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365days365movies · 4 years

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January 16, 2021: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2014)

I am a massive comic book nerd. Not unusual these days, to be fair. But I’m definitely up there, as far as my obsession with Marvel and DC go. And, yeah, I stick mostly to those two houses, and their various imprints.

Why do I bring this up? Well...remember this movie?

Kick-Ass was a pretty big deal when it came out in 2010, as it was a Marvel Comics movie that was completely unrelated to the relatively new Marvel Cinematic Universe. Based of a 2008 comic book written by Mark Millar and drawn by John Romita Jr., the film was directed by Matthew Vaughn, and featured a more realistic take on how real-world superheroes would actually work.

Vaughn and Millar by this point at least, were friends. Around 2012, they’re getting drunk at a pub together, and talking movies. The topic of spy movies come up, and how there hasn’t really been a good, non-parody, fun spy movie, and that there should be. And that was the bulk of their conversation.

Enter Dave Gibbons, a legendary comic book artist, whom you may know from drawing the comic book that was turned into this:

Oh yeah, he’s a big deal. Gibbons and Millar end up getting together to write a fun spy comic book based on this idea. Vaughn, meanwhile, is getting ready to direct X-Men: Days of Future Past, the sequel to X-Men: First Class, which Vaughn directed. That’s a good movie, by the way, even if I have...issues...with the treatment of the X-Men in film. Maybe one day I’ll get into that, we’ll see what happens. Ask me about it if you’re curious.

Anyway, Millar goes to Vaughn with this script, and Vaughan looks at it and realizes that he needs to direct this movie before somebody else makes it. So he leaves Days of Future Past, and he signs on to...

I feel like it’s an obligation, as a comic book dude, to watch this film. I should also read the book, but I didn’t do that with Kick-Ass, so to hell with it! Let’s get this recap started! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Starting off with some Money for Nothing, and somewhere in the Middle East, 1997! We go into a stone temple, where some kind of mission is taking place. A surprise grenade causes the loss of one of the agents. The surviving agents are Merlin (Mark Strong), Lancelot AKA James Spencer (Jack Davenport), and Galahad, AKA Harry Hart (Colin Firth).

Hart, feeling guilty over the death of this agent, tells his wife, Michelle (Samantha Womack) and child Eggsy (yes, Eggsy) of his sacrifice, and gives Eggsy a medal.

From there, we jump forward 17 years, to Argentina where...Mark Hamill?

Holy shit, it’s Mark Hamill! Apparently, he’s playing Professor James Arnold, and being held hostage by a group of mysterious men. Just then, he’s rescued by Lancelot, showing up with some classic James Bond-style swagger and asking for a cup of sugar, sardonically.

He kicks the asses of these guys, but is SLICED IN HALF BY A MAN WITH SWORD LEGS WHAT THE FUCK????

I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was watching the best thing I’ve ever goddamn seen. And as if that weren’t enough, she’s working for Samuel L. “Motherfucker” Jackson, playing Richmond Valentine. I am...I am so pleased.

We go to the Kingsmen headquarters, where Lancelot is being mourned by the Kingmen and their leader MICHAEL CAINE, REALLY, HOLY SHIT

Ahem. Sorry, uh...the star-studded cast has basically caused me to have a minor aneurysm. Caine plays Arthur, the leader of the Kingsmen. Get it? I can dig it, I’m a sucker for a good Arthurian reference. Anyway, now that Lancelot’s dead, it’s time to find a new candidate. Apparently, the man that died 17 years ago was part of an “experiment” by Hart, which Arthur says has failed. Galahad calls Arthur a snob, and says that they need to evolve with the times. \

Speaking of that former candidate, how’s his son doing?

Not stellar, it seems. His mom is dating a very unsavory gentleman, and not really taking good care of her youngest daughter. Eggsy (Taron Egerton), on the other hand, is a carefree delinquent. After engaging in an entertaining backwards car chase with the police (it’s cool), he gets arrested. He refuses to give up his friends, and he instead asks for a phone call.He looks at the medallion around his neck, and remembers that he can use the number of the back to contact someone for help. He uses a specific code phrase, but it appears not to have worked. But then, Eggsy is turned loose with little more than a phone call. That’s when Eggsy meets Hart.

We find out that Eggsy has a high IQ and Olympic-level athletics, but has dropped out of the Marines, and has been arrested for drugs and other illegal activities. After being read out by Hart, Eggsy goes on an anger-filled diatribe about the differences in privilege between the two of them. Although it’s short, it’s a powerful speech.

But that speech is interrupted by the owner of the car that Eggsy stole the previous night, as well as his gang. They’re yearning for a fight with Eggsy, and they threaten Hart. He doesn’t take that well, as he shuts the doors and windoes to the pub. Time to teach a lesson.

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Yup, I’m giving this fight the posted video award. It might be short, but it’s also one of the best and coolest sequences I’ve ever seen in a spy movie. And OH, it’s giving me that gadget shit I was missing from the Bond movies.

After one of the most enjoyable fight sequences I’ve seen in a while, Eggsy’s understandably stunned. So is his stepfather Dean (Geoff Bell), the leader of the gang that Hart beat up in the pub. He’s not happy, and he beats Eggsy in their apartment, and that scene is...WHOOF. Much to their surprise, however, Hart’s left a device on Eggsy’s back. He threatens Dean through the device, and tells Eggsy to meet him at a tailor that he’d mentioned.

Once Eggsy escapes from Dean and the gang via nest parkour tricks, he makes his way to the tailor, where Hart officially brings him into the fold, giving him the opportunity to become a Kingsman. He exposits the history of the agency as a private group of spies, meant to protect the world while not bowing to the bureaucracy that plagues government-affiliated spy institutions.

We get to go to Kingsman Headquarters proper, and yeah...yeah, it’s cool. As compared to the other recruits, Eggsy’s pretty obviously out of place. This, of course, is part of the point, as Hart believes the Kingsmen could use someone with different life experiences and background. That would be the experiment mentioned earlier.

Eggsy’s competitors include Roxy (Sophie Cookson), who appears to actually be polite to him, unlike most of the potentials. They settle in for the night...but not for long. Their quarters fills with water, as the entirety of the Kingsmen head towards the showerheads and toilets for air. While they all succeed, Eggsy is the one who actually gets everyone out, by literally punching the window.

Unfortunately, for one of the candidates...it’s too late. These candidates could die in the hiring process. Rough.

Sadly, Mark Hamill also doesn’t quite make it, as Hart finds him, surprisingly freed from Valentine’s capture. As he’s questioned, Valentine is forced to kill him via Suicide Squad implant, and barely escaped from his men. Valentine and his henchwoman, Gazelle (Sofia Boutella) are trying to figure out who the Kingsmen are, to no avail at the moment.

Back with Merlin, who’s training the Kingsman candidates! They’re all told to get a puppy! Aw. Eggsy chooses J.B. a pug, under the mistaken impression that it’s a bulldog. And I’m not a pug person...but that puppy is cute as shit.

Time marches on, and the Kingsmen continue their training. Eggsy’s colleagues continue to discriminate against him, especially Charlie (Edward Holcroft). Hart, who was knocked out by the explosion, eventually wakes up. Valentine goes around to political leaders and proposes his plan to “save the world,” whatever that’s about to mean. Apparently, that includes giving the King of Sweden a surgical implant of some kind. Huh.

This, of course includes some, uh...conflict with Gazelle.

Awesome.

Eggsy’s in the final 6! As Hart congratulates him over this, we finally get some exposition on Richmond Valentine’s plan. See, that implant is the Suicide Squad bomb that killed Hamill, and Gazelle also has one. Additionally, he’s released a plan to the world that will provide free internet and phone data...forever. Not ominous at all, that.

After a cool skydiving training sequence, only three candidates are left. Hart, meanwhile, poses as a wealthy philanthropist, donating to Valentine’s cause. As a result, he’s treated to an extravagant dinner...of McDonald’s. Yes, it is the best product placement I’ve seen in a while, in case you were wondering. That reveal was hilarious.

Anyway, their conversation turns from talking about climate change studies and concerns, to their opinion of James Bond movies, in a lovely little piece of meta flavor. At this point, they would appear to understand each other’s role in the play, as it were. Forgot to mention, Valentine’s been kidnapping anyone who disagrees with his goals, while also distributing his free internet cards. So, there’s that. But he’s also trying to figure out what exactly the “Kingsmen” are. Speaking of...

Our three remaining Kingsman candidates are assigned a mission to seduce a young dignitary. However, all three of them make a mistake, and allow themselves to get drugged at a party, by someone wanting to know who Hart and Kingsmen are. When Eggsy wakes up, he’s been strapped to train tracks. Uh oh.

Despite an oncoming train, Eggsy doesn’t give the man any formation. Which, of course, was the point. It’s Hart, helping to give the Kingsman candidates a little loyalty test, which both Eggsy and Roxy pass with flying colors. But Charlie...Charlie’s a coward who immediately gives everything up, including Arthur himself.

Eggsy gets to spend 24 hours with Hart, before being thrown headfirst into a mission. Hart explains that being a Kingsman means being a gentleman, which Eggsy isn’t. Hart, of course, plans to fix that.

They head to the tailor, and check out some spy gadgets. And much to their surprise, Valentine is also there, under the guise of getting a suit. Hart takes the opportunity to recommend a hatter, who gives him a top hat with built in listening devices. I love it.

Eggsy, meanwhile, speaks with Arthur at Kingsman HQ. He’s commanded to perform one final test: kill his pug, J.B. Which...yeah, damn, that sucks. He doesn’t do it, understandably. Unfortunately...Roxy does kill her dog. She succeeds...and Eggsy’s kicked out of the Kingsman candidacy. Which feels like a bullshit play, if I’m honest.

Eggsy steals Arthur’s car, then goes back home. As he’s about to confront his stepfather, Hart brings back the car via remote access, then explains to Eggsy that the gun was filled with blanks, and that Eggsy ended up giving up his shot. He also reveals that the first candidate to die...didn’t actually die! It’s been a ruse all along, meant to test the candidates under the strictest of conditions. Which sucks, obviously, because Eggsy’s out of the program.

And at that point, Valentine says something of note, revealing that he plans to go to a hate church in Kentucky to begin his master plan. Hart heads there, and tells Eggsy to stay put.

We get treated to just...just the loveliest of sermons. Disgusting. But then...

...that’s the point, isn’t it?

Because Valentine uses the SIM cards to create a signal that drives the parishioners crazy. Hart’s also in the church, however, and he also starts going crazy. Which leaves the question: what happens when a highly trained spy goes up against untrained civilians, has a bunch of gadgets...and has absolutely no restraint whatsoever?

A MASSACRE, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS. And most surprisingly, it’s a massacre that we actually SEE. Hart basically kills almost EVERYBODY in the church. I’ll put the video up, but...y’know, be warned here. It ain’t pretty.

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Hart comes to, and realizes exactly what he’s done. He leaves, only to be confronted by Valentine and his men. The Bond metaphor finally comes full-circle, explained directly by Valentine. But instead of explaining his whole plan and devising some complicated way to kill Hart that he’ll inevitably escape from...

He just shoots Hart in the head. Holy shit. And this is while Merlin, Arthur, and yes, Eggsy watch on through Hart’s home feed. Looks like a new Kingsman is needed.

Arthur tells Merlin to assemble the Kingsmen. But Eggsy...Eggsy has other plans. Thinking on Hart’s words about wanting to do something good with his life. He goes to Arthur to talk to him about Hart’s death. Arthur invites him in for brandy. And that’s...when my mind exploded.

HE’S FUCKING IN ON IT?!? Michael Caine, NOOOO! Turns out that Valentine’s convinced Arthur of his true plan: a culling. He believes that the Earth’s temperature because there’s simply too much humanity, like a body trying to kill a virus. And so...he’s going to make the virus exterminate itself. And that argument’s enough to win Caine over.

Turns out that the implant is meant to protect those individuals against a neurological signal emitted by the SIM cards, the same one that went off in the church. Arthur, realizing that Eggsy understands exactly what’s going on, poisons him, then asks if he would like to join them. Eggsy refuses...and Arthur sets off the remote poison to kill him.

But NOPE! EGGSY SWITCHED THE FUCKIN’ GLASSES! I love this movie. Arthur dies, and Eggsy uses the opportunity to dig the implant from his neck. He takes that and Arthur’s phone to Merlin and Lancelot, who realize that they can’t trust anyone at this point. And so, the three of them - yes, the three of them - go to stop Valentine.

And, yeah...I can dig it. OH HOW I CAN DIG it.

Roxy goes up in an experimental vehicle to bring down the satellite, Merlin is flying the plane, and Eggsy...Eggsy’s the one going in disguised as Arthur, in order to infiltrate the mountain lair of Valentine. Here, he and the other beneficiaries wait it out, while the world literally tears itself apart. Now wearing a bespoke suit and playing the role of a gentleman, Eggsy enters the lion’s den.

But as expected, it’s time to hit some snags. Roxy waits juuuuuust a little too long, and one of the balloons in her craft pops. As for Eggsy, he meets an old “friend” of his in the form of Charlie, who’s now working for Valentine.

The missile’s fired just in time, as Charlie’s taken out and Eggsy runs for the plane. AWESOME climax here as Eggsy escapes. I mean it; it is VERY cool. They succeed JUST in time, and the satellite is destroyed. However, Valentine’s still managed to partially start the process, and they can’t do anything about that.

Eggsy’s gotta go BACK in, before Valentine gets another satellite to trigger the signal worldwide. Now armed with Hart’s AWESOME umbrella, he makes his way there under heavy gunshot. They’re also teaming up against Merlin in the plane, so he’s not doing great. And that when Eggsy has the idea...to turn the implants on. ALL of them.

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It’s amazing. Violence in fireworks. So, it’s too bad that it doesn’t stop the signal. It works, and people start to tear each other apart all across the world. But only for was long as Valentine has his hands on the desk. Eggsy manages to stop that by laying down some suppressive fire.

That provokes a response.

..This movie is, for lack of a better term, fucking rad.

Gazelle and Eggsy have an awesome fight, worthy of any James Bond movie, seriously. I really want to give it the video post honor, but I’ve done that too much already. For god’s sake, I literally JUST did that.

Gazelle dies (it’s kinda goofy how she dies, if I’m honest), and Eggsy kills Valentine with her prosthetic leg. It’s over, as the signal ends, and Eggsy even gets the girl. Not Roxy, the Princess of Sweden. Not going into it, but it’s funny.

And that’s Kingsman: The Secret Service! Honestly, I gotta say, that was a rad-as-shit movie, and...

Ooh, a mid-credits scene! Eggsy goes back home, to the pub, where his stepfather and mom are hanging out with the gang. And let’s just say...Dean’s gonna get a little comeuppance. Manners, after all, maketh man.

OK, THAT’S Kingsman: The Secret Service! And that, again, was pretty rad. See you in the Epilogue in a few!

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sparkles-and-trash · 4 years

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My fav 3 versions/interpretations of South Park characters thing!

I’m so sorry this took much longer than anticipated, I was gonna do it Friday but then I had a panic attack for the first time in forever because my CFS have been real bad lately and I was in such bad shape my BFF had to come and smack me back to life, and Sunday was suddenly full on breakdown day, a bad BPD episode and yeah, it was rough, but today I’m doing better and I realize nobody really cares about my personal issues lol but I just have a need to excuse myself here and I realize that’s kinda dumb but here we are ANYWAYS I hope these are okay, and that these are in no way the RIGHT interpretations, just my personal favorites!

Kyle:

suggested by the wonderful @otherluces <3

I’m not gonna lie, I love nerdy, preppy Kyle. Sweater-vests, collard shirts, doesn’t realize how attractive he is Kyle, oblivious to people having crushes on him Kyle, set on Harvard to become a lawyer and fight for justice and argue for a living, yanno?

I also really like the more dorky and nerdy Kyle, where he has really niché interests that he gets totally invested in and talks about 24/7, loves reading and studying, but not just to get good results, but because he genuinly enjoys it.

The last version I can think of with him, is the tall, lanky and kinda hard to read Kyle. He keeps a lot of his feelings to himself, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them. He plays basketball, he’s good at it too, and while he does well in school and everyone expects him to go into law, he has some totally different dream he keeps to himself for now. He kinda perks up a bit when in smaller crowds, esp with his cloest friends, but he still carries a lot of secrets that some time needs to come out.

Tweek:

suggested by my new fren @soft-craig-and-tweek ^^

I like Tweek in so many ways these were hard to pick, but I’mma try to narrow it down a bit and not go totally off haha

I actually quite enjoy the jagged, tired Tweek, the one who with help from friends and family manage to get off the meth his parents feed him secretly, but who still struggle with withdrawal, dark bags under his eyes, kinda pale and with sharp features, but he’s still a sweet and kind boy, a boy who wants to make the right choices and change the world to a better place, but who still has a darkness he carries, and the fact that he never gives up that fight is what makes him so special

and okay I have to be honest, I do love myself some sunshine boy Tweek. This Tweek still has issues, he is maybe even more anxious than the last one, but he’s also just as vibrant and energetic as he is anxious! He is an artist, he paints with bright colors, he composes beautiful, hopeful melodies, he feels everything so much, and he is a contagious and exciting person to be around. Cannot dress for the life of him. So much mis-match and odd outfits, but it kinda works?

The last one I’m gonna mention for this wonderful boy, is the more alternative Tweek. He writes obscure poetry, he watches too many conspiracy theory videos on youtube, he draws the monsters in his mind, and he writes the scariest, most hauntingly beautiful stories on the internet, and people online love him. He has no idea how to deal with being popular in that sense, because irl he is the type to not belong to a certain friend group, but he does go along well with most people on a surface level. Dark circles, shaky hands, crooked and cute smiles, baggy t-shirts and ripped jeans. When he first opens up to someone, he really, really does, and he will always support and be there for you. If you deserve it, that is.

Nichole:

also suggested by @soft-craig-and-tweek <3

I love nerdy Nichole who isn’t afraid to show it! Maybe she’s a streamer or youtube gamer even, I can def see her writing fanfiction, and being hella good at it too! Makes quite a name for herself online, and hangs out with the boys a lot irl, has game nights with the boys from Board Girls (even Cartman sometimes), is funny in a sarcastic way, but never mean.

Popular girl Nichole is also a favorite for me, but not in the “classical” sense. I imagine her to be a sporty, maybe on both the basket and volleyball team, captain for the basket one, she’s a born leader, she’s kind and fair, but can also be strict, and people always trust her to be honest and true.

Artsy Nichole!! I imagine her in bright yellow dresses and with her hair flowing and free, with flowers in her hair, freckles on her face, a big, genuine smile, a loud laughter that is so contagious, she loves spending time with Jimmy because they have a very similar humor, and she’s a theater kid, she sings like an angel and can act, oh boy can she act, she can make anyone laugh or cry in just a blink of an eye, she’s just a human sun-ray and I love her a lot

Butters:

suggested by @kinguidamundo, thank you so much!!

I love edgy Butters soooo much??? Like, he’s still a kind and bright boy, but he can also stand up for himself a lot more, he likes fashion a lot, he gets tattoos and piercings, he explores tons of ways to express himself, he’s a yes-dude, he goes out on dates a lot, but isn’t ready for a “real” relationship yet, but he enjoys meeting people and testing out himself around different types of people! Also he is a bi icon change my mind jk u can’t

I have a weak spot for the kind of soft and timid looking Butters too, who wears pastel colors and have big, innocent eyes, he is genuine and kind, but he carries something darker inside, something he isn’t sure how to deal with, something that scares him, but in reality it’s just normal feelings, anger, resentment and fear, but he’s lived his life ignoring them so much they catch him off guard at times. He learns to live with them slowly, and he does so with lots of help and patience from friends and loved ones.

Okay, last one, totally self-indulging here, but yeah, happy sunflower boy is also a big favorite. He is more confident than the previous version, but in a gullible way if that makes any sense? He believes the best in people, and if he is proven wrong, he’s willing to try to help them become better people, if they want to or not! This is honestly the version I love most with Stan, Butters being the ray of sunshine in Stan’s life and Stan being the realism to keep Butters grounded and them both supporting each other so much? Fuck yeah that’s the good stuff.

Clyde:

suggested by @horrorpumpkin, ty sm friend! <3

Himbo Clyde!!! Jock dude who genuinely loves sports, he’s a team player, and while he might not be super intellectual, he is very socially smart, he is kind and empathic, he is funny and likable, he always tries his best to make everyone feel included, and while he loves chicks a lot, and is a sexual dude, he does it with nothing but respect and admiration for the ladies!

Bisexual disaster Clydeeee <3 obv being bi isn’t a personality trait, but he is very open about it, he wants to be confident and good at flirting, but goddamn is he a MESS! He’s also a huge supporter of every single relationship his friends is in, he loves love, in all shapes and forms, he is emotional and kind and awkward in an endearing way.

Can’t leave out crybaby Clyde, can we now? He’s a bit of an awkward bean as well, but he owns it a bit more. He is kinda like a puppy, a cute, excitable and emotional puppy who loves his friends, video games and lazy movie nights, kinda chubby, he loves baking and does it a lot with Tweek, he is also a huge nerd for Harry Potter and totally geek out over it with Kyle and Nichole sdhlksgdhl

Kenny:

suggested by anon!

First up I guess I should put my high school AU Kenny. I know it’s controversial, but I imagine this Kenny to be more on the quiet side, but not really in a shy way. He’s just a bit of an observer who doesn’t speak unless he really sees fit, and while he still has his crude humor and is kinda rumored to be sleeping around a lot, he actually struggle with intimacy issues. He never imagined them to include sexual stuff, but turns out they do, and balancing being sexually open and curious and having these issues ain’t easy on the boy, let me tell you that.

This one is kinda heavily inspired by Luces, but I love him as kind and loyal, but also a bit more chatty and charming, but not for his own gain. He wants others to feel good about themselves, in social settings, his friends, during sexy times, he is selfless and good, but he is also living for the moment, he is a likable and wonderful guy, but he does still only REALLY open up emotionally to people he really trusts. Not traditionally attractive, but interesting looking in a way. Lots of freckles, bit of buck teeth with a big gap between his front teeth, messy kinda curly hair, long straight nose. Always wears baggy hoodies and worn out jeans, shrugs and gives that lopsided smile when people ask him about anything personal.

Mysterious Kennyyyy. You think you know him, everyone does, but in reality, very few have seen the real him. He likes people, and he likes to help them, he’s always down to listen to people’s problems and help them, he wants to inspire kids like himself to never give up and think there’s only one path for them, because he knows there is not. Volunteers at the animal shelter with Stan, works part time at Tweek Bro’s and is good buddies with Tweek. Had a early sexual debut, slept around a bit and got his heart broken unexpectedly when he was a Freshman, so there are some walls there now, but he ain’t usually one to turn down someone who’s up for it and whom with he has good chemistry either.

