary's hold on the counter finally slipped, and she tumbled onto the hard floor of her small kitchen.

The edges of her eyes started to darken as Morgan pulled off his sunglasses and quickly walked around the counter into the kitchen. Almost like he knew exactly where to step without tripping.

Mary's breath hitched as she tried to pull herself up. Her limbs were feeling less like jelly and more like lead with each step Morgan took towards her.

Mary's arms scrambled against the floor, trying her hardest to pull herself up, to get away from the fog engulfing her head. But they were too heavy, and she was stuck on the cold floor with heaving breaths and a pounding head.

Morgan just stepped over her limp body to get back to the counter. "You know," he started as he pulled his duffel closer to himself, "I never said it was Salt, Miss Mary. Just that I read about it somewhere."

Mary's eyes started to flutter as she looked up at him. She couldn't move her head, couldn't look away. Just forced to watch as he took two silver instruments out of his bag.

"I did say I don't like to lie, and that is the truth. So, I'll let you know this now," With a smile and darkened grey eyes, Morgan turned and looked down at her. "If you don't struggle, I'll make this as painless as I possibly can."

His hands ran across the counter before they came back with two metal devices, a sharpened, scooper, and a weird-looking tong. Mary's head continued to pound as she blearily looked up at him.

Everything was getting foggy. And her eyelids were getting as heavy as her arms were. But she couldn't look away. She couldn't let her eyes flutter shut, she just watched as Morgan's smile widened and he bent down.

"Don't fight it, you won't be able to feel any pain if you just let the drugs take effect." His voice was smooth as he spoke, his fingers, his freezingly cold fingers glided across her cheeks.

Something warm dripped from her eyes. Morgan's hand just glided towards it and wiped it away.

"Don't cry, Miss Mary. You did say I could borrow your eyes." His expression softened as he lifted his thumb up to his mouth, "Just stop fighting it." He then licked the tear off his thumb.

Mary's chest heaved with a barely hidden whimper. Morgan just smiled again before he lifted the tongs up and with a press of a button, they opened to reveal dozens of sharp needle-like hooks on their sides.

Her eyelids suddenly became more controllable as she stared at the tool. "Now, don't move."

The homeless man's voice and hands were steady as he brought the device to her left eye, Mary immediately slammed them shut, not wanting to watch her own eyes being taken out-

The metal hooks of the device dug into the skin of her eyelids. She may not want to see it, she may be trying to keep her eyes safe, but the device dug into the skin and forced her eyelids open.

The needles were cold, but they burned as they dug into her skin. Mary felt her own warm blood start to pool around the small pinpricks of the hooks. And she was forced to watch Morgan grab the sharpened scooper before he paused.

"...Right," his smile dropped, "I always forget to take them out first."

His cold hand reached up, and he prodded around his own eyes.

And the eyelids reacted. They darkened before they peeled back from his grey eyes. The tendrils seemed to writhe in the air, twirl around his eyes and skin. Some of them buried back into his eyes, but the remaining just wriggled in the open air.

Mary didn't realize she wasn't breathing until Morgan's hand was placed on her neck. "Relax, Miss Mary, the drugs should keep most of the pain at bay."

Her chest just hitched as she watched the twirling black tendrils, and her breaths started to come out ragged as she stared into the grey eyes. The grey eyes with red and green outer edges. The grey eyes that suddenly looked like they were rotting.

Something bubbled up from her stomach. She gagged, and then Morgan's hand was forcing her head to the side as vomit fled from her mouth.

A beat passed, and Morgan forced her to look back at him. "... I'm pretty sure it's considered rude to vomit when a guest shows you something about themselves." The tendrils continued to writhe as he tilted his head, "But I guess it's understandable in this context."

"... I'm actually surprised that you are still awake, normally people pass out by now." Morgan's neck cracked as he tilted his head back. "Ah, no matter. I've been waiting for weeks to be able to do this, to be able to see clearly again, and I really don't want to wait anymore."

Mary wasn't able to hold back the gag as Morgan lifted his cold hand from her neck to his eye. He didn't even hesitate before he jammed his fingers into the rotting eye. His sharp nails punctured the eye, and even more extremely skinny tendrils burst out of the hole, tearing the remaining bits of the eye to bits and forcing the skin of the eye out of the black tendril filled pits of his own sockets.

Mary's eyes blurred with tears as he dropped his hand to the remaining tool. "Just don't look around, Miss Mary. You should be okay."

Though his words were soothing, the sight of the sharpened scooper above her own eye had sobs rip from her paralyzed chest and vocal cords.

And when the corner of the freezing tool dug into the corner of her eye, her vocal cords finally listened as a warbling cry ripped from her.

The scooping motion didn't slow. It just dug deeper and deeper into her reddening eye. Then, it hit the back of her eye. And she saw nothing.

She just felt the scooper scrape against the back of her eye, and she felt a rush of cool air flood her eye socket as the scooper was pulled away.

A beat passed. One filled with frozen air, filled with shakey sobs and whimpers, and then, and then, squelching.

The sound of something being shoved into something else, the sound of ripping, and the sound of something being squished out of something else.

The device was removed. And her eyelids immediately slammed shut, sagging without anything behind it to hold it up she felt her salty tears burn as it mixed with the blood that was filling the hole her eye left behind.

Her chest hitched, and the tongs were forced on her other eye. Vomit flooded her mouth when she saw Morgan again. Her own green eye was looking back at her, something was inside of it, pulsing and wriggling as clear goop dripped down Morgan's pale cheek.

It mingled with his scruffy chin, and Morgan just smiled as he lifted the scooper up again.

Again, she was forced to watch as Morgan ripped out the remaining rotting eye, and again she felt the cold metal dig into her eye.

Within a minute, she was completely blind. Completely blind and forced to listen to the squelching of her own eye being forced into Morgan's sockets.

Warm blood flowed down her cheeks as she heard Morgan rustle around. Nothing but ringing in her ears as Morgan started her sink, and nothing but pain as Morgan's footsteps walked away.

Mary just laid there. Blind, immobilized. And as the blood rushed through her body to get to her eyes, quickly succumbing to the drugs that coursed through her system.

