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hellfirenacht · 1 year ago

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Upside Down to Inside Out Part 1

Summary: It has been four months since anyone has heard from Eddie 'The Freak' Munson. After the Events of the Upside Down, he skips town, leaving you to reflect on the fallout and how your relationship changed during the battle for Hawkins.

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, angst, drug use, sfw, friends to lovers

No one had seen Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson for months.

After the events in the Upside Down, where he, Dustin, and yourself had created a distraction for the Demobats to allow the rest of the team to do what was needed to kill Vecna/Henry/One, everything had happened in a blur. No one talked about that night, how everyone almost died, how the world almost ended, how Eddie had cleared his name but still was seen as a murderer.

The official story was that Eddie had been kidnapped by whoever had actually killed Chrissy and the others. The official story made Chrissy out to be some sort of druggie, which pissed everyone off, not least of all Eddie. The official story had Eddie locked up and tortured by some boogie man who had sacrificed others.

If the whole thing hadn’t been so traumatizing, it would almost be funny how close the papers got it right.

It was September now, and you hadn’t heard a word from Eddie in months. You’d called him so many times, even showing up at his home to try and find him. Eventually, Wayne Munson had to tell you that he wasn’t there, and that he’d packed up his guitar, his cassettes, and his clothes and left town just days after being discharged from the hospital.

Eddie ‘the Banished’ had retreated for the last time.

You were glad that none of the kids were there to see you completely break down over this. No, instead it was Johnathan Byers and Argyle of all people who had been witness to your downfall. You barely knew them, had never talked to Johnathan much in school and Argyle... never went back to California. You never did ask about what his parents must have thought.

They had been the one to drive you to Forest Hills Trailer Park when your car broke down. They had been the ones to hear Wayne explain that Eddie had skipped town. It was Johnathan’s idea to take you out to an old dump with a shitty golf club from the local thrift store to help you take your anger and frustration out on a broken washing machine.

You swung the golf club with all your might at the poor appliance. Screaming profanities, yelling at Eddie, and cursing this town that never gave him a chance.

“FUCK!” you screamed as the golf club swung down with a clang. “Stupid- He fucking LEFT!” Another swing. “He said... he wouldn’t run away again!” Another swing as hot tears stung your eyes. “Stupid shithead- stupid FUCK.”

You had long since stopped making sense of your yelling as Johnathan and Argyle just watched you. Everything was just wrong. How the hell did you save the world and still feel like you lost everything?! It wasn’t fair, you were supposed to have cleared his name, the town was supposed to love him now the same way that you-

Another feral scream ripped through your throat as you slammed the golf club down for a final time, snapping the cheap metal and denting the appliance. You fell to your knees in a heap, sobbing uncontrollably into the dirt.

Argyle was the one to step in, sitting you up and sticking something in your mouth and telling you to breathe in. The joint burned your throat and only reminded you more of Eddie as you coughed out smoke. Someone was rubbing your back as you cried, you couldn’t tell who at this point. You should have been embarrassed to be having this complete breakdown in front of two people you barely knew, but you couldn’t help it.

You weren’t sure how long you were sitting on the ground with the two men. You had mostly gotten your breathing under control, and you weren’t sure if the joint that was being passed between the three of you was doing you any good.

“So... you were close with Eddie?” Jonathan asked, once he decided that you had calmed down enough to talk.

“I... I thought we were.” you said. “I really thought so.”

“Come on, if anyone can get Eddie to move Hellfire it’s you!” Mike pleaded. “It’s the final session and then it’s over!”

You looked at the two freshmen before you and sighed. You agreed with them, you fully agreed with everything they were saying. You wanted Lucas there, you wanted everyone there for this. It wouldn’t feel right that the campaign would end without the whole of Hellfire Club there.

And you had some sway over Eddie, not much but some. He was your friend, the one who had singled you out and dragged you into the club. He was the one who gave you a place to belong in Hawkins, and the only person you had opened up to about things in your past. This was the same man who when you said you had a passing interest in Metal music, he’d come to school the next day with a mix tape of his favorite songs, with a track list of why they were significant to the genre.

Eddie was your friend, and none of the others could ever truly bring themselves to stand up to him the way you did. You weren’t afraid to poke at him when he was being stubborn, you weren’t afraid to fight with him, or call him out. That’s why he liked you, if he was honest. You were never afraid or nervous around Eddie Munson.

Well, not to his face.

“I won’t make any promises, but I’ll try. Maybe three people voting to postpone will make him at least think about it.” you finally agree.

Dustin and Mike were satisfied with that as you all looked over at the normal Hellfire Club table.

“Shit, he seems really revved up today.” Dustin said, watching as Eddie laughed about something in the magazine he was holding.

“He’s always revved up.” said Mike, who looked just as nervous.

“Welp, time to go ruin his day.” You said with a deep breath and a laugh. “Business as usual.”

That at least made the freshmen laugh a little bit as you led the way towards the club, dropping your lunchbox on the table next to Eddie. You were creating a barrier between him and Dustin and Mike, just in case. Not that Eddie would ever actually hurt anyone. Okay, yeah he wasn’t afraid to get handsy and grab onto club members and push them around a little but there was never any true malicious intent.

But if you were going to be the one with any actual sway over his decision, then you had to be the one sitting closest to him.

“‘Sup, Freaks.” you said dropping down in the chair, forcing Zack to scoot over. Gareth rolled his eyes at you, as usual. He never did seem to care for you, but it didn’t matter to you that much.

Eddie barely acknowledged you until you opened your lunch box and tossed him an extra sandwich. It stressed you out how little he always brought, and you made sure to never make a big deal about it, and he didn’t question. Eddie grabbed the bag and took a bite out of the sandwich, and you could almost laugh at his expression. He was frowning so hard, and he was clearly in some sort of mood.

“Exactly.” Eddie said, looking at you as he swallowed. “We’re the freaks here right? Just because we like to play a fantasy game.”

Oh no, he was in one of those moods. You immediately grabbed your lunch and scooted it back; you’d already lost more than one sandwich to Eddie’s speeches in the few months that you’d been here. Oh, this was going to be much harder than you thought it’d be.

“BUT” Eddie slammed the table with his hand and started to stand up. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing as he climbed up on the table- how many times had he managed to stand on these tables without getting in trouble? How many teachers had just given up at this point and let him go for it knowing it would only take a moment of everyone’s time?

Still, you never got tired of it. You never got tired of his energy and passion, how he meant every single word he said, even if it pissed everyone else off or annoyed them. The whole school thought that he would snap one day, and you assumed that’s why most people stayed away from Hellfire. This club came with a certain level of protection against bullies, no doubt thanks to Eddie’s antics.

“As long as you're into band!” Eddie yelled out, walking along the table. You had heard him say this exact thing hundreds of times before in private that you could almost say it word for word; wait, had that been him rehearsing for this? “Or science, or paaarrrtieeess-”

He was gaining attention now, a few people looking up and flipping him off or muttering about the freak standing and yelling on the lunchroom table again.

“Or a GAME where you toss BALLS into LAUNDRY BASKETS!” He yelled even louder.

Shit. You looked over at Dustin and Mike with a sigh. Oh, he was NOT going to be happy about your proposal. You were now also glad that you had bought your supply off of him a few days ago so that he couldn’t hold that over your head. He has absolutely refused to sell you weed before, or at least delayed it by a few days because you two had gotten into some spat but he always ended up selling to you when you made up.

A few people were yelling at Eddie now, and he threw up his hands and hissed at someone. You shook your head, God he was dramatic. But you loved that about him, if you were honest. Eddie was refreshing in a sea of normalcy. It was part of the reason you felt-

“It’s forced conforming.” Eddie declared as he walked back down the table and jumped off, getting into some poor girl's face who stumbled back into a pillar. “That’s what's killing the kids!” He took a seat again. “That’s the real monster.”

You readjusted your lunch and gave him a polite round of applause, with Mike and Dustin also following when they saw your face. Flattery worked on Eddie, of course it did. Eddie was a DM, so that meant he had some form of God-Complex and any form of stroking his dumb ego could only help.

“So, uh, speaking of monsters...” Dustin started. Eddie was eating his sandwich again and his eyes had narrowed. Eddie always had a sixth sense when some form of bullshit was about to happen, and he could already tell that he wasn’t going to like whatever it was that this kid was going to say.

“Lucas has to do his, uh, balls-in-laundry-baskets game.” Dustin laughed nervously, trying so hard to remain calm and casual. “So... He’s not gonna make it to Hellfire tonight. And I know there’s no way we can beat your sadistic campaign without him. So, me and Mike, we were talking, shooting the shit. And we were thinking that maybe we might...”

“Postpone!” Mike said, not letting Dustin get to the point. That’s probably not how you would have handled this situation, but it was out there.

The table immediately delved into chaos as your friends immediately started fighting with the freshmen.

“Postpone?!”

“You can’t just drop this on us!”

“Over my dead body!”

“SHUT UP!” Everything came to a halt with the club and you all looked at Eddie. He leaned over and looked at Dustin. “Are you saying that Sinclair’s been taken in by the dark side?”

In the off season, it had been easy for Lucas to ‘play the field’ between Basketball and Hellfire. With Hellfire on Fridays and practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the kid had been able to mostly get by playing both games. He never talked about one extra-curricular with the other, knowing that neither group of friends would care about the other.

Then Spring semester started, and Basketball season started ramping up as the Hawkins Tigers started winning games. Lucas was still benched, but he couldn’t skip games, not without losing the chance to actually play. This had been causing friction for a few months now, with Lucas skipping Hellfire and everyone needing to find a sub for the game instead of, maybe, Eddie adjusting the dungeons and encounters accordingly. But Eddie would always be Eddie, and he was a stubborn, sadistic DM.

“Uh, something like that?” Mike mumbled.

“Something like that?” Eddie threw a piece of crushed pretzel that he had been eating at the freshman, which you barely dodged by leaning back.

“Jesus, Eds.” you mumbled.

He waved you off. “And rather than find a sub for him, you want... you want to postpone ‘The Cult of Vecna’?” You could practically hear Eddie grinding his teeth, and his shoulders were shaking.

“I... I don’t want to postpone it.-” Mike started and you had to step in. This was not getting anywhere.

“Yes, Eddie, we want to postpone the game” you said firmly, sitting up straighter. He looked at you, jaw agape and eyes wide as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Are you serious?” he asked. “This is the final session of the campaign-”

“And this is the Championship game!” you shot back.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Jeff said.

“So we’re supposed to just postpone because Lucas has to go play with his balls?” Gareth added.

“ENOUGH” Eddie said, his eyes were now trained on you. You did your best to stand your ground. “So it’s the championship game?”

“Most of the subs will be there-” Mike started, but a sharp look from Eddie had him shrink back before wide brown eyes turned back to you. Freshmen he could handle, but you could be just as stubborn as him when it mattered. You and Eddie always challenged each other, and most times it was fun to get under each other's skin, but this wasn’t playful banter about a dice roll this time.

“Can I level with you three?” Eddie asked, his eyes sweeping over you, Dustin, and Mike. He stood up and you wondered if he was capable of sitting down when he had something to say. Even during Hellfire he’d be more than happy to hop up and lean over the table, walk around and get in everyone’s faces.

You’d called him a theater kid once and that had almost caused a fist fight between you two. It was totally worth it.

He pointed at the members across from you. "Jeff graduates this year. Gareth’s got, what? A year and a half? Me, I am army-crawling my way toward a D in Ms. O’Donnell’s.” There was a fire in his eyes now, and he was practically vibrating as he walked around the table. “If I don’t blow her final, I’m gonna walk that stage next month, I’m gonna look Principal Higgins dead in the eye, I’m gonna flip him the bird, I’m gonna snatch that diploma, and I’m gonna run like hell outta here!”

If you heard this speech once, you heard it a million times, and it still got to you each time. This wasn’t exactly your first senior year either. You and Eddie had tried several times to study together, to try and get your shit together enough to graduate, but it didn’t work. You both were far too easily distracted when around each other and it ended up doing more harm than good. Both of you were right at the finish line now, him needing three more credits and you needing two now.

“Didn’t you say that last year?” asked Gareth.

“And the year before that?” Jeff added.

“Yeah, yeah and I was full of shit. This year’s different. This year is my year. I can feel it. ‘86, baby!” His smile could light up this whole town, and you felt yourself falter for just a moment as he made his way behind you three. “And with us finally getting out of this hellhole,” his hand fell heavy on your shoulder and gave it a squeeze before he looked at Mike and Dustin. “It means you boys are the future of Hellfire. I knew it the moment I saw you. You sat on that table right over there, looking like... looking like two little lost sheep. You were wearing a Weird Al t-shirt, which I thought was brave.”

You had thought it was cool.

“Thank you.” Dustin said, unsure how to take that.

“Mike, you were wearing whatever shit your mommy bought you from the goddamn Gap.” Eddie continued. Okay so this was Eddie’s plan, ignore your protests to focus on the freshmen. Everyone at the table was laughing now, and you were losing this argument.

That’s when you stood up, now standing above him as he was squatting by Mike and Dustin. For just a second you had the high ground.

“Actually Munson, can I level with you?” you asked, looking down at him. He raised and eyebrow and slowly stood up as you crossed your arms. He had a few inches on you and he stepped just a bit closer.

“Mom and dad are fighting again.” you heard Zach mutter under his breath.

“Speak.” Eddie’s voice was low and dangerous and you had to smother the small insistent voice in your head that it was, perhaps, a little bit attractive when he was like this.

This was not the fucking time.

“We’ve all been working our ass off with this campaign.” you said. “You’ve put us through hell and back and we’ve all fought to get to this point. You want to split the party Eddie? You want to do this during the final battle? Shit, Eds, it’s the last session! What happens after this? A few one shots until the semester is over-”

“There’s no guarantee that you’ll all fight and win. You might have to retreat.” Eddie interrupted.

“If that’s the case then we retreat as a team!” you shot back. “Lucas is our friend, and yeah he hasn’t been around much this semester. But are you really about to throw that away just because you’re so stubborn that you won’t postpone this one time?!”

Eddie stared down at you as the rest of Hellfire held their breath.

“I have poured my blood, swear, and tears into this campaign.” he said.

“I know, and it shows! This is probably the best table I’ve ever played at but if we can’t end this together then what’s the point?” You straightened up. “We should go to the game.”

“Are you joking?!” Jeff asked.

“Why would we do that?!”

“Because Lucas is our friend, Dipshits!” you turned to the club. “After he basically carried your sorry ass last semester, I would have thought better of all of you.”

“Okay mom.” Zack grumbled.

“You’re grounded.” you snapped and turned to Eddie. “Eddie. You’re not unreasonable. Postpone the game, even by a single day. We have all of spring break to get together and finish this. You worked so hard on this campaign and we all worked hard to play it with the respect it deserves-”

“Didn’t you interrupt a villain monologue three weeks ago to talk shit about the wine at the cult gathering?” Gareth asked.

“Okay, so that’s- shut up, Gareth.” And you’d do it again just to make Eddie roll for stupid details like that. “The point is, we should want everyone there. This is your year, yeah? You’re gonna throw away a player because you can’t wait to have everyone together?”

Eddie’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed down his face. There was a look of defeat that you held your breath for. He turned to the rest of club.

“And what say the rest of you?” he asked, looking around the table.

“At this point I don’t care when we play as long as we play.” Jeff said. “Sinclair’s tried to be around as much as he can for us and yeah, last year he was a big help.”

“I’ll concede if it means they stop fighting.” Zack said. “Just get a divorce already.”

“We can’t, we’re staying together for the kids.” you nudged Eddie, who looked like he couldn’t tell if he wanted to be annoyed or amused. He just shook his head.

“Gareth?” he asked.

Everyone stared at the drummer and his face was contorted into a pissed look. “I guess I can’t say no without being the bad guy. Fine, but you really owe us.”

This was good enough for you as Dustin and Mike visibly relaxed. Mike was looking as if he couldn’t believe that this actually worked.

“I’ll cook for all of you, I promise.” you said instantly. “Next session I’ll bring food and everything!”

This seemed to satisfy even Eddie, who could never turn down free food. He still looked annoyed, and disappointed, but he had accepted the fate of tonight’s game.

“If you don’t make those cookies, I’m sacrificing you to Vecna myself.” he said.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Eds.” you smirked.

Someone at the table muttered ‘Jesus Christ’ but you took your seat again. Mike and Dustin were staring at you as if you’d achieved the impossible. To be fair, you probably did.

“I guess we’re going to watch Sinclair play with his balls.” Gareth said, which broke the tension and everyone laughed.

“Man, that guy sounds like a tough cookie.” Argyle nodded as you handed the joint back to him. It had been weeks since your episode, the three of you were now laying on top of the large Surfer Boy van that you were starting to suspect wasn’t legally his.

The three of you did this a lot. When things got to be too much, when the nightmares were too stressful to deal with, the three of you would meet up and just... talk. It was cheaper and easier than therapy and you doubted any therapist was equipped to deal with teens who fought monsters and saved the world.

“I can’t believe that Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson wouldn’t move it.” Jonathan said. It had only been within the last week that you had started telling them about your relationship with him. They knew that you two had helped cause the distraction to blow up the Demobats, but you hadn’t talked more than that.

“He gets wrapped up in himself.” you said quietly. “Told me once that he’d move Hellfire all the time but he had to put his foot down because nothing would get done.”

“When Will was younger he was always at the Wheeler place playing.” Jonathan said. “They’d be playing all day until we had to put on a stricter curfew.”

“It’s easier when you’re kids. Less shit to do.”

“Did you ever finish that campaign?” asked Argyle. “With the food and everything?”

You took the joint back and took a deep breath, holding it until your lungs and eyes burned before exhaling slowly and handing the joint to Jonathan. A tear slid down your cheek and you wiped it with the back of your hand.

“No.” you said, your voice sounding raw. “They... after everything that happened, they don’t talk to me anymore.”

The only Hellfire members who acknowledged your presence now were those who fought Vecna. Zack, Jeff, Gareth- they had made it very clear that you weren’t welcome anymore around them. They blamed you for Eddie’s disappearance, they blamed you for pushing to move Hellfire, they blamed you for Gareth’s broken fingers where Jason Carver had stomped him for information.

They blamed you for the breaking of Corroded Coffin.

You never had the strength to try and explain what happened. And what did it matter anyway? Without Eddie around, Hellfire was broken. A cult without a leader. The whole town would probably lynch you all if you ever donned your Hellfire shirts again. You all already had a lifetime ban from The Hideout and none of you were even 21 yet.

“Bummer.” Argyle said sympathetically, and you just shrugged.

“I can live without them I guess.” you sighed. “Living without Eddie sucks but...”

You couldn’t keep going. You already talked about him too much today and that wound in your heart that refused to scab over just continued to slowly bleed. You wondered how much longer before there was nothing left of you. Your strange new friendship between Johnathan and Argyle had kept you afloat for now, but how long could it last? Jonathan would have to go to college and you think Argyle would have to return to California at some point. Maybe.

“Were you two..?” Jonathan started but even Argyle shook his head.

“I just wish I knew where he was, you know? To know that he’s not mauled in a ditch somewhere.” you said.

“Yeah man, like if there was just something we had that could just tell us where he is.” Argyle nodded. “That’d be crazy! Just push a button and we know where he is.”

“I should have had him microchipped” you laughed as another tear slid down your cheek.

Jonathan sat up suddenly. “What if we didn’t need something?” he asked, brows furrowed as if he was trying to clear a path through the fog of his mind to a dimly lit idea that was just out of reach. “What if we needed someone?”

“What like some psychic girl who can transport through people's minds to fight off monsters and locate people just by thinking about them?” Argyle laughed, and there was a moment of silence before you and Argyle shot up to look at Johnathan.

“EL!”

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a/n: comments and tags make my ADHD write more, just sayin'

#eddie munson x reader #nacht fic #upside down to inside out #honestly this might be one of my favorite things I've written for Eddie tbh

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

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rest in my arms, sleep in my bed

Summary: Jiang Cheng goes to Qinghe before a snow storm.

Tags: post-canon, fluff, implied sexual content, morning after

ao3

Nie Huaisang was a selfish man and he was willing to admit it.

Many things he’d done in his life were born of selfish desires and he was happiest at his most selfish. His disciples seemed to understand that and seemed to be content with it, though a part of that selfishness was making sure they were good, taken care of disciples and therefore it worked in their benefit. He couldn’t risk having shitty people that he was required to trust and rely on‒that would not be happening again.

Still, that selfishness had also led to him doing exhiliratingly dumb things like dragging Sandu Shengshou into his bed. It was absolutely a dangerous prospect and could’ve very easily gotten him killed or at least a few broken bones, but Nie Huaisang apparently had caught him at a good‒or bad, depending on how you looked at it‒time and he needed someone to go a little wild on who would also pet his head and call him embarrassing pet names just to see how red he could get.

That was a while ago now, though, and they’d fallen into a nice pattern of not seeing each other for months on end and then showing up when they needed a day of pretending they weren’t sect leaders with someone who was just as fucked up and unqualified as they were. It was pretty effective and gave Nie Huaisang a large amount of time and space to wallow in self-loathing. Granted, he was pretty sure Jiang Cheng did something like that too, so they were basically fated at this point.

Last night, however, the idiot himself had flown to Qinghe and stupidly misunderstood how weather worked. Nie Huaisang’s functioning theory was that he was so angry that he didn’t feel the cold because as soon as they banged it out and he got some fucking rest for what was probably the first time in a week, he was freezing. Nie Huaisang had wrapped him up in the thickest blankets he could find and cooed at the way he burrowed into them like an adorably angry baby.

Sometime during the night it only escalated and snowed so hard Nie Huaisang was beginning to think they might have to send a quick letter to Lotus Pier to let them know their fearless and highly feared sect leader was incapacitated by way of being scared of the weather.

“Fuck this fucking white shit,” Jiang Cheng grumbled in his heap of blankets on Nie Huaisang’s bed. It was usually made by now so it was slightly annoying that it wasn’t, but he could excuse it. For today, at least. Extenuating circumstances.

“Does it not snow in Lotus Pier?” Nie Huaisang mused from where he sat cross-legged on the other side of the bed. He had ink grinded and was working his way through a painting, one of a pretty tree in the snow. Part of him wanted to paint in Jiang Cheng pouting under said tree, but he assumed that would go as well as that time he painted Da-ge smiling with a flower. “Does it not get cold?”

“It does,” Jiang Cheng said, sounding like an absolute child from inside his pile, “But not like this! This is torture. Inhumane. Wrong. Lotus Pier gets, like, windy. A bit snowy, sometimes, yes, but fuck all of this shit.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“You are not allowed to talk to me like that!” Jiang Cheng snapped, but he didn’t move from his blankets and therefore it meant nothing. Truthfully, even if he had, it wouldn’t have meant anything. Jiang Cheng was just like that. It was part of why Nie Huaisang liked him so much.

“Seriously, this is nothing. You should come when it gets too cold to snow.”

“ Too cold to snow?” Jiang Cheng repeated, absolute disbelief and horror in his voice. Nie Huaisang found himself smiling.

“Darling, you’re adorable when you don’t know things.”

“Says the Headshaker,” he grumbled.

Nie Huaisang huffed a laugh and carefully put his ink and painting on his bedside table that existed solely for a place to put nightly paintings and ink. Once it was settled, he crawled back over to the lump of blankets and draped himself over it.

“If you’re truly that cold, I can think of a few ways to warm you up,” he said. Jiang Cheng grunted in disdain because he thought he needed to be manly and Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes.

“No offense, but I’m too cold for that. I’m pretty sure my dick has climbed into my body,” he said. Nie Huaisang rolled onto the other side of the mass of blankets, sliding his hand beneath them. “If your hand is cold, I’m going to fucking‒ Fuck! Why do you feel like ice?! What is wrong with you?! Are you even human?!”

Nie Huaisang laughed and dug under the blankets more to press his cold fingers into his skin. That was another reason that he liked Jiang Cheng so much. He made him laugh. That was something he hadn’t done earnestly in well over a decade.

“ Stop, ” Jiang Cheng whined, finally letting his stupid facade drop. Nie Huaisang felt motivated by it and started to make his way into Jiang Cheng’s blanket heap. “You’re so cold, what the fuck, you’re letting the cold air in!”

“You’re a cultivator, aren’t you warm naturally? Your core is so strong, can't you just get over it?” Nie Huaisang asked, easily slipping his foot to press against the back of Jiang Cheng’s thighs. He jumped and half-assed swatting at his leg. Nie Huaisang hooked his leg around him and pulled himself in. “Here, you big baby, I’ll tuck you in.”

He took a second to seal off any passageways into the blanket heap, closing them in together. Once he settled, he got a good look at Jiang Cheng’s pouty little face in the darkness of the blankets. Somehow, he still seemed to be glowing. As much as Nie Huaisang never cared to grow his own core, he couldn’t deny that it helped create some breathtaking men. That in itself was a gift.

“Do I need to get one of my disciples to take you back to Lotus Pier?” he asked. Jiang Cheng’s eyes slowly slipped across his face and then down between them where they were pressed together, more or less. Nie Huaisang raised an eyebrow and waited for him to meet his eyes again. “Well? Do I?”

“I don’t need help. ”

“Yes, but it isn’t safe to fly on your sword in this,” he pointed out, “And it definitely isn’t safe to travel on foot alone. I don’t care how known and powerful you are.”

“What,” Jiang Cheng said, voice a bit quiet, “Are you actually worried about me?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes again. “Imagine the kind of attention we’d get if you died in the middle of nowhere from exposure and the last place you’d been was the Unclean Realm. I do not want to deal with your brother or either of your nephews, thank you very much.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him, eyes still squinted like he was trying to read him. Fortunately, that was something he’d been notoriously bad at for his entire life. It was a good thing that he was pretty and strong.