#kyle broflovski #tweek tweak #nichole daniels #leopold butters stotch #butters stotch #clyde donovan #kenny mccormick #south park #south park headcanon #south park headcanons #sp #South Park tag #sp kenny #sp butters #sp clyde #sp nichole #sp tweek #sp kyle

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night-rook · 4 years

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Sinful Delivery | Feitan Porter x Reader |

Word Count: 2709 Reader Type: Neutral Gender, Media Influencer, Model Story Type: Modern AU setting Beware: Sexual thoughts, BDSM, Curse words Summary: Reader is doing some media distancing due to harmassments. Feitan just happens to be the delivery guy on the day they wanted takeout.

Key terms: (Y/N) = Your name (H/C) = Hair Color (S/C) = Skin color (E/C) = Eye Color (F/F) = Favorite Food (S/F/F) = Second Favorite Food (S/N) = Screen Name (B/T) = Body Type (B/H) = Body Height

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A pair of empty eyes stared at the grimy ceiling. The pools of (E/C) reflected a blank canvas as they laid on the large bed. Their body felt frozen to the touch, almost as cold as a corpse. Taking in small breathes to fill their lungs, they closed their eyes and listened to the white noise of the room.

Their name is (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N). Yes, That (Y/F/N). The infamous media influencer who specialized in dark styles of romance. Hacking to the fetishes that everyone is too scared or embarrassed by and bringing it out with their photos. Posing and modeling from all levels. If there was something out there, they were the first to act on it. Taking photos for the eyes of the dark. From innocent acts of bondage in bed to heavy blood draining, (Y/N) had a photo for the media.

Then, why were they laying in bed? Why were they alone?

There were numerous rumors that the model was faking their stats. Editing everything to where it looked realistic. Each photograph was nothing more than a scam of a freak who sought attention. As the rumors spread like wildfire across the internet platform, (Y/N)’s publicist advised them to stay away from the media until everything settled down. Their whole career was on hold because some people thought they were posers.

So, here they are laying in their loft condo and keeping a low profile. The (H/C) would go out for the usual grocery trips and daily exercise. Despite the dark cloud of their career, (Y/N) was a humble person and had a simple lifestyle. They just happened to have an interesting career path that differs from the norms. Boredom had become unavoidable these past few weeks, taking a toll on their adventurous spirit.

“Maybe I should have taken Gon’s than the Troupe Café,” (Y/N) mumbled and slowly sat up. “But, I’m kinda tired of the usual (F/F).”

Finally getting up from the bed, they stretched their limbs out into the air as they let out a huff of breath. Shaking off the sleepy dust from their body while walking down the stairs. (Y/N) looked at the clock that hung by the staircase. Its second hand ticking away while the minute hand was just barely moving.

Knock Knock, knock

Three rapid yet vigorous knocks caught their attention from the time. A smile broke across their (S/C) face as they walked to the door. Turning the knob, (Y/N) was greeted by a rather gloomy looking male. Being (B/H), the model was puzzled by the rather short male. His grey eyes stared at them, waiting for them to make a move. An austere expression was painted on his pale face.

“Are you gonna take it or not, dumbass. I don’t have all day.” the monotone voice seemed to match his demeanor. He held up a black bag that contained (S/F/F).

Shaking their head, the model took the delivery bag and left the door open. They got a whiff of food before setting it down on the living table to get the money. (Y/N) hummed happily at the thought of eating the heavenly meal but also for the change.

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As (Y/N) was gone, the male’s eyes narrowed slightly as something felt odd about the whole situation. The customer looked strangely similar to someone he followed online. He dug his hand into his pocket just as his phone vibrated. Pulling out the device, he internally grunted at the notification from Phinks. He pressed the text chat to read what was sent, probably a stupid excuse for not wanting to work. Reading the text in the grey bubble, the gloomy dressed male blinked before realizing what was said.

Lazy Fucker, 2:55 pm

Dude! Feitan! I remember where I saw that name. Ya know the model whose fan base is rioting? THAT’S THE CUSTOMER WHO ORDERED!!! DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING LUCKY YOU SCORED?!?!

*read

Feitan felt a slight flinch in his gut. The universe had randomly granted him the opportunity to come across his favorite pastime. He knew of (S/N) and the alleged rumors against them. The short man didn’t care for what was said about the photoshopping because he knows real authentic torture when he sees it. Every drop of blood that dripped from their (S/C) (Y/H) body. Each cut that is made on their (B/T). He never doubted the reality that (S/N) performed.

When he heard and read about the accusations made about their work of art, his anger hit sky high. His blood boiled like magma, the more absurd every claim got. The day (S/N) went offline, Feitan’s hunger became unsatisfied. His entire Trevor Brown collection couldn’t fill the craving that rested deep inside his coal heart. There was just something in the model’s performance that made him growl in pleasure. His irritation followed him from home to work every day for the past couple of weeks.

“Here you go! I’m so sorry for making you wait this long. I misplaced my wallet.” they laughed and rubbed the back of their head due to the embarrassment.

He only grunted and took the payment, counting the bills to ensure it was correct. Underneath his bandana, an eerie smile made its way onto his apathetic face. Their voice was just so soothing and light, the perfect pitch to hear moans from in private. The more he stared at them, the stronger his desire grew. Feitan slipped the money into his pocket before deciding to speak.

“You’re (S/N), correct. Why haven’t you said anything about the bullshit,” he asked. Well, honestly, it was more like a demand than asking.

(Y/N) was about to close the door until he spoke up. Blinking at his bold words, they were confused about what told of them. Oh, he’s a fan… they realized. Placing a hand on their hip, the model gave his words some thought. They were surprised the delivery guy knew who they were, giving they weren’t exactly in costume. They were only wearing a plain (F/C) shirt and shorts while their (H/L) (H/C) hair wasn’t styled.

With a smile, (Y/N) answered, “I can’t change anyone’s mind on what they see. Our perspectives are different, so I rather just let them believe what they want to believe.”

Feitan frowned at them. Their answer didn't sound convincing to him. His grey eyes stared at them more, searching for something. “It’s obvious that those scumbags are just picking for a reaction. Probably waiting for a suicide announcement about you.”

This time, his words did make their stomach turn. It was unnoticeable when their account got negative comments or when their inbox was spammed with death threats. (Y/N) did their best to avoid them and ignore the pessimistic thoughts that came with every troll. Yet, the words aimed at them did hate their self-esteem. It was when the rumors started to take effect did they finally get time to feel peace. The media distancing helped the depressing cloud clear up above their head.

“Want to join me for lunch? My legs are standing to ache from just standing and the food is gonna get cold,” (Y/N) smiled while pointing at the couch behind them, “ I can ask all your questions while we eat if that’s okay with you.”

Feitan nodded and walked inside the apartment. He took a few glances around the place and took notice of how moderate it looked. If he could bluntly say it, the place looked like a boring image in a magazine you could find in an office. Taking a seat on the leather armchair, the gloomy male sat and waited for the other to join him.

Getting some plates and drinks from the kitchen, the (Y/H) model went to the living area and served him some (S/F/F). The two ate in silence for a bit and got acquainted with each other’s presence. Feitan observed them some more, his eyes never leaving their body.

"Well, are you going to talk or not." Feitan scowled, glaring menacingly as his patience was going thin.

(Y/N) sweatdrop at his impatience, but took a drink of their soda. Their mind playing back the beginning of the chaos and the events leading to isolation. Recalling the confusion when their publicist instructed them to make the accounts private and go offline. The devastation they felt later followed when they read the article claims against them. The model simply felt their heart crack from the madness.

"I was told to sit and be quiet until things settle. These few weeks haven't been great. The assaults are still going and I can't do anything," (Y/N) sighed and stared at their drink. "I am- sort of- at a breaking point. No matter how strong the bubble I'm in, the insults make me crack and it hurts. I had ideas! I was going for approval but then got told to be quiet so the adults can talk."

Feitan leaned back into his seat and listened to them rant out their pinned up frustrations. From what he saw, it seemed to bother them that they were seen as a fraud. He watched the way their arms moved as they spoke and how their clothes would reveal the hidden story. His grey eyes took in the faint scars and discoloration on their (S/C). Fighting back a growl, the gloomy male set his plate down and got the model's attention.

"Fuck what those bastards say. Do what you want and show them everything." he smiled at the visible shiver they had.

(E/C) eyes glanced up to meet with metal eyes. Despite the coldness in them, the model could see just a small flicker of light. It was a small light, small but it was enough to make something in (Y/N)'s mind snap. The small click of gears before complete clockwork began to shift inside them.

He was right! Why did they have to be put in the corner when all they were doing was their passion?! Why were they being punished?!

(Y/N) looked straight at the short male. Their eyes reflecting the newfound determination and that same emotion cause him to smirk with interest. What he heard did catch him and made his inner desire water with hunger.

"I want a tape of real-time punishment. So, seeing as you are well aware of my work, I take you to know what to do?" they innocently smiled.

The gloomy spider leaned forward from his seat. His eyes darkening with a cloud of cruel lechery with every passing moment he stared at them. His mouth watered at all the methods that came to mind with how he will have them beneath him. To hear their cries, witness their tears, the expressions that cute face can make... Oh, how fate gave him an angel in a devil's clothing. Pulling down his bandana, he smirked at the model.

There it was again!

The cold chill when he smiled at them. (Y/N) might have picked the perfect candidate for a partner. At least for the project... maybe. Getting up from their seat, they grabbed his hand and led him upstairs.

"Let's get started, shall we."

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Upon the release of the video, four months had passed by. The video had gained a couple of million views and thousands of comments. Whether the attention was positive or negative, (Y/N) had no clue but Feitan did. He read through the comment section and was amused by the words.

Feitan was on his break and sitting at a table, a cup of forgotten tea sat in front of him. He scrolled through the section with an entertaining smile on his face. His eyes squinted up as he grinned with each passing comment. The spider worker enjoys the memory of that evening. It was his absolute favorite and it was something he looked back to whenever he watched the video.

He can recall how he felt with each scene as it plays out. The adrenaline that coursed through his veins with burning aspiration. How he wanted to make (Y/N) submit and to feel those agonizing vehemence. He wanted to keep hearing the moans and cries they made with each whip. The lewd face they made when he flogged their bareback. The way their body tense and pull on the restraints when he made a deeper cut.

Phinks and Shalnark were a bit disturbed when the short man came back to their shared apartment into the next morning. He was grinning menacingly while his clothes were covered in blood. Who's blood exactly, that was unclear. Both males watched him enter the apartment before vanishing into his room for the rest of the day. Endless to say, they shrugged it off and believed some poor stranger just wasn't lucky.

"Hey, Feitan! Can you take my shift real quick? I need to use the restroom, please. Please! Please!" The blond whined a bit.

The gloomy male grunted before heading back into the kitchen to tag him out. As he worked, he didn't hear the bell chime of the front entrance. He cooked until a soft voice caught his attention.

"Ello! I'll like small grey ice cream with a dash of sadistic sparkles." they happily chirped. Smiling as brightly as ever from the other side of the bar window.

Feitan looked up from the stove and hummed in acknowledgment. He turned his attention back to the food as (Y/N) took a seat on one of the stools. Their (E/C) eyes shined with the same happiness while watching him cook. The comfortable silence around them was pleasant and neither wanted to break it too. Until Phinks came back and stared at the new face before realizing who they were.

"FEITAN!! It's that model!!" he managed to shout despite the small space.

The short man remained stoic while (Y/N) giggled at the blond's reaction. Feitan grabbed the blond's shirt collar and pulled him into the kitchen to take back his job. Feitan grabbed two drinks and walked out of the kitchen. Handing one drink over to (Y/N), the short man took a seat by them.

"What brings you here." he finally asked after a few sips of beer.

Setting their glass down, (Y/N) turned to face him before tilting their head a bit. They were a bit confused by his questionable demand but then sat up when they remembered the reason for their sudden arrival. Turning to pull out a notebook from their bag, the cheerful model set it on the counter and turned to the desired page.

"I got another idea and wanted to see if you could help. I was thinking of an ice bath this time, but I want your opinion since your nasty little mind was the brilliance behind the video," they showed the page to Feitan and slid the notebook to him. "The agency will cover the cost if you have something else in mind. They even want to ask if you wish to apply. Seeing as you like a natural on camera and how fans reacted."

Feitan looked over the information on the page while listening to the (B/H) model. He could get paid for tormenting them with his dark fantasies. He smiled at them and slid the notebook back to them. Nodding, he finished his drink and looked at them with the same eyes as the day they met.

"Yes! You're the absolute best! I'll text you when the due date is and we can meet up this weekend to see when you got." (Y/N) grinned before jumping off their seat.

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Feitan's smile vanished after they said goodbye. He returned to his expressionless husk and decided to clock back in. When he was about to get back to work, his blond roommate finally spoke up and questioned the gloomy spider on what had just happened.

He simply shrugged and went back to his job. His eyes squinted as a grin hid under his bandana. "Just my pet wanting approval."

The blond nodded but quickly snapped his head to look behind him and stare at the man in shock. Since when did he manage to hook up with someone before Shalnark or himself?! Turning back around, Phinks frowned and grudgingly had to pay Shalnark when they closed the café for losing the bet.

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#feitan #hunter x hunter #feitan portor #reader insert #feitan portor x reader #hxh 2011 #hxh feitan #hxh fanfic #hxh one shot

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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11. You Used to Love It

This chapter is the last good one for a while. I mean, there’s some pain here, I suppose, but nothing like what’s about to happen in the next few chapters. And, I’d like to dedicate this particular one to the apex of the Mall Rats shippers @scipunk63 and of course, my Infinity Train fandom ace boon koon @i-am-a-passenger 3668 Words

Even the idea of going back to school after the awesome summer that she had SUCKED. She halfway had the mind to tell her parents that she’d like to go back to personal professors, but she knew that ship had sailed. With her father being up in arms about her academic career and the fact that she hadn’t yet started looking for colleges… She didn’t NEED college, and if ever she did, she’d have enough to go then, so there was no need for her to lose her mind over it like he was.

“Grace!” Ah, finally. Some good fucking company.

Simon rushed to her and grabbed her from the ground to squeeze her into a tight hug. He immediately began talking to her about school. She sighed. They had one more weekend before school began, so she straight up just cupped her hand over his mouth and shook her head. Then, she removed her hand and eyed him suspiciously.

“What’s happened to your face?” she asked.

“What’s… happened… to it?” He repeated, confused.

“Did you do something?”

“Is this like that time you thought my eye color changed?”

“No! This is real… WAIT. Did you do your eyebrows? AND shave off your peach fuzz??” She was on the verge of laughter.

“I think it makes me look more presidential,” he said, straightening the collar of his hoodie.

She laughed, “Sir, you are the junior class president…”

“Also debate captain, academic decathlon, I have a position in journalism,” he grumbled, ‘Two actually,” and completed his list, “As well as STILL the top of our class. People won’t take me seriously if I don’t take myself seriously. That’s one thing that my dad taught me.”

“He should’ve added that they won’t take you seriously if you take yourself too seriously, because I definitely do not.”

“Rude. I shouldn't give you your welcome home present… But, I already spent money on it.”

“You… spent money on me? Simon! You KNOW that you don’t have to do that!”

“Yeah, but I wanted to, and I rarely ever do. Besides, it’s a special occasion. The Apex is back together.” He pulled a gift basket out of his bag and presented it to her.

“This is from that fancy custom basket place near the mall!” she said. That was WAY out of Simon’s budget, but also, not returnable. “Simon!” She fussed.

“Please, just tell me that you love it.”

“I do!” She accepted it with damp eyes and a trembling lip. There was a boxed honeycomb, a bottle of honeysuckle nectar extract, and a honey bun shaped like a bear. “This is really cute, Simon. I really love it. It’s one of the best gifts you’ve ever given me.” She reached out to hug him and he went in for a kiss. She gasped and he startled, then she rested her head against his chest and he rested his face on her hair… both confused as to why the other acted that way.

Honey had become one of Grace’s things, because of the products she represented and her natural branding, over the summer, she’d been being called, The Internet’s Honey, and so she ran with it. Apex members were putting the little honeypot emojis in her comments, brands started sending her their honey - which she loved because she could use it for SO many health and beauty purposes, but also, she was reckless and sometimes, just wanted to eat it. Her favorite way was to eat the honeycomb, with a fancy soft cheese and some fruit - generally honeydew melon, just because there sort of was a flow of collaboration.

Simon had commented on a post she made while she was on the road that she should do one of those ASMR eating honeycomb videos… More people liked that comment than she expected. She wasn’t planning on doing ASMR anything and thought it was such a weird thing for Simon, of all people to comment on a post of hers! But, even though she wasn’t going to do one of those at this point in time - she just felt weird about all of her followers watching her eat, even if it was trendy - she still ate around Simon, and on their calls he kept asking her to do the honeycomb thing.

“What is with you, Dude?”

He blushed a lot and shook his head, “I just like it. There’s something soothing about watching you eat and it’s something you love, and I really like the sound, too.”

She gave him a look but reached for her snacking sack and looked through it. “I’ve got mostly fruit snacks in this thing. Ummm… some dried mango, banana, pineapple… a jar of country peach preserves…”

“Are the preserves chunky?”

She examined the jar, “There are pretty big peach pieces in here, actually.” She looked at the anticipation on his face and wondered, “What, you expect me to just eat this with my hands? I definitely don’t have a spoon in here,” she glanced around the hotel she was staying in.

“What’s wrong with eating with your fingers?” he wondered.

“It’s messy! Then, I’ll have to suck my fingers, and this is already weird enough, Simon. What… is this gonna do for you?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, it’s relaxing, and you’re just usually the person who helps me relax the most.”

“The anticipation of school got you riled up?”

“The anticipation of things with your dad.” he sighed.

She nodded, “He stresses me out too.” She laughed at herself, shook her head and said, “Fine, fine. I guess… here I am eating peach preserves out of a jar, with my fingers, for my best friend.”

“It’s a show of love,” he said, as he began recording her on their video call.

Presently, she asked him, “Are you gonna wanna watch me eat the contents of this gift?”

“Very intently.” She laughed. She didn’t get it, but also… It did seem to help him out the times she’d done so on his calls, and it didn’t seem sexual or anything.

Over the weekend, he was with her at the house. Her parents were away, and most likely wouldn’t be back until the week after school began. That meant that Simon would be spending every night that they weren’t there with her. She didn’t want to stay in the house, either. Especially if they were going to be milking the boyfriend/girlfriend thing. She wanted to be out and about with him, maybe cause some trouble, do some secret destroying.

He was perfectly content to just stay inside, just the two of them, because they hadn’t been able to be that way for a while. Of course, her desires won out. They went to the mall that evening. It was only open for a few more hours, but they loved the mall. They used to frequent it and were actually banned from a few stores, but they hadn’t been in a while and she wanted a corn dog from the Corn Dog Express.

She generally didn’t have any pockets, and Simon generally had several large ones (some with buttons), so he always carried her wallet and whenever they (she) bought something, he usually handed over the card. She thought about carrying a fanny pack, because it latched on to you, but she just couldn’t rectify the thought with the fact that those things were hideous. Maybe if she were trapped in uncivilized society...

So, whenever they got to the Corn Dog Express and ordered, she turned to look at him when they were given the total. “I… don’t have it..” Simon told her. She furrowed her eyebrows and patted herself down. Did she… forget her wallet? And her cell phone?? The clerk looked annoyed while Grace looked worried. She could have sworn that she picked them up on their way out of the door..

“Did you two really order all of this without any money?”

“Chill out. She may have forgotten her wallet. It happens.” Simon said, annoyed at the guy’s tone. He went to the back and Simon heard him say that there was “some Black girl out there trying to scam” them. He immediately was not pleased with that, and he saw from Grace’s face that she’d heard it too.

“Let’s just go,” she said, softly. “I should’ve been more attentive.”

“Mmhmm,” Simon said, but he didn’t budge, save to pull out his phone.

She made a sad face. She really wanted the dogs. “Simon? Did you hear me? I left my wallet at home, not to mention my cell phone. No need for me to further embarrass myself. I don’t even think we’ll have time to go get it and come back before the mall closes.”

But whenever the clerk came back with the manager with him, Simon began announcing, “This null who works at the Corn Dog Express just described Grace Monroe, of the Monroe Square Monroes, as ‘this Black chick trying to scam them.’ Scam them. At the Corn Dog Express. In the mall. That’s it. That’s the entire post.”

Grace covered her mouth and said, “Umm… Simon…” She was actually even more embarrassed, because obviously, these people didn’t know her. They weren’t her target audience, probably had only seen her family name on the plaques of buildings, and she really just wanted to go.

“You are fucking lucky that I don’t make you bob for corn dogs in that hot grease, you…” Grace pulled Simon’s arm and called his name. “You fucking short sighted, beast faced, insignificant little prick. She could buy this entire mall, never touch it again and STILL be above you. Who do you think you are?” The clerk was grateful that they had a plastic display between him and Simon. He looked terrified and the manager was confused but trying to speak on behalf of the company that they didn’t intend to upset Ms. Monroe...

“Simon! Can we PLEASE. Just. Go?” He looked over and she had her fists clenched and she was shaking. He didn’t know if she was mad or sad… or what. It was unclear, but she was asking for them to go. That was clear.

“Are you sure?” he asked her, an eyebrow raised. He had been two seconds away from hopping the counter after this guy.

“I’m positive,” she said, through her teeth, tugging him by the sleeve to come with her. He knocked over everything on the counter, with purpose, looking right into the eyes of his target of anger as they passed it. “Sorry,” she told the workers. She would make sure that they were compensated for that entire scene.

Simon was casually on his phone as she dragged him outside of the mall and whenever they got to the parking lot, he said, “Posted it! We’ll let the Apex at him, now.” She groaned and released him with a shove of the hand she had been clutching his sleeve with.

“What?” He asked.

“Simon… I left my wallet at home. That experience was because of MY mistake, and you just attacked that guy like he was some kind of enemy combatant.”

“He was very rude to you and I didn’t like his tone when he spoke about you. I was defending you. How is that a problem?”

“Because, I have a reputation, Simon! I have a brand. An image! I can’t just go around slapping things off of counters whenever I can’t pay the man at the counter! People SAW us! Some looked like they were recording!” She was highly upset. “You… are gonna go to college, get a degree, build a career. You have several talents and intelligence and pathways. I’ve got THIS, Simon. MY future is nested inside of my personality, and the world can’t think that I’m this person that goes off on people like a rotten brat. I can’t believe that you would put me in something like this!”