Morgan didn't care. He just smiled as he scraped the clear goop off his cheeks, and he walked away from Mary.

He needed to see how the town looked with his new kind eyes.

[solynaceawrites]

Wires [4]: Frustration

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

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“Death and life are the same thing- like the two sides of my hand, the palm and the back. And still the palm and back are not the same . . . They can neither be separated, nor mixed.” —Ursula K. Le Guin

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Lir takes Simon Marson’s statement with a grain of salt. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him—she doesn’t trust lawyers as a whole, but nothing so far has given her a reason to believe he’d outright lie—just that she’s learned firsthand how memories get clouded and fuzzy, particularly about routines. Sure, their victim worked for him. And, yes, she probably did the exact same thing every day, going to her paid internship at her father’s office Monday through Saturday, taking Sunday off, and spending Friday night bar-hopping with her friends. Yet there’s simply too much Marson was unaware of. The questions of who her friends are, what she did when she wasn’t working, her hobbies, any potential lovers, hell even where she lived, are all ones he provided no answer to or understanding of. To him, Sophie truly existed only in the hours between 8:00 am and 6:30 pm. Which isn’t exactly unusual, but it makes her job of following those leads harder, and she ends their interview feeling more irritated than she had when she started.

Dante, too, must be frustrated, because he says nothing at all to her when he leaves the observation room to join her at their desks, merely clacking angrily on his keyboard as he types his report. Lir does the same, transcribing the interview with Marson and her notes to send to Morrison later. A stiff drink is what she needs, maybe a call to Joan for a bit of relaxation, but she settles for chewing aspirin and drinking the bitter coffee unique to precincts. By the time she’s done recounting the events of the last thirty-six hours, her fingers are stiff and the throbbing in her temples has turned into a fierce clawing that makes her eyes water, and she’s keenly aware of the fact that they’re fast closing in on the forty-eight hour mark and how much more difficult this investigation is going to be beyond it.

“You eaten?” Dante asks. Lir shakes her head, and he picks up his phone, dialing quickly. “Me neither. ‘Bout to keel over, if I’m honest. You good with pizza?”

“Sure. Whatever toppings are fine.”

He flashes her a grin before speaking into the receiver, and Lir uses the time to read back over Trish’s findings. They aren’t pretty. While there were no ligature marks, showing that Sophie was neither restrained nor strangled, there were heavy levels of Rohypnol in her blood, meaning she would have been unable to do anything at all. In fact, Trish notes that the dose probably would have been fatal, given the fact that Sophie was well over the legal limit for intoxication, clocking a BA of 0.16%, putting her at the threshold for alcohol poisoning. Did she normally drink so much? Lir runs her fingers over the paper, frowning slightly as she thinks. Joan hadn’t said much more about Sophie’s habits other than her cocktail of choice, and they hadn’t asked for a receipt, a stupid oversight that needs to be corrected. Because if that much liquor was’t common for Sophie, it means either she was drinking a lot more, which could lead them to recent stresses.

Or that the killer was feeding her margaritas all night to make sure she was too weak to fight him.

“There was no phone recovered from the alley, right?” she asks. Dante gives a grunt as he hangs up the phone, and she leans back, stretching to relieve the tension in her shoulders. “We’ve got to find her friends, talk to them.”

“What about the mother?”

“Gone. Parents divorced when Sophie was . . .” Lir checks her notes. “Six. The original custody agreement was for the mom to have supervised visitation, but she went no contact when Sophie was twelve. The last Marson heard from her, she was living with her new husband in Portland.”

Dante whistles. “No contact? Think Marson was abusing her?”

“Maybe. But why would Sophie hang around, if that was the case? You watch your dad beat on your mom for six years and wind up working for him?”

He grunts and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest and staring thoughtfully at a spot just over her right shoulder. “Abuse doesn’t always make it to the kids,” he says after a moment. “Sure, maybe pops was an asshole, but he was probably smart enough to keep it behind closed doors. Or maybe there wasn’t anything goin’ on other than two people who didn’t want to be together anymore.” He pauses to take a sip of coffee. “Could have been mom, too.”

“Right.” Lir massages her temples, and the pressure there subsides enough that she no longer feels like her eyes are going to burst. A migraine is the last thing she needs right now, but that’s exactly where she’s headed if she doesn’t get some sort of rest soon. “So, we have a victim whose father knows nothing about her personal life, a killer who was smart enough to make sure we couldn’t trace her beyond the bar, and, after nearly forty hours, no real answers.”

“Sounds about right.” Dante’s grin is bitter.

“Fuck.” She drums her fingers on her desk. “Crime scene still roped off?”

“As far as I know. You plannin’ a visit?”

“Yeah. I need to get some air, and I want to take it in now that it’s quiet.” Lir grabs her coat from the back of her chair as she stands, sliding it on before leaning to open her desk and grab her gun and badge. Fastening them to her belt, she mutters, “Maybe something got missed.”

Dante gets up, stretching with a loud yawn. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need—”

“I’m not babysittin’ you, Lir.” His eyes are somehow both grave and mocking, and she’s not sure which irritates her more. “There’s a killer. None of us should be goin’ out alone, especially with the statistics about who else might show up there to get their jollies.”

That gives her pause. “Right. Okay. You driving?”

He dangles his keys. Lips twitching, she turns and heads down the stairs and out to the lot, listening to the quiet thumping of Dante’s shoes as he follows her. For someone so big, he doesn’t make a lot of noise when he moves, and she wonders idly if it’s a force of habit or just how he is as she slides into the passenger seat of his car and fastens her seatbelt. Like always, he flicks on the radio and finds a classic rock station before starting the drive, and he ignores her popping two aspirin into her mouth and chewing them dry. 

The ride back to the alley passes in the silence between them. Lir looks out of her window, the rain sliding along the glass turning the world outside to a muted painting of blurred shapes and bright flashes of color on an otherwise dreary background, and thinks. Sophie Marsons had gone to the bar, as was her usual weekend habit, and ordered her preferred drink. Had she gone with friends? Had they danced, and laughed, until a stranger stole into their group, with eyes only for Sophie, eyes full of murder that she might have mistaken for desire? Despite what she had said to Dante about their victim being chosen randomly, Lir has little doubt that she knew her killer. Statistics point to it, the inevitable need for the comfort brought by familiarity that a new killer needs to do his work. Statistics, the voice of her old academy instructor rasps in her mind, are statistically incorrect.