“You know, you’ve gotten pretty lucky that you’ve basically got your foot in every other major sect. You’re running YunmengJiang, your nephew runs LanlingJin, your other nephew is the last living QishanWen, your brother is shacking up with an important member of GusuLan, and you’re shacking up with the man running QingheNie. Look at you, making connections by chance,” Nie Huaisang said, patting him on the chest. Jiang Cheng blinked three times in succession.

“How did you know about Lan Sizhui being a Wen?” he asked, “I didn’t tell you that and surely Wei Wuxian didn’t.”

Nie Huaisang huffed a laugh and pushed further into Jiang Cheng’s space until they were nose to nose, twirling his hair around his finger. He was so dumb and so, so cute. Nie Huaisang should've taken advantage of him when they were young.

“Darling, when will you learn I know everything?”

Jiang Cheng scoffed, but he didn’t push him away. Instead, his hand pressed against his back and pulled him in tightly.

“No wonder you and Wei Wuxian get on so well. You’re both know-it-all assholes,” he said.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes and poked him in the chest, deciding not to comment. He and Wei Wuxian got on so well because they knew different, complementary things. But it was less that they got along and more that they could respect each other for that‒and that they both knew what the other was capable of even if they didn’t know the specifics. That was enough to keep distance.

Jiang Cheng didn’t need to know that if he didn’t already.

“Ah, would you like me to get him to come here and lead you back? I bet he’d love that,” Nie Huaisang said. Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes at him all over again.

“Asshole.”

“Mm, quite.”

Jiang Cheng made a little mocking noise and paired it with his hand carefully combing back Nie Huaisang’s hair. He was sure he looked a mess with all the blankets, but he could handle that later.

“How long will it snow for?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Alright, when I said I knew everything, I didn’t mean I could predict the weather,” Nie Huaisang scoffed. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and gently flicked the base of his spine. Chills shot all the way up to his neck. “My guess would be it’ll stop by this evening, probably.”

“Then I will stay until the morning,” Jiang Cheng decided. Nie Huaisang raised an eyebrow.

“Really? You’re just going to invite yourself to stay another night? How hospitable of you, Jiang Wanyin,” he said. Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes and then gripped him a bit tighter before rolling him onto his back and placing himself on top of him. Nie Huaisang gave a mocking, “Stop it, you’ll let the cold air in!”

“Didn’t you offer to warm me up earlier? Has that offer been retracted?” he asked, lowering himself down until Nie Huaisang could feel his breath on his lips.

“Of course not, I have no intention to let my guest suffer.”

“Asshole,” Jiang Cheng said, but his voice was soft and he was smiling.

“Baby,” Nie Huaisang accused right back, but he was grinning all the same.

Jiang Cheng kissed him then, a way to silence him and a way to get warm all the same. And he would be staying another night, officially the longest they’d spent time together since this whole tryst began.

And perhaps Nie Huaisang wouldn’t be able to wait another handful of months before doing this again.

#sangcheng #sangcheng fic #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #the untamed #mdzs #my fic

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shinadog · 4 years ago

Photo

Oh, hey, forgot to post this here - Mob Part 3 is up (and part 4 is on its way).

Summary : Something happened after Haruka’s concert. (PART 2) (AO3 Link)

3 - BLAME

Eventually, people left him alone.

They had tried their best, but since he had refused their help, they decided to give him some space. He was more than alright with that. Not that "alright" could ever be a word he would use to describe himself. Not anymore.

He felt numb. Disconnected from it all.

All the events of the past few days - the concert, the crowd, the call he received in the middle of that fateful night, the sleepless nights where he almost choked because he couldn't stop crying, the funeral... He remembered living those things, but when he thought about them, he felt like a spectator watching them from afar. Not an actor, but a powerless observer, a blurry silhouette who was barely floating above those horrible scenes.

On his good days, the days where he was more or less aware of his surroundings, the awful numbness of loss was replaced by a burning anger. On those days, he started to think about the people he blamed.

He had managed to get his hands on an impressive number of newspapers and magazines. The hyenas who worked for those rags must have had a field day with this disaster - a lot of ink has been spilled over this, and it didn't look like it was going to stop anytime soon. Good. Every new article fueled his anger, made something warm shake his numb, freezing body.

Sometimes, he would see her name in those papers. His own name, too. The sight of it made him sick, and he usually skimmed past it. He didn't want to know what the idiots writing them thought about him and his pain. More often than not, her name was replaced by a number. Lumped together with the rest of the poor souls who lost everything that night. He wasn't sure he liked that better.

The journalists who were feeling exceptionally bold sometimes talked about the yakuza. He kept those articles close. In one of them, he had seen the face of that man for the first time. The buff, scary looking guy in a bad suit. The "Dragon", a big name in the yakuza world, who had apparently moved away from it all years ago. The fucker whose stupid daughter's speech ruined everything. Kazuma Kiryu.

It was so much easier to hate someone when you knew what they looked like.

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

Kiryu had fought many formidable foes in all his years in (and out) the business. Deadly, dangerous men who were out to get him, monsters who wanted to hurt his family. Yet, none of them hit him as hard as the shitty little TV in his hospital room.

Whenever he was back in his room, when very tired nurses managed to drag him away from Haruka so that he'd try to rest for once, he would turn the bloody thing on. No matter what time it was then, it felt like he always managed to find a channel that talked about the concert.

Even though his various babysitters always tried to turn the TV off, to distract him from it somehow, Kiryu seemed to always come back to it. That thing was hypnotizing. He only stopped when he left the room. Or when a particularly pissed Majima threatened to explode the screen with his baseball bat.

Still, Kiryu watched those programs diligently, listening to all the people who had something to say about this whole mess with all the focus he could muster.

Seeing some of the people who were in the crowd that night talk and listening to their retelling of it left him weirdly numb.

The enemies he had faced before were, well, people. They had names, stories, reasons to act the way they did. They were tangible, something Kiryu could punch. Defeat. Forgive. He could do no such thing with a mob. There was no big guy who had orchestrated the whole disaster, no mastermind who ran things in the shadows. No one he could easily blame, fight, and move on from.

For some reason, this lack of a proper target made him resent everyone else.

Kiryu thought himself to be a pretty forgiving person. Those feelings rearing their ugly heads were definitely new, and he didn't really know what to do with them. He mostly kept them bottled up, though, because that's what he usually did with unknown feelings, but it was starting to get tiring. Blaming everyone only made it clearer than no one was to blame, and that made him somehow angrier.

Still, that's what he did.

He blamed himself, first and foremost, as it was the easiest thing to do. He shouldn't have let Haruka go, shouldn't have left the orphanage, shouldn't have left that Park woman come into their home... Oh, he wanted to blame Park herself, of course, but being dead shielded her from his rage. Mostly.

Thinking about their last discussion, before she chased him from his home, was somehow too much for him to process anyway, so he mostly tried to banish her from his thoughts. Which was not exactly easy because every time he saw Majima, he was reminded of the fact that he didn't find it necessary to warn him about her and her history with him. So, naturally, he blamed Majima for that. Among other things, including faking his own death, forcing Kiryu to come out of hiding.

He blamed Saejima and Akiyama, for pulling their annoying "let's fight together" bullshit again and making him believe this would work. It didn't. So he blamed them and their stupid plan, he blamed-

Kiryu took a deep breath, focusing once more on the TV screen. All this anger was exhausting, and he was feeling dizzy already. Oh, that was another one - he blamed his stupid body for being messed up and forcing him to lay still, when all he wanted was to do something, anything, to get his mind out of it.

The TV, showing no mercy, was still going with various interviews when he saw the crying man.

A big guy, with shaking shoulders and his head down, mumbling something as he shook.

Kiryu felt a bit too ill to really listen to what he said, which didn't matter because he couldn't take his eyes off that man. A small text at the bottom of the screen finally managed to catch his attention, and he felt a heavy lump in his throat as he realized what he was looking at.

That guy's daughter was among the four people who died that night. She was fourteen.

As if he knew Kiryu was watching, the man suddenly looked straight into the camera, and the pain in those eyes hit him hard. As if he had been stung, Kiryu immediately stood up, ignoring his stiff body's complaints and bolted out of the room.

He slammed the door behind him, and, taking the time to appreciate that no one was standing guard to see him completely freak out, decided he would not go to Haruka’s room. On his worst days, Kiryu would blame her, too, looking at her sleeping form with uncontrollable anger. He didn't want to go there when he was already this agitated, so he started limping through the corridors.

He had been allowed recently to use crutches to move around, which were replacing the wheelchair. He was shaking, though, so perhaps that it wasn't such an improvement. Collapsing in the middle of the hospital didn't exactly sound like a good idea. Walking at random in the corridors to escape his TV screen was also not a good idea, but Kiryu was already too deep in thoughts to decide to turn away.

As he kept moving blindly, trying to calm down while not losing his already fragile balance, he was startled by a man inexplicably bowing down as he passed. Kiryu found himself blinking at the guy, dumbfounded, before he noticed the Tojo pin on his lapel, and the small, almost inaudible “Fourth Chairman” he had whispered. Right. Just your average Tojo clan goon, lost in a random hospital hallway.

Well, maybe not that random. There was another man standing at the other end of the corridor, staring at him with wide eyes, and a third in the middle, his arms crossed as he stood near the closed door. Before Kiryu could ask himself why that particular hallway was packed with yakuza, the guy had hurriedly knocked on the door and opened it just as fast, getting inside in an instant.

The man who had bowed down to him straightened up, his voice hesitant as he asked, “Have you come to talk with the Sixth Chairman, Sir?”

Not really, no. In fact, if Kiryu could not speak with anyone for the next 24 hours, that would be great. Still, he frowned. “I thought Daigo’s room was a few floors up.”

“It is, but the chairman is visiting his friend.”

Friend.

Kiryu had a vague memory of Akiyama introducing Shinada as “a friend of Daigo”, something that felt like it had happened in another lifetime. And, now that he was thinking about it, someone (Akiyama again, or Saejima, he wasn’t sure) had told him the man had been admitted here after the mob roughed him up. Having been pretty much trampled by the angry crowd, he had been lucky to make it out with, to Kiryu’s knowledge, only a few broken bones and a ton of bruises. Beaten up, but still alive. Conscious, even.

Unlike Haruka.

Kiryu felt something flick in his mind, and suddenly talking didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all. He had been eating up footage of the incident for days now, listening to all the people who wanted to share what they had lived, and while it surely left an impression on him, the last example having been enough to send him running for the hills, it was not enough anymore.

He started moving again, careful not to fall, feeling heavy already after only having been using the crutches for a couple minutes. Not that he cared what the bodyguards would think if he collapsed in front of them. That would give them something fun to share with their fellow Tojo buddies.

Annoyingly enough, Kiryu had barely made two steps when he was stopped in his tracks again.

“Fourth Chairman.”

It wasn’t like he was surprised to see Daigo come out of the door, greeting him with an uncharacteristic anxious edge to his voice. His bodyguard had more or less already said he was in there, but Kiryu still couldn’t help but think there was something odd about this encounter. Maybe it was the fact that Daigo was still using a wheelchair, making Kiryu tower above him. Maybe it was the way he was looking at him now, his whole body tense as if he was expecting some kind of confrontation. Kiryu hadn’t seen this kind of hostility in Daigo’s eyes in years, but mostly, the man looked tired. Worried, too. Kiryu felt his own anger fade away slightly, as he got closer, wincing when a sharp pain on his left side reminded him not to move so quickly.

“Looks like things aren’t going so well for either of us, Sixth Chairman.” he said, realizing they were not exactly the two yakuza big names they usually were, but just two wounded idiots staring at each other in a hospital hallway. The bodyguards were following the scene, looking nervous. Kiryu wondered if they were worried a fight was going to break out. He didn’t really think that was a possibility. Apart from throwing one of his crutches like a spear, which would certainly make him fall, he didn’t see how he could be a threat, right now.

Kiryu cleared his throat, remembering what he was doing here in the first place. “I came to talk with Shinada.” This wasn’t a question or a request. Maybe he was threatening, after all.

“I don’t think that would be wise.” Daigo’s voice was low, his eyes drifting back to the door. “He’s still pretty shaken up by this whole mess. It’s still too soon.”

“Akiyama told me he was doing better.”

“He is, but… I’m afraid talking about this would be too much. For him… Or for you.”

That was new. Talking to him like that was not like Daigo at all, and Kiryu had to admit he would have been impressed, if he hadn’t been instantly annoyed by this. He resisted the urge to get closer, and instead stayed where he was as he asked, “Are you going to stop me, Daigo?”

“ I’m not sure I can. I guess I could roll on your foot if you take one more step, though.”

Kiryu was about to reply that he would definitely hit him with his crutch if that happened, when a voice he failed to recognize came from inside the room. “Let him in already, will you?”

With a heavy sigh, Daigo turned his chair around, letting just enough space so that Kiryu could get in.

Once he was inside, Kiryu realized something. This room was nearly identical to the one Haruka was in. Which wasn’t so surprising - hospital rooms tended to look alike. What made him tick was the silence in this room. No machines or respirator in here, and somehow, this angered him. He didn’t like the ferocity with which this thought had imposed itself on him, but as he looked at Shinada, able to breathe on his own and even having the gall to be conscious, staring back at him with wide eyes, Kiryu felt furious.

So that’s what he was doing, now. Blaming someone he barely knew for having the audacity to be in a better shape than his daughter. Kiryu supposed his sudden surge of animosity must have been noticeable, because all the certainty Shinada had when he asked him to come inside seemed to have vanished.

Now that he was really looking at the man laying in the bed in front of him, Kiryu had to admit he wasn’t exactly looking his best. He didn’t know Shinada enough to really tell the difference, having only met him once before the concert, but he didn’t remember him looking this exhausted. His face was covered in bruises, and part of it was still slightly swollen. Of course the simple fact that he was awake at all made him look healthier than Haruka, but he had clearly been through a lot. Feeling the anger quiet down for a bit, Kiryu greeted the man with a small nod of his head, unsure of what to say, suddenly.

“Well, let’s get on with it.” Daigo’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “It’s late, already. You should both be getting some rest.”

And you’re not? Kiryu wanted to say, glaring at the corner of the room Daigo had retreated in. Kiryu had barely noticed he had gotten inside the room as well. Part of him wished he could have talked with Shinada alone, but he was somehow grateful that it wasn’t the case. He still felt agitated, ready to snap back at the smallest thing, so having some kind of onlooker in there was mildly reassuring. Still, Kiryu did not care much for his tone.

He was at least right on one thing. It was time to talk.

“Can you tell me what happened that night?” No preamble, no “hey how are you?”. Kiryu was not in the mood for small talk.

Shinada blinked, dumbstruck. “Haven’t… Haven’t they told you, already?”

“I want to hear it from someone who was actually there. I want to know how it could have come to this.”

He wasn’t wrong. Kiryu already knew more or less how it went. He had been filled in, and had seen enough from the news to fill in the blanks. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt like hearing it from Shinada’s mouth would be different, but he still felt a weird apprehension as he waited for the other man to answer.

It took him a couple of seconds, exchanging a worried look with Daigo from across the room, before he finally started. “I don’t… I don’t actually know how it began. The fight against that Baba guy had been harsh and since everything had gone well so far, I… I stayed behind for a minute. Caught my breath.”

Catching his breath. Losing precious minutes he could have used to grab Haruka before everything went downhill. Kiryu tried to be reasonable, reminding himself that he had never asked Shinada to actually get to Haruka after the concert. He was just supposed to stop the shooter. And he did. There was no real reason to blame him, as he had told himself countless times.

“When I left the Dome that’s when I realized something was up. It had already started then, and I heard the noises. The screams. People don’t make that kind of noise when they’re just leaving a concert, so I ran and-”

Though footage of the stampede no doubt existed, people having probably filmed it with their phones, the TV seemed to only show what happened after or before the mob was formed. Kiryu could only imagine the kind of racket thousands of people panicking and running everywhere would make. He frowned, feeling something boil inside him as he realized somewhere in all that noise, there might have been the voice of the child he swore he would protect.

He missed a sentence, and only came back to himself when Shinada started the next one. “It was crazy. It was like a sea of people, and they were everywhere, screaming and pushing and-”

With a nervous twitch in his eye, Shinada suddenly stopped talking. While he hadn’t talked that much yet, Kiryu noticed he seemed to be really agitated ever since he had started. He was breathing heavily now, eyes lost in some corner of the room.

He waited a few seconds for Shinada to catch his breath before he asked, “If you arrived after it had started, how did you end up caught in it?”

“Oh, uh. I heard some staff member guy yell something about one of their idols being lost in the crowd on his walkie-talkie. So I ran into the crowd.”

Somehow, Kiryu had never thought about all the people who were working there that night. Too busy focusing on Mirei Park and the fact that blaming her now was pointless, he had forgotten to add all the other folks who had worked with her to his now long list of people to blame. It was infuriating to think that between the staff members, the people of Dyna Chair who weren’t gruesomely murdered, the other idols and Shinada, all charged to keep her safe, Haruka had still been caught up in the mob.

“I thought “I’m a big tough guy, I can probably push my way into this” but that was really fucking stupid. There were hundreds of them, and everyone was panicking and running all over the place, I don’t-”

Kiryu knew that, had he been there that night, he would have ran into the angry crowd too, with no hesitation, no matter how stupid jumping right into a angry wave of people was. He wanted to believe he would have been able to fight it, too, to punch his way until he got to Haruka, but hearing the panic weaving its way into Shinada’s voice, his breath getting faster, he wasn’t so sure of it anymore. “I got knocked down pretty fast, and then I-”

There was another pause, and when Shinada talked again, it was with such a low voice Kiryu almost didn’t catch it. “It felt like drowning.”

“Enough.”

Having more or less forgotten that Daigo was in the room, Kiryu almost jumped as his hand landed on his shoulder. Apparently, while Kiryu had been busy focusing on Shinada’s retelling of the events, he had managed to drag himself from his chair, standing on his own though he was slightly hunched over, a hand pressed on his side. Kiryu would have yelled at him to sit back down, knowing that he had already messed up with his stitches at least once, but found that he couldn’t talk.

He was still stuck on Shinada’s last sentence.

It felt like drowning.

Maybe it was the word “drowning”. It was visceral. Unpleasant. Kiryu felt sick as he wondered if that was how it had felt for Haruka, too.

Shinada had managed to find some of his composure back in the few tense seconds he took for Kiryu’s brain to finally start focusing on the scene again. Daigo’s hand was still on his shoulder, though he wasn’t sure if that was to get him to acknowledge him or if he was just leaning on him. Kiryu wanted to tell him to back off and sit down again before he hurt himself, but Shinada was faster, his breathing still somewhat erratic as he said, “It’s okay, Dojima, I can-”

“Kiryu.” Daigo ignored his friend’s attempt to stop him as he tried to straighten up, locking his eyes with Kiryu’s. “What’s the point of this? You’re both still too tired to get upset about this. Let’s give it a rest.”

Upset.

The word sounded ridiculous when Kiryu could feel his anger threatening to overtake him at any moment. He was not “upset”, he was furious.

“You’re right.” He managed to blurt out, feeling somewhat nauseous all of a sudden. Maybe that he too could use some rest, that was the longest he had ever been standing up in days. He took a step back, careful not to lose his balance or make Daigo topple by removing himself from his grip too abruptly, giving Shinada one last look. “Thank you. I’ll let you rest.”

“Wait-” Shinada straightened up in his bed, trying to catch his eye. He was still talking too fast and breathing too hard, his voice cracking slightly as he said, “I’m- I’m so sorry. I wish I could have done something to stop this.”

Kiryu had become something of an expert of empty, reassuring phrases after being fed so many of them in the past few days. He didn’t even look back as he walked out of the room, his voice probably harsher than he intended. “You did what you could. I can’t blame you.”

That was a lie, too. No matter how bad he felt seeing the man almost break down over the mere memory of the events, no matter how much he wanted to sympathize with him, Kiryu still blamed him. Like he blamed everyone. Like he blamed himself.

Feeling utterly sick with himself, he retreated to his room. The TV that he had left on when he ran away seemed to be taunting him, the bleak light it was projecting in the dark giving the room a ominous ambiance.

He punched the screen with such force that he almost broke his hand.

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

Shinada had never been good at holding back his tears.

He had always cried easily, and never thought it useful to try to hide it.

Back in the day, he would cry when his baseball team won. Or when they lost. When he was banned after his first real game, he had wept for days. Some of these tears were also for his family, who had swore they would never talk to him again, but mostly, he was grieving the dream he was sure he had lost forever.

While he found many occasions to cry after that (being homeless for a while, being all alone, having no food for days, those kinds of things), Shinada had managed to more or less hold on for the past decades, and only cried every now and then.

The Dream Line concert had to be some kind of personal record. Shinada cried right after his fight against the shooter, overwhelmed by the adrenaline of it all, seeing the group perform from so far away while he was sitting in the stands, away from the spotlight. He also cried a few minutes later, when Takasugi’s call reminded him some people cared for him back in Nagoya. And, obviously, he cried after the incident, too. Because he was in pain, because he felt stupid and weak and useless. Because he blamed himself for what he was certain he could have prevented, had he been stronger.

Not crying while Kiryu, that man he had only just met and that he had still managed to disappoint, was standing in front of him, though? That was something. He could be proud.

Unfortunately, as soon as the door was closed behind Kiryu, he couldn’t hold it in anymore, and slumped back in his bed, and let out a small sob, knowing fully well he would be bawling his eyes out in a couple of seconds. Trying to delay the inevitable tears, he looked around, and was suddenly all too aware of Dojima still being in the room with him, standing awkwardly in the middle of it, looking at him with his usual stern expression.

It was not like Shinada minded him being here, really. If anything, he was grateful that he stuck around while Kiryu was there, a friendly face in a sea of hostility. As “friendly” as a scowling yakuza could get, at least. He supposed he should also be grateful for the way Dojima had insisted on bringing his interview with Kiryu to an early end. He couldn’t help but wish he could have said more, though. Apologized better. Still, he got him to leave the room right before Shinada hit his limit, so that was pretty great.

“Tatsuo…?”

Not expecting to hear his name hushed with such an hesitant tone, he took a second to wonder why Dojima was now looking at him with a slightly panicked expression.

Oh, right.

He was crying. He had barely noticed he had started to.

The room got more blurry now than actual tears were in his eyes, so much so that he almost missed Dojima dragging himself to his bed, gritting his teeth with each step. It only clicked in his mind that he had moved closer when he spoke again:

“Do you mind if I sit on your bed?”

Shinada shook his head. Sure, why not. The man should be sitting down, anyway, if his shaky steps were anything to go by. He still managed to get on the bed fairly quickly, making it creak under their combined weight.

A few seconds passed, the silence of the room disturbed by Shinada sniffing softly as he kept crying. Dojima said nothing, shifting awkwardly on the bed so that he was facing him, bending his body in a way that was probably not doing any good to his still healing bullet wound.

Shinada wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt overwhelmed by an urgent need for some kind of contact, but next thing he knew he had more or less collapsed in the other man’s arms. He felt Dojima stiffen against him, making him aware that perhaps entering the guy’s personal space like that without warning was a bit uncalled for. The man remained silent, though Shinada heard a very small gasp escape his lips.

Alright, so maybe he was out of line. No matter how shaken up he was, in pain and in tears, Shinada knew he wasn’t supposed to just throw himself at someone he hardly knew. Sure, technically Dojima and him had known each other for years, but they were not exactly friends back in high school. And their reunion had been so sudden that he barely had the time to process it. Vowing to protect each other’s dream meant they had something , that much was certain, but Shinada wasn’t sure that would be the kind of relationship that involved offering a shoulder to cry on. Literally.

He could always stop, put some distance between them again. Apologize and blame it on the perfect blend of morphine and anguish in his body right now, making him a tad emotional. Dojima didn’t give him any time to back off though, wrapping his arms around him slowly. “Eh… Can I- I mean, do you…?”

Shinada wasn’t sure what he was asking. He wasn’t sure Dojima knew, either, with the way he was stammering. Still, he soon felt a hand stroking his back slowly, and that gesture was as soothing as it was unexpected. It was weird to think that last time those hands were on his body, they were in the middle of a full on brawl. The vicious punches he had received on that day suddenly felt very far away, replaced by a softness he would have never thought he’d see from his old classmate. He did look way less intimidating in his hospital gown, he had to admit. Maybe being shot just did that to people. Made them a bit more approachable. Or maybe he looked so pathetic right now that even the most cold-hearted criminal couldn’t resist him. Who knew. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he simply appreciated the fact he was offering some kind of comforting presence.

He allowed himself a few heartbeats to reposition himself, burying his face in the man’s chest before he returned to the task at hand.

Crying.

He cried because Kiryu blamed him, despite what he told him, he was certain of it. Because he blamed himself, too, obviously. Because he was exhausted, not having had a good night of sleep since the incident, waking up in a cold sweat every time he dozed off, his nightmare haunted by an angry crowd.

“I’m sorry,” Dojima’s voice interrupted his pity party, making him flinch. “I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating that, and Shinada had no idea why he was apologizing all of a sudden. He wanted to say that he was sorry too, sorry to have disappointed anyone who had believed in him when he left for the concert with the mission to protect that girl, but couldn’t make the words come out. So he kept on weeping, while Dojima kept whispering small apologies, pulling him closer.

Between two sobs, Shinada noticed there was something oddly familiar about this situation. It was not like it was a habit of his to break down and grab on to the nearest person to seek solace. Sure, he cried a lot, but he usually did it behind closed doors, alone. He had some dignity left, surely. But being held like this as he wept brought him back to his first night in Nagoya, when he had felt a semblance of reassurance in Milky’s soft embrace. Well, sort of. Dojima was no Milky, he was still pretty stiff and the motion of his hand on Shinada’s back felt a bit awkward, he was clearly not used to this kind of gesture. Still, it felt nice.

It went on for a while, and Shinada felt like he was calming down when- “I need to move.” Just like that, Dojima released him, straightening up a bit too abruptly, shoving Shinada away. “Sorry. Bullet wound.”