“I thought we were in this together. The Apex sticks together.”

“I wish you would’ve stuck with me when I was asking you to leave!”

He ran his hands through his hanging strands of hair and shook his head, “I thought you’d be happy. You used to love when I defended you.”

“We’re not kids anymore, Simon! You can’t DO THAT to people!” she snapped and walked off, hugging herself. “You can’t do that to people,” she said softly and sniffled. Where the hell was she going? He followed her, silently. He had already apologized. Why wasn’t she… doing something to make him feel better about her being upset with him?

“Okay. I’ll follow your lead, Grace. I won’t react next time unless you tell me to.”

She looked at him. She seemed like she wanted to say more to him, but she just gave him a small smile and collected him by his hoodie string. “Let’s just go home and order in. We can watch one of your fantasy movies, or something.” he still looked nervous, like he was worried that she was still mad. She… didn’t ever get mad at him and she was realizing this as she watched him process how she’d just yelled at him in this public space. “That okay with you, Eyebrows?” he chuckled and wrapped an arm around her with a single nod.

Still… They both felt it. Something just wasn’t right between them.

It blew up. Of course it did. What started with Simon’s post generating a massive amount of hate at the Corn Dog Express and the employees there, spiraled into Apex stans making death threats, doxxing these people, and harassing their family members. Grace went live several times to remind them not to do this and to explain that it was indeed her fault that she couldn’t pay because she left her wallet, and assuring fans that she paid after the fact and held no hostility for the staff there.

“I am demanding that the real Apex stand down this time. I’m human. I made a mistake. Yes, the clerk could have been nicer, but I don’t know what kind of day he had or what’s happened to him before. I didn’t take it personally. Simon is a little bit more sensitive about these things happening to me and he got upset and tried to defend me. We’ve talked about it. We’re on the same page. Please leave that guy alone, Apex. Come on. Listen to your Honey.”

With the incident going viral, in those comments appeared a very aggressive woman who wanted to draw people’s attention to her post from a few years prior. It was a post where she cried on camera, showed off bruises and described two kids that beat her up on the train.

Grace gasped whenever she noticed her. Apex members were cussing her out and accusing her of lying, but she was claiming that she even tore out a handful of the girl’s hair and that she was POSITIVE that it was the girl in this video, and she knew that Simon was the same boy, because he looked exactly the same, but longer. She meant taller, and Grace hadn’t thought about that woman in almost as much time since her hair grew back.But, she definitely recognized her whenever she went to her profile.

Then Shana’s little bitch ass comes in to comment, “Actually, I very clearly remember her showing up in society with a shaved head around that time, so I believe you. They call her the Internet’s Honey, but she’s actually a violent, destructive sociopath and I hope that you get your justice.”

Grace’s head was spinning. She didn’t know what to do with bad publicity and this felt like it was a lot. Should she call her mom? Her mom would kill her!

She saw Simon arguing with Shana in the comments, “Do you realize that whenever Grace went natural we were 12? You’re going to believe this stranger when she says that unprovoked Grace and I just beat her up for no reason? I know you’re a jerk, but I thought you were smart.”

The woman fussed, “You put me in a choke hold and crushed my esophagus while she punched me in the ribs and stomach!”

“Prove it, null,” Simon almost instantly typed.

“I still have her hair!”

“And what? You think that your lawyers are going to be able to demand that she release a sample to check it against the hair that your nasty ass has been carrying around for god knows how long? FOH. You deserved to be thrown to the wheels of the train and you got off easy, Jealous Null. You’re jealous of her. Every hater is jealous. Shana certainly is. She’d say anything to try to look better, since the hair weave and makeup doesn’t help.”

“If it doesn’t help, how come you think I’m almost as pretty as her?”

Grace waited for Simon to respond, but instead, she watched as both Shana’s and the woman’s comments vanished… Simon had obviously signed into her account and blocked them. She was both relieved and upset.

This was EXACTLY the kind of thing that she wanted him to not do on her behalf. She started crying. Moments later, he was calling. “Hey… I spoke with your dad. They’re gonna take care of it, okay?”

“What? What did you say?”

“I said that a woman who attacked you a few years ago on the train is claiming that we beat her up, when we actually defended you against her and I gave him the time and date and train, in case they need to go back and check out the surveillance. If it still exists.”

“What?? My parents can’t know that I got into a fight on the train, Simon!”

“You defended yourself on the train. We were 12. That was a grown ass woman and she hit you first.” There was silence. “Grace, please don’t tell me that you’re mad at me again for fixing the problem for you?”

“No,” but she was frustrated about all of this. “I just… My dad… how did he sound?”

“He said he was pleased that I thought to call him.”

“I just don’t want them to be disappointed in me. I don’t want to hurt them like that, and I don’t want them to hurt me.”

“They won’t.” He heard her sniffling on the other end of the calling as she read the comments. “I’m coming over.”

“We’ve got school in the morning.”

“Yeah, which we would’ve rode together to anyway.”

“Simon…”

“You don’t need me?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then, I’m on my way.

Grace cried a lot, curled up in a ball in Simon’s lap. It wasn’t their usual. She didn’t generally come to him with things. She cried on her own, but since he had insisted on being there and insisted on holding her, that’s where she landed and she had to admit that it wasn’t bad, at all. He had told her father that he was going to keep her company and make sure she was safe and sound all night and her father had advised them both to go to school the following day and if anyone asked anything about that woman and her accusations to tell them that they are not at liberty to speak about it.

Grace just hoped that this weekend was not some indication of what type of school year that they might have. She woke up to see Simon climbing out of her bed, shirtless? When did he take off his shirt? Probably in the middle of the night, because he was always hot and always in long sleeves. She had never seen his physique before, that she could remember. Even when they went swimming, he generally wore a wetsuit that was tight fitting, but still covered up everything. He heard her gasp and he jumped and looked at her. “Simon, what happened to your arm?” She asked, climbing out of bed to rush to him. “… Did your mom do this to you?” She wondered, touching his faded tally marks.

He quickly grabbed his undershirt and said, “I won’t like to talk about this.” She bit her lip and wished that she could help him somehow. He smiled softly and kissed her on the forehead, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. Just… If you need me today, say the word.”

“What should I even say?”

He thought for a while, “Say, charge.”

She laughed, “Are you gonna charge?”

“If you say charge, somebody is getting messed up.” She laughed lightly. She needed his sense of humor.

“I’m not saying charge, Dude. The way that the Internet has reacted to me telling you NOT to do something? I say charge and they’ll crucify me. My mom’s gonna wind up taking over my social media again.” She rolled her eyes and went for her uniform.

“A signal, then. I need to know when you need me to attack.”

“Simon,” she laughed. “I don’t ever need you to attack. Remember that you’ve got college courses starting this year and college is like super important to you?”

“You’re super important to me too,” he confessed, casually.

Soon, they were dressed, out the door, and heading for the campus. More kids were around outside than typically and Simon knew that it was because they were all waiting for them to arrive. He met Grace at her door and helped her out of the car. They checked each other out, gave a nod to each other that both were good to go, and turned at the same time to walk into the school.

Simon was confident. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Grace had gotten upset over the weekend, but he had done nothing wrong and she was clearly just stressed out, because last night, she’d let him comfort her and be her support system. She had let him hold her and wipe her tears and lift her up. She had let him back in. He was confident that the Apex was going to become stronger than ever before, and keep growing. They stopped at the stop of the stairs and she leaned on his shoulder. A couple of the boys that Grace had kissed on the cheek the previous year rushed to grab the doors for them and the other present Apex kids gathered behind them, following them inside when they went into the building.

#If They Didn't Get on the Train #AU Infinity Train #Infinity Train #Nesha Fanfiction #Infinity Train Fanfiction #fics

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heartofsnark · 4 years

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This Is Love (Chapter Two: Lukewarm Welcomes

Notes: Well...I was planning on posting this three days ago....but instead i vanished from the internet for a bit, a nice quarantine mental health crisis as i went into the weekend, we love that.

Word Count: 11,557

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, anti-cop dialogue, harassment, implications of domestic/family violence

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here!

A little bell chimes over head as Dahlia steps into the registration building for the Moonflower Trailer Park, there’s little racks of magazines, pamphlets, and maps of tourist attractions. A young girl is at the desk, talking on the phone with someone as Dahlia tries to preoccupy herself with looking through things.

A plain white pamphlet draws her eye, the simplicity of it standing out among the vividly colored ones. It’s stark white with that strange cross symbol, from the signs and book, like sunbeams coming from the center of it, black text above the symbol says, ‘Eden’s Gate’ and text below it says, ‘We Love You’.

Before she can flip it open, the woman at the registration desk hangs up, calling her over with a “Miss?”

“I’m Hale, we talked on the phone, I’m here to rent a trailer.”

The woman’s eyes flicker down to the pamphlet in her hand and her nose wrinkles like she’s smelled something awful.

“You ain’t no peggie, are you?”

“A peggie?”

“Oh, shit, you really are new here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, this was in one of your racks.”

“Damn it, I told them to stop unloading their shit here. Look, I don’t wanna scare you away from Hope County, but the peggies are fucknuts, steer clear of them.”

“They dangerous?”

“No more than most of us, but they’re major prudes and buzzkills. Like, think Jesus is gonna firebomb my ass for cumming, type buzzkills.”

“Oh, that…sucks.” She has no idea where this woman is coming to that a religious group would think she deserves hell for it, but if the woman says they’re not dangerous, it’s not really any of her business, she really just wants her trailer.

“C’mon, I’ll show you the trailer and we’ll get everything set up.”

The trailer park isn’t huge, RVs and regular trailers all over it, a little playground in the middle for the resident’s kids with a slide, swings, and a little pool. A trailer with a diner inside of it, advertising bingo, and a little station filled with washing machines and dryers. None of the trailers outfitted with them. It’s a single wide with a little porch, nothing fancy; a living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. All she needs, nothing seems damaged or out of place.

“Looks, good to me.”

“Alrighty, we’ll get your down payment and registration settled, then you can have the keys and move in whenever you feel.”

“It’ll be a bit before I move in officially,” Dahlia tells her as they step outside the trailer, a few people bustling around

“Why’s that?”

“I’m coming all the way from Louisiana, still gotta get my shit moved in.”

The woman whistles, eyes wide.

“Hell of a move, but I tell you, you won’t find anywhere as beautiful as Hope County.”

“I’m excited.”

“Hey, Darcy, we got someone new coming in?” A woman asks, holding a kid on her hip, looking Dahlia up and down.

“Yeah, we’re just getting her squared away.”

“I’m Ruth, it’s always nice to see a new face.”

“Thanks,” Dahlia awkwardly scratches the back of her head, “I, uh, really appreciate the warm welcome.”

People aren’t her strong suit, she just never feels like she knows what to say, so she’d rather not say anything.

“Shy girl, don’t worry we’ll knock that out of you, real quick. We’re like a big ole family here at the Moonflower.”

“I’ll do my best not to get in the way.”

“Pfft, fuck that, you better be out here getting piss faced with everyone else when the Boshaw’s throw their next barbecue.”

“They’ll really find any excuse to get drunk, won’t they?” Darcy laughs, running a hand through her dark pixie cut.

“I don’t even know why they still let Sharky in here, dude got banned from renting, but can still show up, do his laundry and get drunk, makes no damn sense.”

“Y’know damn well, my mom and dad don’t have the heart to ban him completely.”

“Yeah, yeah, but if he sets my trailer on fire again, we’re gonna be having another chat,” the toddler squirms, trying to break away for something, “someone is getting fussy, I’ll see ya around, stranger.”

Dahlia waves goodbye to Ruth, a smile playing at her lips. The trailer park definitely seems to be a bit on the chaotic side from the sounds of it, but the warm welcome eases her nerves. She really can see herself settling in and finding some happiness.

She goes with Darcy and takes care of the last of the details, a new key in her hand. Pride swells in her chest, it’s just a trailer, but she has her own place. She’s an adult who’s adulting.

Once everything at the Moonflower is settled, Dahlia’s back at her hotel, haphazardly tossing her things in her luggage before check out time. Always late. Everything settled, she dashes down to the reception desk, the woman has been thankfully kind about the whole sleepwalking fiasco last night. Not only did she bring Dahlia back in with a blanket, she even had the kitchen make her some hot chocolate before she went to sleep.

“You checking out?”

“Yeah, gotta rush back home.”

“Ah, we gonna see more of you in Hope County.” There’s a hopeful lilt to the woman’s voice and it makes Dahlia smile, the people in this county are really friendly.

“I’m moving here, actually.”

“That’s wonderful! Ah, I’m sure you’ll fit right in, I have some friend who I know would just adore you. Let me know once you’ve settled in.”

“Uh, will do, thanks.”

A quick wave bye and Dahlia’s headed out the door, climbing back on her back to ride the long way back to Reinette.

It’s a long way, a pit stop in Denver along the way to keep her from losing her mind from exhaustion. She finds herself at the same roach motel she stayed at along the way to Hope County, no reason to go digging for something else. It’s past midnight when she’s checked into her room and is throwing her stuff on a creaking bed, staring at a stained ceiling. She already misses the hotel in Hope County.

Her joints pop and crack as she heads to the shower; she washes and hums along to her music and she half expects the odd hallucinations to return. It’s later in the day and she’s no doubt more exhausted now than she was last night. But, nothing happens. Her eyes are the same familiar brown when she looks in the mirror, no sirens try to lure her away, and she doesn’t find herself stumbling through a labyrinth.

She wakes up the next morning in the dingy little bed and she’s back on the road as soon as she can get there. By nightfall she’s made her way back to Reinette, pulling up in front of Lloyd and Caroline’s farmhouse.

The large wooden home with warm amber light seeping out from the windows. It looks and feels like a home. Sometimes, it feels like it could be Dahlia’s.

“Stray!” Lloyd yells out as soon as she’s stepped foot inside, pulling her into a warm bone crushing hug before she can say a word. She melts into it, hugging him right back, letting the heat of him chase away the chill outside.

“C’mon, we’ve been waiting on ya,” he tells her after he reluctantly pulls away from the hug, tugging her towards the dinner table. The smell of homemade stew hitting her nose and making her stomach growl, she can’t remember a time before Lloyd and Caroline where she could come home to an actual cooked meal. She doesn’t think it ever existed.

“So, what exactly happened, something about a bar?” Caroline asks, as Dahlia begins to gobble up her food.

“Well,” she slurs out her words around her mouthful of food, unwilling to stop eating just for a conversation, “there’s some bar in Fall’s End, some jackass tried to rob it and next thing I know Whitehorse is calling me his Junior Deputy.”

“Junior Deputy?” Caroline refills Dahlia’s bowl as soon as she hears the spoon scratching against the china, her eyebrow is raised, and Lloyd looks like he’s holding back a laugh.

“Thanks, uh, I guess it’s a term they use for their rookie deputies up there.” She shrugs, the term was strange, but she didn’t give it much more thought.

Lloyd’s unable to hold back his laughter anymore, face going beet red as he bursts into chuckles. Dahlia narrows her eyes at him, unsure what exactly could be so funny.

“That’s what they call the program for the little kids, Stray, when you give ‘em cardboard badges and stickers, they’re Junior Deputies. Earl was giving you shit, you were just too dumb to notice.”

Heat crawls up Dahlia’s face, she’s not sure if it’s from anger or embarrassment. Either way, she’s not happy and finds herself throwing a dinner roll at Lloyd’s head.

“Hey. I’m not dealing with any mess,” Caroline threatens, but Dahlia is busy glaring at Lloyd.

“He knows damn well I’m not a kid.”

“No one would know just by looking at ya.”

“You waste one more roll, you’ll be doing the dishes by yourself.”

Dahlia lowers her arm and instead shoves it in her mouth, looking at Caroline as she chews it, trying to ask if she’s happy now without the words, but the older woman simply rolls her eyes.

“Look, you know damn well that hazing is part of a new job, you aren’t gonna manage to avoid it.”

“Yeah, yeah, one of the other deputies was busting my balls before I even got the job.”

“Just means they knew you’d get the job,” Lloyd says with a grin.

“I’m pretty sure he’s just an asshole.”

“You thought that about Chase, too.” Chase is one of the officers for the Reinette department, a little shit.

“Yeah and I was right, Chase is an asshole.”

“But you don’t mind it anymore.”

“Sure...we’ll go with that.”

“Was everyone there giving you a hard time?”

“Uh,” her heart seems to beat a little faster when she thinks of Hudson, what is wrong with her, “no, the other deputy was…nice…”

Caroline and Lloyd shoot each other some look, a meaning behind it that Dahlia can’t catch.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, just for some reason when I met that deputy, I just got all weird, I guess.”

“Weird?”

“Yeah, like my heart was racing, I felt like I was burning up. It was super weird.”

“Oh my god.” Caroline places a hand to her smiling mouth, looking over at Lloyd like she just struck gold.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it.”

“Can’t believe what?” Dahlia asks, what the fuck kind of conversation are they having with their eyes, what are they freaking out about.

“I was starting to think it wasn’t gonna happen, which I mean, is fine some people just don’t feel that sort of way. But, here we are.”

“She really is growing up,” Caroline remarks, still smiling.

“I don’t know what you’re freaking out about, I’m probably just allergic to her perfume or something, I don’t know.” That makes sense, right? Why are they freaking out?

“Her?” Caroline raises an eyebrow, why does it matter? Why does any of this matter?

“Eh, lets be honest, Care Bear, are you really surprised?”

“No, but it’s nice to know, would have been nicer to know when I was trying to set her up with Susan’s boy.”

“Ugh, Susan’s boy, guy or girl Stray needs someone with more than two braincells.”

“She barely has any braincells.”

“Rude.”

“That’s exactly why she needs someone with a brain! You can’t have two idiots, that’s how someone ends up dead. You can have a smart person and another smart person, you can have an idiot and a smart person. But you can’t have two idiots, it’s a disaster in the making.”

“Hey, I’m not an idiot!”

“Look, it’s not meant to be an insult.”

“That’s literally the only way it can be meant.”

“I don’t mean that you’re stupid, you’re just…what’s the word I’m looking for Caroline?”

“Stupid.”

“I will start throwing food again.”

“Okay, okay, lets change the subject for now,” Lloyd holds his hands up in mock surrender, “that bar you were talking about in Falls End, wasn’t the Spread Eagle was it?”

Lloyd was actually born and raised in Hope County, but he left when he was around twenty-eight. He always tells the story of him moving to Reinette like it was magic, taking over an inherited farm from an estranged relative after their death, meeting Caroline, falling instantly and love, raising more foster children than Dahlia could imagine. They had just stopped taking in foster children, having adopted and raised the last one into adulthood, when Dahlia ended up in their barn. Lloyd, ever the dramatic, likened it to adopting cats and then once you’re done adopting, a stray just wanders in and adopts you.

“Yeah, you know the place?”

“Gary and Irene always use to give me and Earl discounts, it was always the first place we went after a shift.”

She can see that, so easily in her mind, the two men when they were younger leaving a long drawn out shift to let off steam in the local bar. It’s hard to imagine just how good of friends they must have been, spending time together after every workday and staying in contact even when Lloyd moved so far away. She can’t imagine having a friend like that.

“I think the woman running it was called Mary May, something like that?”

“Seriously, holy shit, Mary May was their little girl, my god she’s all grown up.”

“You’re old.”

“Thanks, Stray.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You know, we should take a trip back to Montana sometime Care Bear, it’s been a while, plus we got a new reason to visit.”

“By the way, do you know what Eden’s Gate is?” The weird religious group is still on her mind, it seems to be all over Hope County. If they’ve been there for a long while, then surely Lloyd would know what it is and who they are. He raises an eyebrow and she can practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Can’t say that I do, why you ask Stray?”

“Some religious group or something, they’re all over the county, even built a damn statue. Figured you might know what they are.”

“You mean, like the big deer statue near the Whitetail mountains?”

“No, like a statue of a dude, like their founder or some shit, dude with a manbun.” She uses her hands to pull her hair back in a little bun-esque shape, as if the visual aid is necessary.

“Yeah…that, I’ve never seen any of that, you sure, you ain’t losing it, Stray?”

“Yes, I’m very sure I’m not losing it. They don’t seem like bad folks, the one I met, but they’re definitely strange.”

“You’re not gonna go and try to find religion in Hope County, are you?” Caroline asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh fuck no.”

“I was about to say, I haven’t gotten to set foot in a church in two years.”

“I’m pretty sure she’d burst into flames.”

Lloyd and Caroline share a smile, cracking up at Dahlia’s expense as she sticks a tongue out at them.

“Hope they’re not the Jehovah Witness types, who go door to door,” Dahlia grumbles, the very thought making her stomach churn the stew inside of it. She’d rather blow her brains out then listen to someone preaching at her when she’s trying to relax.

“If they are, they’re about to meet their worst nightmare.”

She can’t help but grin, the chatting continues for a while, just enjoying a cozy night in with the couple. Before, she knows it the food is gone and the night has gone on longer than usual. Lloyd and Caroline typically sleep early, rise early, while Dahlia is more of a night owl.

But there’s an unspoken reluctance for the couple to turn in. Even as the moon hangs high in the sky, as Caroline and Lloyd yawn at the table. He even mentions playing a board game, cards, something. When she tells them to go to bed, Caroline nearly drifting off on his shoulder. She’s pulled into another hug, caring touches lingering as they finally drag themselves off to bed; tired voices slurring out goodnights.

Maybe it’s egotistical, but the hesitance seems to hint at more. An understanding that this is likely among one of the last nights she’ll spend here with them and the desire to make it drag on as long as possible. To soak in every last moment of her being here.

She knows she isn’t the greatest person to live with or even be around, that anyone should be happy to be rid of a leech like her. But, they’re far too kind for that.

Dahlia takes a slow walk to the room she’s called her own for the past two years. She hasn’t changed anything in the time she’s been here, despite how much the couple has told her she could. Piles of clothes on the floor are the only thing that could be considered her personal touch. The small bed frame creaks as she sits down on the side, a second later the door is pushed open by Lucy, Lloyd and Caroline’s border collie.

She lays a fluffy head on Dahlia’s knee and she buries her fingers into the fur, memories of the first time she held the dog. It was the first day she found herself here, hunkered down in their barn for shelter for the night, rain pouring down. She was scared that Lucy would bite her, aggressive towards a stranger. But just as kind as her owners, Lucy just shuffled herself closer to the drenched teenager, helping keep her warm through the stormy night.

She’s changed so much in these past two years.

Muscle tone and squish where was once a sack of bones, her fingers no longer able to slot in the spots between her ribs. Skin a healthier tan instead of the sickly pale it was that first night, ink now covering sections of that skin. Her first paychecks ending up in tattoos and clothes, taking control of her body and wardrobe in a way she’s never had before. For years her thick dark hair hung in a curtain down past her chest, that night and many nights before, it was tangled in thick dirty knots, matted to her skull in places.