If Sophie wasn’t the first, then there’s another victim out there.

Cold, bitter rain lashes her as soon as she steps out of the car. Huffing, watching her breath condense and twist in the air, Lir pulls her hood up around her face and tucks her hands into her pockets, wishing she had a slicker even if the garish yellow color of it would make her stick out like a sore thumb. Dante joins her, grimacing as he sets a black trilby on his head, water dripping from the brim steadily. “Good thing we already got forensics,” he mutters.

“Mm.” Making a non-committal noise in her throat, she ducks under the crime scene tape and walks into the alley, where she stands and takes it in. Without pedestrian and vehicular traffic on the street, it’s unnervingly quiet; is this how it was at four in the morning? Nothing but silence as the dull oppressiveness of the city while Sophie was carved open like livestock? 

Lir is moving towards the dumpster when something rustles behind it. Pausing, she stares at it, her brow pinched and her hand moving slowly to her gun, waiting. Cat, she thinks, or rat. Something digging for scraps now that humanity has gone away. But the silhouette she can just make out on the other side is too large, and, as she watches, a tanned hand grips the edge before a rain-soaked head pokes cautiously around, the eyes that she sees wide enough that the whites are like spotlights. Behind her, she hears Dante hiss, the faint splash of water as he slowly comes up beside her. Looks like he was right. Someone else had shown up, and now all that’s left to do is figure out whether or not they’re the murderer.

“Police,” Dante barks. “Don’t move!”

The man jumps to his feet and takes off, and Lir lets out a string of curses as she darts after him. They always fucking run, guilty or innocent, because seeing a cop always makes them feel like they’ve done something wrong. Bearers of bad news, thugs with guns, she’s heard it all, and she wonders how this guy thinks of the police even as she chases him down the winding alleys of a city she’s already growing to hate. “Thorne!” Dante shouts, his voice dwindling as the distance between them grows. “Goddamnit, Thorne!”

Up ahead, the black coat swirls as the man rushes through the maze. Sometimes all she has is a glimpse of fabric as he turns a corner, others, on the straight, narrow stretches, she can make out more of him, and her mind catalogues these snapshots. Slender build. Dark jeans. Heavy boots. The glint of a ring. A pair of wild eyes peering over his shoulder. Despite knowing she should draw it, Lir leaves her gun holstered. Don’t you ever, her instructor had said gravely, take that thing out unless you intend to shoot, and she’s got no desire to fire a bullet that would at best embed itself harmlessly into a wall and at worst ricochet and cause more damage.

Her hood falls back, rain plastering her hair to face and neck. In her chest, her heart is a drum, and her blood roars in her ears, equaled only by the low whistle of her breathing as she tries to control it to fight off fatigue. Keep moving, she tells her legs, don’t fucking stop until you know who he is.

At her hip, her radio crackles, only to be ignored. Right now, it is only her and her prey, locked in the chase until one of them is forced to stop. Guilty people run, sure. So do frightened ones. Which is he? Killer or morbid onlooker, dangerous or afraid? 

Lir never gets the chance to find out. They burst into a side-street, the cars around them blaring horns of fear and anger at this sudden intrusion, and a hand clamps onto her shoulder and yanks her back as a truck passes through the space she’d been about to step into. By the time it and its trailer clear out, the man is gone, and a scream bubbles in her throat that she fights to swallow. She knows who grabbed her—the scent of Dante’s cologne, muted by the rain, wafts into her nose, accompanied by the spiced, salty blend of sweat and deodorant—and she allows him to lead her back to the sidewalk, where she doubles over with her hands on her thighs and struggles to slow her breathing from the harsh, jagged pants to something close to normal. At this angle, she can make out the way water has turned the leather of his shoes a dull brown. Never gonna look nice again, she thinks, and closes her eyes against the swell of nausea that comes from exertion on an empty stomach.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dante growls, his voice rasping and hoarse from chasing her. “You ever stop to think for a damned second that we’d need backup? Or that chasing that idiot could have gotten you killed?”

The scolding makes her angry all over again. “I’m sorry,” she snaps, straightening to glare at him. “Should I have let our only lead so far go?”

“If it meant surviving? Yeah, you should’ve. Or were you hoping to wind up like Marsons?” His eyes are cold with fury, his cheeks flushed with it. “I told you, I fucking told you—”

Lir’s phone rings, cutting off whatever tirade he’d been heading towards. Scowling, she answers it. “Thorne.”

“You with Redgrave?” Morrison asks, crackling with static. 

“Yeah.” Dante makes an impatient motion with his hand, and she holds up a finger in the standard request for a minute of silence.

“Get your asses over to Tellula Park. He’ll know where it is.”

There’s something so foreboding about Morrison’s tone that Lir knows the answer to her question before she even asks it. “What’s there?”

Morrison sighs. “Another body. Looks like our killer didn’t want to wait for us to catch him.”

“We’ll be there.” She hangs up, then looks at Dante, frustration and defeat welling within her to make her voice curiously flat. “There’s another victim in Tellula Park.”

Dante curses. “Our guy?”

“Morrison said it was,” she replies.

He glances around, studying the street sign at the intersection. “C’mon. Car’s about two blocks away. We’ll have to book it if we don’t want Morrison to rip us new assholes for taking our sweet time.”

Lir nods. Dante turns and starts down the sidewalk, and she follows, craving a drink and a good night’s rest and maybe a bit of company, angry to have wasted time on some idiot onlooker when the killer was busy leaving them another corpse, another family to notify, another twisted web. I didn’t know, she thinks, and that just makes her feel worse. Tunnel vision, that’s what she had fallen into, too focused on what was in front of her nose to take a second to really contemplate if a killer who took such care not to be noticed would have been so stupid as to come back to the scene of his crime in the middle of the day with cops still around. 