Shinada watched him struggle to find a position that wasn’t putting any strain on his wound, before he settled for sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the floor. Dojima grimaced as he pressed a hand to his side, giving him a look that Shinada assumed was meant to be apologetic, but ended up looking like his usual tired scowl. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rush you like that, but if I open up those stitches again, I’m afraid my doctor’s going to give up on me.” And, because he clearly hadn’t said that enough in the last five minutes, “Sorry.”

Rubbing his eyes with his hands to chase any surviving tears, and feeling pretty confident he had calmed down enough to attempt to talk, Shinada came to join him, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Why do you keep saying you’re sorry?”

Apparently, Dojima hadn’t expected his question (that he had managed to ask with a not-so-shaky-voice, not bad for a guy who had been crying for the last ten minutes), looking at him with wide eyes. Turned out the guy could somewhat emote, when he wanted to. Shinada would have found it funny if his answer hadn’t come with such a sad, almost choked tone. “You’re only here because of me. I dragged you into this. Had I left you alone, you wouldn’t be…”

“A fucking mess.”

“In pain.” His voice was low, sounding more like the man he had fought on his roof again. “I knew of the dangers and I still let you come here. And now you’re…” He trailed off, frowning even more. “I’m so sorry, Tatsuo.”

Shinada hadn’t really thought of it that way. Dojima waltzing back into his life was what had led to him being stuck here, with nightmares in his head and regrets in his heart, that was true. But when he thought of his home, where he was basically starving and where everyone had been hiding things from him, where he was basically rotting away while clinging on dreams that would never happen… Would he really have been better off if the yakuza never came to find him?

He sighed, realizing he would probably never find a satisfying answer to this question. Instead he settled for shuffling closer to his friend (he had decided that “friend” was an alright word to use, now that the guy had seen him cry and had tried his best to comfort him), resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Well, that’s silly.” Shinada’s voice was still a little hoarse, but he tried his best to sound cheerful. Well, more cheerful than he was a few moments ago, at least. “Remember how you tried to stop me from coming with you? And look, you’re nice enough not to go 'I told you so' about it, too.”

“I should have stopped you.”

“You wish. We fought for it, remember? And I won.”

“You won because I agreed to back down. I shouldn’t have. Should have kept fighting. Better have you stuck at home with a broken leg than here and in anguish.”

Shinada never thought he would hear someone say “I wish I had broken your leg” in a nice way, but here he was. He chuckled, and noticing Dojima looked still rather glum, avoiding to look at him as he stared at one corner of the room, took a deep sigh.

“Well, I don’t blame you, okay?”

He really meant it, too. Dojima remained silent, but Shinada noticed his lip twitching slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was because his wound was still acting up, or because his words had touched him somehow, but hoped it was the latter.

He knew what blaming himself felt like, and wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

#in this part MORE CRYING #i know crazy #mob #yakuza #rgg #rgg5 #yakuza 5 #yakuza fanfiction #stories #fics #weird art of mine

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rosepetals-flyingbirds · 5 years ago

Text

Family.

With: Eggsy x Reader.

Note: It happens around the second movie.

Word Count: 2,400.

After the whole incident with Poppy and her drugs, Harry was more than happy to go back home. Of course, his old house now was nothing but ashes but he and Eggsy could share a new house while Eggsy searched for a new place.

Harry, however, was nervous, a secret that only Merlin, God has his soul, knew. Harry had a daughter. Relationships and attachments were forbidden by the Kingsman, but no even Harry with all his loyalty could ignore when he first fell in love.

The woman was his sweetheart in high school, but when he left for the army he broke up with her.

Years passed and one day he was at a pub having a few drinks on his own trying to decide if he should or shouldn’t accept the Kingsman invitation. What he didn’t realize at first was the lady checking him out the whole night, when he did he saw the sweet girl he loved dearly in his early years, of course, her body was more accentuated and she wasn’t his sweet girl anymore, but a woman.

Harry didn’t lose time to talk to her, and she didn’t hold any resentment from him. The night ends up better than he thought it would.

He accepted the Kingsman’s offer but to his dismay, he couldn’t keep a relationship on his new field, differently than the army. So for the second time, Harry ended with her.

What he didn’t know, was that she was pregnant with his daughter.

You.

Over the years you never knew your father, while an innocent child you always asked your mother and she told you stories that he was a superhero saving the world, in the early moments you accepted and felt joy hearing that.

But when your mother was the only one you had and the kids made fun saying bad things about her, you started to pick up fights.

Your mother didn’t approve of course, but how could you accept those stupid kids saying bad things about your mother? You could not.

More years passed and your mother grew sick, cancer was what took her away from you. Your only family.

You finished school but the public school system didn’t work so good as people like to say, you had rent to pay and so many hospital bills that you couldn’t lose time studying for exams, you had to work. And the pub where your mother used to work was where accepted you.

Johnny, the owner, liked your mother dearly and even when you were younger he loved having you around, in the earlier hours of course, not when the place was filled with drunk people.

And on your eldest 17’s you started to work half shift and when you finally made 18 you worked twice as hard.

Men were shitty but gladly Johnny never saw you with a second intention and whenever some customer said something about you he was quick to dismiss them. It wasn’t like Johnny was your father, you would never see him as your father figure, but he was something close to an uncle… Maybe even a godfather.

Life wasn’t easy, and being lonely sucked.

One day you got home and to your surprise, your door was unlocked. Your heart had reached skyrocket at the moment, your house wasn’t in the calmer neighborhood after all.

Opening your purse and grabbing your switchblade you stepped inside the place. Nothing was out of the place, but you spotted a man sitting on your couch. Your childhood photo album on his hands.

“You need to change your lock. It was too easy to break in.” The man spoke without glancing at you.

“Yeah, now I’ll have to buy a new one.”

Darting his eyes at you he chuckled at the switchblade on your hand. “You should have another weapon, that one wouldn’t help if I was some robber.”

“It works perfectly for me. Who the hell are you and what are you doing at my house?”

“My name is Harry Hart, and… I’m your father.”

The words didn’t have the effect you thought it would. Along the years you wondered about that single moment, when your superhero father would appear, or perhaps the pirate of the fairy tales your mother used to tell you with a hint of sadness on her eyes.

But now? As an adult? Oh no, he wouldn’t enter your life so easily. “‘I’m your father’ that is it? After years and years you come here, break my lock and tell me that? What do you want?”

“Y/N I don’t want nothing, I’m-”

“You’re out of here. Get out of my house now before I call the police.”

“Can you listen?”

“No! Get out of here now!” Your voice grew louder and it surely made him uncomfortable, but he could not blame you for this.

Harry got on his feet and placed the album above the center table, he also took a card out of his pocket and let above the book. “If you need anything, please, do not hesitate to call.”

You look at him cautiously when he reached the door you grabbed the card and handed to him. “I don’t need you nor your help, I have been good on my own.”

Harry didn’t seem fazed by your attitude he only nodded and left closing the door behind.

You let a sob and broke in tears. You were so so tired! Working non stop to pay bills you didn’t even seem coming, it wasn’t like you lived in a luxurious place or that you had expensive clothes or shoes, you barely had food! And now the man who abandoned your mother came back offering for help? Oh no no no! You had too much self-love to accept his money.

Days passed after the incident and you were glad Harry didn’t appear again. It was the beginning of the month so Johnny paid you your salary and you didn’t even smile since all the money would be directed to the credit cards which you had used to pay the hospital for your deceased mother.

Reaching the bank you clicked in the directions and placed the money inside an envelope ready to pay another of the expensive parcels. However, when it opened it didn’t appear any money required, it was all paid. How?

Was it Harry? Oh no! He wouldn’t! … would he?

Calling the bank number you spoke with the clerk who explained that a man on his late 50’s appeared and paid the entire bill.

It was Harry then.

His card was still at your house, inside the trash can in the kitchen. Dealing the number he was quick to answer. “Y/N.”

“Listen I don’t know if you are trying to compensate the years of absence but I don’t need or want you. I don’t know how you knew about my bills but I don’t want your money. Please take it back.”

“I’m sorry, I cannot blame you for feeling in that way, but I think with your age you shouldn’t work like that to pay so many bills. You should be in college now, should be building your future.”

“My future? I have never seen you before and you never cared! Now you suddenly are worried?! Listen I want you to get your money back and leave me alone.”

“Well then.” Was his answer before declining.

For days you pondered about it all, did he knew of your existence before his arrival? Has he known about your mother’s sickness?

When you were losing sleep over this you texted him an address to have a coffee, you needed a few answers!

In the end, Harry knew about you since you were 5, your mother had a lot of pride -as you- and didn’t accept his money. And when he discovered she was sick he stood a few days in the hospital, in the early hours when you would be in school.

It was a slow process, but happily, you and Harry got closer than you thought it would. You were smart and knew all your wrath was some sort of shield trying to get hurt. You wouldn’t see him as a father figure, but he was a friend.

He explained what his job was and how sorry he was, which you didn’t believe at first was that he looked for you the moment he found out you had born. Apparently, your mother didn’t want his money nor his help, it was harsh to accept but you couldn’t blame her, she did the best she could and raised you with all she could give.

Harry showed you his house and Mr. Pickle! You loved dogs and even if a little macabre, it was good to see he was a good man. He said he was looking for some new agent whom would grab his spot. A retirement would do good for him.

After making sure he wouldn’t disappear and leave you alone you allowed him in, apparently, he has lots of money, and even if you didn’t care for it he made sure helping you it wouldn’t hurt.

You left your previous job, but promised Johnny you would visit! You left your old small apartment and stood with Harry for a few days while you searched for a place, nothing expensive of course. You didn’t want to leave your old place for starters, not if it wasn’t with your own money,

Meanwhile, Harry saw how good you were with technology, even if he wanted you to go to college and have a second chance in life, he wondered of how of a great addition you would do in the secret service.

Harry took you to meet Merlin like some sort of internship, and for Harry’s joy, Merlin loved how intelligent you were.

You got a job as his assistant, all the job’s benefits included.

Harry asked Merlin to keep you as a secret, no one, especially Arthur, could know you were his daughter. You didn’t get sad about that, you understood.

So many things happened and when Harry died you felt betrayed, he promised he wouldn’t abandon you, yet he did. And you not only lost your mother, the only family you knew once, but also your… father.

But now, he was back. Harry was anxious because you probably had grief for him, and now he would come back. It was even hard for him to understand the whole situation Ginger had made, but he was happy.

Eggsy didn’t understand why Harry was so concerned to go back home. “Are you that nervous to share your house with me?” Eggsy asked while both flew back to London, ready to re-build the Kingsman facility.

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.” Harry did love Eggsy as his own son after all.

“Then what is the problem?”

“Eggsy, I- I…”

“You what?”

Letting a sigh Harry tried to find the courage. “I have a daughter. Around your age, her name is Y/N.”

“What? Why you never told me this before?” Eggsy asked and tried to read Harry’s worries. “Wait, she doesn’t know you’re an agent?”

“She does, she works for the Kingsman as well, to be honest, the intelligence part.”

Eggsy eyes widened at that, he never thought of it before. But his eyes widened, even more, remembering how Poppy exploded the whole Kingsman. “Harry, is she alright?!”

“Yes, she is. I asked Merlin and thankfully she was out with a few friends on that fearful day.”

“Thank God! So, why are you so worried?”

“I’m the only family she has left, and I bet the moment she saw me 'dying’ in Valentine’s hands she felt all the sorrow again. Now I will appear to her like a ghost.”

“I bet she will be happy.”

…

And as Egssy said, you did.

Of course, it was unexpected seeing him there, alive. For a few seconds, you stood frozen in the spot, you recognized Eggsy of the files you’ve seen and the times Harry mentioned the boy. But seeing Harry, your father, alive was amazing!

Hugging him with all of your strength Harry felt relieved by your reaction.

It would be a long process to rebuild Kingsman and everything that it leads, but Harry was happy to have you and Eggsy by his side.

Three Years Later.

Eggsy was a flirt. And how could you ignore that sweet boy? Five months after Harry coming back to your life you and Eggsy started to date.

Harry made the whole ’father speech’ to him but you knew he approved the relationship between you two.

Kingsman would never be the same without Merlin and Harry’s/Eggsy’s fellow’s agents, but it was working.

Gladly with the Kingsman’s Kentucky division, things were working even better.

You shared your house with your beloved boyfriend, he just finished a mission in Japan and was about to arrive home.

“Baby, I’m home!” Hearing his voice you ran downstairs to hug him.

“Finally!” You attacked him with kisses and were received with the same passion. “I knew you were safe but nothing feels better than having you here.”

He took a time to hold your face in his hands, nothing as better than be at home. “I know I know, but what would I do if my best girl wasn’t in my ear-com all the time to give me instructions inside that Japanese mob?”

Grinning at him you faked pondering. “Hmmm, probably dead.”

“Yeah.” He engulfed you in a tight embrace ad you stood there for what seemed like hours.

Eggsy was amazing, and having him under your hands meant the world. His job was important, but the nervous state you got was insane. “I called Harry in the way and we will have dinner in that expensive restaurant.”

“Babe, I’m happy you and my father have such a great bond but I missed you.”

He knew very well what you meant. “Y/N, I have been gone for nine days, and we spoke basically the whole time.”

“Blame me for missing my boyfriend.” You replied and he smiled at your eagerness.

“I missed you too. Buuut if we cancel now he’ll know what we will be doing and I do not need him to give me a speech.”

Harry would surely give him a speech. “You are right, my love.”

After getting ready and controlling in the maximum to not jump in each other’s bodies you and Eggsy arrived in the restaurant.

Harry was already there and it was good to feel so much love.

Your life has changed and you were glad it did. You had your father and your boyfriend with you, the work wasn’t the most ’mortal’ one but you helped to save the world and that was really gratifying.

And for Harry, he not only took care of his friend’s son like was his own, but also found his daughter, his family. Something he never knew he needed but was glad it happened.

…

#eggsy x reader #kingsman x reader

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creative-type · 5 years ago

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I finished Steel Crow Saga about a week ago, and I’ve not been able to get it out of my head since then. There was something about the prose that bothered me, like a rock in a shoe, but I couldn’t quite put figure it out what it was until now.

Steel Crow Saga isn’t a bad book. There are some pacing problems and a few flimsy romances, but it’s got some fantastic worldbuilding and is about as anime as you can get without characters spouting spontaneous Japanese. Seriously, the author was not at all subtle with the types of stories he was inspired by

I got through 600+ pages in about 3 reading sessions, but despite the content being right up my alley I was never sucked into the story, and I think it’s because the author was trying so hard to play to his audience that he overshot his target and completely shattered my suspension of disbelief.

For a little bit of context here, Lee is a thief and con artist who according to the narrative quit school when she was ten. She struggles to read, albeit the language of the occupying force rather than her mother tongue, and is a stereotypical “street smart” character who paired up with an over-read princess to escape her own hanging.

Most of the world of the Steel Crow Saga believes some form of spiritism. Atheism isn’t presented as really being a thing, therefore accepted arguments against the existence of spirits or organized religion aren’t exactly floating around for people to pick up on their own time; this argument is something Lee has to have come up with herself.

Except I don’t buy it. Most people aren’t able to give an apologetic defense of the faith, or lack thereof. Lee has plenty of reason not to put much stock in spirituality — she’s spent her whole life being a minority ethnic group under an occupying force, her mother died a pretty horrific death because the family couldn’t afford proper health care, and her siblings kicked her out of the house after she turned to crime in order to support herself and her family.

So why include this line at all, except as a sort of wink and nudge to the audience by the author, as if to say, “Yep, I’ve done a google search on the arguments debunking reincarnation. Now look at how smart my characters are!”

Steel Crow Saga is full of such moments where the author just can’t trust his audience. There was another one at the beginning of the book that almost made me stop reading less than 50 pages in

We get it! The bad people are calling one of our main characters a bad name! You don’t actually need to say that Lee gets the heebie jeebies at the idea of beastiality. You don’t need to write out or reference an in-universe slur five times in three paragraphs. And you know it’s on purpose, because nowhere else in the 621 pages that makes up the Steel Crow Saga does the author feel the need to have this many F-bombs in such a short period of time.

I’m seeing this sort of writing a lot more with newer releases, especially ones that are trying to be more diverse and inclusive with their characters. Which is great, do more of that! Just be aware that shitty writing is shitty writing, regardless of how woke the author is.

And to be fair, I was pleasantly surprised with how the author went out of his way to include female (both major and minor) when many default to men, even when the main characters are women. I believe he also specifically referenced a nurse at a military hospital as a man, so it’s something that goes both ways.

At the same time, I think that the commitment to gender equality opens up questions that the world building is either unable or unwilling to answer. The best example of this, I think, is Xiulan, the princess who’s trying to maneuver her way into the throne. Much like Ling in Fullmetal Alchemist, she has to gain the favor of her father while competing against a massive number of siblings. Both Xiulan and the sister who is her greatest competitor are, obviously, both women.

The narrative makes it clear that the next leader of Shang is expected to have just as many children from all the various clans within the country, but how does that work if that leader is a woman? Is she allowed to adopt? Is she expected to take just as many husbands and concubines, and if so what does that mean about her same-sex relationship that she develops over the course of the book? Must the heir be a blood-relation to the current ruler?

For all the detail the author goes into the differences in diet, in architecture, in magic systems, this is something left unaddressed, which comes across as bizarrely lazy when it’s a question that directly affects one of the main protagonists of the story.

It leaves the Steel Crow Saga as a book that’s intently focused on the themes of racism, jingoism, and xenophobia and simultaneously a world that for all intents and purposes has perfect gender equality and is friendly to everyone on the LGTBQ spectrum.

Which is funny, since those values line up perfectly with the interests and values of the target audience. A more cynical person could argue that was done on purpose.

There’s an escapist element here that I’m sure is very appealing to a lot of different people, and I’m not saying the author needed to stuff a sub plot about gender inequality in an already-overstuffed book.

I am saying that I wish the author had more faith in his audience, and let his characters be true to themselves rather than stuff modern worldviews in where they don’t make sense. His writing, and his book, would be much stronger for it.

#steel crow saga #creative-type reviews #creative-type reads

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handsred · 5 years ago

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italian beauty ? ages like fine wine !

( marisa tomei, 53, cis female, she/her, cousin ) Did anyone else just see FRANCESCA ‘FRANCES’ LEWIS NEE FAUST ? I hear for the FAUST family they can be a bit FINICKY & OBJECTIVE. But I also heard they can be WISE & MOTHERLY. If you dare, I hear they frequent ATLANTIS - IN in their spare time when they aren’t being a MEDIC / OWNER OF HONEY’S BAKERY. Tread carefully or else you might be next on their list !

biography ( tw: weapons, illness / death ):

francesca lucia filomena faust is a girl crafted after tuscany summers and renaissance paintings. a woman beloved by her family and by the ones lucky enough to 'bask in her afterglow.’

first cousin of matthew faust, former leader of the mafia, francesca grows up the ‘golden girl’ of the faust family. she’s too sweet, too warm. they keep her sheltered for a good part of her childhood before enough’s enough. time to teach their darling girl the ropes, if only to protect her from the horrors of their business.

she doesn’t take to the business - not as well as her cousin does. that’s not to say she wasn’t gifted in certain parts of the trade. in fact, she’s very gifted with guns. recognizing she’s not much of a close range fighter, they teach her how to be a sniper and she soars. but any firearm will do.

yet she prefers to heal than harm, and they allow her to ever so slowly break away from their dirty missions to discover medicine. they do this with pressed smiles. they want her as a gunner, but she’ll become a medic. if she has to be anything at all.

francesca goes to medical school. she’s exceptionally brilliant and charming, and it serves her well. after all, she did graduate high school early. doctor faust is a title on the tip of tongues at every sunday dinner.

love changes her future drastically, in the form of a man named abraham lewis. it’s just after she’s graduated med school that he waltzes into her life, uproots it, and teaches her warmth again. she realizes she’s lost it over the years.

honey’s bakery is abe’s family’s business. passed down generations like the mafia has for the fausts. francesca and abraham marry a year later and she decides to throw away her titles in favor of a renewed hope. her family keep her as a ‘part-time medic’ and she obliges. she loves them, after all.

a few years ago, francesca suffers a loss so great it leaves her breathless. abe experiences a heart attack and dies on the way to the hospital. it’s sudden and surprising and she doesn’t know what to do. in his will, he leaves the bakery to her. it’s their child, they’d joke. they never had the time ( or the luck ) to have kids.

in his memory, she runs neutral ground. honey’s bakery is known for every walk of life coming through its doors to get a taste of warmth in a city of cold intentions. and she’s hellbent on keeping it that way. her family do not push her for the territory, but she is supplied security to keep things running smoothly for customers. and for her well-being.

frances lewis is an alias she’s adopted since her marriage. because of her name and her business, not many turn their heads for revenge or cruel fun. she doesn’t go around announcing she’s a faust, either.

plus, there’ll be a number of pissed off customers if someone lays a hand on the brunette. she’s known around chicago as ‘mom’ and ‘aunt’ and ‘godmother’ and ‘friend.’ without her? who’ll bake that perfect fucking maple bacon cupcake, and serve it with a playful joke? no one could live up to the creations she and her former husband have perfected, and no one could do it with a better grin.

details:

frances worked for her family until she was nearing her graduation as a doctor. during her years in the faust family business, she served mainly as a sniper. she’s still great with her marksmanship and guns in general, but she’s horrible at close combat / other weapons / endurance / etc.

she is technically a doctor, but she’s never enforced the title. in fact, she’s sorta kicked that old dream to the curb because she adores the bakery so much. while she is an amazing cook / baker thanks to her italian upbringing and her husband’s passion, she sees the bakery as a child she and her former husband shared. and that’s why it holds such a dear place in her heart.

frances doesn’t involve herself too heavily with the family business. in fact, the majority of the time, she simply doesn’t want to know what’s going on unless it may concern her or puts her immediate family in harm’s way. as for everything else? the faust kids are all adults now, they can handle it without her getting in the dang way. her words exactly. the only time she works for the mafia is when they need her to perform as a doctor in dire circumstances. she huffs a lot about doing this, but she does it.

family is everything to frances. and while hers has its fair share of interesting dynamics, she wouldn’t trade them for the world. it’s safe to say she’s the mom of the group, visiting the faust manor for dinners and celebrations and bringing all the sweets with her. she spoils her loved ones, and insists on maintaining that old-fashioned italian family values.

she carries a lot of the faust cookbooks passed down. she helped teach oliver his love of cooking and probably forced most of her family to learn a thing or two in the kitchen. she is always visiting ollie’s just to be a perfectionist / pest and correcting sauces, dishes, etc.

she enjoys visiting atlantis-in because #nostalgia. when she was a kid, she definitely went to a lot of drive-in theaters with dates and got up to her own mischief. she loves films and shows and she’s actually up to date on that. want some movie recs? she’s got a thousand lined up. has a soft spot for foreign films / older films.

frances is bisexual, biromantic. she has dated both men and women, and she hardly cares which. the last few years she has leaned more towards women, though.

she speaks the following languages: english, italian, basic latin, average spanish, french, american sign language.

when she’s emotional ( angry, upset, etc ), she rambles in italian. a lot of hand gestures, a lot of hilarious italian cuss words / slang. it’s truly a spectacle.

has an alley cat she takes care of called ‘little shit.’ that’s literally it. she loves the little shit, feeds the little shit, keeps an eye out for him. but he’s a pain in her ass.

wanted connections:

all of them

faust family dynamics

best friend around her age

childhood friend ( chicago native )

penpal/s

family friends

friends

neighbors ( lives in her own house )

ex husband’s friends / family / connections

employees

frequenters at the bakery

security for the bakery

someone/s she patched up as a medic / doc student

college folks

medical folks she’s met ( doctors, nurses, etc ) somehow

exes from before her marriage ( she’s bisexual )

maybe one ex after her marriage but it was shitty and way too soon to date for her

ex / current flings, one night stands, blind / regular dates

people she mothers / practically adopted

people she babysits for

( unrequited ) crush on her

( unrequited ) crush she has one someone

enemies / rivals

someone who’s an enemy and maybe knows who she is but they’re like dammit i like your bakery too much and you’re chill so i’ll keep it on the down low

someone/s who saved her throughout her life

someone who calls her when they’re drunk or w/e and need her to come and pick them up / let them sleep shit off on her couch and they’re such a hassle but she does it

drinking buddies

gym / fitness buddies

i’m braindead by this point

#crimson.intro #me ... writing a novel

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thcrnson · 5 years ago

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𝑶𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂 𝑯𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍

ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ ᴡ ʜ ᴏ ᴀ ʟ ᴡ ᴀ ʏ s ᴄ ᴏ ᴍ ᴇ s ɪ ɴ s ᴡ ɪ ɴ ɢ ɪ ɴ ɢ

hey, did i just see olivia howell walking around the block ? oh ! yes ! the last time i saw her, i heard she wanted to be called liv. i hear they are a bartender. people around town say they are so adamant && loyal sometimes i wonder how they can be recalcitrant && brash. ( leather jackets, flannels tied around the waist, wavy dark brown hair, infinite indecision )

A brief character sheet can be found here on my muse page.

History.

tw: derogatory language, drug addiction and overdose, mentions of abuse, mention of abortion, miscarriage, and death

If there was ever a life doomed from the start, set on a path of anguish before she even opened her eyes to greet the world. It would be Olivia Howell. It was a rather typical story of a strung out high school drop out addicted to every variety of narcotics you can think of getting pregnant after whoring herself out for her next hit. It hadn’t matter to her nineteen year old biological mother that she should be taking care of herself for her child she was carrying her, seeing as she didn’t let go of any of her vices it was no surprised that a particularly bad spell caused complications in the pregnancy as well as put her own life at risk. Olivia was born six weeks premature with a hole in her heart, severely malnourished, she had to be cut out of her mother who was coding not long after being brought to the hospital.