The very first day she was allowed to shower here, she grabbed a pair of scissors and hacked it off to the best of her abilities. Caroline later cleaned up the choppy job and now she’s found herself with a short bob of dark brown, nearly black hair. She’s really started to come into her own, feeling like her own person and becoming who she wants to be.

She just wishes that was a person who could stay in Reinette. This is what has to happen, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t going to miss everything here. Lloyd and Caroline being the biggest thing, but Lucy, living on the farm, so much. It’s not like she’s never going to see them again.

They’ll likely invite her back for visits, already making plans to visit her in Montana, but things are going to change. That’s unavoidable and undeniable. It’s scary, but most things worth doing are.

Dahlia sees the sunrise before she finally manages to sleep in that bed for the last time.

The next day, or more accurately after she’s gotten a few hours of sleep, everything is a frantic blur of activity as she tries to prepare for the move. It’s mostly clothes, a laptop, a portable game, and a few books. Nothing major or impressive, a tight pang in her chest as

“Come on in.”

The door creaks open and she looks over her shoulder to see Lloyd, something in his hand. His fingers clench and unclench, there's something in his hand, he shuffles a bit in the doorway.

"Something up?" She asks, throwing a few more shirts in her bag.

"Uh, I, well, what's this?" His eyes are drawn towards her open duffle bag, the same one she brought with her to Hope County, she's just been throwing her stuff in without much thought.

She raises an eyebrow as he starts to shift some stuff around in her bag, pulling out a heavy white book with that familiar cross like symbol. How did that get in there? Chills reverberate up her spine, goosebumps raising on her skin, it's starting to feel like this Eden's Gate shit is following her everywhere.

"That was at the hotel, I uh, must have thrown it in my bag by accident?" It's the only thing that makes sense.

"First day there and you're robbing the hotel?"

"Shut up, I'll return it when I get back, but, uh, that's that religion I was talking about. Their book."

He drops what he was holding, it looks like a little booklet, homemade. She grabs it as he starts flipping through the weird religious tome, she opens up the booklet. A photobook, the first one is of her, Lloyd, and Caroline at the fair, big puffy bags of cotton candy in her hand. Second one her holding an alligator and grinning, they drug her out to an alligator ranch one day, knowing how much she loves animals. Pictures from the beach trip they took her on, photos of her and Lucy. A photo from her first day at the station with everyone crowded around her.

"Book of Joseph...god that's already creepy."

"Huh," nostalgia interrupted she peers over at the book, seeing a portrait of a guy, “that's him!" "What?"

"That's the guy who had the fuckin' statue of him, their founder or whatever."

"Who the hell wants his face hanging over 'em? Seems like a total creep."

“I don't know, he looks like Norman Bates there." She grimaces, the way he's glowering is entirely too reminiscent of the famous mother loving killer's signature look.

“Don't get it, I uh, hey, why are you looking at that?" He asks, peering down at the booklet in her hand.

"It's mine, I'm allowed to look at it."

"Who the hell said it's yours?"

"So, you weren't giving this to me as a gift, you just made it for fun?"

"Caroline made it and ya know, something to remember us by and..." His blue eyes blurring with tears.

"I'm moving states, not going to war, Jesus Christ."

"You're leaving, I'm gonna miss you."

“No one is dying, stop, oh my god, stop crying you baby." She knocks her fist into his shoulder, no force or animosity behind it.

“I haven't cried this much since Maya left for college," he tells her, talking about his youngest adopted daughter, who had left the home just a year or so before Dahlia showed up in their barn. The couple barely got a year of an empty nest before she barged in.

“Are you done?” She asks him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for the new fresh onslaught of tears to poor out.

“Yeah, yeah, by the way everyone down at the station wants to see you before you head out.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know, maybe it’s ‘cause you’re leaving and they like you, some a little too much, as far as I’m concerned. “

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, my sweet naïve child,” Lloyd dramatically cups a hand on the back of her head and pulls in for a hug, “whoever was supposed to teach ya about the birds and the bees, really fucked up, didn’t they?”

“Shut up!” She groans, pushing him away, she’s not naïve. He just talks like a weirdo, she’s finally got her stuff all packed up, so she follows Lloyd out of the room.

Caroline is in the kitchen and has been all day, according to Lloyd she’s been cooking up a storm for the past couple days, ever since Dahlia first left for her interview.

“You coming down to the station with us?”

“Uh, I’ll meet you down there later.”

“Alrighty then.”

Dahlia’s heart sinks, a pang there as she sets up her luggage and bags to be tried down to her motorcycle, she plans on getting on the road right after this little meeting. She knows it’s silly, but she was hoping Caroline would go with them. It will be the last they see of each other for a long while, she doesn’t want Lloyd’s sobbing, but she’d like at least a little more…fanfare. But, Caroline seems fairly nonchalant.

“You ready to get going?”

“Yeah.”

Lloyd hops in his pickup truck, firing it up and driving into town with Dahlia riding her bike after him.

There’s an extra weight to her sigh as she parks in front of the little police station, the one she’s been reporting to every day for the past two year and this the last time she’ll visit. Lloyd doesn’t even bother to wait around for her as she stares at the building, soaking it in for the last time before she finally trails in behind him.

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices cheer out as she steps into the modest station, Micah and Chance two officers blowing on little party kazoos afterwards.

“What the fuck?”

“You didn’t think we could let you go without throwing you a party, did you?” Alexis tells her, squeezing Dahlia’s shoulder.

Alexis has the most experience here after Lloyd and if he’d bother to retire before the station goes out, she’d be next in line. Micah and Chance are the resident dumbass officers, but they’re entertaining if nothing else.

There’s a banner across the station office, Goodbye Stray. A sheet cake saying Good Luck on a table and Chance is throwing around confetti like a weird shredded paper fairy.

“You guys are so dumb.”

“We’re trying to be nice, brat,” Chance tells her, sprinkling confetti directly in her hair.

“Come on, I’ll cut you a piece of cake before he covers it in paper,” Micah offers.

Once the initial yell and Chance has run out of confetti, the party winds down into something more casual. Dahlia cramming cake in her mouth, with her feet propped up in Micah’s lap as they talk about everything. There’s a few other cops in the station, but most are on patrol and couldn’t make it. But Alexis, Micah, and Chance are by far the ones apart from Lloyd that she’s grown the closest too.

Which makes it all the more depressing that the station is slowly dying out. Each of them has already started building their list of places to apply to once the inevitable happens.

“I’m gonna miss you assholes,” Dahlia brings herself to say, after a moment.

“Finally, she admits it,” Lloyd yells out excitedly.

“Shut up.”

“You’re gonna make some great friends over in Hope County.”

“No one’s gonna be better than us, though.”

“Shut up, Chance.”

Dahlia can’t help but laugh at Alexis and Chance’s interaction, she really is going to miss these dumbasses. She doesn’t make friends easy, so parting with them and getting new ones is just that much more aggravating. Pratt was a dick and Hudson does weird things to her, how could she become friends with them? She doesn’t want to go to work everyday and either hate or be nauseous around her coworkers.

“My friend Earl will keep an eye on her.”

“Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid you mean,” Alexis teases and heat flushes up Dahlia’s cheeks. Why does everyone think she’s stupid, why does Alexis have to think she’s stupid?

“You like it up in Montana?” Micah asks after a beat of silence.

“I do, it’s colder up there which sucks, but it’s beautiful. Whitehorse is nice, I’ve met some friendly people,” she thinks of the couple with Boomer and the people of the trailer park.

“I’m glad then.”

“Watch out or Micah’s gonna be throwin’ in an application there just to follow you,” Lloyd says, grinning.

“Would you stop?! I just wanted to make sure, she was going to be happy.”

“Sure, you were.”

They talk about anything and everything, Dahlia is the first one to leave, but all of them have looked into where they want to be post-Reinette. Alexis is looking into big cities, lots of work, showing just how talented she is. Chance isn’t going far, a county or two over at most. Micah still isn’t sure, but he’s thinking of leaving the state.

The night drifts on, until the cake is gone, easily two-thirds of it ending up in the void Dahlia calls a stomach. Outside the sky has become a wash of oranges, pinks, and purple as the sun sets. It’s time to get going.

“I gotta get on the road, if I have any chance of getting there with enough time to settle in.”

Dahlia reluctantly stands from her chair, the time’s come. The last goodbye, for now at least, she hopes that they’ll stay in some form of contact after this. Alexis is the first to pull her into a hug and Dahlia freezes a bit, taken aback.

“You’re gonna do great things out there.”

Dahlia’s heart pangs and she squeezes Alexis back, hoping the strength of her hold can communicate how much those words mean to her. After a moment, they separate. Chance and Micah looking at her now.

“Don’t think this gets you out of your promise, twenty-first birthday, you’re letting me take you out and get you piss faced drunk,” Chance tells her, grinning at his own stupid ideas.

“If you wanna drive out to Montana just to see me drunk, that’s on you.”

“Don’t underestimate my stubbornness.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Just so you know, if you need anything, all you have to do is call and ask,” Micah tells her, squeezing her shoulder, but she can tell he’s holding back.

“You can hug me, if you want.”

And then his arms are around her, hugging her tight to his body. She squeezes him right back. A few moments pass, before they finally pull apart.

“Well now I want a hug,” Chance says, upon the realization he’s the only who hasn’t gotten one.

“Come here then, dumbass.”

And then they’re hugging, Chance going the extra mile to pull her up off the ground. Another beat of just enjoying the warmth of someone who for some reason cares about her. She’ll never understand why. Why any of these people opened their hearts to her, but they did, and she’ll always be thankful for it.

Lloyd walks her out once Chance has finally freed her, the sun sinking lower in the sky, she buries her hands in her pockets. Her throat is tight, it’s getting closer and closer to the time to leave.

“You sure, you can’t just stay one more night here?”

“It takes over a day just to get there.”

“But uhhh,” Lloyd is nervously looking around as he stutters, like he’s trying to stall.

“You alright?”

“Well….um, it’s just…finally!” Lloyd yells as they hear the rumble of an engine coming in, Caroline’s car pulling into the parking lot.

“Caroline?”

“Thank god, I managed to catch you.” The older woman gets out of her car, tucking a short strand of blonde hair back behind her ear, she opens the passenger side and is rummaging for something.

“What’s going on?”

“Here, we go.” Caroline emerges from her passenger seat with a towering pile of Tupperware, all filled with various meals.

“What the hell is this?”

“You can’t cook, how the hell else are you supposed to eat up in Montana,” Caroline says, shoving the containers into Dahlia’s arms.

“There’s restaurants, microwave meals, I have options.”

“I’m not letting you eat garbage the whole time you’re there, this should at least get you through the first couple months.”

“I, I don’t have room for six-hundred plastic containers, I drive a motorcycle.”

“Eh, I’m sure you can fit ‘em into the under-seat compartment,” Lloyd says, already lifting the seat on Dahlia’s motorcycle and taking containers from her arms to force inside.

Dahlia’s laughing by the time he’s forced the last of them inside, looks like she was proven wrong.

“So, I’m just gonna be sitting on three months’ worth of meals all the way to Montana.”

“Pretty sure that’s more like a week’s worth for you, but it’s better than nothing.”

Dahlia smiles and chews her lip, not sure what to say. Emotion and sentimentality rising up in her. She feels like she has so much to say, every word cobbling together to catch in her throat. But she can’t just let it go, even if she has to force herself to dislodge a single of those words, she has to do it.

“I…,” that’s a start, technically, “I, really, really, really, really don’t deserve you guys. Th-there’s not enough reallys in the world, but I’m serious, I-”

“Stray, you deserve all the good that’s comes your way, hell you deserve a lot more of it.”

“I really don’t, I, I owe you guys so much and I know I can’t ever repay you for everything. But, I, I at least want you to know just how much it all means to me. If it wasn’t for you guys, I’d, be rotting in a gutter somewhere, I mean.”

“Hey, hey,” she’s being pulled into Lloyd’s chest before she knows it, hugged tight against his chest, when did she start crying?

Her face feels like it’s on fire and her head is throbbing. After a moment, Lloyd pulls away. He places a hand on her shoulder and the other cups her jaw, forcing her to look at him through her tear-filled eyes. All her yelling at him to keep it together, don’t be a crybaby. And she’s the one falling apart.

“You don’t owe us anything. We did our best to do right by you, because that’s what you deserve. Okay, you deserve a home and a family and people who love you.”

“Uhhh, agree to disagree…?” What the hell is her voice doing? It’s so broken and cracked, everything she says dragging out of her throat.

“No disagreeing,” Caroline chimes in, her eyes soft and motherly.

“We just want you to be happy, you deserve it.”

“You think you can do that for us? Just be happy and you’ll more than pay back anything you think you owe us.”

“I’ll try, I guess,” she murmurs, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Good girl,” Caroline says, reaching out to ruffle Dahlia’s hair. The young girl laughs through her tears, pull Lloyd in for another hug before forcing one on Caroline.

Dahlia wipes away the last of her tears.

“Uh, sorry about that.”

“No apologies, call as soon as you get there. We’ll try to come out and visit just as soon as we can.”

“This ain’t goodbye forever, Stray, we’ll see you again before you know it.”

A bright silver moon hangs in the sky by the time she brings herself to part with them for the last time, climbing onto her motorcycle.

Two mornings later and she’s pulling into the Moonflower Trailer Park, the sun rising overhead. A smile stretches across her lips as she pulls in, a few people already milling about in the early morning. She notices Ruth, helping ease her kid down the little slide in the miniature playground that’s at the center of the trailer park. The woman waves at her and Dahlia returns the gesture as she parks near her trailer.

She pulls off her helmet and thanks for a moment, locking up and keeping her motorcycle safe will be difficult with this set up. Moving it into her trailer would be an option, but it’s be a pain the ass with moving it every day. There’s a decent chunk of land behind where her trailer sits, not enough for another to move in there, but enough to mark a pseudo backyard.

Maybe she can build a shed or something? She’ll have to double check on the rules and what’s allowed.

For now, Dahlia busies herself with moving her things into the trailer. She basically tosses her bags and luggage in, not bothering to properly unpack things. The biggest thing is moving Caroline’s meal into the fridge and freezer. Once everything is where it needs to be, she grabs a shower and changes her clothes. She’ll have to do some laundry when she gets a chance.

Dahlia stretches her muscles as she steps back out of her trailer, the activity has picked up somewhat, more people milling about and having conversations about who knows what. She makes a mental list of the things she has to get done; checking about a shed, getting some groceries in, doing her laundry and probably some stuff she hasn’t even thought about yet.

She makes a beeline for the registration building, peering inside and seeing a man talking to Darcy. Taking her chances of a long wait; she steps inside and loiters behind the stranger. Darcy’s bright blues land on Dahlia and the man follows the gaze, it seems like everyone in the county has a set of pretty light eyes. All greens and blues from what she’s seen. The receptionist at the hotel, both deputies and Whitehorse, the dispatcher at the station, Mary May, Darcy, and even Ruth. She’s pretty sure the only other pair of brown eyes she’s seen since she’s been here was the guy who nearly pulled a gun on her.

“You need something, hon?”

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re fine, darlin’, we were just shooting the shit.” Pet names and light eyes seem to both be trends here.

“I was just wondering if I could build a shed behind my trailer, to keep my motorcycle locked up.”

“As long as you aren’t blocking anyone or anything, go for it.”

Dahlia gives a little thumbs up in acknowledgement and starts to make a bee line back out, time to find out where the hell to get supplies for a shed. The man starts to follow her out, quickly catching up to her as she’s making her way back to her trailer.

“If you’re looking to build something, there’s a nice hardware and carpentry store, they give you all the supplies and instructions. You just gotta put it together,” he finishes up as they reach her motorcycle.

“Sounds good, you got a number for them?”

“Yeah, I,” he looks at her motorcycle, “you got a way to haul it?”

“Nah, I’d have to rent a truck.”

“I got a pickup, if you order it, I can pick it up for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m down there most days anyway, I’m Liam by the way.”

“I-”

“Nice bike,” another voice yells out, a guy with scraggly hair looking at Dahlia’s motorcycle, “it yours?”

“Hey, Clyde,” Liam greets him.

“Yeah, 2009 Yamaha FZ1; guy’s kid totaled it and I nearly rebuilt it from scratch.” She tells him, smiling at the memory of finding the wrecked bike in Lloyd’s garage.

The three talk for some time about the specs of her motorcycle and talking about the place Liam recommended. He gives her the number and after some relenting agrees to be paid for at least the gas money. After some time and Clyde rambling about the vintage motorcycle he had as a teenager, she manages to tear herself away from the conversation to make the call. She reserves the materials and Liam is planning on heading that way shortly.

That taken care of for now, she decides to get her laundry taken care of. She grabs her bag of dirty laundry out of her trailer and makes a beeline for the laundry half building. It’s a strange roofed in area with no doors. How they manage to maintain the machine is beyond her. Seems like a nightmare when bad weather hits.

She rattles out her coins and gets what she needs, cooking may evade her but she at the very least knows how to do her own laundry. Dahlia bends over to start shoving her clothes in, she’s struggling to find her other sock when she gets the sense she’s being watched, someone’s eyes trained on her backside. She tucks a lock of hair back behind her ear as she stands back up and turns around.

“Uh, ah…” The guy awkwardly stumbles back, not really forming any words as he avoids her eyes. He’s taller than her; as are most people. Other than children, she hasn’t found a single person in Hope County shorter than her.

He scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck, why was he looking at her?

"There something on my shorts?" She brushes a hand down the denim, searching for something. It wouldn't be the first time she's managed to sit in something gross.

"Uh, shit, sorry I'm just a man, I can't help it."

"Okay…" That didn't really answer her question. Weird guy, she decides and focuses on going back to her laundry.

"No harassing the new girl, Boshaw." Ruth comments as she walks in, laundry basket on her hip.

“I wasn’t doing nothing.” He tries to defend himself and Dahlia is left even more confused.

“Don’t let him bug you, he doesn’t even live here. Boshaws are good for nothing but a party,” Ruth tells her, clapping a hand on Dahlia’s back. She just shakes her head, not worth dealing with.

By the time Dahlia finishes up her laundry the sound of a backfiring truck engine is making its way back into the trailer park. Liam with a truck bed filled with hardwood and all the stuff she needs for her shed.

“Me and Clyde will help you put it together, if you want.” Liam offers, him and Clyde already helping her unload the materials.

“I mean it’d go quicker, if I had more hands,” Dahlia says, she doesn’t need the help necessarily and doesn’t want to be a bother, but she’d appreciate it anyway.

“Where exactly do you want it?”

“Just right back behind my trailer, let’s see.”

The three of them move the supplies to where she needs the shed built, Dahlia’s taking a glance at the building instructions and when she looks back up, Liam and Clyde have managed to grab a radio and a pack of beer. It’s not even noon.

“Want one?” Clyde offers her a can.

“Nah, I’m under 21.”

“Pfff, never stopped anyone.” He shrugs before downing the can himself. Maybe as a cop she should give a shit about that statement, but the drinking age is dumb. Even if she feels obligated to listen to it due to her job, she can admit it’s stupid.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, sweetheart, where are you from?”

“Louisiana.”

“The hell you doing out here?”

“Moved for work, you two Hope County natives?”

“Born and raised, wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“You guy’s got any recommendations of shit to do here?”

She happily listens to them ramble about lady’s night at The Spread Eagle, O’Hara’s Haunted House being the best place for a scare, hiking trails in the Whitetail Mountains, the best fishing spots, the 8-bit Pizza Bar’s games, and raving about the burgers at The Grill Steak. The entire time they’re all working, laughing, and the pair of them throwing back beers.

Sweat is coating Dahlia’s skin by the time they finish, and it feels nice to be able to stand back to look at what’s been accomplished. Put together with hard work and the help of her new neighbors.

“Hell yeah, we got that knocked out in no time,” Clyde boasts, holding his hand out for a high five that she gives right away.

“Here,” Liam tosses her the padlock he picked up for it, all packaged with it’s little key. She pushes her bike inside, already thinking of adding hooks and shelves, for her helmet and other odds and ends. She can really make something with it. She’s more excited to put work into her motorcycle’s home than her own trailer. Go figure.

She locks it up and hooks the key on her keychain. One more thing taken care of.

“I really appreciate it, you guys didn’t have to do this. Uh, I can’t cook for shit, but if you want I can buy you l-”

Engine revving again, better shape than Liam’s backfiring pickup, an old green one comes pulling into the trailer park. Dahlia’s eyes widen in surprise when she realizes who’s at the wheel, Sheriff Whitehorse. The tension of the trailer park draws tight, no more signs of the laughing easy going nature she was getting comfortable in. Liam, Clyde, and every trailer park resident as far as Dahlia can see are now staring daggers at the Sheriff.

No sign of peturbment, Whitehorse parks and hops out of the front seat of his truck, right next to Dahlia and her two new friends. He stops to grab something from the passenger side.

“The hell are you doing here?!” Clyde asks low and threatening.

“Came to see my new Junior Deputy, figured it’d be good for you to get your uniforms,” Whitehorse tells her, green deputy shirts in hand.

“Thanks, Sheriff.” She takes the uniforms from his hand, feeling those glares that were on Whitehorse being turned towards her.

“You...settling in alright, Rook?”

“Uh, yeah, I think…” She thought she was. But, now she has her doubts.

“That’s good, just wanted to check in on you.”

“I appreciate it, I was just about to buy them lunch, if you w-”

“We’re good,” Liam says, definitely with a gruff sound to his voice.

“Are you s-”

Liam and Clyde are already storming away, smiles and laughter drained from their faces and replaced with angry tension. What did she do? Why are they mad? She clenches her jaw and chews her bottom lip as she watches what she thought were her new friends walk off.

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch, Rook.” Whitehorse claps a large hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting during her confusion. He gently turns her towards the passenger side of his truck, and she climbs in, fiddling with the uniforms in her lap; the Hope County Sheriff’s Department patch rough against her fingers.

The engine revs to life as Whitehorse climbs in, the radio humming out a country song. She hates not at least knowing what she did wrong.

“Not gonna lie, when I heard you moved into The Moonflower, I got worried about ya Rook.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hmm, it’s where a lot of the more...suspicious citizens of Hope County live. They don’t have a lot of respect for cops, none actually. More likely to call you a pig than eat lunch with you. Not bad people, but they don’t have any love for law enforcement.”

“So...I’m a cop who just moved into a trailer park of criminals is what you're telling me.”

“Basically.”

“And thanks to you, they all for sure know I’m a cop now.”