They’re sweating and miserably damp by the time they reach the car. Dante pulls towels from the backseat for them to sit on—something her father had done, to keep water from damaging the seats—and turns on the heater to fight some of the chill. It’s only once they’re on their way to the new scene that he says anything at all. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Lir’s head snaps towards him at both the words and the sympathy within them. Not that it’s unusual for cops to know how their partner feels, but usually that takes years of working together, not days, so either he’s particularly good and reading the people around him or he’s projecting. “What?”

“The new victim,” he explains. “Wasn’t anything you could have done. We had and have nothing to go on, and you chasin’ that guy didn’t get this one killed. Or,” his mouth twitches, “do you think you’re better than every other cop on the force?”

“Of course not,” she protests hotly. “I just . . .”

Dante cracks the window and lights a cigarette that he pulls from the pack in his door. “Look,” he says, exhaling smoke, “I get it. You’re new, gotta prove yourself, and this guy is a pain in the ass. But you ain’t got any control over him, or what he does. Only thing you can do is learn, be better, so you can catch him.”

It’s spoken in the same tone he might have used to console a weeping toddler, and she bristles. “You don’t know me.”

“No, but I read your file.” He glances at her as he tosses the cigarette, still half-lit, out of the window. “You know what was top and center on the behavior section? Empathetic. You feel things, Thorne, feel ‘em deep, maybe, and that’s great for gettin’ inside the head of whoever’s doin’ this, but it means he can get inside your head, too, if you let him.”

She sinks into her seat, thinking of her dream, and gooseflesh breaks out across her arms despite the warm air blowing from the vents. “So what’s your drive, then? Fame? Promotions?”

Dante snorts. “Nah. Just don’t like bastards who hurt women, that’s all.” He pauses, then exhales slowly. “Look. I’m not gonna rat you out to Morrison. You made a decision that anyone else would’ve made. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t a fucking stupid decision, but . . . It stays between us. Right?”

There’s a rush of gratitude that she hates feeling. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” he agrees amicably.

[littlemisssquiggles]

Pinehead Headcanons: Oscar's Longest Memory

I’ve been meaning to share this headcanon ever since I discussed it with @miki-13​ a couple weeks back. So in light of the highly anticipated Schnee Dinner Party episode tomorrow, I figured now is a good time as any to share this new theory of mine for my favourite freckled farm boy turned little barn prince.

One thing I've been curious about for this season (or the Atlas Arc in general) is how exactly the PLOT is going to reintroduce Ozpin returning from his isolation. Speaking for myself, I don’t wish for Oz’s return to be just be him randomly coming to Oscar’s aid again when he’s in danger. Nor do I wish for Oz to just magically pop back into the story and instead of having everyone taking responsibility for the negative consequences their past and recent actions have done while using that to make amends with each other and start anew---it’s just Oz alone apologizing for what he’s done while the heroes get away with not even a slap on the wrist.

I don’t think it would be fair if Oz is the only one to apologize. While I understand that Oz made mistakes in his past, our heroes aren’t exactly innocent themselves. On the contrary, this season alone proves that the heroes are no different than Oz in their current predicament with Ironwood. Thus I’m still banking on this leading into the heroes realizing that they too were in the wrong for how they chose to treat Oz following the revelation of the whole truth. I’m still hoping that this experience with Ironwood is enough to finally help everyone understand why Oz chose to handle things the way he did after spending some time in his shoes. That way, once everyone reunites, they’ll be on the same page with one another and as I said, be able to start fresh and rebuild their previous trust in one another based on what they all learnt from this experience.

That being said, in regards to Oscar---one thing that I’ve been saying is that I believe Oscar is the key to repairing the severed bonds between Ozpin and his team. Right now, Oscar is caught in the middle of all this conflict. He seems to be the lone mutual party who isn’t biased towards one side. Meaning that in spite of his growing good rapport with the rest of his team, that doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to trust Oz again. His remark of “Oz looking out for everyone in his isolation”  back in V6 sparked my certainty in this regard.

My theory has always been for Oscar to reconcile with Ozpin first within his mind. From there, Oscar would bring Ozpin out of his isolation and be prepared to speak on his behalf to help convince the others towards all of them making peace.

I still believe in this hunch. However for most of V7, there hasn’t really been much indication of Oscar attempting to reach out to Oz within his mind. So again I’m left pondering on what could be an interesting way to do this given the current plot development we have so far for season.

This brings me to my discussion with Miki. We both shared the same idea of perhaps…Oscar will have an unfortunate run-in with Tyrian Callows. Tyrian will sting Oscar and fall into a comatose state which will then lead to Oscar going on a journey to find Oz within his mind.

Since I’ve been quoting plot threads from the Little Prince tale in reference to Oscar’s story for RWBY, there is a part in the story where the Prince was stung by a snake before he could reunite with his beloved rose on his home planet. The presumption is that the Prince was killed by the snake; though according to my research, the story more alludes to the Prince’s death rather than directly saying it.

So all that in mind, here’s my idea for the next episode and the episode afterwards:

I think something detrimental needs to happen to Oscar again in order for to heroes to realize how wrong they've been about Ozpin.  

The last time we had a CH8 episode as the last episode of the year, it concluded on Oscar disappearing as a result of Jaune’s outburst after he had learnt the truth.

So imagine if …there is a major attack at the Schnee Dinner Party during which Oscar ends up mortally injured from an attack meant to kill Ironwood. Let’s say…Jacques planned to have Tyrian murder all the members of the Atlesian Council who had been invited to the party. That way, in the end, Jacques will be the only surviving Council member and will no longer have anyone standing in his way of getting what he wants. All of Atlas will be under Jacques’ reign.

Let’s say…Tyrian successfully manages to slaughter all the Council members except Ironwood. All because at the last minute, Oscar had saved James by pushing him out the way allowing himself to be Tyrians’ target instead.

Speaking of the General, I’m also curious as to what it will take to set Ironwood off and go into his own downward spiral. Despite implying that he wasn't going to end up like Lionheart, I think we can all come to same conclusion that this part of the General’s story is definitely in the cards at this point.