Her mother died the day she was born, the hospital tried contacting whomever they could for her but it was no use, she’d had no one to care for her, and so no one to give a damn about the baby girl she’d brought into the world be left alone. So when she was healthy enough she became a ward of the state, actually finding a home pretty quickly. The parents she knew for the first few years of her life did perhaps love her, but it was never meant to be. Her misfortune wasn’t going to leave her anytime soon. When her adoptive mother passed when Olivia was just six years old her adoptive father spiraled, unable to take care of himself much less a little girl. She was at the states mercy once again, and became a child of the system from then on. Being jostled from home to home until she would turn eighteen.

The constant instability in her life and her early development was plenty to turn Olivia into a very angry young girl, and that never quite went away. She never had things normal, never had the best of influences around her, and she always stuck out. She got into heaps of trouble in her teens, even had a short stent in juvie at sixteen. Maybe she could’ve risen above her circumstances, it happened to plenty of kids just like her but not everyone’s life was destined for as much anguish as hers. From the age of ten on there wasn’t a single home she was placed in, in which she was safe. Sometimes it was shitty parents, or insufferable foster siblings, there were too many horrible things. and as she grew out of the system she did her best to forget about them all. Though they never did leave her entirely, never allowed her to sleep soundly at night, to become trusting of anyone no matter how genuine and wholesome they may have seemed.

The angry girl became an angry woman, things were tough for her and she made a lot of bad choices, hurt people by her words as well as by her actions. And as one pious woman once told her, her lack of faith and repentance would be damning for her soul. As broken as she was she could never last in a relationship no matter how good, sure there were faults in some of the men and few women she attempted to date, but even when there was none she found reason to wreak things herself, breaking plenty of hearts in the process of her own healing. Finally at twenty-three things seemed to be headed in a better direction. She managed to get her associate and began working as a law assistant while she tried to figure out where to go from there.

The job was finally one that allowed her to be independent and take care of herself like she hadn’t been able to before. she actually enjoyed her work and felt appreciated for her efforts. Her boss was great, though he expected good work he never hesitated to acknowledge her either, and he was quite easy on the eyes and charming in way none of the guys her own age had ever been. Not a few months into the job he had her all kinds of twisted, the flirtation was well on it’s way to becoming a full blown affair, despite the fact that he had recently married his girlfriend of five years.

It was tumultuous and she was completely wrapped up in him, like she hadn’t been by anyone else before, unable to see his manipulations and dishonesty. He made lofty promises that he never kept, and always pulled her back in with grand gestures when she tried to put any distance between them. When she got pregnant a year into their relationship he convinced her to get an abortion, and framed it in a way that made feel as if it was something she herself wanted. Things only began to get worse from there as she’d become dependent of his affections. Everything came to a boiling point a few short weeks before her death. His wife had learned about the affair a few short months prior and confronted them both, she’d made him leave her and end things with Olivia completely as a condition to allowing him to a second chance as she was pregnant. At this point he had Olivia convinced he was on the verge of getting a divorce and hated his wife. However, not only did that not happen she witnessed first hand just how much he didn’t hate her, how he begged and pleaded with her, how happy he was to have learned about the child she was carrying.

Once again left with nothing, the woman spiraled completely drowning out her sorrows in spirits, loosing her apartment, defaulting on her bills everything going to shit around her. When thanksgiving had rolled around she started her morning with tequila spending her day stalking her ex on social media becoming more and more enraged and heartbroken as he posted about his picture perfect day with his beautiful wife. She should not have gotten into a car that day, she was far to inebriated. She should not have shown up to their home to confront him, but she did and she exploded. Doing everything from yelling and sobbing to attacking him. And as she’d done that the other woman had tried to get in the way and Olivia had shoved her aside causing her to fall down a flight of stairs. As she lay there in pain and screaming about the baby, Olivia felt terrified and ashamed of what she’d done so she left. Speeding away still very much intoxicated and balling her eyes out as well at that point. It was a close call with a suburbian that she had swerve into a ditch to avoid that finally made her stop. Crying her eyes out until she sobered. When she finally got back on the road and the gravity of that night along with the state of her life hit her. And she didn’t stop, she kept going no clear direction as to where just knowing she needed to get far away from her current demons.

The Present.

Following that night, two months ago Olivia landed up in Multiville, if asked she couldn’t entirely tell you why it was this small town that she decided to stop in, to start over if that’s what you want to call it, mostly she was just tired. Going through the motions she got herself a job bartending at the local dive bar after going door to door to find out who might be hiring, she lived in her car for a week or two before she got a lead on someone looking for a roommate for their small mainstreet flat. Things have been okay, uninteresting she has no idea what she’s actually doing, if this where she’s staying, though she might as well since she doesn’t exact have anywhere else to go

Wanted Connections.

Someone who takes an interest in her, and wants to be friends despite her standoffish behaviour.

One or two one night stands she’s had since coming to time.

Her flatmate

Those are a few off the top of my head, but i’m down for pretty much anything!

#❛ ･ﾟ× ( ᴏʟɪᴠɪᴀ ʜᴏᴡᴇʟʟ )#❛ ･ﾟ× ( development › ᴏʟɪᴠɪᴀ )#mv intro

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theonewhopoops · 2 years ago

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Honestly, just block me now if you think believing acab is a requirement. I am just too empathetic for my own good I guess.

After struggling through this entire video, I'm so much less angry at the cops and so much more furious with people in charge. With the system. With the fact that that man was able to get his hands on ANY gun, much less the fucking assault rifle he had, makes me so angry at the people who believe in gun rights. The fact that "Editor's note: the sound of children screaming has been removed" is something people can accept. I'm almost angry it WAS removed, because maybe the life-altering sounds of this atrocious crime against humanity would be enough to get SOMEONE IN POWER TO FEEL SOMETHING for a change.

The deaths occured before the cops entered the building. The cops didn't know what to DO. I'm sure communication was falling apart and they were all being told different shit. I mean just trying to coordinate plans with myself and two other people makes me want to slap the other two people from their incompetence with communication and planning, and that's without lives being on the line. I can only imagine what a train wreck was happening with these guys.

I live in the blissful ignorance of decisions without grand consequence. My choices will generally not get anyone killed. If these men still have the ability to feel, I can only assume the deaths of these children will weigh on them until they themselves die. I am friends with a firefighter and only ever hear second-hand what it is like to deal with danger, death, and carnage on a regular basis. It is something I am grateful I never have to touch.

I am full of extreme and mixed feelings about this video and the fallout. There are so many law enforcement members present, but water water everywhere. There is still only one small hallway leading to one small door, and - whether you believe acab or not - even bastards are just humans, and humans do dumb shit when they're stressed. Maybe we wouldn't need this ARMY of people to persuade a gunman if we didn't allow that man to have a gun to begin with.

The fact that these children and their families were affected like this because so much of America loves guns more than humans makes me feel devine rage.

EDIT: The guy checking his phone is looking to hear again from his wife, dying in the room. She'd called him after she'd been shot and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

Honestly fuck everyone. Whether you think cops are objectively shitty people or not, it doesn't change the fact that they're people. When YOU lost someone, when YOU we're stressed, did you function perfectly? Were you on point? That's certainly not how I function.

Cowards. #Uvalde

#i am going to try extremely hard to no longer reblog news #i am going to immediately follow this with business as usual memes and shitposting

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crewhonk · 7 years ago

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Nameless (I)

1940!Bucky X War Nurse!Reader

Warnings: Language, Blood, War, angst, fluff, shitty POV consistency.

Summary: When war is hard, attraction and love come easy

AN: To be added to the tag list send me a message! Also feedback, reblogs and likes encourage me to write better and faster! this was also supposed to be longer but its 3:30 in the morning so uhhh yeah.

Words: 2,487

series masterlist

April 20th, 1942

“So, you’re really doin’ this, huh.” Her best friend, Florence says from her place on the window sill. The weather is rainy, but there's a glimmer of sun in the horizon that promises the two girls an evening out on Main Street fighting off mosquitoes and cherishing the time before Y/N ships out for Austria early the next morning. Y/N looks over at her best friend for a brief second and smiles before turning back to her suitcase that reads ‘War Nurse; 107th Infantry’ and placing the bare essentials into it. Her uniforms, her helmet, her boots, some pictures and journals and her favorite perfumes and lipsticks. The latter items, she knew, would be the only luxury she would be allowed until the Great War ended.

“I didn’t go through schooling and basic training for nothin’ Flo. I knew I wanted to be a nurse and save lives before the war started, but now people need people like me.”

“And you can do that here, YNN! There are hospitals here that are flooded with vets.” Her friend argued while picking at her ginger split ends— book laying at her feet forgotten.

“Flo, that may be what you need, but what better experience could I get working under pressure and helping our boys who need it? Instead of doing things here at the hospitals by the book I’d get to improvise and push myself. I’d get to see men come back to me and go back out because I can help them get there.” She sighed as she closed her trunk and locked it before walking slowly over to her friend and taking a seat on the opposite side of the windowsill. The green pastures outside of her room seemed to be oversaturated and danced in the rain and wind, hypnotizing her only briefly before she turned back to her friend to look into her sad eyes.

“That’s viciously naive, Y/N. I hope you know that.” Flo sighed and reached forward for her best friends hand. YN gave her a sad smile and held her friend's hand loosely in her own grip. Both of the girl's skin was soft, untouched by the spoils of life and war. Y/N knew that her words were that of American propaganda taught by her instructors and sergeants, but she also knew this opportunity would not only give hearth experience she needed but also the money to continue to help Florence with rent and other living expenses.

Y/N’s parents had both died in the Great Depression, starving themselves so Y/N could eat and go to bed with a full stomach. She had been left a whopping eighteen dollars and a house a few kilometers north of upstate New York and close to the Canadian Border. Both her and Florence had left the busy city life for an honest living, clean eating, and while it was often difficult making ends meet, both young women knew it would be worth it to live a life where they could live it together.

“When you can do the things I was trained to do and the things that I’ve been able to do since I was a child and you don’t— people die because of you.” She murmured, not meeting her friends gaze and choosing instead to stare blankly out the window, watching single raindrops trail down the window pane until they hit the sill.

Y/N had been blessed with certain healing gifts, and since her parents begged her to keep them to herself, they weren’t as powerful as those who were making names for themselves overseas. They rapidly exhausted her, and since most people still didn’t have basic human rights, using her powers were more often than not frowned upon. She had been punished with belts and rulers in school, and severely reprimanded later that day at home by her father. After she had finished her punishment, she would be coaxed into her parents embrace and showered with whispers of fear and love.

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should Y/N/N,” Flo whispered. She was undoubtedly the most fearful person in Y/N’s life, and while it drove her absolutely crazy, she knew fear was the thing that kept people alive in times like the Great Depression and the War. Florence was afraid of the War, she was afraid of the Siege on Women, Minorities, and Mutants and she was cripplingly afraid of losing her best friend.

There was a pause of silence that was only filled by the soft scratching sounds of the record player in the corner of the room and the even softer sound of rain hitting the window.

“I need you to let me go, Florence. I need you to be okay with it.” Y/N could swear she heard her best friends heartbreak in her chest.

“I will never let you go, Y/N. I’ll never be okay with you voluntarily going into a war zone, but you do have my blessing to do so. Just on one ground.” Florence’s voice was weak, and she shuffled closer to Y/N until their knees were touching and their faces only inches apart. When Y/N finally made herself look into her eyes, she saw fear and love and determination.

“What’s that?”

“You come back to me. You come back to your damn cat. You come back to your ratty dresses and holey shoes. You come back to your cafe job you hate so much. You come back to me.” Florence was proud her voice didn’t shake around the lump in her throat or the tears in her eyes. She held out one dainty pinky between the two and clenched her jaw in an effort to hold back the sobs that were threatening to explode from her chest.

YN found her cheeks suddenly wet with tears of her own, and she held her lower lip between her teeth in an effort to stop it shaking. She cleared her throat before looking down at Florence’s pinky finger, and without hesitation, wrapping her own around it.

“I promise to come home to you. We’ll drive to the ocean when I come home and drink all of the coffee and spin in pretty dresses I can afford and finally know we’re safe. I promise.”

April 21st, 1942

Y/N ships out at three o’clock the following morning after leaving a heartfelt note for Florence to find when she woke up and showering her cat, Felix, with enough kisses for one million years. The plane ride is long, and when she looks out the window all she sees is the light blue of the ocean and the rich colors of the rising sun. She knows she’s getting close when one of the girls she trained with back in February mentions she can see the warships of the British coast. The blue of the ocean soon turns into the brown of war zones and farmers fields and the sky becomes plagues with plumes of smoke Y/N isn’t sure is from explosions or factories.

Settling down with the 107th, is long and hard, and the beds aren’t quite comfortable (not at all, really) as the ones back home, but it’s worth it when she’s able to sew up wounds and give fighting men fluids they need. It’s worth it when the Head Nurse gives her a flicker of a smile at her good work, and it’s worth it to be able to sit down and read letters from Florence about how Felix decided to tear up yet another set of curtains.

She’s sitting with some of the girls, washing her hair out of her helmet when she sees him for the first time. He’s laughing with a man who had thick ginger hair and impressive facial hair, and she swears that the war is worth it if it has led her to this moment. His brown hair flops boyishly over his eyes, and when he glances at the group of nurses she’s with, she almost dunks her hair in her soapy helmet water to avoid his gaze.

What she doesn’t see, is the way his eyes land on her. Not for any particular reason, she’s plain, and there are no physical attributes that makee him drool over the girls in New York, but the way her sopping hair falls over her face like a curtain and shines in the sun makes him do a double take. She doesn’t see the way his laughter dies in his throat, and she doesn’t see the way the older man elbows him in the ribs when he stops walking in front of him. She doesn’t see the way he blushes when the older man teases him, or the way a slightly more shy version of that boyish grin spread across his face when he looks back at her. He finally catches her eye just before he turns around a tent corner, and the way she’s blushing makes his heart skip a beat and makes his steps jovial. The older man that’s with him smiles fondly down at his younger friend, admiring the way such a talented marksman and fighter can still be such a boy.

April 31st, 1942

She had lost two high ranking officers earlier in the day. One had been a victim of exploding shrapnel and the other had experienced severe head trauma as a result of the same explosion. It had been a miracle the paramedics had been able to keep either of them alive, and it was an even bigger miracle they had acted as long as they did under her care. While she tried to use her powers as much as she could, there were too many people around her and they were still too weak to do enough to even begin to save their lives.

She’s excused from her shift, and she throws her blood-drenched nurse scrubs in the cart to be cleaned before leaving the tent she had helped build. The air is colder tonight, with the smell of incoming rain. The booms she hears in the distance could be either thunder or bombs, and she flinches when she heard them despite them being tens of miles away. She tells herself she’s safe to calm her shaking hands and racing heartbeat and she finds herself walking through her sleeping tent, grabbing the letters from Florence she received earlier in the week and heading straight to the bar. She finds an empty barstool amongst the throngs of drunken soldiers, and while the bar is sticky, and the lights are dim, she orders a glass of their strongest liquor and begins to read.

Florence tells her that it snowed again earlier in the week and when Felix had tried to go out he jumped three feet in the air and found refuge on one of the heating vents where he stayed for the following two days. Y/N laughs to herself when Florence says he’s just as dramatic as Y/N is.

“Didn’t know such a pretty dame could drink somethin’ so strong.” She hears a voice from her right side pipe up. She looks over to the source of the voice, and her entire body runs cold when she sees the same boyish grin from earlier in the week staring back at her. He’s a few stools over, and by the way his eyes drift around the room, and his smile comes easy she guesses he’s had more than one drink. She looks back at her letter to hide the blush that's creeping up on her neck and face, pretending to read her letter but not being able to focus because he’s moved closer to her, and the overpowering smell of his cologne is almost burning her nose. The heat radiating off his body makes her want to curl into his arms, and she curses at herself for not thinking to grab a jacket when the winds flow through the Bar Tent and bites at the exposed skin.

He says something to the bartender that she doesn’t quite hear, and she raises a groomed eyebrow when he slides a cheap beer in front of her. Compared to the expensive and strong drink in front of her, she knows the beer is going to taste like dirty water and without much more thought she takes her tumbler and drinks the amber liquid, ignoring the gifted beer.

He seems to grow tired of her silence and leans just a little closer to her, and when Y/N only blushes harder and keeps her eyes on the pages in front of her, he clears his throat and speaks. “So, who’s the lucky person writing you? Boyfriend? Husband?”

“What’s it to ya?” Her snarky comment makes him blink stupidly at her for a second and his stunned silence bring her to look at him. She bites her tongue at his expression and her eyes flicker down to his uniform to find his rank, trying to ignore how broad his shoulders are under the beautifully tailored uniform. “Sergeant?”

His reaction to his title is immediate and he straightens his posture before smirking and cocking his head to the side playfully. “Just trying to make conversation with the prettiest dame I’ve seen on this side of the world.”

She raises both eyebrows and the flustered smile that spreads across her face makes his heart skip a beat. She lets the pages in her hands flutter to the tacky surface of the bar before turning in her seat to face him. She still ignores his cheap piece offering and drinks the rest of her scotch.

Her flustered smile, however, is hard on the edges, and the redness in her eyes makes her look tired. “I appreciate the flattery, Sarge, I really do. But I lost two very important men today when I had the capabilities to save both of ‘em. I’d much appreciate it if you left me alone before I stab you in the hand with a scalpel.”

Her sudden threat makes him shrink back, and while both parties know it’s an empty threat, he stills holds his hands up in surrender and send her a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry for your loss, Dollface.” His voice is filled with enough truth that it makes her hands tremble and throat sore with the size of the lump that finds itself there. She smiles at him that almost looks like a wince and watches his large hands reach for both of the bottles. Just as he’s about to turn around, her voice stops him.

“Sarge?”

“Yeah, Doll?”

“Leave the drinks, yeah?”

“Anything for you.”

Part II

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torn-and-frayed · 7 years ago

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With All My Heart - Part 13

Word Count: 3196

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Self loathing, Horrible terrible no good very bad smut

A/N: Thanks to @percywinchester27 @impalaimagining and @sis-tafics for reading this over for me.

A/N #2: This is the reason I don’t write smut, right here, in all its glory, you’ve been warned.

Feedback and Constructive Criticism Always Appreciated

With All My Heart Masterlist

“How is she, really? No bullshit?” Gavin questioned Emma. You’d been driving for awhile and had stopped for a few breaks for you to get out and stretch your legs. Gavin and Emma both thought you were asleep in the backseat when truthfully you were hovering in the space between awake and asleep.

“She’s…coping.” Emma finally answered, hesitating, trying to find the right words. “The whole heart infection and then replacing the valve, it took a lot out of her. For awhile I was afraid she was spiraling, but Jensen – Gavin he really pulled her out. He kept her head above water.”

“What do you mean?” Gavin glanced at Emma quickly, putting his eyes straight back on the road, but he was clearly intrigued by what she meant.

“Well, not only did he keep her out of the hospital by paying for all the medical equipment at his house so she could get all the antibiotics at home –“

“He did that?” Gavin interrupted. “Like they were barely even together then and he just did that?”

“Yeah.” Emma nodded. “It was never a question. But beyond that stuff, every time she started feeling down he brought her back up. He’d take her out to do something; he’d bring people to her. He just did every single thing he could do to make her not feel like an invalid. Gav, he’d give her the world. She wouldn’t even have to ask. Plus, Jared and Gen are great too. She didn’t just get Jensen she got an entire family.”

Gavin gripped the wheel firmly in one hand, tensing his fist and letting it go, letting out a deep sigh. “What?” Emma asked. “What could possibly bother you about that?”

“Nothing.” Gavin said, hesitating and clenching his jaw. “I just…I should’ve been here for her and I wasn’t.” Gavin hesitated again, Emma’s silence telling him he needed to keep going, to explain himself. “I’m not in love with her if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s not like that. I didn’t come here to fight with Jensen over her. I just – I promised her once I’d always be there for her and then I joined the Marines and I fucked that up. She needed me and I wasn’t here. How many guys walked all over her because I wasn’t here? She could’ve died and I wasn’t here.”

“I don’t blame you.” You murmured sleepily from the back seat. “It was your job. It’s not like you didn’t wanna be here. You can’t just drop everything for me, Gavin.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.” Gavin sighed. “Thought you were asleep.”

“She’s right, though.” Emma said, reaching out and grabbing her brother’s free hand. “I know you think protecting us is your job but we’re big girls and we make our own decisions.”

“I chose to date all those shitty men because I didn’t think I deserved better. That’s not on you. It’s not your job to fix me. And my heart? You couldn’t have fixed that. Nobody could’ve. Jensen being there was just the right place, right time.” Gavin nodded his understanding, swallowing thickly and going silent for a time, staring at the open road. You really wished in that moment you had the ability to read thoughts, not knowing what he was thinking was killing you.

“Get some rest, Pipsqueak.” Gavin said, giving you a quick glance in the rearview mirror. “We should be there by morning.”

The next morning when you arrived at the hotel, Jared met you immediately in the parking garage, trying to keep you hidden. You could barely help yourself, throwing yourself directly into his chest and burying your face in his shirt as soon as you saw him. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, gorgeous.” Jared laughed, hugging you so tight you could barely breathe. “Not as much as Jensen though, he’s driving me crazy. I’m so glad you’re here. You look so much healthier.” Jared’s eyes made their way toward Gavin who cleared his throat behind you.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” You abruptly pulled away, turning and pulling Jared toward Gavin. “Jared this is Gavin, Emma’s brother. Gavin, this is Jared.”

Jared extended his hand and Gavin took it right away with a smile, something you were grateful for. A part of you was afraid they wouldn’t get along but they seemed to be just fine, and if he got along with Jared chances of him liking Jensen were far higher. “Thank you.” Gavin said unexpectedly. “For you know, giving her a job when her fuckstick of an old boss fired her for being sick. And being so understanding of everything and being there for her as a brother when I couldn’t be. You seem like a good guy.”

“Y/N’s family now.” Jared pulled you in to a side hug, kissing the top of your head. “Whatever she needs, she gets.”

“Told you.” Emma smirked, leaning against Gavin’s SUV. “Are we gonna take this stuff inside to an actual room or are we gonna stay in the parking garage forever?”

“I might’ve managed to snag Emma and Gavin a 2 room suite.” Jared shrugged, holding out the keys. “Y/N/N you can shove your stuff in there for now but I don’t think you’ll be sleeping there tonight.”

“No.” You laughed and shook your head. “God I hope not.” Jared moved away from you and started to help Gavin with the bags, easily draping some over his shoulders and pulling your rolling suitcase behind him. “Jared, I can help. At least give me the little one before you throw your back out.”

“No.” Jared scoffed. “They’re not heavy, I got em. Just shut up and walk with me. We gotta talk about how this surprise is gonna go.”

“Ok, so how is it gonna go?” Jared held the door for everyone, letting you all inside. Emma and Gavin walked ahead of you, having their own sibling conversation while Jared and you trailed behind, planning exactly how to surprise Jensen. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Well, later today we’re filming this like, interview game thing.” Jared explained. “It’s out on a boat kinda nearby. I was thinking you could do it then unless you wanna wait until the party tonight.”

“No!” You interjected, perhaps a little bit too enthusiastically. “I can’t wait that long. I need to see him.” Jared laughed at you, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head.

“You really miss him, huh? God you might be worse than him. You’re pretty much all he talks about.” Jared sighed. “I’ve never seen him so damn love struck. It’s disgusting, really. What have you done to him?”

You punched Jared hard in the shoulder, making him recoil from you with a loud grunt. “You’re so mean!”

“You love me.”

“Maybe.” You sighed in defeat, catching up to Emma and Gavin at the elevator. “I’ll never admit to it.”

Once you got to the hotel room you quickly showered and changed clothes, practically skipping back into the living area where Emma and Gavin had ordered food. “Awesome, I’m starving.” You took a seat and dug into the waffles and fruit, moaning at the taste and shoving more in your mouth like you hadn’t eaten in days. Gavin and Emma both glared at you in a mixture of annoyance and humor and you shrugged your shoulders, swallowing your food. “What? I’ve been forced to eat heart healthy and this is fucking delicious. I’m allowed to love my food.”

“You can love it without making obscene sex noises with it.” Emma deadpanned, staring at you. “Save that for Jensen.” You launched a strawberry at her, hitting her dead center in the forehead. “Hey!”

“Fucking children.” Gavin chuckled with his mouth full.

“Well, this has been great but I gotta get going.” You quickly cleaned up the mess you had made and grabbed your bag, making your way toward the door when Gavin jumped up.

“Wait, wait, wait. I’m driving you. I wanna meet him.” Gavin protested. “You’re not driving yourself.”

“You’re right. I’m not.” You rested your hands on Gavin’s biceps, speaking to him slowly and carefully. “Jared got the network to send a driver. You need to sleep you drove for almost a day. Emma’s staying to make sure you actually get some rest. You’ll get to meet him later.”

“No, Y/N, I’m fine.” Gavin argued. “I wanna meet him.”

“You, Gavin Bailey, are exhausted.” You shoved him toward the bedroom, pushing him and walking him back toward the bed. “You, Gavin Bailey, are going to get some sleep.”

“Alright, bossy.” Gavin sighed and finally gave in, sitting down on the bed and kicking off his boots. “I’ll take a nap for you, but I want you to tell me you got to where you’re going without an issue. Send me a text, I’ll hear it.”

“You’ll be asleep, genius.” You sassed back.

“I’ll hear it. Light sleeper.” Gavin said softly. “I kinda had to be…over there.” You saw his eyes glaze over for a split second before touching his shoulder, calling him back.

“She’ll send you a text.” Emma stepped in; apparently knowing full well her brother needed rest and wasn’t going to get it without being forced. “Now let her go.”

You kissed Gavin’s cheek and bounded for the door, a newfound pep in your step. “I’ll be back later! With Jensen! Get some sleep, both of you!”

Your nervous energy built up in the car on the way to the boat Jensen was and now that you were there, in the same space as him, so close but yet so far, you felt like you might implode. You could hear him laughing, you could smell his soap and cologne, but he had no idea you were anywhere other than where you’d told him you were.