“Would have found out when you had to arrest one of ‘em, this seemed a bit better.”

It’s stupid to be upset, she knows that it’s stupid to be upset about losing people she’s known all of five hours. But it felt nice to be welcomed with such open arms and to know that’s already gone to shit. She focuses on her uniforms in her lap because it’s easier than dealing with the lump in her throat and the churn of her stomach. No name tag or badge on her uniforms.

“Where’s my name tag and badge?”

“We’re a small operation, Rook. We’re not investing in patches and a badge until we know you’re staying in for the long haul.”

“I also found out about your junior deputy crap, I’m not a kid in high school.”

“Not far off from it.”

He’s looking off across the road to make sure it’s safe to turn, so she uses the moment of him looking away to stick her tongue out at him. Does it make her look any more mature? No. Does she care? No.

“Caught that, Rookie.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Sounds fake.”

They pull into the parking lot of Aubrey’s Diner, a big restaurant with a pink roof. Whitehorse brings the truck into park, Dahlia tucks the uniforms into the backseat before hopping out of the truck. The sheriff squeezes her shoulder as they walk into the restaurant, as much as he likes teasing her, he seems keen on trying to comfort her. Maybe he just feels sorry for her and her shitty luck.

“Hey, my name is Cassie, I’ll be your waitress today. Can you take a seat, right over here.” A young girl, probably around Dahlia’s age with long black hair helps show them to a booth. Whitehorse takes his hat off as he sits down.

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” The waitress hands them menus, there’s a mess of bruises across her forearm. Mixes of blues, purples, and some more faded greens. The indents of fingerprints on her skin.

“A black coffee, please.”

“Uh, whatever soda you have is fine, what happened to your arm?”

The girl’s eyes go wide, reminiscent of a deer in the headlights. She gives an awkward tight smile and pushes a lock of hair back behind her ear.

“Oh, I was just horsing around with my four wheeler, nothing major. I’ll go get your drinks, right away.”

“You worry about everyone, don’t you?”

“You don’t get bruises like that from a four-wheeler.”

“You gonna do something about it?”

“Sure as shit gonna try,” she manages to catch the smile on Whitehorse’s face before she looks at the menu, “now, if you’re paying, what’s the limit?”

“Get whatever you want.”

“Do you actually mean that? Or are you trying to be nice, ‘cause I can and will eat you out of house and home if you let me.”

He laughs a little; a dry chuckle, like the idea of her being able to eat that much is ridiculous. She should try to go somewhat easy on him, first impressions or something. She’ll settle on a stack of pancakes and a double burger and fries.

There are a few people in the diner and when Cassie returns, Dahlia decides now isn’t the time. She doesn’t want to embarrass or make her uncomfortable. Even she has a smidge more tact than that. Cassie takes their orders and Dahlia feels Whitehorse staring at her.

“You gonna gorge yourself to make a point?”

“Pfff, this ain’t nothing to me,” Dahlia tells him with a shrug, drinking her soda, an awkward beat of silence following.

“You know, it you may not have picked a great place to settle in, but I think you’re gonna like it here, Rook.”

“I’m hoping.”

“A lot of people aren’t gonna like you. Aren’t gonna like your job, or what you have to do. You can’t let it get you down. The people here are good, most of ‘em will take you in with open arms.”

“They literally turned their backs on me, like physically looked at me in disgust and turned around,” Cassie brings their food back out, “thanks.”

“You know why I took a chance on you?”

“’Cause of the robbery thing?’ She asks as she begins dumping syrup on her peach pancakes before shoving a forkful in her mouth.

“I was gonna give you the probie position before that.”

“What!?” She slurs out around the food in her mouth.

“Well, yeah,” his blue eyes are soft, and he reminds her of Lloyd more than he ever has before, “you’re good people, Rook. And I’m not gonna be the only person who sees that. Anyone’d be damn lucky to have you in their corner.”

She swallows her mouthful of food, chewing the inside of her cheek as she weighs his words in her mind. Her heart is lighter, it’s nice knowing her new boss is rooting for her, sees something in her that’s worth seeing.

“That, uh, it means a lot,” this is too serious, “so, if you already knew you were gonna give me a shot before the interview ended, why the fuck did you wait until after to tell me?”

“Wouldn’t be any fun if I didn’t make you sweat at least a little.”

“I thought I fucked it all up!”

“Can’t be a cop if you don’t have a good poker face.”

“Its too good, I hate it.”

“Well, if you hate that, you’re gonna really hate this.”

“...and what would ‘this’ be?”

“You’ll be with Pratt on patrol.”

“What!?” She groans out, thinking about that smug asshole’s face.

“Pratt wasn’t too excited either, but I’m sure you two will manage.”

“Why can’t I work with Hudson?” Dahlia asks, though her voice catches strangely when she thinks about her. Heat prickling up under her skin. Whitehorse sighs as he leans back in the booth.

“I don’t want this to sound bad. You and Hudson are both perfectly capable officers. But I don’t like having two women officers partnered. I know it’s not right, but around here; perps will think they can push you around ‘cause you’re a woman. They’ll assume you’re soft. It’s not right, but it happens. I don’t want to put you in a bad situation right out of the gate, working with Pratt will make it easier on you.”

“That’s garbage, you may mean well, but it’s garbage.”

“There’s another reason too,” Whitehorse tells her with lopsided grin.

“And what’s that?”

“Rook, you could barely even talk to Hudson. I partner you with her and you’ll be a disaster.”

“What are you talking about? I talked to Hudson just fine.”

“You were bright red and stuttering; blind man could see your little crush.”

“Crush…?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow, like...feelings… That’s what everyone has been trying to say.

“Jesus criminy, that’s a whole new can of worms. You know what a crush is?”

“Yes, I know what a crush is, I just...never had one...I don’t think.”

“You feel like you’re burning up and gonna puke when you see her?”

“Maybe…”

“Like your heart is gonna explode out of your chest.”

“Uhhhh…”

“That’s a crush, Rook.”

She doesn’t even know Hudson, how the hell can she have a crush on her? You can’t have feelings for someone you don’t hardly know. She’s pretty though. Maybe it’s just physical attraction? Has she ever been even physically attracted to someone before?

“My head hurts.”

“I’m starting to think you’re even worse than taking on a high school kid.”

“Look, I don’t mess with that crap okay, I’ve never...ugh, can we move on?”

They’ve finished their food before they know it, Whitehorse just shaking his head at how easily she managed to gobble up all of the food she got. Dahlia grabs a napkin, doing her best to write down her phone number with it being actually legible. Her hand aches from the effort but it’s easy to read.

Cassie gives the bill and Whitehorse leaves a tip for her, once the young waitress starts to walk away, Dahlia excuses herself to go smoke. Though, she suspects the sheriff knows her actual intentions.

“Hey, Cassie,” Dahlia calls out and stops the waitress when she gets to a relatively secluded portion of the restaurant.

“Is there something else you need?”

“How old are you?”

“Uhh, 18, why?”

Not much younger, but she’s an adult, even a year younger this conversation would be a lot different.

“I can’t force or do much, unless you ask for it. But, I’m the new deputy with the station. I’m not saying for sure something is wrong, but if you need help, I want you to give me a call, alright?”

‘Um...thanks…” The girl awkwardly accepts the napkin before darting away and Dahlia clenches her jaw, knowing the chances of that call ever coming are slim. But at least she’s made an effort and if nothing else Cassie knows she has options. More than anyone ever did for her.

Maybe, she’ll go ahead and step outside for a smoke anyway.

She steps out and finds herself at the side of the building, where she lights up her cigarette. Dahlia fiddles with the edge of her thigh high socks as she takes a deep drag. She exhales a heavy cloud of smoke that drifts up through the sky, the afternoon sun rays beating down on her.

Among the trees something moves, a rustling of grass and brush followed by footsteps. Dahlia’s heart sinks when she sees her emerge. The girl from the hotel, the siren is walking down a grassy pathway. Her dress is a little different, no less white or lacy, but the sleeves are shorter and it comes off her shoulders, a white flower adorning her sandy colored hair. There’s a light grace to the way she walks, as if she’s on her own personal cloud floating along. She holds a book close to her chest.

Why is she seeing her again? Are her eyes playing tricks on her again?

Dahlia is moving without another thought, the siren’s call working it’s magic to draw her in again.

She expects the girl to vanish again, to fade into mist the second Dahlia gets too close, just as she had done time and time again that night. The second she grabs the woman’s shoulder, she’ll be gone. If the junior deputy even gets that close without the spectre fading away.

The heat of real flesh under her hand sends her spiraling back to reality. The girl jolting and staring at Dahlia with wide green eyes, scared and surprised at the grasp of a stranger. An expression unlike any seen in Dahlia’s hallucinations. She’s human, flesh and real, an actual person standing before her whom Dahlia just grabbed like a maniac. The panicky yells of others flood her ears. There are other people, a group of five or so people glaring daggers at Dahlia.

“What do you think you’re doing?” One of them yells, obviously ready to fight and Dahlia rips her hand off of the girl like she’s been scalded. What is she doing?

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry,” Dahlia gushes out a mess of apologies, “I, uh, thought I knew you from somewhere. I’m sorry, I just, sorry.”

“No, no need for sorries,” she’s speaking actual words for the first time, voice soft and melodic as she gently brings Dahlia’s hand into her own to intertwine their fingers, “you’re here for a reason, what’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, I-”

“Rookie, you ready to head out?” Whitehorse yells out from the diner, eyes narrowing a bit when he sees Dahlia with the strange woman.

“I gotta get going, again, I’m sorry, I, bye.” Dahlia’s off like a shot, ripping her hand from the woman’s and running back towards Whitehorse; desperate to escape the awkwardness.

She still feels those green eyes watching her as she jumps up into Whitehorse’s pickup. Dahlia settles into the passenger seat with a residual chill in her spine, she can’t put into words but something about this girl and the whole thing feels strange. The engine revs to life and the radio starts to play.

“You know that girl, Rook?”

“I thought I recognized her but, no.”

“You probably shouldn’t buddy up too close to the Seeds.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’re not too dangerous, they run a little religious group around the county, but they keep finding themselves in trouble lately it seems.”

“Reli- are they those Eve, Ed-”

“Project at Eden’s Gate, everyone calls ‘em peggies. They’re usually pretty harmless, but they always seem to be getting into hot water with the locals. Two of ‘em were the ones robbing The Spread Eagle that day you interviewed.”

“That doesn’t sound too harmless to me.”

“Stuff like that is rare, you just managed to land here at the right time.”

“Eh, I just know that I kept seeing random crap of theirs, from pamphlets to a book, and apparently that big freaking statue.” She glares at where she sees it over the horizon, the giant hunk of useless cement.

“Yeah, Joseph Seed is a real piece of work.”

“Wait, like, you’ve met him?”

“He’s had some run ins with us.”

“He’s like a currently living human being?”

“Last time I checked.”

“I, what the fuck, I thought he was like their old founder who died or something. You know from like the 1800’s or something. How far up your own ass do you have to be to have people build a statue of you? Ugh.”

Whitehorse laughs at her discomfort; she was here thinking he must have been some old founder who died a hundred years ago and it’s just some creepy man bun guy probably off somewhere being weird right now.

“You in a hurry to get home?” The sheriff asks her.

“Not particularly.” She needs to get groceries and stuff, but she has Caroline’s made up meals and she has water to her trailer, so she can make do and go shopping tomorrow.

“We’ll take the scenic route then, show you around.”

Whitehorse drives her around the Henbane river area, pointing out different places and structures that seem worth noting. The Dire Wolf Basin, Lydia’s Cave, Mastodon Geothermal Park, Dead Man’s Mill, and every place that has a name it seems. He prattles on something about each place, where they get their names, history. And she can feel her eyelids getting heavier with every syllable. They pass by the Drubman Marina, a dock and buildings, a pink helicopter landed there and boats on the sparkling clear water. The sun is starting to sink down and turn the sky into a mess of oranges and purples. His low accented voice rambles on about someone who owns it, divorce, real estate; it’s all a blur as she’s leaning against the door and her eyes finally shut completely.

“Rook, wake up,” Whitehorse is calling out and gently shaking her awake. She blinks a few times, clearing the sleep from her eyes. A glance at the radio clock tells her about two hours has passed. They’re parked back in front of the trailer park. He was talking and she fell asleep; not the greatest first impression to have on her boss the day before she starts working.

He doesn’t seem upset though, just smiling and laughing at her.

“You know, I was trying to help get your mind off shit, didn’t mean to do by boring you, but whatever works, I guess.”

“Sorry, I, uh guess, I was still tired from traveling, that’s a lie, I don’t know why I’m trying to lie. I just got bored and passed out.”

Whitehorse chuckles; at least he seems to find her amusing, that might help keep her around for a while.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Rookie, try to take it easy tonight,” she starts to unbuckle her seat belt, “and don’t forget your uniforms.”

“Thanks.” She grabs her uniform shirts out of the backseat and clambers out of the rusted green pickup.

Dahlia hears the trailer park before she steps past the sign. Whoops and hollers, the sound of a radio blasting. Behind her she hears Whitehorse’s truck pulling away and she feels alone again. No matter what it seems like she can’t seem to ever escape that.

In the center of the trailer park, near the playground area is a bonfire. Faces of people she’s seen in her short time here and ones she hasn’t met yet mingle around, laughing, hollering, and downing beers. The smell of food cooking over grills hits her nose, her never filled stomach growling despite herself. No one has noticed her yet. Caught up in the festivities. She adjusts the grip on her uniforms and kicks the toe of her boot into the dirt, she wants to be included. It’s childish, wanting so badly to just be invited. But she can’t help it. She doesn’t want to believe that people she seemed to fit in well with would throw her away because she’s a cop.

“You got a problem?” Clyde suddenly speaks up, noticing her through the party. His voice is low and his eyes narrowed, like he’s ready for a fight.

“Not particularly.” She shrugs.

“Then why don’t you go ahead and get out of here, Johnny Law.”

“I mean, I’ll go to my trailer…”

“Be better off if you just get out altogether,” Liam tells her.

“I paid to move in here like everyone else, you can’t kick me out.” Dahlia looks to Darcy, the only one here she sees that actually works for the trailer park and decided to rent to her. The girl chews her lip and avoids eye contact, running a hand through her short hair.

“I mean, yeah, as long as you pay you can stay, but I doubt you’ll be too happy here...You should, uh, try to find something else.”

“And the sooner the better, we don’t need fuckin’ narcs moving in on us.”

“I don’t work in narcotics.”

“Do I look like I give a damn what division you work for, a pig’s a pig!”

Dahlia clenches her jaw at Clyde’s yells, the way everyone around him is grinning, supporting him. This was one of the only options, besides an expensive apartment in Falls End or just waiting for the Silver Lake Trailer Park to have something available. She just rolls her eyes, trying not to betray the ache in her heart.

“This conversation is pointless.” She shakes her head and heads towards her trailer.

“Can’t believe we helped out a fuckin’ cop,” Liam grumbles as she turns her back on the party.

Then something pelts the back of her head, the stench of beer coating her hair as it splashes out of the nearly empty can that’s bounced off her skull.

She bites her lip, she could be an asshole, technically this can be classified as battery. And a little angry gremlin in the back of her brain wants her to teach them a lesson as they laugh at her, cackling like hyenas.

But it was just a can of beer, basically empty. She’s an adult. She doesn’t need to waste time or energy on this. At least that’s what she tells herself when she keeps her head down and makes her way to the trailer.

Her door does little to filter out the sound of the party. The music and excitement reverberates through the thin walls of her trailer.

Young blood, come to start a riot.

Don’t care what your old man say.

She tosses her uniforms on the couch, not really caring where they fall. The stench of beer is still sticking to her skin. She peels off her jacket and digs out her phone, syncing it to her speaker, might as well blast her own music in return.

Young blood, heaven hate a sinner.

I felt a break in a sacred place where your hands don’t heal.

But we gonna raise hell anyway.

These are the reasons you’re ruled by the things you feel.

The music mingles and mashes in awkward ways. The upbeat country rock and slow drag of indie music meshing into a cacophony of noise. Somewhere between a yell and a sing, she belts lyrics out, sometimes her music, sometimes theirs.

Raise hell, yeah

Out of the deep waters and all their intricacies.

Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell

This is the real face of all your enemies.

This isn’t unfamiliar. The ache of loneliness and feeling like she doesn’t belong. There are lots of reasons for it. No matter where she goes, there never seems to be a place for her. She can’t even blame them. Even if they’re open and welcoming, she knows that feeling will creep up again.

Baby, drop them bones.

I felt you escape into empty space where my heart can’t feel

Baby, sell that soul

Down in that darkness, you met all the things you feared

Lloyd and Caroline were the most welcoming people she’s ever encountered, yet that feeling still reared its ugly head. Those doubts of being a burden, a bother, that she’s intruding on their space. A leech of their time and energy.

The party rages on outside, everyone far happier without her around, as she lights a cigarette up in her trailer.

And I knew, I knew..

Baby, fare thee well

There was nothing I could do...

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #deputy oc #this is love #dahlia hale

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smokeybrand · 4 years

Text

Let Freedom Ring

My grandpa served in the Air Force back in the early fifties. He wanted to be a pilot but they said he had bad eyes. He didn't. He had the wrong skin tone. He settled to become a medic. My Grandpa's dream was to be a surgeon when he got out of the Air Force. There was a program that would put him on the fast track to developing those skills. He was denied again because that was a Whites Only program. When he returned to the states, after his allotted deployment, he became a Bus Driver. That was the only option available to him at that time. Far cry from being that surgeon he dreamed of becoming.

My Mom's uncles, my grand uncles, all served. The older ones saw time in WWII. I have two Japanese grand-aunts and a bunch of half Japanese and quarter Japanese cousins. One of them was my mom's other mamma. She was dope. She smoked reefer, tempura fried chitterlings, and cussed you out in the Nippon. My younger grand uncles served in Vietnam. Those cats saw horrors. A few of them got doused with Agent Orange. The US denied that sh*t for years while they dealt with the after effects and PTSD. The VA did what they could to help but it wasn't much. My uncle gave up their youth and innocence to serve in a war that wasn't necessary, only to be abandoned and treated like less than people when they got back because they were black.

My mom's kid brothers served as well. One was dismissed on a bullsh*t "Don't ask, Don't tell" situation so he was honorably discharged but didn't get any of the benefits. My uncle is dying of pancreatic cancer and the government is nowhere in sight because he chooses to love freely. The other served and was exceptional in his role. He became a sniper, one of the best in his class. They would send him on missions no one else could accomplish. He was discharged with honors. He died last year, from lung cancer that had metastasized throughout his body so badly, he couldn't walk. We found him, laying in a field, legs riddled with bone tumors, literally waiting to die. It wasn't until he was on that deathbed, that the VA decided to "pay him a visit" and even that was after WE called about his benefits.

My uncle had severe brain damage from a surprise attack a decade and change ago, and survived. His brain was swollen and hemorrhaging for a week. They had to cut out a piece of his skull to alleviate the pressure from all the blood in his head. He was in a medically induced come for weeks, but he lived. Not even an inquiry from the VA. A few years later, he was stabbed in the back several times defending a woman from an assault. He was left for dead and, if not for a passer-by, he would have bled out behind a f*cking Big Lots. They had to carve him open to suture the ruptured artery. I visited my uncle in the hospital and he couldn't talk. They had him doped out of his gourd because his chest was wide open, literally nothing but plastic between me and his beating heart. Not a peep from the government. A few years later, the cancer happened. No help there either. Oh, and my mom got one of those flags, though.

My older brother enlisted after 911. He got deployed to Iraq. He told me once he saw some action. I don't know how much, i never asked, but i imagine quite a bit. He came back early because he blew out his knee but he came back with a drinking problem. My bro always partook of the partaking but it was out of control after he came home. That tells me he saw some sh*t he probably shouldn't have. Or done some things he probably regrets, all in the name of "freedom." He's chill now but dude was mean when he first got back. It took a while for him to mellow. War will do that to you.

One of my little cousin's just enlisted. While I don't agree with that decision, she made it and I respect that. Her ma is stupid proud and she should be. Her baby is grown as sh*t. My little cousin is also pretty as sh*t so I'm mad worried. Sexual assaults are a staple of the military, especially against women of color, and they turn the blindest of eyes to that sh*t. I trust my little cousin to handle herself and her ma will if not, but the fact that I'm more apprehensive about the n*ggas in her barracks, than her seeing an actual gunfight speaks volumes about the entire f*cking Armed Forces.

I don't love the US. I'm not a patriot. Sh*t like this is why. Those are our experiences playing soldier, all because we are darker than others. Never mind the fact i can get gunned by a spooked white person when i go out to collect my Postmates. Never mind that a traffic stop can escalate into my Qualified Immunity Murder, even if I follow every direction given to me, because some pussy with a badge felt I was an imminent threat. Never mind that my fourteen-year-old son can get blown away on his way home from buying Skittles by an overzealous Neighborhood Watch Captain or that my eleven-year-old daughter can get body-slammed by a grown ass man in a uniform because she's "resisting" after taking one too many milks from the cafeteria at school. Even when I serve, do my duty, I'm still forgotten and left out in the cold. All of that 'Support Our Troops” only lasts until you get home and then you're on your own, I guess. That's what happened to my uncle. That's what is happening to my other uncle. No, i don't love the US because the US i live in, f*cking hates me.

When you wave your flags and pound your chest with pride, you're praising a country I don't know. I don't know what it's like not to be hated because of my skin tone. I don't know what it's like not to be seen as a threat at ten-years-old because I have a stockier build than other kids. I don't know what it's like to look back on my history, and not have it riddled with crimes against humanity. Henrietta Lacks. Rosewood. Tulsa. Black Wall Street. Slavery. The Tuskegee Experiments. Jim Crow. The Crack Epidemic. I don't know what it's like not to open a history book and see pictures of people who look like me, strung up from f*cking trees. What does it feel like to know you're innocent until proven guilty or that your charges won't get trumped up depending on how dark you are? What's it like to be able to hold an entire state government branch hostage, visible automatic weapons on your back, threatening officials openly, because you want your florist and Applebee's to open prematurely during a f*cking pandemic, and experience no form of reprimand? What's it like to live in a world where you don't have to open up the f*cking internet, and see another list of people who look like you, killed for sleeping or jogging or playing or selling loose cigarettes or waiting for a f*cking ride. What's it like to not have to witness, over and over again, people who look like you, dying in real time on the prime time goddamn news? What's it feel like not to have to watch your people get lynched for nine goddamn minutes and then listen to people talk about how your justified anger should be tempered in order to be taken seriously?