Leonardo gave into his fears and betrayed his allies to join Salem. And while Ironwood won't sink so low as to join Salem, I think he's more in danger of becoming more like her and losing his own humanity if he honestly considered a 'lack of humanity' as an asset to Salem's conquests.

 The last time Salem struck, Ironwood lost Ozpin. CH7 is the second time Ironwood has hinted at wishing Oz was still around. It's very evident that James misses his old friend and I'm wondering if there is a part of him that low-key blames himself for Ozpin's death too.

Just as how if anything were to happen to Oscar on the General’s watch with the poor boy being placed at death's doorstep in an attack that was meant for James, I think that would devastate James just as much as Oz's death did since he has been spending more time with Oscar; getting to know him personally.

Not to mention, Ironwood did promise Oscar back in the second episode that, quote, “He will be safe in Atlas”. So imagine how distraught Ironwood would feel if that promise were to be broken yet again.

I have a feeling that Oscar may be used once again as a catalyst to advance the third act of the plot. I could be wrong about that but I can't help but feel like one of our main heroes will be a victim to whatever Jacques had planned with Watts.

Last time for V6, I was right on the money with Oscar running away. So…will I be right again about something big happening at the party and Oscar being an unfortunate victim caught in the crossfire?

Only time will tell. However I actually wouldn’t mind if something that were to happen for the episode. Mainly because I feel like should Oscar were to get seriously hurt, it could lead to the following things:

Ruby realizing the error of her actions: The idea I had with this was that, while at the party, Oscar will once again confront Ruby on the matter of revealing the whole truth to Ironwood. However Ruby once again shows reluctance with this and she and Oscar end up arguing over the right call. During their heated quarrel, Ruby says something to Oscar that she will ultimately regret. Let’s say…Ruby reveals that her distrust in Ozpin, blaming him for everything which then leads to her confessing that she may never trust him again.

This revelation greatly upsets Oscar since, Oz is a part of him and there is a chance that he may even become him someday. So by extension, Ruby saying that she distrusts Oz and will never trust him again meant that she doesn’t trust Oscar either. Although Ruby tries to take back what she says, the damage had already been done.

The Little Prince had officially had enough his little red rose’s behaviour and just like in the original fairy-tale, Oscar leaves Ruby with her last words to him being that she doesn’t trust him…right before Oscar gets seriously hurt and on the verge of death. As far as I know, the Prince’s true rose never got the chance to see him again since he died before he could return to his home by the fangs of the Snake character.

And  similar to how the Rose didn’t realize her true feelings for her Prince until he departed from their planet, what if…Ruby didn’t realize how much faith she did have in Oscar until he was mortally wounded by Tyrian and on the verge of death?

 Oscar’s Journey to Oz in the form of him going to find Oz in his mind. Now we can get into the real meat of my post. Let’s discuss Oscar’s Longest Memory:

Okay, so as I mentioned before, my concept is that Oscar is mortally wounded by Tyrian Callows in a killing blow that was meant for Ironwood. After that, Oscar falls into a coma with all of his allies worrying whether or not he will ever wake up again.

While in his comatose state, Oscar finds himself trapped in a continuous loop where he keeps reliving the very last days he spent back home on the farm with his family---all leading up to the day he was supposed to leave with Ozpin to begin his journey to Mistral.

Let’s say…in the memory, Oscar never met Oz. As we all know, Oscar wouldn’t gotten the encouragement to leave the farm if Oz hadn’t spoken to him that first time. And with Oz presumably still in isolation and his presence no longer there to guide Oscar towards his true destiny, Oscar just goes about his days like normal. But the entire time, while Oscar is reliving his final days at home, the way its depicted is that, despite being home behaving like he’s never left, Oscar couldn’t help but feel the entire time like he was forgetting something. Forgetting something important that he was supposed to do. Or rather, meet someone he was supposed to?

I even have this idea of Oscar having a similar experience to Ozma in the Lost Fable during his lifetime with Salem as Diggs.

Remember that scene from the episode where Ozma is looking at a reflection of himself in the window of his and Salem’s home castle when his other half---I believe it was Diggs speaking to Ozma here---asked him “What are we doing?” which in turn snaps Ozma out of his confliction.

I’m imagining a moment similar to that Oscar is looking at himself in the mirror---the very same mirror down in his barn where he had first heard Ozpin speak to him. I’m picturing Oscar looking at his reflection, back in his old farm boy threads, wracking his brain to figure out what’s happening to him and why he felt so strange---like he was forgetting something very, very important. At first, all Oscar saw was his own reflection only for his mirror copy to suddenly ask him “What are we doing?”  

Since Oscar’s current qualm seems to be his conflicting feelings regarding the Merge, I’m imagining a moment where Oscar is standing almost at a crossroads within himself. Like picture Oscar coming face to face with his past self---his old farmhand self.

Let’s say…in his longest memory, the one sure-fire way for Oscar to wake up from his comatose state is for him to leave the farm and start his journey.

Perhaps even in the real world, there is this conflict going on where if Oscar doesn’t wake up from his unconsciousness soon, he could potentially die or something along those lines, just to amp up the stakes. So the others---his teammates, his friends are desperately trying to do whatever they can to wake Oscar up. To make him open his eyes.

Meanwhile in Oscar’s mind, he’s fighting his own internal battles on whether or not he should leave. In his mind, Oscar trapped home on the farm wondering if leaving was the right choice. Because that’s how this all started. With Oscar leaving the farm.

So it’s a scenario where Oscar has to leave but this time, rather than it being Ozpin telling Oscar he has to leave (and not really giving him much of a choice), it’s Oscar telling himself that he has to leave. Like maybe at first, Oscar believes that the person telling him to leave all the time---this boy in the mirror who looks exactly like him---is probably Oz trying to communicate with Oscar and help him escape this memory. But to Oscar’s surprise. It isn’t Oz. It’s Oscar himself---the part of him that made up his mind that he was going to see through on his promise to help his team no matter what---that was telling him to leave. This time, it’s Oscar’s own choice that he made on his own. Not just because it felt like the right thing to do. But because it was a choice he now believed in.