Misha, Jared, and Jensen were seated in front of a camera, playing a quiz game about how well they knew each other. They had white boards and the questions just lent themselves to jokes. You were trying not to laugh at them, knowing Jensen would hear you and recognize your laugh right away. Jared kept casting small glances your way, knowing exactly where you were but unable to see you.

“Who would survive a zombie apocalypse?” Jensen read the next question and held his white board close to his chest, thinking to himself.

Jared and Misha used the question to make fun of each other, you expected nothing less. Jensen picked Jeffrey Dean Morgan then immediately pulled his white board back and shook his head. “Can I change my answer?” Jensen asked and began furiously erasing and rewriting, turning the board back around. “I choose Y/N.” He giggled. “She’ll kill me when she sees this but part of her heart is bionic now so I don’t think she can become a zombie.”

Jared threw his head back and cackled along with Misha. “You’re right. She’s totally gonna kill you.” Jared laughed. “You’re lucky she can take a joke.”

“Is it really a joke if he’s right, though? I’m zombie proof.” You walked out from the shadows, making your presence known. Jensen’s head whipped around and he shot out of his chair, running forward and grabbing you gently around the waist.

“What are you –“ You didn’t let him finish, too eager to see him, to feel him. You grabbed around his neck, pulling him down and slamming your lips against his, grabbing fistfuls of his hair, not giving a damn who was watching.

“We should probably end the live stream there.” Misha laughed. “Before this becomes pornographic.”

Jensen broke the kiss long before you were ready and you chased his lips forward, eliciting a giggle from him. “How did you get here? You’re not allowed to fly yet.”

“Gavin and Emma drove for like a day and a half.” Your smile was so big it was practically lighting up the room and Jensen’s was just as big. His hands moved up your back, pulling you into his chest. “Jared set us up at the hotel. Got me a driver here.”

“You knew?” Jensen spun around, glaring at Jared. “And you managed not to say anything?”

“I told Misha.” Jared shrugged.

“You’re both assholes.” Jensen said and you laughed, cuddling closer to him.

“Be nice, Jens.” You admonished, slapping his chest. “They helped get me here, they didn’t have to, ya know.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” He grumbled, nuzzling his nose in your hair. “Best surprise ever. How are you? Do you need anything?”

You nodded your head yes and yanked on his cream colored jacket, pulling him back down to you and crashing your lips to his, practically growling when they connected. You couldn’t have pulled yourself any closer to him if you tried, but damn if you didn’t try. His warmth, his touch, his smell, you needed him. You didn’t realize just how much until you were standing there in his arms again.

“Get a room.” Jared and Misha complained in unison. “A hotel room not this one.” Misha added.

“They’re right. We should go back to my room.” Jensen said against your lips.

“Don’t you have photo shoots and big time celebrity stuff to do?” You questioned, making him laugh and squeeze you tighter.

“I have time before I have to do all the big time celebrity stuff.” He murmured. You squealed in surprise when he swept you completely off your feet, carrying you toward the dock.

The two of you barely made it back into the hotel room and slammed the door shut before clothes started flying in every direction. The giggle that escaped your lips was almost embarrassing as the two of you clumsily kissed and yanked at each other’s clothes, bumping into furniture and walls on your way into the bedroom where you fell naked into the king size bed with Jensen hovering over you, staring down at you with nothing but love.

“Beautiful.” Jensen murmured, trailing kisses down your neck.

“No.” You mumbled, moving your hands to cover your scar, suddenly acutely aware of it and self-conscious. In your haste to get to Jensen, you’d forgotten about it entirely but now you didn’t want him to see your deformed body.

“Don’t.” Jensen grabbed your hands easily in one of his, sitting back and pulling them away from your chest. He pinned them above your head and brought his lips down to your scar, kissing a path down it setting your skin ablaze. “This is beautiful.” He mumbled, each word punctuated by another kiss. Your back arched up into him as you watched him, not seeing a shred of dishonesty on his face. You believed him. He found you beautiful, despite the hideous purple, jagged scar on your chest.

“Need you.” You whined, forcing your hands free and grabbing his hair, yanking him back to your face, kissing him deeply. You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his length bump your entrance and bucked your hips against him. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Jensen rested his forehead against yours, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. “We haven’t…I mean not since…are you sure you’re healed enough?”

“We can go slow.” You nodded. “But I’m fine. I just…Jensen I need you.”

That was all Jensen needed to hear. You bit your lip, moaning as he slowly pushed into you, stretching you slowly until he finally bottomed out. “Fuck.” Jensen groaned.

He stayed still, his weight comfortable on top of you, staring at your face, searching for any sign of discomfort from you. “You can move.” You breathed, cupping his face in one hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone.

He moved torturously slow, his cock dragging against you igniting a fire within you. Your hips matched his, lazily, thrust for thrust. He was still gazing down on your face, looking at you longingly. No man had ever looked at you the way Jensen did, and that act alone was enough to almost make you come undone.

Jensen’s hand was suddenly in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck, while he nipped and sucked his way down. His other hand found its way to your breast, kneading it in his strong hand. You clenched your eyes shut, wrapping your arms around his back and digging your nails into his shoulder blades, panting and gasping his name, your heart pounding against your chest.

“I’m gonna –“

“I know.” Jensen coaxed, running his fingers through your hair to calm you. He wanted to do more, to completely ravage you, but he didn’t want to overwhelm or hurt you. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

The fire inside you erupted with Jensen’s name on your lips and you clenched around him as he came inside you, peppering kisses over every inch of skin he could find. This wasn’t about just sex. This was a new stage in your relationship. Yes, you’d both said “I love you” and meant it before, but this was new, different, with much deeper meaning.

He started to roll of you and you pulled him back, wanting his weight on top of you, loving the added security it brought. His forehead came to rest against yours as you both caught your breath and he nuzzled his nose against yours, kissing you quickly and gently. You tried to stop the tears from building in your eyes, but you couldn’t, and one escaped despite your best efforts. “Are you alright?” His eyes showed nothing but genuine love and concern, just like always. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “God, no. I just – I love you so much and you are so much more than I deserve.” You murmured, reaching your hand up to trace the contours of his face.

“You deserve everything.” Jensen smiled, kissing the tears away and rolling to his side, bringing you with him, never breaking apart. “I’m the one who got lucky. I got you. Someone who didn’t care about me being a celebrity and just wanted me for me. Do you know how hard that is to find?” You shook your head, your eyes starting to flutter shut as you cuddled into Jensen’s neck, inhaling his scent that you’d missed so much.

“I need you to stop thinkin’ you don’t deserve me, Y/N. Because you do.” Jensen said lowly, rubbing circles on your bare back. “I’ll remind you all day every day if I have to.” Jensen shifted, resting his head on your chest. “You’re going to the photo shoot with me in a few hours, right? And the after party?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” You slurred, letting sleep overtake you. Jensen kissed your scar again and reached for the alarm clock on the bedside table; setting it so you wouldn’t be late for the magazine’s photo shoot. He didn’t dare get out of bed and risk waking you to find his phone which was somewhere in his pants, strewn around the hotel room.

Once the alarm was set he positioned his ear back over your heart, letting the steady rhythm of your heart slowing down as you drifted more deeply asleep lull him to sleep.

With All My Heart - Part 14 (coming soonish)

Jensen Tags: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @adaliamalfoy @aiaranradnay @akshi8278 @apeshit7x @ariannnawinchester @arryn-nyxx @autopistaaningunaparte @babydanixox @bakabozza @beacon-hills-chance-harbor @betterlattethennever @blacktithe7 @bloodysideofhell @boredoutofmymindstuff @bringmesomepie56 @capsofwinchesters @captainradicalpassion @chaos-and-the-calm67 @charliebradbury1104 @chickenmcsade @clarewinchester @d-s-winchester @dancingalone21 @deanswhiskeyveins @deanwinchesterisamazing @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @docharleythegeekqueen @dragontearsandunicornfears @dreamsfromthebunker @duckieburns @duherica @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emohermione @emoryhemsworth @escabell @evansrogerskitten @evilskank-inthemegacoven @fangirlingfanatic2442 @feelmyroarrrr

@gabavaldman @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish @growningupgeek @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @itseverythingilike

@iwantthedean @iwriteshortstuff @jalove-wecallhimdean @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @jayankles @jensen-gal @jensen-jarpad @jojo-nz @jotink78 @kalliravenne @kgbrenner @kittenofdoomage @kittycat-cas @lenaabs @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @maddieburcham1 @mayasmedberg @meeshw777 @mogaruke @my-supernatural-dreams @nichelle-my-belle @not-moose-one-shots @nothingeverdies @notmoose45 @outerxorbit @percussiongirl2017 @percywinchester27 @petrovadixon @riakie @riversong-sam @rlawson418 @ruprecht0420 @sammysflannels @sandlee44 @silver-and-green @sis-tafics @skybinx-blog @smoothdogsgirl @soobi89 @spn-fan-girl-173 @spontaneousam @starswirlblitz @stilinski15 @summoningsupernatural @supernatural-girl97 @supernatural-jackles @supernatural0826 @taste-of-dean @tattooedluci @teepartyy @the-angels-stole-the-tardis @thelastxgoodthing @thereisnolumos @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @wayward-marvel-sommer1196 @waywardjoy @whit85-blog @winchestdiaries @winchester-writes @winchesterprincessbride @winchesters-favorite-girl @yellowtheremarvelfan @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

#with all my heart #jensen x reader #jensen ackles x reader #reader x jensen #reader x jensen ackles #RPF #actor fic #jensen ackles fic #supernatural #spn #spn fic

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embracetheapocalypsewithme · 7 years ago

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In the Twilight Kingdom - Chapter 1: The Hollow Man

Notes: Aaaaand I’m back! After a bit of a hiatus (thanks, work, for going nuts there!), I am back at the Negan fanfiction writing. What can I say? I just can’t stay away from this man!

This is the first of what will be a multi-chapter fanfic. I don’t quite know where I will go with this, except that it will be based off of Here’s Negan (so pre-Saviors Negan) and will likely be shorter than my last fic, Embracing the Apocalypse.

I’m taking some inspiration from T.S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men in my writing, but am trying to keep it subtle-ish. We’ll see how that goes. My Negan is typically based off of the comics, but since this fic takes place shortly after (SPOILER AHOY) Lucille dies, expect him a bit more angst-y than I have written him in the past.

Other than that, everything you might want to know is down below!

Summary: It has been only a few months since the dead began to walk the earth, and Negan has yet to move on from the home he shared with Lucille, nor from his memories of her. As he begins to lose hope, the struggles of life in this new world take their toll on him. Can he find a reason to go on living, or will he succumb to grief?

Word Count: 2,750

Content Warnings: Negan, Negan being Negan, angst, swearing, and mentions of suicide.

Chapter 1: The Hollow Man

“Well…fuck!”

The sound of the cupboard door slamming into the wood behind it was much louder than Negan had anticipated in the otherwise silent house. He exhaled a sigh of frustration and continued to curse under his breath as he grabbed the manual can opener from the cutlery drawer and got to work opening the cylinder of condensed soup he had grabbed for dinner.

“Can’t believe I have to go out and get more fucking food already. I finally got the fucking place boarded up right, and now I have to figure out how to get out and back without getting fucking killed or maimed or fucking eaten. Fuck!”

The large man’s mind spiraled into bitter despair at the thought of having to go on a scavenging run as he dumped the contents of the can into a pot with a defiant flick of his wrist. The momentum of the viscous orange liquid hitting the pot’s bottom caused some of it to splash onto the pristine white shirt he wore. He stared down at the greasy, orange stain in disbelief for a moment, his mouth hanging open in stunned silence, before another stream of explicatives flew from his mouth and into the darkness of his kitchen.

“Fucking fine then!” he stripped the shirt off and threw it into the corner of the kitchen, “I guess I’ll eat fucking topless. Probably burn my fucking nipples off too.”

Negan continued his tirade to no one in particular as he stomped through the threshold of the kitchen’s sliding glass door and onto the patio. Sitting the pot on top of the already-warm barbecue grill, he opened a bottle of water that had been sitting on a nearby patio table and dumped some of it into the thick, concentrated soup to dilute it.

The evenings were beginning to cool dramatically now, signaling summer’s end. Noting the approach of the colder weather, Negan thought (not for the first time) that it might be safer for him to move on from his suburban home and away from the city in the wake of the almost total breakdown of society. If it wouldn’t be physically safer, then surly it would be psychologically safer for him to move. His house held too many memories. Too many ghosts.

Lost in thought, the sound of the soup beginning to bubble drew his attention back to the present. After turning the propane off completely, Negan re-entered the kitchen and sat the pot of soup directly on the counter-top. This was, of course, an affront to good counter-top care that would have caused a row between him and the lady of the house, had she been there to see it.

Before looking for a bowl to eat from, the dark-haired man turned to slide the patio door closed and double-checked to ensure that it was latched before drawing the thick drapes hanging to either side of it. You could never be too careful. Other humans were becoming scarce, but there were still enough looters making their way out of the city to be a threat. The last thing he needed was light from a window attracting their attention after the sun went down.

Negan ate his evening meal in silence, the room slowly becoming dim as night arrived. Once he had finished eating, he placed the bowl in the sink and washed it out with bottled water, using the smallest amount he could get away with.

The nights were worse than the days for him. It didn’t make any logical sense that it should be this way, but the darkness always brought memories of her, and with the memories came regret and a longing that could never be quelled. She was dead. She was rotting on the floor of a hospital room. And he was still here, sitting in the kitchen of what had once been their home, spending the final days of his life eating shitty soup from a can and wondering why he hadn’t put a bullet in his own head weeks ago. He had no idea why he went on and on like this.

“Life is very long,” he murmured into the sink. What was that from? Some poem he had studied in college probably. Maybe T.S. Eliot, or Robert Browning, or someone like that.

Life was beginning to become unbearable as each day blended into the next in a slog of misery that he knew would have to end eventually. The food was running out, and he couldn’t keep pilfering canned goods from the nearby corner store for much longer. Eventually he would have to expand his search area, or risk starvation.

Rather than taking everything that remained, Negan looted only what was needed to get by for two weeks at a time, always leaving the rest just in case there were other people in the area who needed the food too. That way, when he eventually shuffled off this mortal coil, he wouldn’t take resources that other survivors could use with him. At least he could die with a clear conscience in that singular regard.

Settling into his overstuffed armchair, Negan picked up a slim paperback copy of The Prince with a well-worn cover which featured a Renaissance-era painting of a man, presumably Machiavelli. He began to read, trying to allow the words on the page to enter his mind, but finding that they ultimately washed over him, leaving no imprint there:

“Whenever those states which have been acquired as stated have been accustomed to live under their own laws and in freedom, there are three courses for those who wish to hold them: the first is to ruin them, the next is to reside there in person, the third is to permit them to live under their own laws, drawing a tribute, and establishing within it an oligarchy which will keep it friendly to you…”

He read and re-read the passage, trying in vain to concentrate on the words before giving up and tossing the book aside. The prior soup-related fiasco and subsequent loss of a clean shirt still had him distractingly frustrated. Deciding that it would be better to simply sleep off his bad mood, Negan made his way upstairs, stopping to check that every window and door on the house’s bottom level was locked.

Once inside the bedroom, he stripped off his pants and underwear before climbing into bed naked and allowing the cool sheets to caress his skin. She would have hated him sleeping naked too, and she would have hogged the blankets if she had been there to lie next to him. Even the remembrance of their marriage’s minor annoyances caused his heart to ache. Negan curled into a ball under the covers like a child hiding from an imagined monster in their closet, turning away from what was once her side of the bed.

His eyes clamped shut in an attempt to stem the flow of tears which always seemed to be sitting just inches from the surface, perpetually threatening to bubble over and sweep him away in a wave of grief. It took a long time for him to finally calm himself enough to sleep. When he did, his slumber was fitful and his dreams were filled with her face.

It wasn’t the calm and peaceful face he had come to love, but one that was twisted in agony and hunger with eyes as blank as freshly-fallen snow. It was the face of the dead.

Warm sunlight on his eyelids woke him up the following morning. He was still curled into a ball on his side of the bed, facing the window, and his hands were balled into fists. His eyes drifted to the battery-powered alarm clock sitting on the table beside the bed. 8:39am.

“Fuck.”

The word came out thick and dull in the empty room. He’d overslept, pushing his day back and cutting into the hours of daylight he had left to go scavenging. Knowing that he would have to get moving quickly, Negan jettisoned himself from the sheets and felt a shiver run through his body as his bare feet met the cold, wooden floor of the bedroom.

He gave himself a whore’s bath and dressed quickly, donning his usual outfit of jeans and a white t-shirt. He’d never been very adventurous when it came to clothing and saw no reason to change now, so his dresser was still packed full of identical tops with just a few different types of pants. Eventually, he would have to pick up a coat to keep himself warm on his outings, but since the days were still fairly warm and dry, that task could wait a while.

Rather than his typical breakfast of instant oatmeal, he opted for the faster alternative of sugary cereal, which he ate dry and directly from the box, shoveling handfuls into his mouth and chasing them with swigs from a water bottle. He didn’t really care about the taste or texture of the food he ate, only that it would keep him going long enough to swipe some more from the corner store’s dwindling supply of canned goods.

Wondering, not for the first time, what he would do once the canned foods started to expire, he pushed the thought from his head. He would probably be long dead by the time that happened anyway, so why worry about it now?

After slinging an empty backpack over his shoulders, Negan pulled back one of the thick curtains covering the sliding glass doors which lead to the back patio. He peered out, looking for possible threats as he prepared to leave his newly-fortified house for the first time in over a week. The back yard was empty and appeared to be safe, so he slid the door back quietly and slipped out, maintaining awareness of his surroundings as he closed and locked it behind him.

When he did have to leave the safety of his home, Negan always opted to travel through back yards and side streets instead of the main thoroughfare in order to avoid being spotted by anyone who might be looking for someone to rob. It was slower going, but there were a lot less of the dead fucks lurking behind his neighbour’s homes as compared to the streets, and the lack of any conflict probably saved him some travel time in the end.

As he neared the corner store, which was indeed situated on the corner of the intersection that connected his quiet suburban street to one of the major arteries leading into the city, he noted that there were more dead than usual stumbling around the building’s perimeter. Concealing himself behind an unsteady-looking wooden fence that backed onto the store’s rear parking lot, he peered through the slats to get a better look at the obstacles he would have to clear to get inside, careful not to make any noise.

On a typical supply run, he tended to only encounter one or two of them along his route to the fence through the back yards, and there were almost never any dead in the parking lot itself. This time, however, the yards he had crossed had been completely vacant while the parking lot held at least five dead that he could see. And they looked pissed.

Maybe pissed wasn’t the word, exactly. Could those things even feel anything anymore? He supposed they probably couldn’t and were merely excited by something like a pack of hungry dogs. There was nothing exciting that he could see from his vantage point, so he crept along the fence, moving nearer to the store to see if he could figure out what had them so worked up.

Once he had moved as close to the building as he could without being detected, he noticed far more than the initial five dead that he had spied. There had to be at least twenty of the things clawing at the building, most of them clustered around a thick, steel side door with a white sign indicating that this had been the “EMPLOYEE ENTRANCE – STAFF ONLY” back when there had been employees to use it, of course.

“Fuck the fucking hell outta that shit!” he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head solemnly.

As tired as he was, and as much of a pain in the ass as it would be to travel further away from the safety of his home, he would have to find another place to swipe food supplies from today. There was no way he could take on more than twenty of those things. Five maybe, but not twenty. That would be a suicide mission, and he wasn’t quite that desperate yet.

Turning to leave, he hoisted his backpack further up his shoulders and prepared to make his way back toward his home. He needed to regroup and come up with a new plan. Maybe he could find some loose cans of soup or some pasta in one of the houses along the way and avoid having to do a supply run at all today. By the time he came back to try the corner store again in a day or two, the horde was sure to have dissipated.

It was at this point, while lost in thoughts of strategic planning, that he heard his first human voice in several weeks. At first, he wasn’t entirely sure what his ears had picked up, but as he paused to listen to a sound that seemed distinct from the groans of the dead, he thought he could make out a word: “Help!”

The cry was faint and muffled, but he could tell that it was coming from the direction of the corner store. Surely there couldn’t be anyone left alive in there. He had visited the building to scavenge at least once every other week since the outbreak began in the late spring, and if there had been anyone in there with him, he would have noticed them by now. It was probably just wishful thinking brought on by weeks of isolation. His brain was trying to concoct something, anything, to keep him going, and playing the saviour of someone in distress seemed to be where his psyche wanted to go.

“Strange fucking choice in fantasies there, Negan…” he said to himself, taking a step away from the fence.

“Someone fucking help us!” the yell, though still muffled by something, was louder and most definitely not in his head. It was punctuated by the sound of someone slamming their fists against something solid and metal, and this was followed by a chorus of moans from the dead encircling the building.

“Fucking fuck!” Negan cursed under his breath as he stripped the backpack from him and tossed it aside.

The idiots on the other side of the door were making enough noise to draw every walker in the neighborhood straight to them as they desperately called for help. It looked like he was going to have to save them from the growing group of dead assembled outside the door, and from themselves if they were dumb enough to get into this kind of situation in the first place.

He knew that taking on twenty walkers would likely result in his death, but he had to try to get them out of there and to safety, even if it meant he might not make it himself. What else was he good for anymore if not being a big, loud, badass motherfucker? At least he’d die putting his talents to use.

“Hey you fucking undead fucks!” he bellowed, running around the side of the fence and banging on its weathered boards as he went, “Come on you fucking puss bags! Let’s do this!”

The commotion drew the attention of the dead toward the back of the hoard surrounding the door, but those closer to the building did not budge; they were still being drawn by the incessant banging from the inside of the building as the group trapped inside called for help yet again.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Shut the fuck up in there if you want to make it through this, you fucking idiots!” Negan screamed at them, hoping that his harsh advice would make it through both the metal door and their thick skulls.

The noise inside the building ceased abruptly while his outburst caused more of the assembly of walking corpses to follow him into the street, reaching out endlessly for him. That was good. His plan was working.

#comicnegan>#negan fanfiction #negans thirst squad #comic negan #negan

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meme-and-askbox · 5 years ago

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Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well

1. What is you middle name? Rae, and I don't hate it as much as I did when I was younger. In fact, if I ever get published, my pen name is going to be Rae (redacted).