Our entire history is one of struggle. My mother is three years younger than the first black girl ever to integrate into a southern elementary school. They had to call in the national guard to walk this child into class. My mother lived through Jim Crow. She was eleven-years-old when King was assassinated. My grandpa, the one who served in the Air Force, was five years removed from it's integration. Five years before my Grandpa enlisted, there were no black people in the Air Force. None. And even when they were allowed to enlist, they weren't allowed to fly. They would make up aliments to keep black people out of the cockpits. My kid bother was just out here protesting the same sh*t my mom did when she was young, fifty years later. Five decades and we're still fighting the same fight. My grandpa fought that fight, too. That was twenty years before my mom stood up. Three generations of civil unrest. Three generations of fighting to be acknowledged as human. Seventy f*cking years, for just my family, and we're still trying to get equal. Not more, just equal. Why? Why do we have to suffer so much here? Why do we have to teach out kids not to trust the police or to be as non-threatening as possible around white people? Why do we have to do so much more, and get nothing in return? How is that fair? How is that just? Where's all of this liberty and freedom you motherf*ckers crow about? Even when we do right by this punk ass country, we still get f*cked. How can you expect me to love a place that so obviously, aggressively, hates me?

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misc-headcanons · 5 years

Text

Bleach and One Piece Match-Up Request

Name: Corethra (or Corey for short)

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Occupation: Hand Packer at an ice cream factory

Zodiac Sign: Pisces (born March 2)

Chinese Zodiac: Year Of The Pig

MBTI Type: INFJ

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Love Language: Acts Of Service

Race/Ethnicity: African-American

Height: 4'11 (Call me short and I’ll kick your butt!)

Body Type/Shape: Average but well developed figure at best. I weigh about 158 lbs and am pretty insecure about my body.

Hair Color/Style: Black and naturally curly but I keep it relaxed and flat-ironed so it’s straight. It’s long and goes down to just below my shoulder blades.

Glasses or No?: Yes I wear glasses

Eye Color: Brown

Dress Style: I usually dress up in a casual way, just throwing on whatever looks good at the time but I will sometimes put in the effort when the time calls for it or when I’m in a good mood. I have an affinity for the punk, emo, and goth styles and I don’t like feminine clothes.

Hobbies/Interests: Video games, reading, writing, anime, internet surfing, listening to music, politics (sometimes), watching movies/TV shows, basically being an overall nerd

Dislikes: Ignorance, stupidity, restriction, manipulation/gas-lighting, bullying, humanity, not being understood

Personality: At first glance, I seem quiet and keep to myself, only speaking when I need to or when I’m spoken to. I’m an anti-social introvert to the fullest and don’t care much for small talk or going out. I prefer to have deeper conversations. When I get comfortable enough in whatever environment I’m in, I start to open up bit by bit. I’m a tomboy and pretty rough-minded as well as stubborn. I’m very sassy, have a smart, sarcastic, and witty mouth if not humorous and outrageous at times, can be borderline rude, and I’m more sensitive than I care to be. I can literally cry at someone’s suffering especially if it’s someone I’m close to or even a total stranger. I’m very empathetic and my heart is bigger than what most people would expect. Most people describe me as quiet, intelligent, creative, dorky, a smartass, and really sweet. I love a good laugh and have an open sense of humor to boot.

Many of my friends say that I’m very sweet and kind which I usually am if I’m in a good mood as well as affectionate as hell. Hugs and pet names galore with me! However only my friends and family see that side of me. My language is often unfiltered, harsh, foul, and blunt which shocks people because they think I’m a pure angel. I say what I want when I want and no one tells me otherwise. If they do, they can expect a mouthful from me. I’m an escapist and very imaginative, can be a bit scatterbrained at times, and I’m methodical and detailed to the point of perfectionism. I’m usually a walking contradiction in terms of personality in so many ways to the point where the real me is almost impossible to decipher. To make matters more complicated, I’m not very good at expressing myself verbally and prefer to let my actions do the talking.

I have many pet peeves and I get annoyed easily in general. I’m also slowly embracing misanthropy and nihilism but I can be pretty idealistic so it balances out. I’m practically zero tolerance when it comes to bullshit. I hate confrontation and conflict but I’m starting to work on it so I can be less passive-aggressive and more assertive. I also wish to stand up for myself more often than I should so people won’t think that I’m weak and an easy target. I’m pretty cynical which is to be expected and usually expect the worst from people. When someone angers me, I will either just withdraw altogether and completely cut them off (slam the door basically) or get in their face and go off before doing the former. I’m the “hold my anger in and release it all at once” type but I hope to change that one day and stop letting things fester before they get out of hand. I can be quite petty and even cold as well and if someone wrongs me, they will have to make the first move to mend fences. I refuse to apologize if I’m not in the wrong and I will not accept gaslighting/guilt tripping.

I have issues with trust and a wild imagination to boot. I usually trust my instincts and can see right through bullshit. I don’t like taking risks and I have to know all the details when I do something so I don’t mess up and look like an idiot. I am indeed a perfectionist to a fault which often prevents me from trying new things and going outside my comfort zone. I haven’t been in a relationship yet and am still a virgin due to my issues with trust and not wanting to be hurt or humiliated as well as being picky/perfectionistic with the people I allow in my life. I have high standards for both people and myself although I’m pretty laid-back and my dislike of conflict allows me to also take a lot of shit from people too before I eventually say “fuck it” and slam the door on them. I don’t think very highly of myself and can sometimes fall into a period of self-hatred.

Many people praise me for my intelligence which is fitting since I’m an intellectual. My ideals and beliefs are rather odd to say the least (I’m a classical liberal/independent and despise most ideologies/ideas. This includes religion, feminism, social justice, traditionalism, statism, big government, nationalism, socialism/communism, etc.) and I feel misunderstood because of it (mostly because of the black community ostracizing me). I am indeed a rebel, open-minded, and a free thinker. No one tells me how to think or feel or else they face my wrath. I highly value power over myself and I think it’s the most important thing that a person needs in order to survive. I am definitely an outcast at heart and I often distance myself from others and don’t like talking about my feelings or beliefs because I think most people lack the ability/capacity to understand me. Before I give my opinion on something, I like to do as much research as possible as well as look at things from all perspectives before coming to my own conclusion. I don’t mind discussing things but I prefer logic over emotion when doing so which makes it damn near impossible these days for me to have an real conversation without insults and threats being thrown (usually towards me). Chances are I’m gonna find something wrong with damn near anything someone believes in or says and I’m not afraid to call it out when I see it. Once I do open up and express how I feel, the gates of passion will open up and never close.

I’m currently battling depression and often experience many symptoms of it including suicidal thoughts and depression spells. I also suffer from iron-deficiency anemia as well. These things are pretty annoying and humiliating for me to deal with whenever they pop up.

Overall, I’m pretty crazy and a handful to deal with. Good luck matching me up with someone :P

(I’m happy you gave me so much info to work with!)

Nothing says punk or goth like skulls, right? I played around with some other accessories like a choker necklace and some earrings, but since you mentioned you don’t like feminine clothing I just went with the good ol’ leather jacket)

For Bleach, I match you with....Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez!

You mentioned you were a Pisces, and I like to take zodiacs/birthdays into account when they’re provided in matchups. Grimmjow’s a Leo, and from what I read, Leos and Pisces bring out a lot of great qualities within each other; the more I thought about it, the more I think that holds true. Like Grimmjow, you aren’t ever afraid to speak your mind, you’re both ambitious (I think Grimmjow would be a Slytherin too!) and are both rebels in your own right. The both of you also prefer to let your actions do the talking, and I think he would appreciate a partner who he can trust to speak their mind and not hide anything they’re feeling just to be nice. I think that Grimmjow would be able to help you be more assertive and less passive-aggressive, which you mentioned in your submission, and you would be able to get him to calm down and think things through before flying off the handle and beating the shit out of whoever or whatever is pissing him off.

You mentioned that you were slowly starting to embrace nihilism and misanthropy (and I feel that Grimmjow post-defeat by Nnoitora would share similar thoughts about his life’s meaning at the time. Dude just got his shit wrecked and his dreams of being the strongest/the King just got shot down by Nnoitora’s sword slicing him through the chest), but I think your optimism would not only balance out your perspective on life, but his as well. To “fix” your partner’s views/negative outlook on life shouldn’t be up to you (he’s his own person, and asking that much emotional labor of someone would be inappropriate, even if he does love you), but I think whenever you talk about your life philosophy, he’d slowly start to realize that you can find a balance between “nothing fucking matters, why bother” and “nothing fucking matters, so why not?”

Leo men are somewhat protective of their partners, so Grimmjow is always there if you’re in need of emotional or physical help. Fatigue from your anemia? He’ll straight up carry you where you need to go if he has to. Is your depression causing you to go into a downswing? He’ll keep an eye on you and do whatever it takes to lessen the weight on your shoulders/mind. Sometimes he’ll do things too comfort you without considering how you’d react (you mentioned that things get annoying and humiliating whenever your symptoms flare up like this, so having Grimmjow do something like picking you up and carry would...not be great, to say the least), but if you tell him why doing things like that upsets you he’ll try to stop and consider your feelings the next time something like that happens again. There’ll be a few instances like that where he’ll say or do something without considering how you’d react, because he’s used to being an egocentric guy (being a creature like an Arrancar, where you can only survive if you look out for yourself and ONLY yourself, makes this a difficult thing for him to change. But for you, he’ll try). This would be the main issue in your relationship, but as time goes on he’s more and more considerate of you the longer he’s with you. He has given you a cake with the (poorly) handwritten icing message “Sorry I was an asshole” more than once.

In conclusion, I think that you two would be a great example of two people who seem like total opposites finding common ground/traits/strengths/weaknesses and really complementing each other in a relationship.

For One Piece, I match you with...Zoro!

So, let’s start with zodiac compatibility. Zoro is a Scorpio, which is one of the better matches for Pisces according to what I looked up. Scorpio men and Pisces women share a lot of emotional depth, and that sort of conflicting nature/personality you have is something that Zoro can relate to. Like you, Zoro also tends to let his actions speak louder than words (especially since he isn’t the most talkative guy). A relationship with him would involve a lot of small kind gestures that let you know he cares about you. Even though he’s not one to talk a lot, he listens to anything you have to say and is a great person to vent to.

He may not be as well versed in intellectual subjects as you (social justice, politics, religion, etc.) but he keeps track of what you have to say about a particular topic. Sometimes he worries that his lack of response makes you think he’s not interested in what you’re talking about, but in reality he’s paying attention to every word; every time you talk about something he doesn’t know, he writes it down so he can either ask Robin about it or read about it himself. He doesn’t try to become an expert or anything, but he learns enough to try and form his own thoughts based on what you’ve said and what he’s looked up. His responses aren’t super eloquent, but he’s able to put things together (Normally if you asked him about the World Government he’d describe it as just “bad…” but once he learns about concepts like totalitarianism from you, he can talk about it in more depth).

Like you, Zoro is incredibly blunt and he appreciates having a partner who also speaks their mind regardless of who they’re talking to. Unlike you, he’s not as imaginative and scatterbrained, but I think this would be a case of opposites complementing each other; he likes how creative you are, and sometimes when he’s making a decision he wonders what you’d do. Like Grimmjow, Zoro would absolutely help you with asserting yourself but unlike Grimmjow he’s more considerate of how you’d react to what he does; he’s respectful of your boundaries, and if he sees that you just need to walk away from whoever’s pissing you off he doesn’t force you to confront them. He’s considerate, in his own Zoro-ish way; like he’ll quietly ask you if you want him to kick someone’s ass if you weren’t wanting to argue with them/escalate things further.

Zoro struggles with some aspects of his mental health, and that includes depression. Once you two have been together for a while, he can tell when you’re starting to enter a downswing/darker period. He doesn’t want to embarrass you by constantly smothering you/asking if you need anything, and he reassures you that there’s no shame in asking for help if you need it. Like you, he’s also not fond of expressing how he’s feeling, but he doesn’t want you to feel alone if you’re suffering.

#matchup #one piece matchup #bleach matchup #one piece #bleach #grimmjow #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #zoro #roronoa zoro #mine #submission

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bards-witcher · 5 years

Note

Terrortoonz prompt: "Hey, [Roomie]. You forgot to- JESUS. WHEN WERE YOU GONNA TELL ME YOU DO PORN LIVE CAMS?"

So I didn’t follow this exactly, sorry X(, but I hope you enjoy and can always redo it if you’d like :D

Warning: Explicit

As he stepped into the kitchen his eyes glanced over the counter at the bottles littering the surface, the result of Brians’ weekly games night that he held with some of his friends.

It’s not that he hated the event itself, it was only held in their flat about once a month, and although he didn’t drink with them, he did partake every now and then, especially when they were playing strip poker and he would pull every trick in the book to try and get a chance to unabashedly admire his roommate.

Sure, there were probably easier ways to go about it, and on the word of both Anthony and Tyler, apparently the Irishman had similar feelings for him, he just didn’t have the balls to act on it, but he was working on it, slowly.

Even still, he didn’t like seeing the mess littering the small amount of free space that they had, especially given that it had been there going on three days now.

Although he reasons that Brian has seemed a little more strained recently, barely leaving his room unless forced to, with anytime that he tried to talk to the younger man was met with one-word answers, leaving him somewhat disheartened.

Only, Brian had never let it get this bad before, normally being even more anal than he was about the cleanliness, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of wrong that wormed its way under his skin as he once again looked over the mess of bottles and takeout containers.

He’d given the younger man enough leeway over the past few days, and it was time he put his foot down, hoping that maybe some tough love would be enough to get the younger man out of whatever funk he was in so that he could get his friend back.

He quickly made his way to Brians’ room, wasting no time as he entered through the door, intent on saying his piece before his friend could make a dispute, only he froze at the sight in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat as he saw Brian with his back to his desk, a knee on his desk chair as he leaned against the backrest, his ass on display as he fucked himself with a dildo in front of his computer with its camera poised at his hips.

He knew he should leave, should pretend that he never saw this side of his friend and go about business as usual, but he couldn’t help himself as he was transfixed at the sight, the sound of Brians’ moans enough to intoxicate him.

A long drawn out moan from his friend had his breath hitching, a blush now coloring his cheeks as he unconsciously reached a hand down to begin palming himself in his jeans, quickly biting down on his lower lip to stop the moan that so desperately wanted to escape his lips.

He then saw Brian press the dildo as far as he could up his ass before releasing it, instead moving his hands to part his ass cheeks to show the screen how his hole clenched around the length inside of him, and at that moment he knew he’d be willing to sell his soul right then and there just to get the same view the webcam had.

Watching with anticipation as Brian then began jerking himself off as fast as he could whilst the other hand returned to the dildo still in his ass to begin thrusting it inside of him with renewed vigor.

He couldn’t keep back his muttered curse, feeling his dick twitch harshly in his pants at the man in front of him, and for a moment he panics that he was heard, but when Brian continues moaning into his seat as if nothing happened, he feels his body relax.

That is. until Brian turns in his chair so that he can sit back as he fucks himself, the Irishman catching sight of him in his movement where they both then lock eyes.

He watches the panic spread across Brians’ face, which he was sure mirrored his own, but his friend didn’t stop his motions, and he found that he couldn’t look away.

There was a certain aspect of intimacy as they stared at one another, eyes fixed on him only seemed to heighten his senses as he let out a shuddering breath when Brians’ hands seemed to be moving even faster as he pleasured himself.

“Luke” he watched Brian let loose the muttered cry as he came in his hand, still looking at him, and although his name was barely audible, it was the only sound he picked up on, the cry ringing in his ears as he sharply bite on his lip to keep back as his moans as he came in his pants, Brians’ name on the tip of his tongue.

He rode his high for a moment before the realization of what was happening hit him, his cheeks flushing bright red, but still he couldn’t make himself move, almost as if leaving now would mean that they could pretend that none of this had happened, but now that he had a taste, he wanted more.

“Jesus, Brian, were you doin’ live porn?” He watched as Brian frantically pressed a couple of keys on his keyboard, letting out a couple of muttered curses until he finally pulled away from his desk, but what he didn’t expect was to have an angry Irishman striding towards him, quickly shoving him backward out of his room until the door slammed in his face.

He banged his fist on the door, shouting out to his friend, but when no answer was forthcoming he tried to open the door again, letting out a swear as he realized it was locked as he returned to calling out to the younger man.

He doesn’t know how long he stood there, only knows that he was met with nothing with silence and he briefly gave up his task in favor of heading to his room to change his pants which were now sticking uncomfortably to him.

A million thoughts racing through his mind, all of them consisting of the fact that if it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t have seen Brian doing that and their relationship wouldn’t have changed into whatever shambles it was in now.

Once cleaned up he returns to Brians’ door, renewing his efforts to try to get his friend to open up, but just as before he’s met with silence.

“Brian, you know we have to talk about this, so you either let me in or I’m kickin’ your door down.”

“Then you’ll be payin’ to get it fixed” He smiled at the voice he heard filter through the door, but beyond that, the door stayed firmly closed in his face.

“Stand back, ‘m comin’ in” With that he took a step back, preparing to kick his leg up to bash into the door, however, before he had the chance to it opened, Brian not even sparing him a glance as he turned away immediately to head to his desk chair, the same one that he’d seen him in what felt so long ago.

He quickly entered the room, closing the door behind him to give them a semblance of privacy as he sat on the bed, whatever that was worth, fidgeting in place as he spared glances at the other man who was pointedly refusing to look at him.

“So, you wanna tell-“

“I got fired from my job, okay?” He was shocked not just at the news, but at the resounding bitterness the other man had in his voice “I just turned up one day and was told I was fired, cause they had to ‘let people go’” He heard the pain in his friends’ voice even as he scoffed at his statement “I worked my ass for that place and got shit in return, but sure, the bimbo they hired with the big tits and can’t count past 20 is more qualified than me”

“Brian, I’m sor-“

“That was almost a month ago, every job I applied to was a dead end, and I was comin’ up to the end of me paycheck, I was desperate, Luke. I’d done this kinda thing before, and sure it’s fun every now and then and the pay’s good enough, but I’ve been doin’ this for days jus’ to get enough money together for rent, ‘m fuckin’ sore dude”

He huffed a laugh even as his mind raced with the information, Brian had never told him he got fired, never told him that he was struggling, and he felt himself on the verge of tears that he’d seemingly neglected to notice how one of his best friends was suffering.

“Why didn’t you tell me, I could’a pulled some strings, got you a-“

“Because I didn’t wanna go askin’ for help, I always feel like I’m askin’ for things and I jus’ figured it’s only temporary right? Eventually, somethin’ will come around, so, whilst I appreciate the concern, I’m-“

“Don’t you dare say you’re alright cause I know you’re fuckin’ not” He can’t keep the anger out of his voice as he speaks, but immediately regrets it when he sees the flinch from the other man. “You don’t look healthy, Brian, I barely see you anymore and it tears me up that you didn’t even think to tell me any of this. We’re friends, Brian, and friends support one another, and I’d do anythin’ for you, just like I know you’d do anythin’ for me” He watched Brian let out a sigh as he fiddled with his hands, deciding then to get off of the bed to kneel in front of Brians’ chair, moving it so that the other man was looking at him “Please, I’m beggin’ you, let me help you”

He raised his hands to cup the other man’s cheeks, forcing the Irishman to look at him, and whilst he encountered some resistance at first, he let out a breath of relief when the other man finally gave up and leaned into his touch.

“I jus’… I feel so helpless, y’know?”

“I get it, I do, just let me help you out of this and then you can go back to not askin’ me for anythin’ ever, agreed?” He offered the other man a soft smile when Brian nodded his head, easily trailing his hands down to rest on the other man’s shoulders, his thumbs rubbing soothingly at the space beneath them.

“I’m surprised you didn’t kick me out the door when you walked in on me”

“Why would you think that?”

“You walked in on me fuckin’ myself to strangers on the internet, not to mention I…” He saw Brian make a general motion towards his crotch, which didn’t take a genius to understand “… Whilst lookin’ at you, I-, If you want to cut all contact I get it, you’re probably freaked the fuck out-“

“Is that what you think?” He searched the other man’s gaze in an effort to reassure him, returning a hand to cup his face as he spoke “I fuckin’ came in my pants like a horny teenager, if anythin’ you should be the one freaked out”

He smiled at the blush he can see color Brians’ cheeks as he finally looked him, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

“You been talkin’ to Anthony?”

“And Tyler”

“Fockin’ bastards” He chuckled at the comment, feeling his heart stop for a moment when Brians’ hand came to rest on his wrist “I dunno whether to hate them or us, are we really this fockin’ stupid?”

“Apparently so” He chuckled a little at that as he brushed his thumb along Brians’ cheek, memorizing the soft skin and freckles under his touch.

“God we’re fockin’ stupid”

“Well, guess that means we got plenty to catch up on” He cast a final look up at Brian before slowly moving forward, letting out a sigh of both relief and joy when he felt lips press against his own, wasting no time as he tangled a hand in Brians’ hair, keeping their mouths pressed tight together. “I know you said you used to do the porn thing for fun, but from now on you ain’t doin’ it unless I’m the one fuckin’ you, deal?”

Brian just snorted at the comment, even as he looked somewhat endeared by it as he brought a hand up to cup his cheek before moving it to playfully tug at his beard

“Jealous are we?” He just raised an eyebrow, showing that there was no room for debate which only earned another small laugh from the Irishman before he leaned forward to press their lips together again “You got a deal”

#terrortoonz #terroriser #cartoonz #ns/fw #sm/ut #I hope you enjoy #kinda sweet with a very light sprinkling of angst

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yodawgiherd · 6 years

Text

Chapter 33: Coming home

Read on AO3

Rating: T

Carla Yeager watched the clouds slowly roll around the sides of the airplane, humming to herself. She supposed that it would be entirely understandable if she developed a fear of flying, after what happened to her late husband, but she was never the one to be superstitious. Accidents happen, and Grisha was just unlucky enough to be part of one. Nothing to do about it now. Plus in her line of work, she needed the quick transportation the air provided. The line of work she chose for a very selfish reason, if she was being completely honest to herself.

This has been her longest time away from home so far. Two years of traveling from one corner of the world to another, all over the places where her charity was active. Africa, Asia, even Europe. She missed home, she missed the people she knew back there, but most of all, she missed her only remaining family, Eren. Carla sighed and rubbed her eyes, hoping to get the tiredness out of them. Of course that they kept in contact, they called and wrote to each other, but that is nothing compared to seeing her son for real, to see him smile and hear him laugh. Now that she thought about it, a smile from him used to be so rare, it almost made her tear up just remembering those days.