With this idea, I’m envisioning a scene where Oscar is standing face to face with his past ---Farm Boy Oscar back in his old farm boy threads who is actively chastising Oscar for even wanting to leave home since there was no good for him outside.

Basically imagine …Oscar’s past self being the embodiment of all of his concerns for the future; his doubts about himself, his doubts in his place on the team, his worries whether or not anyone actually trusts or even cares about him, his worries about just being ‘another one of Ozma’s lives’ to live and die in vain.

Here is this version of Oscar---with his own face and in his own voice, practically screaming every negative thought he’s been silently holding back from admitting to himself for so long.

“…We were a fool for leaving home. You think they actually care about you. You heard them. They never saw you for who you are. Of course they never trusted you! 

They don’t know you! They never knew you! You didn’t really think they’d accepted you into their group. You never had your own place. To them, you’re just another one of his lives and pretty soon, they’ll forget all about you.

Stay home Oscar! Don’t leave! This is where you belong. At least this way, you get to stay and be yourself again. This is what you truly want. Trust me. Because who knows you better than you…”

And somehow by doing that, by facing himself and hearing himself admit his own fears, it what makes Oscar’s choice all the more significant. He needed to leave. So basically, in a nutshell, Oscar yells back at his old self that this wasn’t who he was. I mean, it used to be and that part of him will always be there because it is a part of him. However Oscar has also accepted the other side of him---the side that he shares with Oz.

So in the end, Oscar makes up his mind to leave home. But not without Oz. So after dealing with past, Oscar goes and finds Oz. The two souls reunite deep within Oscar’s mind. They even have a chat and ultimately, Oscar convinces Oz to return to the others with him. Even extends his hand to Oz---as neat little call-back to what Oz had told him back in V4.

Because while the farm with his family and his old memories of his past was Oscar’s home back then (and not even the Merge was going to take that away from him) he eventually also comes to terms with the fact that his new home was with his team and he needed to reunite with them to fulfil his duties to humanity by working to stop Salem and her forces. So basically the memory ends with both Oscar and Ozpin walking through the gates of Oscar’s old home, returning to the real world.

And when next Oscar finally regains consciousness---as he opens his eyes, he awakens to find himself surrounded by everyone who had all eagerly been awaiting his return. And it is from this moment, folks where the reconciliation begins.

That’s my idea.

I know the likelihood of something like this happening in the canon is not really there. Nonetheless, I’d still like to think that something like this could’ve been cool to see done in the show. Especially for Oscar and Ozpin.  

Most of all, I was hoping for a future moment where the audience could’ve seen Oscar meet Oz for the first time within his mind. We never exactly got an interpretation of what the inside of Oscar’s mind looks like.

Somehow, this squiggle meister is envisioning Oscar’s mental dreamscape being an endless plane of grassy fields overlooking a beautiful sunrise since that time of the day seems to be most associated with Oscar.

It was a sunrise during the first scene we were introduced to Oscar’s character back in V4 and it was also sunrise when he left home and began his journey.

Now I’m imagining Oscar and Oz just sitting in a field watching the sunrise since this was Oscar’s lingering memory of his home. It’s a memory that Oscar shares with Oz, all before the little barn prince takes the old wizard’s hand and leads him back to reality where their friends were all waiting for them.

I think something like would’ve been real sweet for Oscar and Ozpin’s story. Like I said, I don’t think we’ll really get something like this for show. But nonetheless, it would’ve nice and for what it’s worth, I hope you all at least like it as a headcanon.

More Squiggles’ Pinehead Headcanons

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

[springmagpies]

For the AoS Ask Game: answer all the ones you haven’t been asked so far 😛😹 (if you feel like it obvsly)

Alright! Sorry it took me so long but this was a ton of fun! Thanks! 🥰

Agents of Shield Ask Game: My Complete Answer List

Coulson

May

Daisy: what is a name you always liked or wished you had?

I actually really like my name but I always loved the name Katie.

Fitz: what is an invention you wished existed?

I have said this before and I’ll say it again, I would love a dream translator. Just a device that you put in your ear or something and it types the scenes that you make up in your head. It would make writing a whole lot easier.

Jemma

Mack: what is your favorite 80s movie?

The Goonies!!! Hands down favorite 80s movie. It’s also just one of my favorite movies in general. My dad always gives me a hard time because I was terrified to watch it and would flat out refuse to because I thought the DVD cover was scary. Now it’s my favorite movie and a 100 years later he still teases me about it.

Elena: what would you say to the past version of yourself if you ever ran into them?

I would tell past me that it was going to be alright, that she’s loved, and to not doubt herself so much. I think future me would say the same thing to me now but it is always important to hear.

Deke: what is your favorite fruit?

Okay, I’m cheating and putting more than one. Watermelon, strawberries, and grapes.

Hunter: what are your favorite things to do with your friends?

I love to just sort of be with my friends. Talk and hangout with a show in the background. Play board games. It’s sort of our go to for hanging out.

Bobbi: can you speak multiple languages? what language can’t you speak that you wish you could?

I wish I could speak multiple languages! I’m trying to learn French, but I am not the best at it. I would also love to learn Spanish and Chinese. Can I just wish to speak all the languages?

Lincoln: would you want to be able to see your future? why or why not?

Nope! I am a strong believer that seeing the future is not a great idea. Life is about choices and--as cheesy as it sounds--the journey. Skipping ahead and catching the end or the middle just does not sound fun to me. Also, the future is never as it seems so you never truly know the context of what you’re seeing.

Robbie: what’s your dream car?

I would love a Volkswagen Beetle or Bus. My dad worked on Volkswagen cars a lot when I was little and so I have a soft spot for them.

Ward: what’s the dumbest lie you ever told?

The one that came to mind isn’t necessarily a dumb lie but it was dumb because of how obvious of a lie it was. In high school I lived with my aunt and uncle and one night my boyfriend at the time was sneaking out of the house. I rounded into the living room and my uncle was just sitting there watching Iron Man at 1 in the morning and he asked me why I opened the front door. I said that I thought I saw a cat. Yeah, I still haven’t lived that one down.

Aida

Enoch: what do you love about your best friend/friends?