2. How old are you? 43, physically. Emotionally, 3 or 300, given any particular day 3. When is your birthday? 15 October. 4. What is your zodiac sign? Libra, and boy, am I ever. 5. What is your favorite color? Purple, black, fushchia, aqua. 6. What’s your lucky number? Don't have one. I don't have luck. 7. Do you have any pets? I have two. Fucko and Harpo. Actually, they're cats, named Sam (Samhain Murray) and Maggie (after Maggie the Cat in Gargoyles) 8. Where are you from? North Carolina. Lil bit outside Charlotte. 9. How tall are you? It says 5'7 on my license, but. It's probably more like 5'5 10. What shoe size are you? Ladies 11 wide, Men's 8-9 depending on the shoe. 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 5. Two pairs of Sketchers, a black pair I keep for funerals, a pair of suede ankle boots, and a pair of Harley Davidson biker boots. 12. What was your last dream about? Roxy the pink police poodle. She's a recurring dream, and I'm working on turning her and her handler into a novel. 13. What talents do you have? I don't suck at writing. I have pretty phenomenal reading retention; I can't tell you page numbers or anything, but I can recall that I read article X, and in it, they said A, B, and C. I'm good with most non-reptile animals. 14. Are you psychic in any way? Occasionally I have dreams that come true later, and I get odd flashes of deja vu, in that I'm certain I've done this before but I don't quite remember when. 15. Favorite song? At the moment, it's "Glitter and Gold" by Barns Courtney 16. Favorite movie? Sleeping Beauty. I can watch it a million times. 17. Who would be your ideal partner? oh, oi. I have no idea, because I don't want a partner. I guess my ideal would be someone who had the same interests as me, and who didn't mind being either fucked off and left alone, or attended to every whim as the need occurs. I'd honestly like to have someone to talk TV/Movies/Books with, have a cuddle every now and again, then fuck off to your own thing. 18. Do you want children? Fuck no. But even if I did, I couldn't have 'em anymore. All the lady parts got surgically removed in my 20s. 19. Do you want a church wedding? Do you WANT me to combust on the spot? 20. Are you religious? More than I'd admit to, but less than my fam would like me to be. 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? For myself? Yes. For someone else? Yes. 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Do speeding tickets count? Cause I had a couple. 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? I have! I used to hit the Star Trek convention circuit pretty heavy and I met most of the TOS cast, and the TNG cast too. My favorite is John deLancie. 24. Baths or showers? Showers, please. 25. What color socks are you wearing? White with purple toes and heels. 26. Have you ever been famous? Christ I hope not. 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? I'd like to be a Stephen-King level celeb, but not much more. 28. What type of music do you like? 80s and 90s. I tuned out of music around 2000. 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? Uh, yes. 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 5. Three for my head, one between my knees, one tucked under my hip. 31. What position do you usually sleep in? On my side, but lately it's been 50%-50% side/belly. 32. How big is your house? 3br, 2ba modular home. So maybe 2000-ish sq ft? 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? I don't. I hate breakfast. But because I take insulin, I usually scarf down some yogurt or Lance crackers. 34. Have you ever fired a gun? Yes. I enjoy guns even though I don't really own any. My uncles both have/had huge collections, and I got my love from them. But I know myself well enough to know that with my temper and my past suicidal tendencies, having a gun in the house would not end well. 35. Have you ever tried archery? Nope 36. Favorite clean word? Fudgin'. 37. Favorite swear word? Fuck. It's so versatile. 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 48 hours. 39. Do you have any scars? Quite a few. 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? Not a real one. I thought I had one for awhile in high school, but it turned out to be a joke some of the guys on my bus route played on me. 41. Are you a good liar? Depends on the subject. In the small things, yes. "Does this make my ass look big?" "No, of course not." But on the big stuff? No. I don't lie well. 42. Are you a good judge of character? Nope. I'd like to think I am, but I have a string of disastrous ex-friendships and relationships in my wake to prove that I am, in fact, a shitty judge of character. 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? Not convincingly. 44. Do you have a strong accent? Some people say I do. I don't hear it, but then, I'm surrounded by it. 45. What is your favorite accent? British, Scots, Irish, Spanish, Greek, Italian. In that order. 46. What is your personality type? INFJ, if I remember right. 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? My Harley boots. 48. Can you curl your tongue? Nope. 49. Are you an innie or an outie? Innie! 50. Left or right handed? Right. My dad was a leftie, though 51. Are you scared of spiders? Nah, not really. If I see one, I just burn the house down and go about my life. Yes, I'm terrified of the little ELFs. 52. Favorite food? Chicken and rice. Cook the rice in chicken broth, simmer the chicken in with it, throw in a can of cream of chicken soup, stir, simmer until hot, and serve. Best thing EVER. 53. Favorite foreign food? Chinese. Cashew Chicken, Orange Chicken, Sweet & Sour Pork 54. Are you a clean or messy person? Messy. Cluttery. Two Steps Away From Hoarding. Take your pick. 55. Most used phrased? Some variation of "fuck." Lately, "fuck me." 56. Most used word? See above, re: fuck 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? If I'm showering first, about twenty minutes. If I'm just getting dressed, about ten. 58. Do you have much of an ego? I'd like to say no, but yes, I do. 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? Suck, baby. 60. Do you talk to yourself? Sometimes I'm the only one who listens to me. 61. Do you sing to yourself? Constantly, especially in the shower or when I'm cleaning. 62. Are you a good singer? Fuck no. 63. Biggest Fear? Snakes. 64. Are you a gossip? Sometimes, especially with my besties. 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? Backdraft. "You go... we go!" 66. Do you like long or short hair? Shooooooooort. 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? At one time I could. But thanks to Yakko Warner, I can name all the countries of the world. 68. Favorite school subject? Creative writing and physics. I failed physics at the time, but I can tell, now that I understand most of it (thank you, Mythbusters!) that I would have loved it. 69. Extrovert or Introvert? An extroverted introvert. I don't MIND being around people, but I really would be happier with my own company. But, when I am with other people, I am gregarious to the point of obnoxious. 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? Nope. 71. What makes you nervous? Practically everything. 72. Are you scared of the dark? Nope. Not since I was like, seven. 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? They don't call me Grammar Nazi for nothing... 74. Are you ticklish? I refuse to answer on the grounds it might be used against me. 75. Have you ever started a rumor? Nope, but I've certainly helped pass them along. 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? Yep, I used to be manager of my office. Hated it. 77. Have you ever drank underage? Yep. 78. Have you ever done drugs? Nope. I don't like needles, and I don't have the cash. 79. Who was your first real crush? Wayne E. He looked so handsome in his ROTC uniform, and he was always nice and friendly with me and my BFF JC. We both had huge crushes on him, but he was a few grades ahead of us, so I don't think we registered except as friends. But that was okay. 80. How many piercings do you have? Four. Two in each ear. 81. Can you roll your Rs? Thanks to Sra. Iglacia, yes. Took her two whole semesters, but she got the whole flaming lot of us Southern kids rolling our Rs. 82. How fast can you type? 80ish WPM, last time I took a test. 83. How fast can you run? I think a snail outpaced me. 84. What color is your hair? A nice chocolately brown, with highlights trending a little auburn. 85. What color is your eyes? Cornflower-type hazel. 86. What are you allergic to? Mobic, IV contrast dye, Ciprofloxacin, medical-grate latex, ragweed and oak pollens, dumbasses. 87. Do you keep a journal? Not in a few years, no. I stopped when my dad died, idk why. 88. What do your parents do? My dad's passed away, but before he died he was disabled, and before THAT, he was a computer systems programmer and analyst for Piedmont Natural Gas and Bank of America. Mom's retired and disabled now with back problems, but she was an LPN before that. 89. Do you like your age? No. I hate being a responsible grown-up. I want to be ten or eleven again, old enough to know things, but young enough not to be responsible for anything other than basic chores, and I still got allowance. 90. What makes you angry? Practically everything, at some point. My family puts it as I have a wild hair across my ass and it'll go off anytime. 91. Do you like your own name? It's not a bad little name, but I always liked Daphne better. 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? Fuck no. Ugh. 93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? NEITHER. I want cats. or dogs. or fish. or a bird, I think I could love a bird. or a turtle. 94. What are you strengths? I'm loyal to a fault; if you're my friend, I am always in your corner and I will 100% throw hands with the first motherfucker who looks at you wrong. 95. What are your weaknesses? Impulsive, careless, stubborn 96. How did you get your name? My Dad's uncle (Kelly) and my mother's father (Ray became Rae). Can you tell they were expecting a boy and got me? 97. Were your ancestors royalty? Christ, no. They were poor Irish. 98. Do you have any scars? ...didn't we just answer this? Yes. 99. Color of your bedspread? Flowered. 100. Color of your room? White walls, burgundy carpet.

from @evilwriter37 and @marcymakemagic

#get to know me uncomfortably well

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starlettemagnechalastor · 6 years ago

Text

Mun’s history

I grew up in good ol’ Texas, despite being born in Virginia. My mom divorced my biological dad and move to Texas when I was 2, so I really have no memory or connection with my biological dad.

She married my stepdad when I was 5. We moved into his house, and for many years, I always thought I had a normal childhood...

Until I started therapy MANY years later.

Being coerced into thinking back made me realize how fucked the marriage was.

The fighting, the emotional and verbal abuse, the religious indoctrination..

The bullshit gender norms my stepdad tried to force on me.

Example: Women cannot wear hats.

So my mom and I wore caps and whatever hats we liked cause fuck him.

She was miserable in the relationship, they ALWAYS fought. Once, my mom told me he wanted a divorce because I was “too smart.”

I was 6.

And unconsciously, all the abuse of my dad (He often called my younger brother and I names, and would make us paranoid by scaring the shit out of us whenever he could. Once or twice? Fine. But don’t hide behind the walls all the time and jump out at us.), the worthlessness I felt because my religion taught me I was broken and filthy without Jesus (thanks grandma).

I admit, I attempted to take my life when I was 7. I tried to swallow a bottle of pills. We had a whole medicine cabinet and I was easily able to access the medicine. My brother caught on when I gave him my prized snow globe music box and told him I didn’t need it anymore.

My mom burst into my room as I opened the bottle.

She hid all medications and all sharp objects for months. But I wasn’t taken to a therapist.

No professional to help me.

10 years of age: One day, my mom snapped and attempted suicide by shooting herself with my dad’s gun. He tried to grab the gun, and a bullet fired. It hit her side and broke their bathroom sink. Police woke me up in the middle of the night, and my grandmother was there in tears.

Middle school: I was forced into a christian school, my mom was paranoid over gossip of the public middle school. And of course, when the ENTIRE class was questioned about their faith...I hesitated. Which made me an instant target for severe bullying. From people pretending to have romantic interest in me, to physically assaulting me. I kept it to myself for my entire middle school life, until the day they busted my bike, which was how I got home. And despite the school saying the damages would be covered and I’d get an apology letter, that never happened.

My mom moved me to a charter school.

The only significant memories I have of THAT gem was that they tried to get me to CHEAT on a TAKS test and that I was bullied for being a virgin.

I told my parents about the TAKS, they confronted the school staff...and they held me back.

So, repeating 10th grade in a public high school.

My mom, over the years, has been in and out of the hospital. Which meant my brother and I were in a house with a man who was emotionally constipated and constantly harassed, berated, and insulted his children.

But constantly reminded us about how he’s so great for marrying a woman with two children.

My mom, when she was home, had a lot of medical problems. She had a small spine, so they had to remove a part of her hip to normalize the length, she couldn’t breathe properly on her own, she had to have a nurse coming over to check on her often, she had a pacemaker, she ended up with diabetes, she had seizures that were mostly triggered by flashing lights, and she had to have certain medications injected.

This woman, my mother, was the one who got me into art, who ALWAYS supported me. I think she knew I was transgender before I did, she gave me my first short haircut that had my FAMILY, all except her brother, call me a dyke. She was always there for my lows, knew I had self-esteem issues, she bred my artistic side where I could be FREE.

12 years old, my uncle (the only other light of my life) got engaged to a pediatric nurse. Her name was Stephanie. They had a kid together already, his name was Aiden. Stephanie asked us to come to a family reunion to meet her family.

I didn’t see any red flags when I got there, but things started being weird when I met a few of the would-be cousins.

One man, who looked like he was in his 20s, was REALLY handsy with me. He even lifted my leg and SPANKED me while we were hanging out outside. REMINDER: I WAS 12 YEARS OLD AT THE TIME.

Then I met this kid named Matthew.

A monster in the making.

He wasn’t handsy, he was a chill guy. He was even invited to our house and we sat at the dining room table to watch videos.

THEN

And ONLY THEN

did he start groping me.

He went as far as shoving his hand down my pants.

And I was so confused, so disturbed and horrified, that I could only quietly cry and plead for him to stop.

I never told my parents, my grandparents, never told an adult.

I only told my brother when he brought Matthew over one day, many years later. I told him he was NEVER allowed in our house again, and my brother wholeheartedly agreed, thankfully.

And thank fuck I never had to see that jerk because someone blew the whistle on him to my parents. Someone caught him groping girl’s butts at the next family reunion.

Fast forward to 14 years of age

At the time, I didn’t know she had a drug abuse problem.

She was crushing medications she was to be taking orally, mixing them with water, and injecting them.

And I helped her do it, because I thought I was helping her get better.

I wanted her SO BADLY to get better.

I prayed so hard, being a devout christian.

I begged and PLEADED for her to get better so I could have my mom back, so we could be TOGETHER again. To have her bright smile and shitty ass jokes (After my mom came home from the attempted suicide, she would always joke about how she should’ve shot herself while holding a toy gun. Or called gangsters wimps for limping after getting shot. She was weird :) And I loved that about her), I just wanted my mom.

I was only a young teen, and I was starting to figure out my gender identity. I couldn’t go to my dad, I didn’t trust him like I trusted her.

I visited her constantly, she tried to teach me more about coloring and encouraged me to practice singing. She was my teacher ^^ And because of her, I clung to teachers and befriended them. My art teachers LOVED me, they did all they could to protect me from bullies that would throw erasers at me, ruin my projects, and draw on my posters. I loved all my teachers, they were kind and understanding and helped me get through the years while my mom was unable to.

My mom gave me all the love and support I could ever wish for. She never required me to be one way, but told me no matter if I was an atheist, satanist, if I was gay or straight, NO MATTER THE CHANGE, she would ALWAYS love me.

And it scared me when she ended up with a staph infection in her heart.

The surgery went well, she managed to recover. Doctors removed the infected valve with a pig’s valve. She came home, and I stuck by her side.

I’d sneak in cigarettes when she asked.

And..my dad tried to turn me against my own mom with texts that I had no context to go by.

I can’t really remember the texts, but I remember feeling devastated. But I still did ANYTHING she asked.

...I lost her when I was 16.

The staph infection was back. She only had a 10% chance of surviving another surgery.

My dad had to explain that to me, so I skipped school that day, December 8 of 2011, to be with her on her last day.

She wasn’t conscious.

I remember sitting there numbly, not really paying attention to the tv in the room. My dad was in and out, as well as some nurses.

One by one, my great aunts, my second cousins, and my grandmother came to say their goodbyes.

I overheard the nurse tell my dad that once they unplugged the machines, she would be dead.

But I think she was dead long before that. Brain dead. Her heart was pumping, but she wasn’t there.

I broke down once my grandma told her sister that, after the nurse had unplugged the machine and left us alone, that she was gone.

I could hear my second cousin break down too. He only got support from my mom, turns out he was disowned for being gay and my mom still treated him like a human being when nobody else would. It made me realize how much of a positive impact she was on the family, and we lost it.

My school offered therapy, which I accepted. My therapist was sweet, she brought me snacks and she reminded me a lot of my mom with her tone and attitude. She helped me realize it wasn’t my fault my mom died, because I completely blamed myself.

I know now that it was due to her drug abuse, that the needles she used caused the infection.

But I didn’t know fully at the time. So when I did, I figured it was my fault. I helped her inject medicine she wasn’t supposed to, helped her with her abuse.

My dad pulled me out of therapy because he said I didn’t need it.

And in that SAME MONTH, when he found out I was considering cutting myself, he said, “If you’re gunna cut, do it right.”

Father of the year anyone?

Fast forward to her funeral.

Open casket. The last time I ever saw my mom in person.

My uncle, my mother’s only brother, sang a song in her honor. He was 27, a musician, and already had a son. Unfortunately, he too was a drug abuser.

I don’t blame him or my mom for their abuse, they hardly had a good foundation. My grandmother didn’t raise them. She was a horrible, vindictive, and petty person. She ignored her children in favor of strange men. My mom had to raise her little baby brother, and my mom had to deal with a woman who burned her clothes, broke her rock cds, and slashed her tires. Because Jesus.

I grew more attached to my uncle after my mom passed, he was the only other positive influence in my life. He was an amazing artist, he was like my mom in a lot of ways. He called me Nikki Six and laughed at my shitty jokes, he cried to me when my grandmother berated and insulted him or treated him like crap.

We were open with each other. He wanted to join the military, be a role model for his one year old son, Aiden. I still have the video where he sang an original song, Thumb Sucking Blues, while my little cousin tried to play along with him :) He was a small little guy, but literally had his thumb in his mouth the whole time :P

Aiden LOVED his dad.

But because of his fiance’s drug use, he was taken from them. My mom was still alive when that happened, and we had supervised visitation with my cousin.

My uncle went to rehab to get clean, yet my grandmother continued to berate and degrade him.I supported him. I wanted him to be back home with US. My brother and I.

During this time...I got a phone call that terrified me.

My biological dad called me.

And I panicked; I didn’t KNOW him, he was NEVER in my life, and after a few months of talking and TRYING to get to know him, he vanished.

Turns out he’s been hiding for years to avoid paying child support.

But I wasn’t too hurt he abandoned me again. All we did was talk about anime we liked. I probably got my love of anime from him to be honest :P

My uncle eventually returned home, and all seemed great. He was a good father to his son, he got him back after his rehab (which I later found out it did fuck all for him because it was just another fucking church)

July 4th, 2012. I got a call from my grandmother because I was too tired to do fireworks that night.

Police had found my uncle’s body in an alley way.

He died of overdose, according to autopsy.

SIX MONTHS after losing one person who supported me, I lost the other.

He was cremated and my grandmother kept his ashes.

I was deist at the time, but I kept his bible, guitar picks, and the crappy religious coins he got from the “rehab.”

I have both my mom’s and my uncle’s bibles.

I..fell into a hard ass depression. I kept reliving the moment my mom died, the moment I heard about my uncle, I...saw his body after the autopsy. Of course, they covered it mostly, but it still hurt SO much to see him lifeless.

I graduated high school and immediately went to college, just trying to get through the shit. I just...didn’t care anymore. I lost the only two people that supported me. Both lights, my artistic inspirations, my TRUE FAMILY, gone.

My brother moved in with our grandmother, he was fed up with dad’s abuse. I..was too blind to see how abusive he was.

I took computer classes, he told me I should because it pays well. I personally found it fascinating on learning how to troubleshoot desktops, but programming was NOT my thing. I hated it.

I actually wanted to go into art, be an artist like my mom.

My dad?

“It’s not a REAL JOB.”

He shot down my passion for YEARS. I started college in 2014.

After nearly a year of computer classes, I was convinced to switch my major to education because I’m good with kids.

Because to my dad, good with kids = I want to be a teacher.

Kids just like me, I’m not sure why. My cousin loved me, and my cousin on my DAD’S side of the family loved me. I had patience and kindness to kids, they’re little beans that just need guidance. I don’t snap, I DEFINITELY don’t lay a HAND on a child as discipline.

So, I went into education like he said. I was just...a robot. Too scared to pursue what I wanted to do.

But there was a shining light; the Coalition club on my campus. A Gay/Straight alliance club! I ended up as their secretary, designed stickers, kept schedules, and I met SO many amazing people in that club. I felt welcomed, I felt SAFE, I could be OPEN about my gender with them, since I was too scared to say anything to my dad.

When he found out I was involved with the group, he got pissed. He’d constantly pick fights with me about how I’m focusing too much on the group and failing my classes.

Funny thing; I had As and Bs on ALL my courses.

Pretty sure that’s passing.

But..he kinda bred me to be unable to handle confrontation well. Whenever someone yells at me or talks in a strict tone, I start to cry.

So he’d always make me a sobbing mess nearly every day.

I locked myself in my room constantly.

I had to quit asking him to take me to HEB for me to buy groceries because I couldn’t STAND him. I was too scared to be alone with him for ANY reason. I felt like he’d find something to make me cry and ruin my day, so..I would walk to a corner store to buy easy mac, eggs, bacon, maybe some frozen pizza if I could afford it. Most of my meals were pasta-related, it was cheaper than most items. Corner store pricing and all that ^^;

I got a job in the work-study program as an AVID Tutor. Which helps students with their work from other classes. The students instantly clung to me, being the youngest teacher.

That job didn’t last long ;v; Apparently a button up shirt and a long black skirt wasn’t teacher apparel??? I wore dress pants too, I fit the “female gender role.” But I was fired for not dressing professionally.

I ended up working at a subway in a flea market, and everyone was SO SWEET! They were fine with my gender, and I was even defended by a rides worker when a customer complained about me using the restroom.

I was deadass exhausted though.

My dad forced me to do MAX college hours

While I also balanced a job.

The stress was KILLING me, but locking myself in my room where I could draw?

Being in a group that loved and accepted me?

It made life bearable.

But my dad eventually started getting after me about my job, that he DIDN’T consider a job because it was only on the weekends that it was open.

He started getting more aggressive with his fights. I would literally just WALK IN THE DOOR from work, exhausted because I have panic attacks (I had no idea I had panic disorder at the time), and he’d start fights about something.

Be it because I was atheist or that he was pissed I was STILL in college (He’s a college dropout so I just think “.________________________. boi.”)

A few months into 2016, I came out to my grandmother and my dad about being transgender.

My grandmother’s response? “You’re not transgender, you’re just fat!”

My dad? He didn’t really get it. He had to learn from his girlfriend because he sure as fuck didn’t listen to me when I explained it.

And he’d constantly ask about it, which didn’t bother me too much because I figured he was still confused.

Then he started to dead name me.

MY ENTIRE LIFE, I was ALWAYS referred to with a gender neutral nickname. NEVER my first because I never liked my name. I hated it. I used to be called Nikki, now I just go by Nick or Nicholas :) Cause I love that name.

HE.

In front of his LGBTQ+ friendly girlfriend.

referred to me with my FULL NAME.

And he did this TWICE.

I was too afraid to confront him, but his gf sure as fuck wasn’t. She was PISSED.

She put an end to that.

But things got worse after I sought out therapy to see if I qualified for HRT, Hormone Replacement Therapy.

And I did.

My dad only got more angry when he saw the letter from my therapist saying I had Gender Dysphoria and that he recommend I take HRT.

He would, from then on,, badger me about my clothes, claiming it’s what 12 year old boys wear.

Despite I paid the internet bill AND his cable bill, he’d get after me for unwinding by playing games.

He spent a fuck ton of money on a new mustang to tinker with to make a drag race car, but not a new air conditioning system for a 50+ year old house with no insulation. So while he was away, and the temperatures rose (It’s texas, it’s ALWAYS hot), I was sweating and trying to keep cool with ice packs and frozen towels. But none of THAT mattered, because I’m irresponsible for playing video games after all my work was completed.

I didn’t tell him I was starting a youtube channel in an attempt to bring in extra money, because I was only paid a little over 120 a week.

But he’s bitch about pretty much EVERY aspect of me.

But I kept quiet, kept food in my room because I was too scared to leave my safe space in fear of him insulting me further.

I literally asked for help on hiding food online.

After 2 more years of college, I got my associate’s in education and moved onto university for my bachelor’s.

I still didn’t want the major. But I didn’t really feel like I had a choice.

But this class I took, Child/Adolescent development, helped me realize how HORRIBLE and ABUSIVE my dad is.

I learned in that class about emotional and verbal abuse, and the effects it had on children and adults.

I began to stand up for myself, I’d argue back with my dad instead of letting him verbally abuse me with no repercussions.

Anything I said?

“Liberal Propaganda”

“Well, I put my religion first”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I thank my government teacher to this day for giving me the backbone I needed. She is a headstrong woman, refuses to be referred to as Miss, but prefers “Professor.” She had a PHD and she was passionate about her job and about human rights.

It became a much more hostile home after I started fighting back.

He would challenge my moral compass, “An atheist should have no problem lying.”

He’d pick on my gender identity and choice of fashion, “You’re trying too hard to be transgender.”

And anytime I went to houston to see my brother and cousin? My grandmother made it worse. She’d pick on my hair, call me a devil worshiper, insult my weight (This woman forced me to eat more when I was on a diet, but I never called her out on it), she was as bad as my dad to where my brother took me to the mall to avoid any further argument.

In late 2017, my dad tried to pick on me in front of his friend, Bobby. Bobby was a long-time family friend, I grew up with his kids. He knew me since I was a child.

And his friend was NOT impressed with my dad, and HE accepted my gender and even tried to explain what he was doing was being a dickhead.

He didn’t listen.

It went on like that until early 2018.

He called me out of my room and, once again, picked a fight with me because I’m part of an LGBTQ+ group, still in college, same bullshit.

But this time, he told me to pack up and leave, that I had two weeks to move.

I panicked.

I didn’t have the funds to move into an apartment with my current job.

I thought I was going to be homeless.

I called one of my friends in tears, and he asked his mother if I could take refuge there.

For a bit of context: I used to date him and I’ve met his family. His family had me over for the holidays, and kept me there for christmas eve and christmas day after I told my friend my dad BANNED me from celebrating the holidays with him because I’m an atheist.

And BOY was she PISSED. And his mom? Veteran Including his dad. BOTH are hard veterans that firmly believe in families sticking together.

So the kicking me out?

It REALLY blew their gaskets.

They told me to pack all I needed and that they’d be there in two weeks.

Later that week, my dad apologized and said it was cruel to do that, but...

I couldn’t stay.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

I was tired of living in FEAR, you shouldn’t be hiding food in your room to eat because you’re too scared to come out.

I told him I was leaving.

And what pissed me off? He tried to play VICTIM.

I moved out, and unfortunately had to quit my job because transportation issues. Ubers didn’t reach out this far and even if they did, it’d be like 30 bucks a trip.

With my wage? WHEEZE. Nope.

But a lady at the flea market gave me boxes and duct tape when I was packing to leave, just so I had places to put my stuff in. :)

I started counseling at A&M not too long after I moved into my new temporary home (I say as I’ve been here for nearly a YEAR ;-; and I feel bad but they’ve not kicked me out soooo....yay?)

And after a few session, my counselor told me to seek long term treatment, and she was helping me break free of my fear of asking for help and it’s thanks to her that I got to pursue the major of my dreams! I’m so thankful that I went to see her, because I went as SOON as I could to a medical clinic to talk to a psychiatrist.

I was diagnosed with PTSD, Bipolar disorder, and Panic disorder.

I was prescribed medication.

And little by little, I was getting better.

I had already had my Bendice tumblr for a while and the more I drew, the better I felt.

And the artist community?

It’s been AMAZING!

I’ve meet so many AMAZING people, from great friends to my art senpais. I’ve been getting better and better at honing my skills, and I feel like I really can be an animator someday.

Now, people are probably wondering why I dumped all this out.

Well...I know I’m not alone, but others might feel how I used to.

Isolated

So very Hurt

Alone

And miserable.

I don’t want pity, I don’t want “there there”, I want to show people that might be feeling alone that they aren’t. That someone suffered just like them.

Be it for being gay

Transgender

Depressed

An artist

No matter the “why,’ all pain here is equal.

It’s not insignificant.

YOU aren’t Insignificant.

All the pain and suffering we’ve all endured?

Is valid.

And we’re not pussies or wimps for feeling hurt.

And we’re not alone.

Thank you to those who read my entire shit storm ^^; I’ll admit I cried while writing this, but I feel good now!

I hope my words and my story inspire someone out there to take the steps they need to better themselves, to escape toxic environments.

Because that shit SUCKS.

#Personal shit #(OOC) 𝑂𝑓𝑓 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝐴𝑖𝑟 #tw negative thoughts #cw negativity #cw abuse #tw:death #tw drug abuse #tw suicide #LONG ASS POST #Sorry #Read at your own risk

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adriannanderson · 6 years ago

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Almost 5 years

Your sister is currently undergoing some intense grief therapy to unpack the mountain of anger that she carries inside of her every day. Anger that stems from the day she came to the hospital to see her baby, but you were already in Heaven. The day she held on to the corner of the waiting room wall, crying loudly with her tiny round face covered in hot tears, screaming at me that she WOULD NOT leave without her brother.

I had come up from the bowels of the hospital, where you have to go when you decide you will not let your child out of your arms until the absolute last minute that you have to.

After hours of holding you, my arms were like noodles, my mind drained of every logical thought.

I stood there and looked at that beautiful 5 year old child, whose face was twisted in a way I had never seen before, and I was void of any emotion towards her. I just wanted her to get up and walk with me out to the car. I had nothing else to give. I just wanted her to stop screaming and follow me to the car.

It was the first of many times that she was asked to put her feelings inside and “go along” because the grown ups in her life were stripped bare and had no idea how they would take their next breath, let alone help a small child process the fact that her brother had already left the hospital out the back way and the next time she saw him he would be in a coffin

I suppose the mountain began that day, almost 5 years ago, and has been building ever since

In 1st grade we begin to notice that she was quick to anger, her extreme reactions to things didn’t match the situation, she always looked for the negative in people and in life, she had a different ache or pain every day

We were still deeply entrenched in processing our own grief at that time. As I look back I think that was some of the worst of it. Those first 3 years.......