The day of Grisha’s funeral, Eren changed. He used to be a very lively child, running around with Armin in tow, terrorizing the neighborhood. When they learned about the plane crash, and the death of his father, he was silent for a time, but in the end brushed it off. At least that’s what It seemed like. But then the funeral came, and as the boy watched his father being lowered into his place of final rest, something just clicked together. As if the knowledge about the demise wasn’t real, but seeing it, on his own eyes, cemented it into reality. Grisha was truly gone. Eren didn’t cry during the ceremony, Carla recalled. She was bawling her eyes out, sniffing loudly into a handkerchief, but her son was silent next to her, clutching her hand. Two people were buried that day. Not only Grisha Yeager, but also old Eren.

Gone were the days of him being a normal child. His fulltime focus became the dream of becoming a doctor, burning anything else from his mind. And Carla supposed that some mothers could be happy with that. After all, he was still perfectly courteous , did very well in school, and overall seemed to be focused on having a bright future. But she just couldn’t forget the child that he was, the quick to anger but adorable little boy that filled the halls of the house with laughter and shouts. Now, he spent all his time either in his room or with Armin, simply ignoring the possibility of socializing on a bigger scale. Carla hoped that time will change that, but years rolled by and he didn’t seem to budge. The only time he seemed to warm up to her was when they started cooking together, activity that seemed to bring back the happier days, when their family was still complete. But every food takes only a set amount of time to complete, and when they were finished, he always returned to his new, cold, self.

“Eren, honey,”, she asked one morning, just as high-school was nearing its end. “Do you plan on going to the prom? “

“I tried to persuade Armin to wear a dress and come as my date, but dude doesn’t want to for some reason. “, he smiled at her, but as always, it didn’t reach his eyes. They remained cold. “So no, not really. “

“But, you should try…. I’m sure you could enjoy it….“

“Would that make you happy, mother? “

Carla cringed internally. She hated when Eren called her mother, it just sounded so formal.

“I’ll be happy when you will be happy, Eren. I just want you to try and enjoy things. Please? “

He looked at her, his eyes measuring, and nodded.

“I will go. “

And that was that.

Everybody was really surprised when Eren Yeager started asking girls to go to prom with him, but no one was surprised when he snatched one of the most beautiful ones. Being the catch as he was, it only made sense that he would go on the prime path of being the prom king. Carla remembered the day. He looked so handsome in the fitting black suit, and the girl on his arm was stunning. What was her name? Ah, Hitch, that was the one. Carla nodded to herself, proud of her memory for once. And that evening, she allowed herself to hope. That perhaps this will be the turning point in Eren’s life, that he will discover a whole new world of possibilities, that perhaps his prom date might turn into a real relationship. Yet in the morning, when she came down to the living room, Eren was sitting there with his breakfast, as every day before. And when he looked up, she saw that his eyes were the same they always were, nothing changed.

“Good morning mother. “

So Carla did the one thing no parent should ever do to their child. She ran.

“Of course I can take care of him. “, said grandpa Arlert, leaning on his cane. The old man still had a spark in his eye and spring in his step, something Carla found downright amazing at his age. “But you know Eren, in the end he will end up taking care of me. “ They both laughed at that.

“I’m sorry, I know its very sudden, but the charity needs me. “

That was a bare-faced lie. The charity didn’t need her, especially not on the frontlines. And sure, the extra pair of hands will come in handy, but it was nowhere near necessity.

“I know what you are going through. “, the old man smiled warmly at her, a gesture she felt like she wholeheartedly didn’t deserve. “It’s been years since my wife died, and sometimes when I wake up in the morning I still expect her to be there next to me. Everyone says that time heals all the wounds, but in case of losing your loved ones, I’m not so sure that it’s true. “

Carla kept her mouth shut and nodded, not telling the truth. She wasn’t running away from the memories of Grisha, or his ghost that remained in their house. She was running away from Eren, from the empty gaze that stalked her thorough the house, from the coldness of his voice, from the way his eyes never smiled even when his mouth did. She was running away because she had no idea what to do. Eren didn’t seem to care much when she told him the news. Just wished her all the best and turned back to his book. And just like that, unceremoniously, she left.

The next months were spent traveling, just like she was now. She and Eren kept in touch, of course, and she was very happy when she heard that he got accepted into his dream college alongside Armin. Carla was just handing out water in Africa, when a message pinged on her phone. When she went on her break and checked it, she saw that it was from Eren, asking if she has time to talk.

“Hey honey, everything okay? “

“Yea mom. “, he chuckled on the other end of the line, “Couldn’t be better. “

“How about the college? Is the dorm okay? You can always rent a place, you know that. “

“No mom, it’s fine, really. I got a room with Armin anyway, can’t leave a bro alone. “

“Well then, if everything is fine, what did you need to talk about? Just want to hear mom’s voice? “

“I… No, that’s not it. “, he sounded nervous all of sudden, “Mom… I… I met someone. “

Carla couldn’t believe her ears. Was it really happening?

“Uhm… That’s great honey, you made a new friend? “

“I kind of hope we will be more than friends mom. “

“Oh? “

“Yea, she’s a freshman, same as me and Armin. We… talked yesterday, like really long. And I’m meeting her later today again. “

“Oh dear, that is amazing, I’m so happy for you. What’s her name? “

“Mikasa. “

“That sounds Asian. Is her name like those volleyball balls? “

“Yea, she’s half Japanese. And yes, just like the balls. “

“Well, don’t let your old mom keep you. But Eren, I expect a picture, so I can put a face to the beautiful name. Understood? “

He chuckled. “Yes ma’am. “

When he did send her one, Carla felt like her heart could burst from happiness. There he was, her boy, looking into the camera with an easy grin, while sitting next to a girl. She was really pretty, with oriental features, as Carla expected after hearing her name, and short black hair that framed her face. Overall, Mikasa seemed to have strong likeness for the color, because her lips were also painted black, and the top she wore was the same color. There were several necklaces around her neck, with a big silver cross dominating the group. She wasn’t smiling, maybe to keep her image up, but Carla honestly didn’t mind one bit. Because when she looked back at Eren, she noticed something. His eyes, they were smiling as well, the coldness gone. That night, she fell asleep while clutching the picture to her chest, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. It was a long time since she was this happy.

She met Mikasa only once before, her work keeping her away from home. While Eren’s coldness seemed to melt, as she saw from the photos he was sending her, she found the work really fulfilling. What at the beginning was just a getaway turned into a new meaning for her, helping others filled her heart. There just was something, about helping those in need, to see the children and know that you made their future just a little bit better. And with today’s technology, she could easily direct the charity with just a few calls and using the internet. But when she did return, she immediately called Eren and set up a dinner, to finally meet the one who someone managed to crack the ice Carla could never dent. They cooked together, she and Eren, because that was their thing, the activity that kept them going even after Grisha’s death. Mikasa seemed like a sweet girl, If a bit shy, but Carla didn’t mind. Honestly, all she could see was the way her son’s eyes sparkled when he looked at his girlfriend, the way he absent-mindedly played with the ends of her hair, or the small kisses he pressed to her cheek from time to time. He was happy.

Eren was very protective back then, and Carla was afraid not to say anything awkward, so the dinner was done in a very polite spirit, which of course left her a lot of spicy questions she wanted answered. Now, after two years, she thought that its high time to get to know the girl a bit more. Carla haven’t talked to Eren for a long time, a construction of a new hospital in India taking all her free time, but she hoped that the two of them were still together.

There was a creak and the plane jumped slightly as they touched the ground, waking her up from her thoughts. She watched the city as they made the turn on the runway, and when the flight attendant finally gave the cue that they can leave their seats, she could hardly keep herself from running out. And when she finally emerged from the plane, looking over the familiar buildings, she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.

She was home.

#fanfic #eremika #flashback

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i-love-my-exhoes · 6 years

Text

Camera binds are Colour blind

Part two / Part one

Sehun x reader

3,8K words

FBI agent watching me!au

Your eyes widened, why one earth would the FBI be monitoring you? You looked around you, making sure no one was reading over your shoulder, before typing your response. “can you prove it?” you weren’t sure whether you should believe whoever typed it, if you were a hacker you’d say the same thing when you got caught. Within a second, however, the ‘FBI-agent’ responded “of course I can prove it, but that would cost me my job. Besides I think you’d prefer not to get raided by the feds”.

You were amazed at his casual way of talking. You had always imagined FBI-agents as stuck up, pretentious and downright stiff. But the person talking to you right now definitely wasn’t, they were even being sarcastic. Maybe your perception had been warped by your own brother, as some higher up officer with the FBI he always followed all rules, making him incredibly boring and strict. Now you were beginning to realise that that had always been his personality and that, maybe, not every single FBI-agent was like that.

“You didn’t answer yet, does that mean you do want us to raid your tiny ass appartement? because I’m sure if I really try I can make that happen without losing my job” The words appeared on your screen again. The audacity this person had still shocked you. So, you started typing furiously, ready to give him a piece of your mind. “first of all, you didn’t ask me a question so technically I have nothing to answer. Second, you come here, into my laptop, pretending you’re with the fucking FBI and even threatening me with a raid an then you even insult my appartement. I’m not having it and I appreciate you trying to help with my assignments but I’m more than capable of doing them myself. So, kindly fuck off” You were heated now, angry enough to have the blood rushing to your cheeks and to feel abnormally hot.

You slammed your laptop shut, your breathing still slightly faster than it should be as you fumed thinking about what was happening. You were never one to get angry this fast, or this much, but whoever broke into you computer just pushed all your buttons just right to get your blood burning. Deciding that just raging about it wasn’t going to help you, you turned your attention to the professor, who had long since arrived during your ‘little conversation’.

Sehun growled, he put all this effort in to help her and she didn’t even thank him but got mad at him instead? it was safe to say that Sehun was not satisfied with the outcome of your little dispute. He was frustrated, smashing the keys harder than strictly necessary as he went through your files again. He knew he‘d never find anything incriminating, and that was frankly not what he was looking for. The truth is that over all the time he spent watching at you and your internet activities, he had started to care about you.

He was proud of you for working as hard as you did on your assignments, that was why he helped you when he found out your work was missing a few of the required aspects. But that was not all, your weirdly random google searches intrigued him and made him laugh and the sweet messages you sent your friends warmed his heart. All in all, he started liking you. Of course he would never admit it, not only because it would mean putting his job on the line, but also because Oh Sehun likes to think that he doesn’t fall easily.

You felt bad. You’d been avoiding all your electronical devices (like your microwave) just to avoid the man that had pissed you off, making all your assignments on the library computers and using your sister’s old phone instead of your own. The days you had been doing this, however, made you think. Why were you so angry at the man? he had only helped you. It might have been in the dumbest way possible but still, he tried to help you. The only reason you had to be mad at him was his breaking into your computer but if he was speaking the truth, then he was only doing his job.

Finally deciding that your anger was unreasonable, you grabbed your laptop. You opened word, sincerely hoping the guy that’d been monitoring you still was, and started typing. “hey, I don’t know if your still there. If you are I’d like to apologize, I got mad at you for trying to help me (btw I kinda believe you’re with the FBI now, no hacker would just help me with my assignment without totally bugging up my laptop or something)” You got all giddy inside after typing it, like a schoolgirl texting her crush. It confused you, you literally only talked to this dude once and he had gotten you mad there was no way you had a crush on him.

You weren’t really sure of what to expect. It had been well over a week since you’d abandoned all electronics, so he might have already been assigned to someone else. Luckily, within a minute you’d gotten a response.

“Yeah yeah, I don’t really care about that. The question is, are you ready to accept that blood orange was a better description or not?” You snorted, of course you weren’t. Thankfully though, lying is easy when you’re not face to face. “Yeah, it might have been better, got me more words as well”. Not a second later he started typing again. “You can’t see me but I’m rolling my eyes rn. You do know I just heard you snort right? whatever, as long as you don’t change it back, we’re cool” Your eyes widened ‘of course this little creep would be watching me’ You thought, completely disregarding the fact that it was literally his job to watch you. A shock of terror ran through you when you read his next words “I just checked your schedule btw, didn’t your class start like five minutes ago?”. You exclaimed a loud “FUCK” before running around your apartment, quickly gathering your stuff, only stopping to shout a quick “thank you” to the dude watching over you before slamming the door and sprinting to school.

Sehun smiled to himself as you once again tried handing in the wrong file, quickly changing the places of the files so you’d pick the right one. His smile got brighter as he looked at the shocked look on your face before you muttered another “thank you”.

Over the last month or so, he’d heard these words a lot. You had been talking with him almost every day. Your way of talking had quickly evolved into you just speaking into your mic while he types away, this happened after he told you you typed slower than his grandma did. Truth be told, he found it endearing but he just wanted an excuse to hear your voice more. The two of you were pretty much best friends at this point, he’d even trusted you with his name.

“So, you and y/n must have been talking a lot lately” Chanyeol spoke up, waking Sehun up from his thoughts “You know, because you’ve been less of a bitch-baby lately” he continued when he didn’t get a response . Sehun scrunched up his nose at his older colleague’s childish behavior, not that he wouldn’t have said the same but when Chanyeol did things they always seemed more childish. “we have actually but I’d appreciate it if your dumb ass didn’t expose me in front of our boss so be less loud” His words were harsh but the smile lingered on his face. Chanyeol started walking back towards his own desk but couldn’t help but snicker a bit first “Man, you are whipped”.

Tears streamed down your face. So many things were happening all at once. It all started when you failed one of the most important exams you’d get this semester, meaning your school had to discuss whether they’d want to keep you or not. This made you anxious, and this became the reason the boy you’d been seeing broke up with you. Lastly, you’d just heard your bunny, Loki, had died. Life didn’t seem as colorful as it had a week ago and you weren’t handling it well.

You found some peace in Sehun, he’d been like a rock to you. It seemed like no matter what happened he’d be there for you and that was something you needed at the time. Something you’d started to rely on. But when you had a light panic attack, and he didn’t respond when you opened your laptop and talked to him. Even the messages you’d left him going unanswered. You felt broken. This man you had never even met meant so much to you. Losing him hurt.

“Dude, just look up her address. You can just track her IP bro stop sulking” Chanyeol had been trying to get Sehun to meet up with you ever since Sehun had been reassigned but the boy was being stubborn in trying to respect your privacy. “Seriously though, you watched her through her cam for months I really don’t think it’d bother her if you knew her address”

Sehun had been ignoring him for a while now but he’d had enough. “Chanyeol, can you, for once in your life, not stick your dumb head into someone else’s business. If you can’t just go do it to Minseok because I’m not having it anymore” He spoke, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing.

Chanyeol held his hands up before returning to his own desk. Pushing his hair back in frustration, he hadn’t seen Sehun as happy as he had been when you two were talking in a while. He made a quick decision, he couldn’t call himself Chanyeol anymore if he didn’t straight up ignore Sehun’s pledge for him not to interfere. So that left him with only one thing to do, or well, one thing to do first.

His hands fly over his keyboard as he quickly tracks you, something that could cost him his job if the wrong people found out. Chanyeol didn’t really care though, he genuinely cared for Sehun and after all his co-worker has said about you he even started caring about you. He wanted to see the both of you happy, preferably happy together. So he ignored all privacy laws that forbade him to search for you like this, and within a few minutes he had found you.

This was your third day of continually sitting inside, shoving food into your face to distract yourself from the world. Not the most healthy way of coping, but right now it was the preferred way of coping. You’d seen so many girls in angsty teen movies lock themselves in their rooms with just a tub of ice-cream and now it was your turn. Your friends had all been told you needed a bit of space, so when someone knocked on your door you decided just to ignore it.

“Hey, uhm, I know you’re in there. I really need to speak with you” a deep voice traveled through the mail slot on your door. You hesitated for a bit but you didn’t recognize the voice so it seemed better to you not to let the man know you were home, he was obviously bluffing when he said ‘he knew you were in’. You listened in to make sure he walked away, but instead you heard a heavy sigh “I’m with the FBI, let me in”. The FBI? Your head started spinning, could it be him?

You sneaked towards your door and peaked through the same mail slot he had spoken through. It took you a second to realize what you were looking at, that it wasn’t suddenly dark outside. You were looking straight into the eyes of whoever was standing at the door. Falling back on your ass in shock you made a loud sound as you knocked over a pile of unread newspapers. They piled on you, effectively trapping you.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just curious. Are you alright? I heard a noise”. You weren’t sure how to reply to his stuttered question, so you didn’t yet. Opting to try and remove yourself from the pile of newspapers first. Key word being ‘try’, they were too heavy for you to move in your current position and you cursed yourself for accumulating newspapers instead of just tossing or recycling them.

You hesitated even more, calling for help from the dude you tried to blow off would be embarrassing. Then again, a headline about a local Youngster dying buried underneath a pile of old newspapers might be even more embarrassing. So you swallowed your pride “I’m kind of stuck, please help. The door is probably open” you recalled from when you went to lock the door, but couldn’t find your keys.

“that’s not very safe” the man said as he opened your door. He was ridiculously tall, and kind of cute with big round eyes, that got even bigger when he saw you buried under all the papers, and flappy ears. “Oh god are you okay? How did this even happen?!” He said as he started pulling the papers off of you. “unresolved hoarding problems mixed with an unhealthy amount of laziness” you answered as he pulled you out from the suffocating pile of paper “thank god I didn’t get any paper cuts”.

The man in front of you grinned. “I totally get why he likes you”. You weren’t sure, but you had a feeling you knew who he was talking about. Trying not to get you hopes up you casually asked the man why the FBI needed you. “Ah actually that was just me trying to get you to open the door” He laughed nervously rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. Suddenly he held out his hand to you, which you shook a bit hesitatingly. “Hi, I’m Chanyeol, I work with the FBI. I’m here because Sehun is my precious little grumpy coworker, and he’s been sulking over you for the past few days”.

Chanyeol seemed a bit silly to you, something you usually liked in a person. His words, however, sounded unreal to you. Why would Sehun be sulking over you after he left you? “I thought he couldn’t let anyone find out we were talking” You said. Chanyeol grinned once again and you found it difficult not to grin back at him. “My little Sehunnie just can’t keep a secret from me” he explained, continuing in a more serious tone he said “He’s been reassigned because the department decided you were no longer a threat and he’s too shy to look up your address like I did”.

You needed a second to process that. It made so much more sense now, He didn’t just leave you because he’d had enough of you. It felt like a weight was lifted from your shoulders. You smiled at Chanyeol brightly “He gets shy? He sounded so confident” You said shaking your head lightly.”He is, He just has a crush on you”.

You blushed, hearing someone say he had a crush on you got you thinking again. Over the past few days you had come to accept your crush on him, it was easier because he was gone, you would never have to act on it because you would probably never talk to him again. But now that Chanyeol was here you were sure you’d get to talk to Sehun again, you’d probably even get to see him.

“He’s got his day off today, an I just know that dweeb is just sitting at home playing with vivi. So why don’t you get dressed properly and we go and set yo- I mean let you two meet” Chanyeol’s smile was devious as he corrected himself. Setting the two of you up was is goal and you knew it, and he knew you knew. So you have no clue as to why he even tried to hide it.

You had gotten dressed, Leaving Chanyeol in your living room to keep himself occupied with a bag of chips, and you were now underway to Sehun’s place which thankfully wasn’t insanely far from your own. “Okay, so maybe don’t mention I brought you here if he doesn’t specifically asks. That brat would get mad at me if he knew I meddled with your and his business”. You couldn’t help but giggle. You had gotten to know Chanyeol enough over the last hour to know Sehun would specifically ask.

Now the two of you were standing in front of Sehun’s door, Chanyeol insisting on fixing your hair before you ring the doorbell. “you know that he could see you through the window if he looked right?” You spoke as Chanyeol combed your hair with his fingers. “maybe he won’t look if you’re quiet. Besides I’m not about to send you into his house with your hair looking like you just debuted with nct 127″ you didn’t even get the time to ask him what the fuck he was talking about before he continued “I’m trying to set the two of you up in case you didn’t notice and since Sehun’s ridiculously stubborn you’re going to have to do all the work”. You frowned at him. Was this really a good idea? Maybe he was just playing around with you, convinced you would never even see him.

Before you could regret your decision Chanyeol rang the doorbell, quickly sprinting towards his car and racing off. The seconds before the door opened were nerve-wrecking with nothing there to distract you from your self destructive thoughts. The moment seemed to last forever but, thankfully, it did not.

The door opened and an annoyed sounding man lazily walked through it as he said “I’m not buying cookies before I get what I ordered last year”. He sounded exactly what you’d imagined even his tone was spot on (especially his tone) but you weren’t prepared for his looks. He was easily the most handsome man you had ever laid your eyes on, his strong features accentuated by the hair falling loosely down his forehead. His jawline popping out as he tilted his head back a bit to push it away from his eyes, before finally looking at you.

The way his expression shifted was cute. He went from cold and assertive (he was probably mad about his cookies) to a stuttering and blushing mess in under a second. “Y/N?! wha-? how did y-?” He didn’t even finish his question before answering it with a glare into the, now empty, street “Chanyeol”.

You were glad he had answered his own question; there was no way you had been able to answer him properly right now. You were dumbfounded. You didn’t really know what you’d expected Sehun to look like, all you knew was that it didn’t even compare to the real thing. He was gorgeous and all of a sudden you were thankful Chanyeol had fixed your hair before ringing the bell.

‘I knew he would try but I didn’t expect you to actually come” He said softly when he finally got out of his daze, snapping you out of yours. “why wouldn’t I? I thought I made it quite obvious that I liked you, and when you just ignored me like that I got hurt” You trailed off near the end of your sentence, not wanting to admit how he’d made you feel but wanting him to know nonetheless. He sighed deeply, a nice sound something that would’ve calmed you down under different circumstances. Now it made you anxious fearful of what he’d mean by it.

Warmth surrounded you suddenly, Sehun’s toned arms wrapping around you in a soft, loose hug, something you could have easily shrugged off if you wanted too. You didn’t, instead, you hugged him back tightly. Standing on your tippy-toes to whisper in his ear “I missed you”. You felt at home in his arms, even if you only met him in person for the first time today. You knew you had feelings for him, you had accepted your crush on him some time ago, but now that he was actually there it just hit you so much harder.

Only when you heard him whisper back did you pull away from the hug slightly, making sure his arms were still around you. “I’m sorry” He had said. “You don’t have to apologize, it’s all alright now” you said looking into his eyes with a soft smile, trying not to make your heart eyes at him too obvious. “No it’s not” his eyes bore into yours “I- You really need to know that I didn’t let go of you because I didn’t care. It’s because I thought you wouldn’t. Please know that I care about you, a lot” His face had gotten closer as he had spoken. Only inches away from yours now, you could see his lashes brush his cheeks as he looked down at your lips. You could truly feel how soft his lips were as they pushed up against your own.