I was talking to one of my friends about this yesterday. The thing I love about my friends is that we never fight with fear but always with love. No matter what stupid things we argue about we aren’t afraid of losing one another over it. We all can collectively speak our minds without fear of being hated or something silly like that. Also, they are just the kindest people in the world and super supportive. I could really go on and on.

Raina

Koenig

Donnie: what’s your favorite type of weather?

I love a warm day with a cool breeze. Like it’s just about to rain sort of weather.

Radcliffe: what’s an accent you always wanted to be able to do?

Scottish! I cannot for the life of me do a Scottish accent and I think they are the coolest things ever! My accent is pretty plain (probably because it’s the one I’m used to) so I really wish I could do a lot of accents. Sort of ties into my dream of speaking many languages.

Izzy: what is something in your life you are willing to fight for?

Friends and family for sure. And in a general sense, things I’m passionate about.

Davis: if you could visit any planet, what planet would you want to visit first?

Mars probably. I mean, I would love to visit Saturn but when my friends and I ask each other this question my one friend always says “that’s a gas planet, you can’t walk on them or anything.” So, Mars.

Piper: where’s the coolest place you’ve ever been?

I haven’t been a lot of places, but of where I’ve been I would say Hawaii. It was beautiful!

Trip

Cal: what’s a song that always seems to get stuck in your head?

Most Disney songs will just pop into my head randomly and then refuse to leave. Recently it has Go the Distance from Hercules.

Joey

Kara

Lucy: do you believe in ghosts?

Kind of? I believe that things leave a print of themselves on the world through memory and things and that their energy does as well. I don’t really believe in phantom figures or anything, but I do believe that there is that energy there.

Flint: what’s something you want to change about the world?

The inequality in the world. Racism, sexism, homophobia, these things--and many more inequities--have been a part of society for hundreds of years and they should not be allowed to continue anymore. They are prevalent in day to day life in ways that barely appear to some on the surface but have terrible lasting effects on people. I want to be part of the movement of squashing these things and moving towards equality, and be a part of keeping this movement going until there is actual peace, actual equality, and not just a new news story. I want to become more aware of how to use my privilege to help others, be an ally to these movements. And I want to create a world where people aren’t shot in the street by supposed “enforcers of the law” for being black. I know that this is just an AoS ask game, but these are things I believe strongly in and there are many great posts with links and many places you can donate. This is just one of the posts that I’ve seen that include places you can donate. 

Tess

Sarge: what is something about you that you think is badass?

I think that my kindness is pretty badass. At least I try to be kind and I think that’s a badass quality. I can’t fight baddies with my physical strength, for you see I am a weakling with twigs for arms, but I can be kind.

[maddiicake]

Ramblings of a Madwoman

Because I honestly have no other idea what to title this as. To put it simple, that's what this entire journal is going to be. From start to finish--no stopping to think about whatever f-ed up stuff will be put into written text and to be immortalized for eternity (deleted after or not) here on the World Wide Web--nothing but unedited, freewriting, off topic sidebar-ing throughout the entirety of this Journal. So, we'll see where and how it ends.

In about a month, I'll have been on DeviantART for an entire decade (and about 8 years since Tumblr). And, I just want to make it clear: I've done a shit tone of fucked up things in all the years that I've been here. Of course, this was things that I mainly did to people. (Yes, people, because, let's face it, whether or not we have the comfort of anonymity behind the keyboard in the middle of our "safe space" of the internet, we're still people on the other side of the screens). But, yes, I've done and said fucked up shit to people during me time here. I'm not ashamed to admit it. Nor will I deny any of the messed up stuff that I've done, especially to said people, in the past decade. I'll spare you all the wall of novel-length text that consists of my usual self-deprecating self-flagellation, since you all know the drill by now. Plus, I would hate putting you all to sleep just at the beginning of this Journal.

I'm messed up in the head. Plain and simple.

In my younger years (earlier in the decade, right about when I first appeared on dA), I had something wrong with me--not sure what, but it was definitely something that I, unfortunately, would never fully realize until recently this year. I grew up sheltered in an overly Conservative and Bible-Thumping household. The neighborhood I grew up in was what my parents lovingly called "God's Waiting Room", because of all the old-timers living in the homes. Any kids around were ones that I wasn't allowed to socialize with because my parents didn't want them "influencing" me. So, needless to say, I didn't have much of a social life growing up. I only went to a real school for two and a half years of my life, and, during that time, I stuck out more than a sore thumb (Hell, I didn't even know what a "Cafeteria" was, because the only "Cafeteria" I knew of was the dinner table. So, needless to say, my first time experiencing "lunch" was very awkward). All in all, being sheltered and not having much of a social life when you're still in your single-digits you grow up having this narcissistic know-it-all, controlling, 'I'm better than you', 'I'm the only person in this world and everyone else doesn't exist' personality and you think that you can control everyone else to your every whim. Being put into a real school with other real life people and kids my age was, obviously, a massive culture shock. When you suddenly realize that other people are their own individual person and have their own free will, you start to become aware that you were educated and raised in a world that could be similar to solitary confinement.

"Oh, hey, (Saki's real name). What're you doing?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just trying to think of how I can get all my classmates together for our superhero team so we can go off and fight bad guys in my head, all the while thinking I can bend them to my will as if they're not actually other human beings."

"...Didn't Chris-Chan already do that?"

"Pfft. This is 2005! Chris-Chan won't be a thing for another few years."

Now, my parents weren't perfect. I was their first child, and the first-borns are always the "guinea pigs"  for new parents.  Of course, I never understood that my parents were humans until my 20s. They made mistakes with me, like thinking that not giving their young impressionable daughter a social life through the first crucial years of her childhood was a good idea.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining--that's always the initial reaction people get whenever they read posts like this from me. "Oh, Saki's just starting drama", "Kura just wants attention", "She's cray-cray and needs help, like srsly...". Believe me, I get it, I completely understand why one would think that I sound like I'm complaining. Because you, the reader, are just reading these little pixelated words that look black on your computer monitor/mobile screen. But, in reality, when up close, those pixels are just a collection of RBGs. You interpret what you see through your reading and comprehension of the words before you. Because you're not the author. You merely interpret what you're writing and filling the blanks with guesswork of what the writer is trying to convey through these little pixels making up words.