Since then we’ve worked here and there to help her process, then we got mad at her for her shitty attitude, we tried punishing it out of her, obviously nothing like that was going to work but we were not being fully honest with what she was facing.

This year her therapist heard my concerns, and said with your permission I will drive straight to the heart of the issue. Her brother died and she wants to know who will die next. But I will warn you this is going to get hard for some time. Really hard. She wasn’t lying.

If I ever thought my own grief therapy process was tough, walking my child through it, is a peek into hell I’m certain. It’s probably very similar to the day she refused to leave the hospital without you, but I was too vacant to really feel the depth of that.

When I speak about it now I can hardly say the words without choking on them.

As we approach home tonight, we pick up Coop on the way. He’s in the car no longer than 3 seconds and he’s spilling over with emotion over the day he’s had. I try telling him it’s just a day buddy, tomorrow will be better.

But then the real begins to pour out

My grades are slipping mom. I’m trying but it’s not enough. I’m sorry I’m not a good enough son.

I need one of my teachers to be more clear on their due dates. I get confused about it. It’s a lot to remember.

They are nice to me mom but I’m pretty sure they don’t really like me

They tell me I talk to much or too loud then I try to be quiet and they ask me why I’m acting that way

I try to act the way I think they want me to so they will like me, but no matter what I say or do, they are making comments about me

I try to ignore or joke about it, but inside my head it’s different. And then I’m thinking about what I should say or do to make them like me and I forget to listen to my teacher

When I get too mad at what they are saying I try to switch tables but then the other table says there is not enough room for me so I have to go back to where they don’t want me

I’m pretty sure none of them want me

When I walk out into the lunchroom and try to decide where to sit it makes my stomach hurt

For a while I was doing things I knew I shouldn’t because I thought that would make them like me, but that didn’t work either so I quit

I wish I could just be me and they’d like me just like I am

Some of them used to but they don’t really anymore

I mean we get along but they don’t want me to have their phone numbers

They don’t ask me to hang out

If I send them a message they don’t answer or their answer is one word so I know they don’t really want me to message them

This time of year is always rough mom. I know you get sad and it makes me sad and now I’ve messed up my grades and I’m sorry if its making it harder on you

I should have just not told you. I don’t want you to worry about me mom. I know you are sad at Christmas because you miss Fisher

I am too

I wish people could see in my head how it feels

I miss him and sometimes it makes it hard to think

What do I need to do mom?

Fish, I can promise you that before you I would have been so pissed about all this stuff - poor behavior, poor grades, people who don’t understand Coop and make him feel unwanted.

So angry that I would not have had one single piece of advice worth anything to give my children.

Then there was you. The soft, sweet, strong, blue eyed boy with the mohawk that I only got to touch, smell, and mother for 6 months and 14 days.

And because of you, I can sit in a therapy session with your sister and tell her that I’m sorry for the way I reacted the other day when she was writing furiously in her journal about the angry interaction we had just had.

That I was sorry I yelled “If you would quit writing down all the bad shit and focus on whats good in your life for once you might start being a little happier!”

That she and I can sit down and identify the 2 biggest points of conflict for us and make a plan for how we are going to work on those areas

Because of you I can look your brother in the eye and say you have a large responsibility in the grades but I will help you form a plan to make it better. But the effort has to come from you.

Because of you I can look at that 13 year old boy with a diagnosis list as long as my arm, a heart as big as Texas with a Fish sized hole in it, and honestly tell him that he may NOT find his people at Wayne High School. And if he doesn’t, that’s ok. But he WILL find his people.

The ones that accept his quirks, help correct the things that need correcting with grace and love instead of harsh words and constant criticism that makes his head swim

The ones that will focus on the good and not the odd parts of him

The ones that will stand up for, and with him

The ones that will enjoy his company and won’t make him feel like he has to be someone he isn’t, to please them

He may have to let go of friendships that he thought were solid - even though that’s painful - and just focus inward for now

Because of you, I can look in your brothers face and tell him that when the world makes him feel unwanted, he simply needs to come home and know, that without him here, we are never complete. WE are his people right now.

Because of you I can look in his face and tell him that we “aren’t home yet - this is not where we belong” and when we get to Heaven and the sins of the world are washed away we won’t have these worries anymore

Losing you has changed the trajectory of our lives. When here with us, you made us whole. When Jesus took you to Heaven with him, we were divided. And as anyone knows, things are stronger, bigger, better when they are whole.

But we have made the choice to come together in our brokenness

To lean in to the hard work of fixing and allowing God to fix the most intricate heart strings that were severed when we said goodbye to you - almost 5 years ago

It’s been a long time coming - this decision to really carry our grief together and openly

It’s part of who we are

It impacts our every day lives in deep and meaningful ways that the majority of the people we come in contact with don’t understand

So it’s painful, and it really sucks, but it’s worth it

Having you was worth it

The changes you’ve made in our hearts was worth it

The path towards Jesus that you put us on was worth it

Today was really, really hard.......but it’s worth it

As Valerie and I were prepping for Carsyn’s session tonight I told her that in January it will be 5 years since you’ve been gone

She said Wow, really?? 5 years?I am so honored to know your family and be a part of this journey with you.

I’m so grateful for her

And these kids

And my husband, who rarely gets into my heart journal out of respect for his privacy, but whose work and progress in all areas of life is off the charts

And for a God who just held on tight until he found the way into my heart

To my tiny “Fisher of Men” - “All I know is I’m not home yet, This is not where I belong”

I look forward to coming “home” and seeing your sweet face

I love you buddy

Mom

#missyouFish

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markchoq-blog · 6 years ago

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Star Trek Raza Episode 1

Star Trek Raza

Season 1, Episode 1

Asylum

Utopia Planitia Shipyards, Captains Log Stardate 63204.858

I have recently arrived at the Utopia Planitia Shipyards to meet with Admiral Braun after a tense three-year mission guarding the Bajoran wormhole from the Dominion. I have been given the command of the newest Diligent class starship called the Raza. After the return of the U.S.S. Voyager and the need to beef up the fleet with quicker ships that pack more of a punch, the federation has come up with the Diligent.

Admiral Braun is sitting at his desk going over the recent current events across the Federation. He is a true Federation officer, now in his mid-sixties; just reaching the rank of Fleet Admiral this past year. He has been a Starfleet officer since the age of eighteen. He has seen the Federation at its best and he has certainly has seen it at its worst. As he takes a sip of his morning coffee, the only cup his doctor allows per day; a chime comes across his communications badge.

“Sir, I have a Captain Decker here to see you.” states his receptionist, Mae Crumpshaw.

“Yes, let him in.” responds the Admiral.

The door to the Admirals office slides open as a very well-dressed Captain Decker marches into the room and up to the Admiral. Captain Decker, also a lifelong Starfleet officer and heavily decorated in his own right. Captain Decker has most recently come off a three-year mission as Captain of the U.S.S. Yamato as part of the fleet guarding the Bajoran Wormhole outside Deep Space 9. Admiral Braun gets up from his desk and with a wide smile reaches out to Decker. “Morgan, how the hell have you been you old bastard? What ass crack part of the galaxy did they drag you from to give you this command?” Braun jokingly remarks as he shakes his longtime friend’s hand.

“I’ve been here and there Dave. Putting fires out from here to Deep Space 9 and back. Just when you think you can take some downtime, another damn skirmish with the Dominion breaks out.”

“I know what you mean. That’s why I think you’re the perfect man to command this ship.” Braun motions toward the open chair next to the desk. “Please sit down.”

Morgan takes a seat across from the Admiral, taking a moment to straighten out his uniform.

“Can I get you anything?” asks Braun.

“No, I’m fine. I would like to see the Raza though.” answers the Captain getting right to the point.

Braun smiles at him. “Just like the man I knew thirty years ago. Not wasting any time.”

Briefly his mind flashes back to their days about the U.S.S. Starfire. Both were recent graduates from Stafleet Academy, but neither knew of one another until Commander Darza bunked the two of them together. Both hated Darza but respected him for his rank and command. Darza was a pissy Andorian that got off on assigning shit details to all the cadets.

Admiral Braun grabs a data-pad off his desk. “I’ve reviewed your senior staff requests and I have to say I am pretty impressed. This is a mighty fine group of Starfleet officers you’ve assembled to steer your boat. This female pilot of yours notched top marks at the academy.” he continues to read about her noting that she’s Betazoid. “She’s a Betazoid? I never met a Betazoid pilot before. Is she really that good?”

“I knew her father back in the day. If she’s half as good as her old man she’ll do just fine.” answers the Captain as he references the year he spent stationed on Betazed as Starfleet Chief of Security at the Betazed embassy. It was there that he met her father Marcus Monroe; who was a fighter pilot assigned to the Betazoid fighter squadron. He was a good, honorable man. Morgan also knew her mother, Litta Naru. She was a professor of Linguistics at the University of Betazed. By Betazoid standards she was astonishingly beautiful and both men viewed her as a goddess. Both men fell in love with her, but Morgan knew that having a wife while serving in Starfleet just wasn’t in the cards at that time for him, so he left Betazed which opened the door for his friend to pursue her. Within a year Marcus and Litta were married and soon after that Faye Monroe was born. How his heart broke when he heard that Marcus was killed during the invasion of Betazed by the Dominion. Too many of his friends died during that war. So many, that he has lost count over the years.

The Admiral continues to scroll down the data pad, but again stops at something curious, “What about your XO? He seems kind of loose in the saddle. Not very “Starfleet” if you know what I mean? Are you sure he’s ready for this?” referring to Commander Mitchell. Now Commander James Mitchell isn’t you’re a-typical Starfleet Commander. He hates the rules and regulations that bog down Starfleet. He’s also a very out spoken man who has a bad tendency of saying anything that comes to mind with not much of a filter. On occasion that has landed him in the brig for a night or two. But that’s a story to be told later.

Captain Decker comes to his XO’s defense quickly, “Commander Mitchell is a first-class Starfleet Officer.” and he pauses trying to choose his words carefully. “Please Admiral; don’t judge a book by its cover. During the Dominion War he was my Transporter Chief. I watched him rescue over five hundred civilians. He might not be text book Starfleet, but he’s got his shit together.”

The Admiral sees that he’s struck a nerve with Decker, “I trust your instincts Captain. And I trust that if this “cowboy” gets out of line you’ll rein him in?”

“I promise you Admiral, he’ll be fine.” as he tries to change the topic, “What about the rest of my crew? Have they all arrived yet?”

Braun scrolls further down the data pad. “Most of them arrived last week. I think the Betazoid Helmsman we talked about and your Cardassian Science Officer should be arriving this morning.” and he stares up from his pad. “Cardassian?” Is that wise James? Those bastards sided with the Dominion. I still can’t get that shitty taste out of my mouth.”

Captain Decker can’t stop feeling like this is an interrogation. “Rheyna Karn grew up during the Dominion War. Her parents were both killed when the Dominion turned their backs on Cardassia Prime and attempted to wipe out their entire species. All she knows is death and pain. She joined Starfleet to get away from that.” he pauses feeling the anger building up inside of him. “Sir, I met this girl a few years back when she was stationed on Deep Space 9 assigned to the science team studying the Bajoran Wormhole. She’s a very bright young woman that has a hell of a future ahead of her. Cardassian or not, she’s just what the Raza needs.”

The Admiral accepts the Captains answer, but continues; “Very well, but let me ask you though; what’s your take on the relationship between your XO and your Chief Engineer?” asks the Admiral. “Can they keep their personal lives separate from their professional careers?”

Decker knows exactly what the Admiral is talking about. Commander Mitchell and Lieutenant Commander A’Ryn Sung have been seeing each other for a while now. About a year ago, both were vacationing on Risa when they met and hit it off. A’Ryn is not your typical Klingon. She’s much more feminine than a Klingon woman and Mitchell sensed that immediately. It was love at first sight for both of them. “Sir, there’s no Starfleet regulation when it comes to officers dating each other and honestly I don’t care what they do on their personal time as long as they get the job done when the bell rings. That’s all that matters to me.”

The Admiral can’t help but chuckle. “That’s fair enough Morgan. Listen, I just don’t want A’Ryn to get distracted. She’s done a hell of a job on the design and installation of the new warp drives aboard the Raza. She’s one hell of a Chief Engineer and you’re going to need her at her best when you get underway.” Braun places the data pad down on his desk.

Carefully choosing his words the Captain asks. “If I may, I have also reviewed the personnel staff and I noticed a young Yeoman that has been assigned to my personal staff. And the funny thing is sir, she has the same last name as you.”

“That’s right Morgan. My granddaughter Daisy will be a fine addition to your crew.”

Captain Decker tries to wave the Admiral off. “Sir, do you think assigning your granddaughter to the Raza is a smart move? Maybe she would be better off aboard the Enterprise or maybe assigned to a DS station? I’m just not sure being aboard the Raza on her maiden voyage is going to be a good experience for her.”

“There’s no place in the galaxy that I would feel she would be safer than under your command. Plus, she’s has less than a year to go and she will be heading off to Starfleet Academy.”

“I understand sir. I’ll take very good care of her. So now that we are done picking my crew apart, what does Starfleet have planned for us once we shake the Raza down?” asks the eager Captain.

The look on the Admiral’s face turns very serious. “I’m afraid there isn’t going to be a shakedown Morgan. There is no time for that.”

“What? No shakedown? That’s insane. This is a new design. New warp engines. A crew that has been pieced together.” argues the Captain.

“Morgan, we need the Raza to escort three Olympic Class Hospital ships to the Romulan Neutral Zone. After Romulus and Remus were destroyed when their sun went supernova, thousands of injured and homeless began flooding across the Romulan border. Civilian casualties are coming in at an alarming rate.”

“What about the Romulan Neutral Zone sir? Are the Romulan’s not adhering to the treaty?”

“The Romulan civilians don’t care about the Neutral Zone treaty. They are running for their lives. Wherever they can get help for their families. But Starfleet is still abiding to the Neutral Zone Treaty. You are not to cross the border to aid any Romulan starship. If they cross over the border and ask for help, you and the medical ships will assist in any way you can.”

“And what if we or the medical ships are fired upon?” asks Morgan.

“Your mission is to protect those medical ships at all cost. You are on a mission of peace to give medical aid to those that need it. Those pointy eared devils fire at you or those medical ships you have permission to fire back. Do not engage until they engage you first. Do you understand? I don’t want another galactic war on our hands.

“Understood Admiral.” answers the Captain.

“Good. Now I want the Raza along with the hospital ships underway today at fifteen hundred hours. As soon as you get to the outpost at Tarod IX I want you to report in. That’s where we have been seeing the most casualties crossing the border.”

“Very good sir.” answers the Captain.

The two get up out of their seats; shake hands and Captain Decker leaves the admiral’s office heading straight for the Raza.

Docking Bay #2

The U.S.S. Elixir has just completed unloading its passengers who just arrived from Bajor and who are now here at the Utopia Planitia Shipyards ready for their new duty assignments. The crowded halls are bustling with activity. The shipyards are normally a high security station, but with the newly designed Raza nearly ready to launch the station is on high alert. Security guards are watching everyone walking the promenade. Anyone that looks out of place is stopped and asked for ID. Lieutenant Faye Monroe and her best friend Lieutenant Rheyna Karn have just disembarked from the Elixir and walk the halls of the promenade arm in arm taking in the sights and sounds of the star base.

“Look at this place Faye!!! Did you ever think we would see a place like this?” remarks an amazed Rheyna.

Faye stops looking at her best friend “I think we should just get to the Raza, make sure our bags made it to our rooms; and report to the bridge. I heard that the captain is already here. I want to be on the bridge when he arrives.” answers Faye in a very serious tone.

“Will you just calm down Faye. There will be plenty of time to get to work. The Raza isn’t leaving without their best pilot at the helm.”

Rheyna is distracted as she eyeballs two very well-dressed fighter pilots who walk by smiling at the two women like they are dinner.

“Right now, I think we need to taste the cuisine that this place has to offer.” as she looks out the men’s asses in the tight flight suits.

Faye rolls her eyes. “Are you always thinking with your vagina Rey?”

Rheyna laughs “I can’t help it. Men in flight suits get me all worked up.”

They laugh together as they continue toward the Raza’s dock, while unknowingly across the deck; a young MACO named Juan Ruiz watches the two young women. His sergeant pats him on the shoulder.

“Leave it alone junior. Fleet doesn’t mix with grunts.” states Scott Young. The sergeant of the MACO team assigned to the Raza as the Captains personal guard.

“I guess your right boss. You can’t blame a guy for dreaming.” answers Ruiz. Juan is a new recruit right out of basic training, who has been with the MACO’s for less than a year. Being his first duty assignment, he’s drawn a premium assignment. Thinking back to all the possible scenarios, this was the cream of the crop.

“Hey, let’s go stow our gear and I’ll buy you a drink. I hear the Daboo girls at the Stargazer are hot as hell, and they might be more up your ally.” smiles Young.

The two men grab their gear and head off to the lower levels of the Raza where the enlisted men have their housing units.

Commander James Mitchell’s quarters

The lights in Commanders Mitchell’s quarters are dimmed low to a point where you can barely see shadows dance across the room. Out of the darkness a chirping can be heard over one of the communication badges that were left on a bed side table.

“Engineering to Commander Sung.” states the unknown voice on the other end.

The young female Klingon sits up in bed and the thin silk bed sheet slides down her body exposing her naked breasts. She rubs her eyes and brushes her brown hair from her eyes trying to get a feel for what the hell is going on. The voice on the communicator repeats. “Engineering to Commander Sung?”

A’Ryn Sung, the young hot shot Chief Engineer of the Raza; rolls out of bed naked and rushes to the nightstand searching for the communications device. She mistakenly grabs Mitchell’s com badge and taps the device.

“Sung here, go ahead.” but nothing but dead air answers her. After realizing she grabbed the wrong communicator, she tosses the com badge down and continues searching for her own com badge finally finding it under her discarded dress that James ripped off her the night before. Her mind flashes back to when they got back from the Stargazer Lounge the night before. The animal side of her Klingon heritage could not be controlled and James loved it. He couldn’t get enough of her. But she wondered if he loves her or was she just another “port of call”. They say many men of Starfleet keep a woman at each port of call. That way they can avoid getting tied down to just one woman. Why have one when you can have so many? This is something she doesn’t want. She is sure of that. But what are his true feelings? Does he truly love her or is he using her until he gets tired of her? Is she his “port of call”? She taps her com badge “Sung here, go ahead.”

“Sir, you wished to be alerted when the Captain arrived aboard the Raza.”

“Thank you. I’ll be there shortly.” A’Ryn tosses the com badge aside and grabs her clothes. “Computer lights on full” The lights come up full and the man in bed tosses the sheet off his head. Commander Mitchell’s hair is a mess and he still has the scratches down his chest that A’Ryn gave him that past night while in a fit of passion. He grunts as he leans up on one arm, the same arm that she used to toss him down onto his bed last night. The same arm that she may have torn a muscle in. He grins because he knows it was worth it. He slowly sits up and smiles at her as he sees her bending over grabbing her high heels and min-skirt. She frantically begins searching for her bra and panties.

“What’s your rush sunshine?” Mitchell states as he taps the mattress. “Why don’t you come back to bed and we can talk about breakfast?”

She looks back at him with a Klingon look of disgust. “You’re kidding right? You know if I come back to bed we will NOT talk about breakfast. Plus, Captain Decker is on his way to the Raza. I need to get my ass down to Engineering.” she finally finds her undergarments and hurries off to the sonic shower as he gingerly props himself up against the head board.

“You need to relax Ryn (Mitchells pet nickname for her). The Cap’s a good guy. He’s not going to care if you’re a few minutes late.”

She looks around the doorway. “I suggest you get your cute ass in this shower or I’m going to start without you.”

Mitchell smiles as he whips the covers aside and painfully makes his way to the shower.

The Romulan Science vessel K’Birth

The K’Birth, a Romulan Science and Research; vessel races at warp 8 across space pushing its warp engines beyond its limit toward the Romulan-Federation boarder. The crew of just about one hundred science and medical personnel can be seen scrambling trying to keep their ship ahead of the apex predator following them. The captain of the K’Birth looks across the deck to a young Romulan man of not nearly twenty yet. “I’m not sure how much more we can hold him off Sorek. It’s just a matter of time before Sharn catches up to us and when he does it will be hell to pay for all of us.”

“Captain Tellos, you worry about getting us to the coordinates I gave you and I will handle Sharn IF he catches us.” states Sorek without a look of concern on his face.

“I hope you know what the hell you’re doing boy. This is a damn suicide run if you ask me” he then barks at the helmsman. “Helm, plot course to Tarod IX and prepare to engage.”

The helmsman looks back at the captain. “But sir, Tarod IX is on the other side of the Neutral Zone? That’s Federation space.”

“I gave you an order helmsman! Now do as I command or I will have you relieved of duty and tossed in the brig!“ and he waits as the helmsman turns back to his control console and prepares to initiate the order.

“Course plotted and awaiting your command sir.”

The Captain looks across the bridge to Sorek as he gives the helm the command. “Engage! Warp 8.5!”

The helmsman begins the maneuver that the captain hopes will buy them precious time. The K’Birth veers off toward the Romulan Neutral Zone.

Romulan Warbird Osiris

For the past week the Romulan Warbird Osiris, a massive D’deridex Class starship; has been searching for the science vessel K’Birth. The Osiris is a monstrous sixty-three deck warship with nearly fifteen hundred men and women onboard all serving the Romulan Empire loyally. To their ire, the K’Birth has been doing a very good job dodging them, which is a nod to the K’birth’s captain and crew; but angering the K’Birth’s High Commander. On the bridge of the Osiris the crew scrambles to try and locate the much smaller science vessel. The High Commander sits back in the Captain’s chair losing his patience.

“Tell me we have found her?!” barks High Commander Sharn as he stares down the back of the navigational officer’s head.

The communications officer reluctantly turns in his chair to face the High Commander and answers back. “I’m sorry to report sir that we have lost them again. Their warp signature disappeared into a Nebula cloud. We have yet to determine where they exited.” he swallows hard as turns back in his chair and looks back down at his console.

“I want them found and I want them found NOW!!!” He screams out as he slams his fist down on his arm console. The bridge goes deadly silent as each man and woman do everything they can to find the runaway science ship.

Aboard the U.S.S. Raza

Ever since Captain Decker stepped foot on the Raza, young Yeoman Daisy Braun has been like his shadow every step of the way asking “Can I get you this” or “Can I get you that?” and it’s getting to the point that Captain Decker is ready to pop. The turbo lift doors slide open and he walks onto the bridge of the Raza. The Chief Communications Officer Lieutenant Jeremy Cho snaps to attention and blurts out. “Captain on the bridge!!” Cho, a young Federation Officer of Japanese descent has earned the promotion to Operations Officer aboard the Raza. The entire bridge crew stops what they are doing and stands at attention as the honorable Captain Decker makes his way toward his command chair. Captain Decker nods to the bridge crew and they all go back to work. He’s just about to sit down when he notices that his XO’s station is empty. He looks at his Yeoman.

“Yeoman, where’s Commander Mitchell?”

The eighteen-year-old dark-haired Yeoman nearly passes out as Decker stares her down waiting for his answer. She just stands there, mouth drawn open and nothing coming out. She has a hard time just remembering to breathe, but even that seems to fail her. He turns to his Chief Helmsman Lieutenant Monroe. “Lieutenant, where is Commander Mitchell?” asks a visibly irritated captain.

Monroe swivels her chair to face the Captain. “Specifically, sir?” answers the unsure lieutenant trying to buy her commander time to show up. Awkwardly, you can hear a pin drop on the bridge.

Now the Captain is pissed. “Will someone please tell me where the hell Commander Mitchell is?” snaps the captain.

“I believe that Commander Mitchell and Commander Sung spent the morning procreating in his quarter’s sir.” blurts out Chief Tactical and Security Officer Lieutenant Phos. The female android, that caught the eye of the captain years ago during the Borg invasion. It was while the captain himself was just a Lieutenant Commander. The Battle of Wolf 359, just eight light years from Earth; saw the deaths of many Federation officers and civilians alike.

Very annoyed he turns to Phos. “Please see to it that Commander Mitchell is in my Ready Room in five minutes.” he starts to walk toward the Ready Room with young Yeoman Braun right behind him.

“Yes sir.” answers Phos as she taps her communications badge. “Commander Mitchell please report to the bridge.”

As the door to his Ready Room slides open and the captain walks through, he barks back to Phos again. “And please alert the senior staff that there will be a mission briefing in thirty minutes in the Briefing Room. That will be all Yeoman” and the door slides shut in Yeoman Braun’s face as she comes to a dead stop before walking into it.

“Yes sir.” answers Phos as her face never changes expression as she taps on her console sending messages out to the senior staff. Just then, Commander Mitchell walks onto the bridge with a shit eating grin on his face. He stops and sees how tense the bridge is right now. “What? What did I miss? Did the Dominion try to invade us again?” he chuckles as he sees that nobody else is laughing. The young Lieutenant Cho speaks up for the group.

“The captain is here and he isn’t happy that you weren’t on the bridge when he showed up.”

Mitchell adjusts his uniform as he turns and heads toward the captain’s ready room.

“And Phos said you were busy…having sex with A’Ryn.” blurts out Cho who embarrassingly looks back down to his console faking like he’s doing something important. Mitchell stops in his tracks and stares at Phos.

“Phos! What the hell?”

“Sir, I do not believe that I used the words “having sex” as the Lieutenant has stated. I believe that my exact word that I used was “procreating”.” Mitchell rubs his forehead as Phos tries to explain further. “Captain Decker asked the bridge crew a direct question and nobody had an answer so I…” Mitchell is pissed as he heads toward the ready room pointing a finger back at Phos cutting her off in mid thought.

“Dick move Phos you damn bucket of bolts! When I get done with the Captain you and I are going to sit down and discuss what it means to have your Commanders back!!” The door to the Ready Room slides open and the Commander walks through.

Phos tilts her head as she tries to process that last statement by the Commander. “I am not comprised of bolts. I also fail to understand how the Commander could be upset. I simply stated facts to the captain as was asked.”

Lt. Cho wants to explain to her what the Commander meant but doesn’t waste his time as he goes back to work on his console. Mitchell walks into the Captains Ready Room and stops in front of the Captains desk. He can see the captain reading over a data pad.

“Commander James Mitchell reporting as ordered sir.” Mitchell waits at attention for the Captain to acknowledge him. After a moment the Captain puts down his data pad and looks up at Mitchell.

“Please relax Commander. Sit down.” Mitchell pulls out the chair directly across from the captain’s desk and sits down. “So, let’s get right to it. This little thing you have with my Chief Engineer, Commander Sung; is this going to get messy?” asks the captain.

Mitchell chuckles. “Only if she gets pissed at me and breaks my legs.”

“James, I’ve known A’Ryn for years and I can tell you first hand that if you do piss her off she’ll break BOTH of your legs.” answers the Captain. After a brief pause by both men, “She quite a ship, isn’t she?”

“She’s a beauty Captain. So, when do we get to take her out and shake her down?” asks James.

“Well Commander, that’s the thing. There isn’t going to be a shake down.”

Mitchell looks confused. “Sir?”

“Starfleet Command has ordered us to escort three Medical ships to the Romulan Neutral Zone. The mass exodus of injured across the border has taxed the limited resources of Tarod IX. We are to escort and assist those medical ships any way we can.”

“Isn’t that a bit risky sir? Ever since Romulus and Remus were destroyed the Federation has been hard pressed to identify who’s ruling that madhouse.”

“And that’s all the more reason to be there. We can’t send in three Medical ships without an escort. If the Romulan’s attack those Medical ships it’ll be a blood bath. We are there to keep the peace at any cost.”

“I understand sir.”

“Now would you be so kind as to grab that bottle of Scotch off the shelf and pour ten shots?” asks the Captain.

Mitchell smiles back at the Captain. “Yes sir.”

The Stargazer Lounge aboard the Raza

The Stargazer lounge is the one place where both non-commissioned and commissioned officers get to mingle where pips and stripes don’t get in the way. The lounge is booming this afternoon as the Raza crew begins to mingle with each other. Sergeant Young and Private Ruiz walk into the lounge and grab two seats at the bar as the very attractive female barkeep walks up to them.

“What will it be boys?” as she asks smiling all the while. Ruiz sees that she is Cardassian. Memories come back to him of the women he spotted on the star bases promenade.

Young speaks up first. “We will have two Cardassian ales.”

“An excellent choice Sergeant, you know your ales.” as she winks at him. She turns and asks the replicator. “Two large Cardassian ales.” and the replicator hums as two large mugs of ale appears on the pad. She grabs the drinks and places them in-front of the two marines. A Daboo girl approaches Ruiz and starts to rub his back.

“Hi there handsome, my name’s Nia. What’s yours?” and she sits down in the open chair next to the young impressionable Marine. Ruiz starts to stutter and can’t get a word out as he eyes the beautiful woman.

“His names Juan.” chimes in Young.

Nia starts to rub Ruiz’s leg. “Cool name. You boys packing?” sliding her hand closer to Juan’s groin trying to feel him up. Young laughs at Juan as the Cardassian barmaid brings over a bowl of bar snacks.

“I think she likes you private. One slip of gold pressed latinum will get you an hour with her in the back room.”

Young stares at the barkeeps breasts. “What does it cost for an hour with you?”

Just then two men followed by a much smaller Asian woman, dressed as fighter pilots; walk into the lounge and see the two marines talking to the barmaid. The largest of the three is not happy as they approach them at the bar. “Excuse me Gilora. Are these two ground pounders bothering you?” asks the bigger, meaner looking of the two men.

“No, they’re good. Just newbie’s passing through.” answers Gilora as she wipes down the bar. The big man grabs Young by the shoulder.

“Since you and your little buddy here are just passing through, why don’t you keep moving and get the hell out of here?”

Young looks at the man’s hand. “First off… I don’t like to be touched.” and he grabs his Cardassian ale and smashes it across the bigger man’s head dropping him to the floor in a heap. Juan then leaps from his bar stool and dives on top of the prettier of the two men and a huge fist fight ensues. As fists start to fly, the smaller Asian woman just stands back and watches in annoyance. After a few minutes of bloodshed and broken tables, Gilora pulls out a blaster rifle from behind the bar and puts a blast into the ceiling. The commotion stops and all combatants stare at Gilora as security rushes into the bar.

Back on the bridge Lieutenant Cho detects the phaser fire. Cho taps his communications badge. “Captain we have unauthorized phaser fire in the Stargazer Lounge.”

The Captain taps his comm. badge. “Captain Decker to Chief LaMay.”

LaMay answers. “Go ahead sir.”

“Please see what the disturbance is in the Lounge.” orders the Captain in an annoyed tone.

“I am already on it sir. It’s all under control. Just a few unruly patrons I’m afraid.”

“Please let them spend a few hours in the brig and after we get underway see to it that they get to meet Commander Mitchell’s for further discipline.” barks the Captain.

“Yes sir.” as LaMay looks at the four battered individuals and chuckles. “You four are in a world of shit now.” as he motions to his team of guards. “Lock these idiots up.”

The guards escort the four drunken men to the brig as Nia chimes in. “Bye Juan!! Come by and see me again sometime sweetie.” and she blows him a kiss. Gilora sees this and snaps her bar rag at Nia.

“Get your scrawny ass back to work.” Nia gets up and starts to mingle with the rest of the crowd.

Back in Romulan space near the border

Hours of searching for the Romulan Science ship has past and the High Commander is trying to get caught up on some sleep that he desperately needs. “Sir, we have located the Science vessel.” announces the Com Chief waking the High Commander up. The Commander rubs the sleep from his eyes still lying in bed.

“Please alert Commander Bithor to lock the ship in a tractor beam. Have him ready the boarding party and I’ll be on the bridge momentarily.”

The High Commander climbs out of bed and starts to make his way toward his desk when after a brief pause. “Sir, Commander Bithor has already boarded the ship.” states the Com Chief.

“What are you talking about?! I specifically gave orders to NOT engage…” and in midsentence the Warbird is rocked by a massive explosion. The High Commander stumbles around until he regains his balance. The Warbird’s lights go dim as red warning lights begin to flash across the ship. “What the hell is going on up there, Com?” demands the High Commander.

“Sir, it seems the science vessel was rigged to explode.” answers the Com in a frantic state.

“Nobody detected that?! What’s our status?” asks the High Commander.

“Sir we have lost Warp drive and we are venting atmosphere on decks three, four, seventeen and twenty. Casualty reports are still rolling in, but it doesn’t look good.” answers the panicky young man.

“Damn him!!!” screams the High Commander as he swipes his arms across his desk tossing all his belongings to the floor. “I want a full report by the time I get to the bridge!”

The Briefing Room aboard the U.S.S. Raza

The senior staff starts filing in to the Briefing Room. The Captain and the Commander are already in the room seated as each department head takes a seat at the table with a glass of Scotch in front of them.

“Thank you all for coming.” smiles the Captain. “As you are all well aware, you were all handpicked by me to command this vessel. You truly are the best of the best.”

“Don’t let it go to your heads.” Mitchell interjects as the group chuckles at his comment.

“I am sorry sir that is impossible.” answers Phos. “My brain will not allow…”

“Zip it Phos.” states Mitchell. “Later on, you and I are going to have to have ourselves a little talk about etiquette.” and the Captain tries to hold a laugh back as he continues.

“I am very proud to serve with all of you. But I am afraid that our journey is about to get underway at full speed.”

“Full speed sir?” asks Commander Sung trying to hold back her look of concern.

“Starfleet has ordered us to escort three Medical class Hospital ships to the Romulan Neutral Zone outside of Tarod IX. After Romulus and Remus were destroyed there has been an uncontrollable amount of injured and dying refugees trying to cross the border looking for help. The station on Tarod IX cannot handle the situation so we are going there to help.

“Romulan’s sir?” asks Cho.

“People, lieutenant. These are people. Romulan’s or not they deserve our help.” answers the captain.

“We haven’t even tried the warp drives at full power yet.” exclaims a panicked Chief Engineer.

“We will be fine Chief. I have faith in you and your team.” smiles the Captain back at A’Ryn trying to calm her nerves.

Sir, if I may; how many refugees are we talking about?” asks the Trill Medical Chief Mikah Dorn.

“Starfleet estimates the injured to be in the thousands. Refugees alone may be in the tens of thousands.”

“My God sir.” answers a shocked Medical Chief. “I had no idea that there were so many.”

“What about the Romulan refugees? What if some of them ask for asylum?” asks Chief Counselor Commander Liira. A beautiful green skinned Orion that has caught the eye of Lieutenant Monroe.

“We will offer sanctuary to all that ask for it. We are on a peaceful mission people. We are there to save lives and make a difference. We are not going there to fight unless someone picks a fight with us. Those are our orders.”

“I understand sir” answers Liira. She looks away catching the chief Helmsman Lieutenant Monroe gawking at her from across the table. She starts to blush and looks away sensing a sexual feel to that look from the Betazoid.

The Captain turns to his Chief of the Boat. “Master Chief LaMay?”

Shocked that the Captain has directed a question toward him he locks eyes with the Captain. “Yes sir?”

“Chief, I need you and Yeoman Braun to make sure that any civilians on board stay secured in their quarters while we are near the border. Make sure they are all briefed on what is going on and have them ready in case we need evacuate the ship. I want to be ready for anything that might transpire good or bad.”

“Aye sir.” answers the Chief of the Boat in his Scottish accent. He is a human man in his mid-forties who has served on at least ten different starships over the course of his career. The one thing that has held him back was that he never went to Starfleet Academy. If he did, the thought goes through his head; that it might be he who might be the captain of the Raza.

“Lieutenant Phos, as my chief tactician I need you to make sure that Alpha Flight is ready to go upon arrival. Once we reach the border I want them deployed and circling the Hospital ships at all times. Have the MACO’s on standby in case things get testy on one of the ships. Have security on high alert at all times. I want the Raza ready for anything that might go wrong. Expect the worst people and we will get through this.”

“Yes sir. I…” Phos tries to continue but is cut short by the captain.

“Not now Lieutenant.” The Captain turns to his Cardassian Science Officer. “Lieutenant Karn, I need your science team to keep an eye on Romulan space. Anything out of the ordinary I want to know immediately. Mr. Cho...” as the Captain turns to his Chief of Operations.

The young lieutenant straightens up in his chair. He can’t wait to hear what the captain has in store for him.

“…I need to you to monitor Romulan space very closely for any kind of chatter you can hear. We can’t afford to get blindsided by them. Anything at all, I want to know immediately.”

“Yes sir.” snaps Cho in the most formal and respectful manner.

The Captain looks right at Faye Monroe, his Chief Helmsman. The young woman he has a deep connection with above all others. “Faye, I need you to keep us close to the medical ships at all times. If things get squirrely out there I need the four of us to jump to warp on my command.”

“Yes sir.” answers Faye as she looks at him. He carries himself just like her mother told her. He looks just like he did years ago in the pictures her mother showed her. A very attractive young officer, it’s no wonder her mother loved him so much.

“You all have your orders. Now if you will give an old captain just one more moment.” He lifts up his glass of Scotch and raises it in the air. “To the crew of the Raza. The finest crew I ever have had the pleasure of commanding.”

As one they all answer. “To the Raza!!” and they each drink down their shot glasses and smile at each other. They each depart the ready room, but Chief LaMay stops and walks over to Commander Mitchell.

“Sir, I believe there is a small issue that you need to address.”

“Matt, we are not even underway yet. What the hell could be wrong? Tribbles in the replicators?” jokes Mitchell.

“No sir. It’s Alpha flight and the MACOs sir.” answers LaMay.

Mitchell rolls his eyes. “Take me to them.”

The Romulan Warbird Osiris

The High Commander is in his ready room standing over his desk going over all the information that is flooding in regarding the damage done to his ship and he’s none too happy. Communications Chief Ra’Nar walks into the office.

“Sir, I have engineering’s report.

The High Commander looks up from his never-ending pile of data pads. “Please tell me that my ship isn’t as damaged as it seems! Please tell me that we found them before they crossed the neutral zone into Federation space!!!

Chief Ra’Nar stumbles for his words. “Sir…” he swallows hard and continues. “…Engineering is reporting that it will take eight more hours to get the warp engines back on line. Sensors also indicate that a low warp signature left the area about an hour before detonation. They are at least a day ahead of us.”

In a fit of rage the High Commander swipes all the data pads off his desk sending them all crashing to the floor. “You tell those idiots in engineering that I want my engines operational in half that damn time!!! I also want a coded message sent out to any warbird’s in the area!! I want that ship found before it crosses into Federation space!!!”

The com chief grabs as many data pads off the floor as he can and scurries out the door.

The Raza’s brig

Chief LaMay and Commander Mitchell arrive down in the brig where Alpha Flight and the MACO’s are licking their wounds behind a level two stasis field. As he enters the room all four men stumble to their feet trying to hide their black eyes, split lips and torn uniforms. Mitchell looks at them trying to hide the memories of when it was he behind that stasis field not that long ago.

“As you were, idiots.”

LaMay can’t believe what he just heard Mitchell say.

“Listen, I get all this non-com versus fly boy bull shit, I really do. In fact, back in the day I was known for starting a few brawls myself. But listen up kids. This is different times and I am not that same drunken guy anymore.” he pauses. “Well maybe part of me still is. Anyway, I’m going to give the four of you dick heads a direct order.” he pauses again for a few seconds as they look at him waiting for it. “Knock off this school girl shit or I’m going to toss your asses out the nearest air lock and leave you drifting in space. Do I make myself clear?”

All at once their jaws hit the floor hearing how their commander just spoke to them. They each nod their head in agreement.

“Out… fucking… standing people. Chief, let these dick heads sit here for a few more hours and then let them go.”

“Aye sir.”

“Ok then, time to take a leak. That Scotch went right through me!!” Mitchell walks out of the brig as LaMay is left standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

The infirmary aboard the Raza

The Chief Medical Officer Dr. Mikah Dorn can be seen directing his numerous nurses and aids in preparation for an influx of patients they will be getting very shortly. Amidst the chaos Ensign Nirren walks into the room and nearly gets run over by a group of male nurses moving heavy medical equipment around. A young Vulcan woman, who has decided to get into the medical field just like her grandmother before her. As she looks through the crowd and sees the commanding officer talking to two security officers about how they have mishandled very delicate medical equipment. She walks up to him.

“Dr. Dorn, Ensign Nirren reporting for duty sir.” Now either he doesn’t hear her or just ignores her, so she states it again this time tapping him on the shoulder. “Ensign Nirren report…” and in mid stride he whips around cutting her off.

“I know who you are Ensign! Another high and mighty Vulcan who thinks she knows everything about medicine.” he bullishly states trying to take her down a peg or two.

“I assure you sir I do not know “everything” about medicine. In-fact, I have asked for this assignment specifically to work with you.”

“You did?” he seems surprised.

“Yes sir. You are one of the leading medical doctors in the fleet today. It is an honor to be assigned to your staff.”

“That’s great to hear. But don’t believe all the bull-shit you read across subspace. There are much better doctors out there that are not getting half the credit they deserve I assure you. Now since you’re here as my personal assistant I have a job for you.”

Nirren straightens up eagerly listening for her first assignment.

“Get any non-medical idiots out of my med bay NOW!!! We’ve got a mobile hospital to set up and we are on the god damn clock here!!”

Nirren quickly snaps to work barking orders. Dr. Dorn smiles as he enjoys playing with new assistants like they were toys.

The bridge aboard the Raza

Captain Decker walks out from his ready room and sits down in the big chair. The turbo lift door slides open with a whoosh and out steps Commander Mitchell. He walks past Captain Decker and stands at the XO console.

The Captain turns to his Ops Officer. “Lieutenant Cho, please let starbase ops know that we will be getting underway.”

“Yes sir.” answers Cho.

“Miss Monroe, please release the mooring clamps and activate the forward maneuvering thrusters. Take us out nice and slow.”

“Aye Captain.” answers Faye.

“Mr. Cho please let station command know that we are ready to disembark.”

“Station command confirms departure and wishes us a safe journey Captain.” replies Cho.

The Raza drifts clear of the dry dock and is now drifting away from the space station under her own power.

“Lieutenant Commander Sung how are my warp drives?”

“As ready as they will ever be sir.” answers A’Ryn.

“Commander Mitchell, please take us to yellow alert.”

“Yes sir. Yellow alert, silent running.” orders Commander Mitchell.

“Mr. Cho, alert the hospital ships ten seconds to warp.”

“Yes sir.” answers Cho.

“Lieutenant Monroe, warp eight please. Engage!!” orders the Captain.

“Yes sir, warp eight!!” Faye engages the warp drives but nothing happens as the other medical ships warp past them on their way to the Romulan neutral zone. She looks stunned as she swings in her chair looking back at the Captain and the Commander. “I’m sorry sir, but we have no power to the Warp drives.”

Commander Mitchell stands up trying to ease the situation. “Honey, did you remember to plug in the warp core this morning?” The bridge breaks out with a few low laughs.

“Very funny, Commander!! We blew a coupling in the number one main warp injector. Try it now!!” answers a very irritated A’Ryn Sung. “I told you this was a bad idea without a dry run!!”

“Thanks honey. We’ll talk about this later over dinner!!” as he waves at Faye. “Let’s go. Go, go, go before she comes up here and puts me in some crazy Klingon death hold!!” Faye swings back around to the control console and punches the controls. Immediately the ship lurches to warp eight speeding off to catch up to the rest of the fleet.

“Lieutenant Karn, ETA on the Romulan Neutral Zone?” asks the Captain.

“Six hours sir.” answers Rheyna.

The Captain taps his com badge. “Captain Decker to Dr. Dorn.”

“Go ahead sir.” answers the Chief Medical Officer.

“Doctor you have less than six hours to prepare for the wounded. How we doing down there?”

“A few more nurses and a lot less bumbling security idiots in my sick bay would be a lot nicer sir.”

Lieutenant Phos speaks up. “I assure you Doctor Dorn, my Security staff are not idiots. Dr. Dorn, the security team I assigned to….”

Commander Mitchell cuts in. “Not now Phos. I think the good doctor is a teeny bit stressed out right now. Maybe a wee bit wound too tight.”

“I heard that Commander!” sounds off an irritated Dr. Dorn.

Mitchell was going to reply, but Captain Decker waves him off. “Doctor I expect you are doing the best you can under these very stressful circumstances. I cannot wait to see how your team performs under the pressure. Decker out.” and the Captain turns to Phos. “Lieutenant, please let Alpha Flight know that as soon as we come out of warp I want them out there doing sweeps around the fleet. I don’t want any surprises.”

“Yes sir.” answers Phos. “May I also recommend that the MACO team stand by on the bridge in case the Romulan’s decide to board the Raza?”

“It’s a little early for that don’t you think? Let’s just wait and see what we are dealing with when we get there.” answers Decker. “In the meantime, I will be in my ready room. Commander Mitchell you have the bridge.”

“Yes sir.” answers the Commander as he sits in the Captain’s chair.

As the Captain walks toward his ready room, Yeoman Braun rushes over to him with a stack of data pads for his approval. He quickly waves her off. “Please address Commander Mitchell with any concerns.” and he enters his ready room, the door closing quickly behind him.

Daisy looks back toward the bridge crew, embarrassed. Commander Mitchell smiles at her trying to lighten the mood. “Come on over here pumpkin.” as he taps his lap a few times. “Let daddy take care of you.” a few chuckles break out across the bridge as Mitchell gets a good laugh at the young Yeoman’s expense.

Alpha Flights quarters

After the Dominion War, the Federation saw the need to have fighter craft back up starships in the field. Thus, the creation of Alpha Flight was born. Out of all the pilots in Starfleet Captain Decker handpicked the three individuals that now serve under him. Lieutenant “Mad Dog” Ryder, with twenty-eight confirmed kills during the war. Some say his pilot skills could have him on the flight deck of any Galaxy class starship he wanted. But every time a position aboard a starship comes up, he turns it down. His love for being in a fighter ship keeps pulling him back into the cockpit.

Lieutenant “Pretty Boy” Bates with over forty confirmed kills. He also was a POW and was imprisoned on Cardassia Prime for the last three months of the war. It was there that he was tortured to the point where he tried to commit suicide on a number of occasions. Unmercifully, the Cardassian doctors kept him alive healing all his physical scars. But it wasn’t the physical scars that worried the Starfleet medical teams. It was the mental scars. The scars that you can’t see deep down inside, but always find a way to rise to the surface at the most inopportune time. It was also there that he met the beautiful Gilora. At the time, she served on the Cardassian-Dominion relations team. Questionable events occurred that led her to be the Lounge Keeper aboard the Raza. Some say that Captain Decker owes a life debt to her.

Finally rounding the team out is the Flight Leader Lieutenant Jin aka “Rose”. She’s the glue the binds this team together. She is a true leader in all the sense of the word who will one day captain a starship of her own. She always finds a way to center these two men. She always knows the right thing to say to bring Bates back from the edge of insanity when he starts to dance on the edge.

Bates is pissed as he slams his flight locker door shut and gets right in Mad Dogs face. “I tell you Dog, if those MACO assholes get in my way again I’m going to space their asses. Gilora is my girl!! No ground pounder is going to get in the way between me and my girl!!”

“Relax man. Gilora has the right to talk to anyone she wants. I think your blowing this out of proportion. Anyway, you heard the Commander. He isn’t taking any more shit from us. And I for one don’t want get busted down to ensign.” remarks Lieutenant Ryder.

Bates grabs his partner by the flight suit and slams him against the locker. “Don’t be such a loser!! Are you a “Mad Dog” or a god damn “Puppy Dog”?!” barks Bates as spittle goes flying into Ryder’s face.

“You know I always have your back!! But you need to just chill man. We’ll figure this out. Just calm the hell down.” answers Mad Dog.

Lieutenant Jin walks into the room. “Is everything ok in here?” she asks.

“Yeah, fine boss. We’re cool.” answers Bates as he lets his partner go and brushes out his partner’s flight suit.

“Good. I would hate to clip your wings. I know how hard you each worked to get this assignment. Now let’s do what we do best.”

Bates grabs his flight helmet and walks out of the room leaving Jin looking at Ryder for an answer.

“You would tell me if he’s messed up in the head again, wouldn’t you?” asks Jin.

Ryder tries to bluff his way out of this, but he’s not doing a very good job. “He’s just been through a lot you know.” but Jin rolls her eyes at him. “He’s cool. He just needs time to calm down. If he crosses the line you’ll be the first person I’ll tell.” answers Ryder as he grabs his helmet and walks out of the locker room.

Tarod IX, Captains Log Stardate 63231.819

The Raza has been in orbit around Tarod IX for the past six days. The crew aboard the Raza has performed admirably in a very tense situation considering everything and Starfleet Command seems to be very pleased with our results. The three hospital ships have helped thousands of Romulan civilians who have crossed over the Neutral Zone asking for aid. Over the past two days we have seen a steady decline in Romulan ships asking for aid and I am afraid our time here is coming to an end. I for one cannot wait to see what other adventures await us.

The Captain is interrupted in mid-thought as his communicator chimes. “Bridge to Captain Decker.”

“Go ahead.” responds the captain as he puts his data pad down on his desk.

“Sir, Lieutenant Karn here. You were asked to be notified if we detected anything out of the ordinary. Sir, I have something that you need to see.”

“I’ll be right there.”

The Captain exits his ready room and walks out onto his bridge. At least a dozen Starfleet officers are scrambling around the bridge doing their many jobs assigned to them. As he makes his way to the Lieutenant Karn’s station he notices two fully armed MACO’s standing guard at the door to the turbo lift. He will never get used to this. It’s been years since Starfleet assigned Marines to their starships. He stops at Rheyna’s station and puts his hand on the back of her chair leaning over the female Cardassians’ shoulder getting a better look at her console.

“What do we have Lieutenant?” asks the captain.

“Sir, I am getting some strange EM spikes dead ahead of us.” she continues to tap on the panel trying to zero in on what she’s seeing.

Decker straightens up thinking hard and then it comes to him. A worried looked comes across his face and he hurries toward his command chair. He begins to bark orders. “Commander Mitchell battle stations!!”

Without thinking twice Mitchell reacts. “All stations red alert!!” and the sound of the red alert warning can be heard blaring across the ship along with the annoying red light beaming across all the decks.

“Lieutenant Phos shields up and arm forward phasers!!” snaps the captain as he sits down in the command chair.

“Shields at full and all forward phasers armed.” answers Phos.

“Alert Alpha Squad!! I want them on point NOW!!!” barks Decker.

“Alpha Flight confirmed sir. They will be on point in less than ten seconds sir.” replies Phos.

The bridge is now in a very tense scene. Everyone is seen rushing about getting to their battle stations focusing on their jobs at hand. Commander Mitchell walks up to the captain looking down at him. Mitchell sees the intense look in his captain’s eyes.

“Captain, what is it?” asks Mitchell.

Decker puts his hand up with one finger pointing in the air. “Patience James, they know we see her.”

“They sir? What…” as Commander Mitchell gets cut off by Lieutenant Karn.

“Sir…it’s there!!” states Rheyna as she gets up out of her chair and points at the forward view screen with a horrific look on her face.

The forward view screen lights up as a massive D’deridex Class starship uncloaks in-front of them. Mitchell looks up in awe knowing that the Raza is only a fraction of the size of that Romulan war beast bearing down on them!!

“Holy shit!!!” exclaims the commander as the entire bridge crew is frozen staring down the barrel of this giant Warbird!!

To be continued…

#star trek

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