It's weird, y'know... They say that "hearing voices" is the first step into insanity. But, are you insane if you're fully aware of it? They say that psychos and sociopaths don't admit nor are aware of their disorder because of the narcissism that accompanies it. So... would you still be a psychopath or sociopath if you admit it and/or are aware of it? These are just a handful of the kind of questions that fill he chaotic Hell in my mind when nothing else is going on.

Lately, though, that hasn't been very often. For those of you, who follow me on Tumblr (by the way, if you still follow me there, you must have a lot of tolerance for me), you may have noticed the rather alarming on-and-off episodes I've been having over the past few weeks. Trust me when I tell you that former friends will assure that "This is normal for Saki/Kura. Just stay away from her. She's just a lost cause. You'll only end up hurt associating with her, much less talking to her."

"Saki... the things you have been saying aren't really 'normal'--"

"Oh trust me... this is the Keemster-level of a 'cycle' that she goes through. Why do you think we made her theme song that Keemstar Parody of All Star? LMAO. This is 100% Normal for her."

But, what is normal? 'Normal' is nothing more than a perception of what we're used to: routines, topics, lifestyles--whatever we are used to. When something occurs that is out of our routine, we immediately perceive it as 'abnormal' (or just not normal). Much life me experience, albeit rather brief, time I spent in an actual school. You feel that unnerving unease as the stranger in a foreign land.

Now, what I do and say isn't Healthy, that would be the proper use of the phrase you're trying to portray. But, my diagnosis came far too late. There's no undoing what is done. There's no chance at saving loathsome sinners, the chance they had was the life they had before and the punishment is this. There's no rainbows inside of demons.

People, who view others outside of their little bubble, call those 'abnormal' people "toxic", simply because that person has disturbing psychological issues. It's like: "Ewww! A mud puddle! Gross I can't believe I stepped in that! Now my $200 shoes are ruined forever because of that damn puddle!" Those people are treated as lower than dirt just because their perceived in such a negative light. It's a label those high and mighty ones quickly slap onto those, who can't help the disorders they have. Sometimes those people aren't even aware they have a disorder, yet those prissy princesses still sit with upturned noses and chastise with their prim: "You need help, srsly." with their venomous undertone of "I'm better than you." Is it really fair to be some uppity hoity-toity sociality; sneering through your little rainbow-soap window down below at those loathsome dirty little plebian peasants? Perhaps that may be "normal" for you.

Sometimes--no, actually, often; very often--I just want to pop that bubble. Let that sprinkle of soap sting their eyes as it dribbles into their corneas. Their screams and cries in pain while they lean over the sink to wash them out would be such a delight.

I would go into more detail about other things regarding this, but I'm not dumb enough to freewrite my thoughts out to the point there's incriminating evidence against me.

"...Saki, this Journal is getting a little dark..."

"It's called 'Ramblings of a Madwoman' for a reason. Besides, the little 13-year-old edgelord wannabes on this website get away with far worse. Trust me, I've seen them. Some of them are in their 20s and haven't grown out of that phase. Them going on and getting away with using their boyfriends, who has ties to the dark Web, to get the personal information (mailing address and all) of the people they don't like just so that they can have them killed. You'd be surprised how thin-skinned these little lefties are. 'Someone Disagrees with me?? -cue Mission Impossible montage of tracking that person down and killing them-'."

"But you're talking about killing people!"

"I have said no such thing! At least not put it in writing. What part of 'I'm not dumb enough to post incriminating evidence of myself' did you not understand, my dear?"

Yes... it would be nice to have a peace of mind for once day. It would be amazing to not have to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat from another night terror (had one just last night actually). When people want you dead--and have gone out of their way to find your address so that they can kill you--, all you want to do is keep you and your family safe. People can't kill you if they no longer exist, right? It would be just so nice to be able to go on for the rest of my life without having to worry about being sought after and killed just because I disagreed with someone and told them they were being stupid and immature. Or just randomly responding to condescending Twitter users, who think I'm talking about a certain someone when I'm not. But, just knowing that people still continue to go after me for no apparent reason just causes those night terrors to persist.

I just want to keep my family safe. Selfishly, I want to be able to sleep without having to worry about people in other States and Countries somehow knowing where I live and can come and kill me at any moment.

"Why didn't you call the cops--?"

"Because I didn't know it was them at the time it happened. Their former friend didn't tell me about all the plots and things they said in their Discord server until two years later. So, they were able to get away with this because of the Statute of Limitations."

Regardless, that still won't put my mind at ease knowing that they're still out there and can pull the same thing or worse once again. I wasn't the only one they they did this too, either. Of course, that the YouTube Drama Channels for you. They do fucked up shit behind the scenes while putting on some "I'm a good person" face.

You can't trust people, who act nice publicly. They aren't the innocent souls they want everyone to believe that they are. They want something. They want something from you. And when they've squeezed everything out of you that they want... they'll toss you away with no hesitation because they're done using you. Using you to feed their little lambs, whose fleece are white as snow, while they sleep their way to the top.

They want me dead. They've always wanted me dead. They know where I live, and they'll take me out along with the rest of my family. They'll rejoice and be glad of course~ ^u^ "Ding Dong the witch is dead~!" They will sing as they dance together happily in the streets. "Huzzah! Hooray! The monster has been slain. No longer shall she continue to torment us because we have FINALLY killed her~!" They said so themselves: "I'm happy that people told you these things." That was back in 2015 (and I still have the screenshot and the link to the original post)... half a decade ago. Even back then, they wanted me dead. Their party planning for that day is still in preparation. But, they'll immediately set up once that time come when I no longer exist. "...Saki, you're not okay."

This is what happens to people when they've finally Snapped.

But, I want to get better. Don't get me wrong. I don't like that I've become this person. No, I don't believe in change--I don't believe people can change whatsoever. I just want to feel better and not have to worry about these things anymore. But, I know well that things will never be the same. All I can do is continue moving forward and hope and pray that I don't mess up once again and start the cycle all over.