You kissed Sehun back gently, keeping the kiss nice and slow. His hand lightly stroked your jaw as he pulled away. “I really care about you” You broke out into a smile for the first time in over a week. “I missed you so much” Your voice was muffled as you pushed your face into his chest. When you finally separated you could see his smile, his entire face scrunched up in joy and you honestly couldn’t comprehend that he had gotten even more beautiful. “want to come in maybe? it’s getting kind of cold”. The two of your walked through the door closing it behind you.

“You won’t believe it Baekhyun. KISSING, THE KIDS WERE KISSING, and he has the audacity to get mad at me for ‘meddling’ with his ‘love life’. Without me the two hadn’t even been together right now and I’m pretty sure y/n would have gotten kicked out of college if I hadn’t begged Minseok to help her with the math classes” Baekhyun laughed “Yes, yes. You’re a hero, saved y/n and Sehun’s love life. I still can’t believe you got Minseok to help her with her studies though, he seemed so cranky every time I’ve seen him”. “Oh that’s because he’s addicted to caffeine, he get’s really moody without it but he’s a real softy at heart” Chanyeol screeched as a couple of ice cubes ran down the back of his shirt.

“WHERE DID THAT EVEN COME FROM?!”

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indirispeaks · 7 years

Text

Breath of Fire

Okay please excuse the length and whatnot. I put a cut below the first paragraph. This has not been proofread because it was an idea that I had to get out of my goddamn fingers before it exploded and it’s not even finished. I didn’t get to the good part, but I know for a fact I’m gonna go back to it and finish it. Yeehaw. ))

Killian didn’t remember when things had started to go wrong, or when he’d lost control of the situation. Maybe they were one and the same thing. But locked in the trunk of a car with his hands tied behind him, one shoulder twinging horribly from being thrown forward on it every time the car rounded a curve, he certainly had time to reflect on it.

Perhaps it was when he’d first met Trey. They’d been in line at the book store in one of those indeterminable lines that wound around the shelf almost all the way to the back of the store. Killian had poked his head out of line long enough to ascertain that there were only two cashiers on duty. He grumbled and tucked his book of staff paper more firmly under his arm. If the music store had been open....if they were anywhere near as cheap as this deal was...he wouldn't be here.

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" a voice beside him had muttered. He turned his head, shaking his hair out of his eyes to see who'd spoken. A skinhead? No, didn't seem the type. Maybe another musician with his pasty skin, shaved head and pretentious little soul patch under his lower lip. He couldn't tell what the man was referring to.

"Huh?" "This. Them. All these people lined up for their deals." the man said again, eyes travelling up and down the line with an expression of disdain. Killian almost bit back his reply. "Well, yeah. But you're here." he pointed out. The man snorted, then grinned. "Touche. Trey Williams." "Killian Foster." "So why are you one with the masses of sheep?" Trey had asked a few moments later, when the line had inched forward maybe a foot and a half. What on earth were these people buying??

"Staff paper." he answered, holding it up to show what it was. "Gotta finish a composition by Monday." "Oh, okay. College?" "Nah, commercial....uh...Bongo Tea." he admitted. Trey looked at him sidelong, appraisingly. "I see." he said. He was glaring at the line again. "Bet half these losers are out buying manga." "Least they're in a bookstore." Killian muttered. He'd been about to pass Trey off as another line-jerk, when he got his attention again. "Yeah, I guess. People don't read enough today, man. They're all about the internet, they forget the old stories." "You like old stories?" the words were out of his mouth before Killian could stop them. Trey had perked right up, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Oh hell, yeah, man! All the old myths, Norse gods, selkies, nymphs, dragons, kelpies..." "Oh wow, my mom used to have this book where like, these kids got on a kelpie and were stuck to it and gonna drown...."

And the two hours stuck waiting in line hadn't seemed like that long. They'd formed a friendship right there, discussing all kinds of literature, myths, and monsters. They had a mutual love of dragons, those long-lived, frightful lizards with hoards of gold deep in the mountains. ("Oh, man, if Bilbo had just stabbed him in the EYE, man....") and Killian was able to turn the last 9 feet of waiting into a discussion of whether or not kelpies were considered horse-monsters or demons. They were exchanging numbers and Skype information by the time both were walking out of the book store.

That was how it had started. Guy nights at the bar with beer, and gradually a few of Trey's friends...who were equally obsessed with the myths. Killian thought he'd found a group of kindred souls, the first time he'd gone with all of them 'wisp hunting' out of the moors late at night with blue lights looking for elusive (and to him, non-existant) faerie lights. But it was all in good fun. Trisha, one of the group....Matt's sister or something, he couldn't remember...had come onto him after and he'd turned her down. Something had shifted in the group then.

"Dude, if she'd come onto ME..." Trey had said, looking Killian over with what he only realized later, in the back of the car, was cool calculation. Killian had just shrugged and grinned. "Not my type." "Sex without strings!" "Not my type!"

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

He didn't know how long it had been. He was in serious pain now, he couldn't control the way his head kept banging against the inside of the trunk, and he'd been straining against that zip tie for at least the better part of an hour and he'd lost all the feeling in his right arm. He remembered watching a video on YouTube where this little kid had gotten out of a plastic zip tie with relatively little effort...but there wasn't enough room in the trunk to get his arms in front of him and even if he had, she'd used her shoelaces and his didn't have any. Besides, the car wasn't on a paved road anymore, he guessed, judging by the bumping and shifting. The car shifted quite suddenly to the left and he was thrown forward again...there was a pop and a crunch and blinding pain in his face.

"Fuck!!" he yelled, feeling and tasting blood pouring from his nose. "Dammit...!" He was more annoyed with himself that he'd resorted to useing the F word. At least the car was slowing down...whether or not that was a good thing, he couldn't tell. It probably wasn't, now that he thought about it. He was going to kick some serious ass....the car finally came to a stop, and he could hear the engine shut down. He tensed...when the trunk opened, he was going to jump out and kick Trey in the face and tackle Matt and make Jason take off that zip tie and then he was going to find his phone and call the cops and....

The lid of the trunk opened and he was blinded by a flashlight beam right in the eyes. He squinted and jerked his head away as hands grabbed onto his arms. "Oh man, you look like shit." Matt's voice came from somewhere behind him. "Told you we should have put him on his back, he's not perfect anymore." "He's still unbroken we can clean him up." Trey said, pushing Killian's head up and examining his face. "Maybe. Dude....what happened to your nose?" "Fuck you!" Second F word in less than ten minutes. Trey didn't seem to mind, evidently he'd heard that before.

"Hmm, it doesn't look broken." he said, taking hold of it and moving it around a little. Killian bit back a yell, but jerked his face out of Trey's fingers. "Just get him out, come on, it's getting late." Matt again. He sounded impatient. Trey and Jason hauled Killian out of the trunk and his legs were so cramped he immediately collapsed on the grass. Grass, they were on grass. Somewhere out in the moors then. He squinted around....the sun was just going down and he couldn't see signs of civilization anywhere, no streetlamps, no nothing. He could hear the sound of waves somewhere. Wait, the ocean?

"What's going on?" he demanded, as he was hauled to his feet. He tried to dig them into the ground but wasn't getting any purchase on the slippery grass. They were going down a worn pathway. And there were other people there, he could see Trisha...and Megan, Keith, Andrew, Iain, Kelly....god, the whole gang. Almost twenty people there. "Hey!" he raised his voice. "What the hell! Let me go, this isn't funny!!" "Nah, man, this is all about you." Trey said, as they approached a flat area. Killian's foot hit a stone and he stumbled, Jason and James pulling him upright again. "Do you KNOW how hard it is to find a pure person?"

"What the hell?" Killian demanded again. His anger had given way to something else, curling in the pit of his stomach. "What are you talking about?" "Pure person...you're IT, man..." Trey said, and Killian started to suspect the light in his eyes was pure, unbridled insanity. "You're educated, you got your own place, you don't sleep around--" "HEY!" "--and you know, like, ALL the myths. You're perfect. You're so lucky!" he finished, patting him on the back as they came around the bend. Killian did not feel lucky, despite the party atmosphere that seemed to be going. Coolers were open, beers were out, and Megan had her shirt off. There was a campfire going and Iain was crouched in front of it with what looked like a weather vane with sausages stuck on all four prongs.

"You want a dog?" Jason asked courteously, as they came to a halt. Killian just stared at him. "Take it while you can, mate." he suggested, patting Killian on the chest and walking off to snag a beer and a plate of party food. Killian felt weak, but not as afraid as he had previously. Was this some weird sort of initiation or something? "Can you take this thing off my hands?" he asked, eyeing James, who shook his head.

"Naw, man. Sorry. You'll see when it's time." was it his imagination, or did James sound apologetic? His stomach flipflopped, he was afraid again. "Hey!!" Megan was bouncing his way. "Oh my God, you're here." she was beaming. It was a bit cool, he noticed, glancing down...coloring..and glancing back up to her face again. She grinned at him. "Last chance, pure boy!" she teased, standing on tiptoe and jiggling on purpose. "Hey, HEY!!" Matt snapped at her, and she pouted, turning away. "You got the robe?" "Yeah, yeah." she said, tossing her hair with one hand and taking a long gulp of the beer. "Finished it this morning, you want it now?" What on earth was going on? What robe?

The robe, as it turned out, was an off-white thing that looked like it'd been hand-sewn for a college production of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum, and had probably been made from a bedsheet. It would have been funny if it hadn't caused another curl of fear in his stomach. He still tried to laugh it off. "What the hell is that supposed to be?" he cracked, as James pulled him around the side of the table. Then he noticed that James had a knife out. "Hey, hey, HEY!!" but James wasn't listening to him.

"Okay here's the deal. I'm gonna cut the zip tie and you're gonna put on the robe. You try and run and I WILL cut you. So will Keith." he added casually, and Killian's eyes automatically snapped to Keith, who waved with half a sausage hanging rather lewdly out of his mouth. He also had a knife. The fear was back, curling in his stomach. "I'm not gonna put on the robe." he said, surprising himself. Kelly was coming over wiith what looked like a rag. James sighed. "You're going to put on the robe." "I'm not gonna-OOGH." Killian bent double as James' fist sank into his stomach. He couldn't even block it, and sank down towards the grass. "James!" Kelly scolded, bending over and starting to wipe the blood off his face. "Don't damage the goods." "Put on the robe." James said, and the zip tie was suddenly gone. Killian looked down at himself. His arms hurt like hell after being forced behind his back for so long, and he wasn't sure he could put on anything. Kelly was still scrubbing at his face.

"God, what happened to your face, you look awful." she said. "It's sore." Killian snapped, twisting his face out of her grasp. "HEY!!" he yelled. James had evidently grown impatient and had sliced up the back of his shirt. "Put on the--" "OKAY!!" The robe was not made from a bedsheet. It was slightly scratchy against his skin, and felt almost like burlap. It came down to his ankles and he felt stupid standing there. "Jeans off." James said. "Are you kidding?" "Jeans off." Killian glared at him, and worked his jeans off under the thing. He felt stupid. Aside from all that, there was still that curl of fear working its way up his stomach. James had hit him. They had knives. James put the knife in his pocket, and took hold of Killians arm.

"I'm serious about the hot dog, do you want one?" Trey asked, popping back up. Killian just stared at him. He thought about punching him in the face, but dismissed that idea, his mind touching on the knife again. The sun was beginning to set, and the party atmosphere was getting rowdier. Kelly had her shirt off too, and most of the food was gone, but there seemed to be an almost endless supply of beer....none of which was offered to him. He wasn't sure he would have turned that down. James and Keith followed him around like hulking bodyguards, which he supposed they were. Someone had produced a radio, and the strains of music were enough to quell the fear in his stomach....until an hour later. They were lighting what looked like torches shoved into the ground, making a ring of fire, and now Andrew was holding up his hands. Trey slipped into the circle next to Killian and elbowed him in the side. "Here we go, man, you ready?" "Ready for WHAT?" Killian snapped back. No, he wasn't ready. "I swear to god, Trey if this is all some elaborate joke I'm going to kick your face in." Trey looked offended at the suggestion.

Andrew was making some sort of speech. Killian had tuned out the first part but now it registered that he was talking about HIM and looked up sharply. "....to find one pure of motives and relatively pure of soul. It may not be the perfect gift, but it is one that we have looked six years for. We've been struggling along in the dark places of this world, all of us looking for something--" "WOO!!" came someone's voice from the back. Andrew waved his arm for silence. "...All of us looking for something! And six years ago we found it! And tonight, we will ingratiate ourselves into its presence with this gift of a pure heart." he concluded, gesturing over at Killian.

Oh hell no.

Killian had just decided that this was NOT an elaborate initiation of some kind, and to hell with the knives he was OUT of here....when James grabbed one arm and Keith grabbed the other. "Hey...no...not doing this...whatever the hell you're doing, I'm not going to be a part of it..." he muttered with a lot less force than he wanted to have put into his words, but that curl of fear in his stomach had turned into a bonfire that was choking its way into his throat. Andrew was still speaking, but Killian couldn't hear it over the roaring in his ears.

"Time to go, man." Trey said, clapping him on the back and yanking a torch out of the ground. He was insane, they were all insane. "Let GO! Let me go!! This isn't okay, man, this isn't right!" Killian found his voice and started shouting. They were going back down a path and the ocean came into view. The beach was down some hundred feet or so, and Killian confined his struggles...though he did try to knock Keith off the narrow path and over the side. "I don't care if it's against the rules, I WILL bust your face again, you try and push me!" Keith snapped, yanking him off his feet. He felt the robe rip a little around his knees.

"Bite me, you crazy bastard! You're all going to jail, I swear to God..." Killian panted, as the first of them spilled onto the beach. The torches were the only source of light and he could see the waves crashing on a very rocky shore. Beyond that, was something huge, and dark. A cave? It was definitely a cave, he could see that as he got closer. Once they got down off the winding descent, he increased his efforts to pull free, though he didn't have the slightest clue where the hell he was going to run. Back up, he guessed. Maybe he could get the knife from James....

"Come ON...." James all but snarled, yanking him on the arm and jerking him off balance again. It was only now that he got a good look at what they were dragging him towards. The cave entrance had been kept well clear off, but about twenty feet in front of it were stacked a few wooden pallets, making a makeshift platform. And in the center of that...

"Oh, no....no, no, no, no, no....no, you can't be serious, you're not doing this, we're NOT DOING THIS!" his voice had risen an octave at the sight of the thing, and the secluded location, torches, and robe suddenly clicked into one horrible, completely batshit crazy realization. He didn't even realize he was laughing hysterically until Trey elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey, don't lose it now, dude...." "No, no, no, no, no, no, no!!" Killian rattled, digging his legs into the sand and rocks, trying to get some, any purchase on them. He couldn't, he was getting closer. He yanked so hard on Keith that the younger man almost fell and he was sure he'd pulled his own shoulder out of socket, the pain was so intense.

"HELP!!" he finally started screaming, as they wrestled him up on the platform. The tall, wooden pole looked like it had been a street light pole at some point, but they had cut it near the top, leaving six feet of smooth wood, about a foot in diameter at the bottom and tapering upwards. He was slammed up against it, and Keith and James pulled his arms back behind as Killian thrashed.

"Hey, hey, calm down." Trey was trying to reason with him. "It's just an offering, you won't feel much of it, okay? It's really important....you know the myths, you know how important it is. You're gonna be famous, we're gonna sing about this for YEARS...." "YOU FUCKING CRAZY ASSHOLE! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, LET ME GO! HELP!!" Killian screamed again, kicking out at whoever was close and feeling a moment's gratification at the pained grunt from Keith. Or James. He couldn't tell. His shoes and socks were being taken off.��

"STOP! PLEASE, STOP!!" But they weren't stopping, the zip ties were back, around his wrists and he was left there, his shoulders on fire from his struggling, and his vision was starting to go sparkly around the edges from sheer, black fear as he watched one of the others approach with the torch.

They were going to burn him at the stake.

#writing #my writing #dragons

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machihunnicutt · 7 years

Text

Not Selfish

Chapter 2

(Or read on ao3.)

Evan read the Wikipedia page three times in his bed that night. He knew he needed to fall asleep but he couldn't. When Connor had talked about his polyamorous friend he hadn't made it sound weird or bad and neither did the Internet (for the most part at least.) And the more he thought about that the more he thought about kissing Jared and Connor and the more he thought about kissing them the hotter his face felt and harder it was to close his eyes. He got up to get some water, tiptoeing across the wood floor.

To his surprise the light in the kitchen was still on.

"Jared? What are you doing up it's almost 3 am."

Jared turned to look at him. His face was open in a way it wasn't usually and it took him a moment to clear the emotion from his features. "Hey Ev," he said sharply. "I'm uh...I'm making ramen and a microwave mug cake."

"Oh." Shitty microwave food at three in the morning meant Jared was upset. "Can I join you?" Evan took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Sure," Jared said, wiping his nose discreetly on the back of his hand. "Do you want some ramen and/or cake?"

"I could go for some cake." Jared flicked on the radio to the oldies station and the gentle hum of some 50s slow song filtered in. He put the mug between them and started in on his ramen.

"Are you okay? You're eating your sad food."

Jared blushed and spooned some more of the ramen into his mouth. "It's nothing. I just can't sleep."

"Me too," he muttered. "Hey um..." oh God why was he so nervous. "C-Connor mentioned his um...his p-polyamorous friend today. I d-didn't know that was a thing."

Jared raised an eyebrow but remained silent so he continued. "W-what do you uh what do you think about that?"

Jared cocked his head to one side in confusion. "What do I think about polyamory?"

"I'm s-sorry that's a dumb question I shouldn't have..."

"I think that it it makes you happy go for it. You being a general you not you specifically...not that I'm excluding you. You can do whatever you want."

Evan bit his lip. "Do you think you'd ever be into it?"

"Me?" Jared's eyes widened and Evan wanted to crawl under a rock. "Oh, c'mon Evan there's no way one guy would be interested in me, let alone two."

"That's not true."

"Evan you don't have to lie to me just because I look and feel like shit."

"So there is something wrong?"

Jared winced.

"And I'm not lying. And you don't look like shit. You n-never look like shit."

Jared looked down at his ramen again and stuffed another spoonful in his mouth. Evan tried a bite of the mug cake and tried to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. It was a stupid, reckless thing to ask but he was glad he'd asked it.

"Do you wanna talk about what's bothering you?"

Jared shook his head. "I'm sorry Ev I'm just being a baby." He ran a hand through his hair and Evan frowned.

"You know you can talk to me about anything right?"

"I know. Thanks Ev." Jared still looked sad. He hated that he was sad. The radio continued its melancholy sputtering of old love songs.

"Do you want to dance?"

"Dance?" Jared nearly choked on his ramen.

"W-we don't have to I j-just thought.."

"Fuck yeah Evan," he said quietly, almost a whisper, that didn't fit with the words.

Jared's hand was gentle on his waist. They swayed close together. Evan was nervous that his hand was sweaty but Jared hadn't said anything about it so they just kept swaying.

"Thanks Evan," Jared muttered, and he could feel his breath on his neck.

When the song ended and they broke apart Evan didn't step back right away. His eyes fell to Jared's lips like some lovestruck idiot.

"I should probably go to bed," he said softly.

"Right, me too."

"Goodnight Ev."

"Goodnight Jared." *** "I need you to put that down and then tell me what exactly you think you're doing."

Connor put down the bottle of glitter nail polish he'd stolen from Zoe's room and sighed exaggeratedly. "I painted them black like I usually do but something seemed wrong so I took the black off and tried green but then I forgot it wasn't dry and tried eating chips and messed them up. So I went for it a third time but I was kind of tired and distracted so now I have this." He held up his mangled nails: glitter on some, a mishmash of uncoordinated colors and smudges.

"I love you bro, but you only go nail crazy when there's something wrong. You took your meds this morning right?" Zoe asked, taking a seat across from him and reaching out to wipe the wet polish from his nails. "And don't take my glitter again this shit is expensive."

"Yeah I took my meds. And I'm fine. I just..." he trailed off. Zoe's worry sometimes made him feel guilty. Connor was used to feeling guilty (it was one of his few emotions that included anger, worthlessness, and pining.)

"It's just that I saw Hansen for the first time in a while yesterday."

She finished his nails and selected a deep indigo to redo them. "And that's bad because...?"

"It's not bad it's just that every time I've tried to get together with him before he has always had a date. Evan has a new date every week now."

"Our Evan?" She said, taken aback.

"Yeah...yesterday I remembered how much I missed him."

"And I assume you're also hella jealous?"

He scowled at her. "You could say that yeah but don't tell anyone."

She nodded sympathetically. "All these dates and he hasn't asked you out yet?"

Connor shrugged, eyes on the silver glitter she was now applying. His nails looked like tiny galaxies with glittering stars. "Maybe he just doesn't like me."

"Bullshit."

"He'll probably just ask Kleinman," he muttered.

She frowned. "Do you think Evan likes Jared?"

"It's more likely than him liking me." And Kleinman's not broken like I am, he didn't add. "In any case he's not dating either of us."

Zoe crossed her legs and pulled her hair into a ponytail at the top of her head. He thought she looked more authoritarian with her hair pulled out of her face. Maybe he did too. "You know I hit on a bunch of people before Alana and I started going out. I just wanted to make her jealous."

"I don't think he's doing that."

She sighed. "Look, obviously I don't know the whole situation but I do know you. And you always sell yourself short." He looked up at her. "It's not ridiculous for him to like you. You're very likable Con."

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You're very welcome. Do you want me to do your toes?"

From then on Connor spent more time at Evan and Jared's place, regardless of Evan's dates. When Evan wasn't around he just hung out with Jared. Which wasn't the worst thing in the world he soon realized. He'd actually started texting him more often too. And sometimes they got together for real, and not just to complain about being stuck without Evan.

"So when did you realize you had feelings for him?"

"Why so you can establish your right to call dibs?"

"Connor Murphy, he is a human being I can't call dibs on a human being I'm ashamed of you. Regardless I think we need to establish a timeline."

Connor laughed at the mock seriousness of Jared's expression. They were sitting at opposite sides of the couch, feet tangled together in the center cushion. Connor was doodling while Jared played some video game he hadn't caught the name of. After awhile he had paused it.

"Um...it was senior year. It's kind of stupid to say out loud because it was just this uh...this dumb little moment in high school. He knew I was having a bad day and he was giving me a ride so we could hang out at his place and he just pulled into the drive through at McDonalds and got me fries and ice cream and uh...I'd never really had someone who knew when I felt like shit and went out of their way to make me feel better. And when he handed me my fries and told me he was proud of me for getting through the day I just knew that I liked him."

Jared nodded slowly and Connor felt their feet tangle further, Connor barefoot with his toenails painted and Jared in his thick striped socks.

"How about you?" He asked when Jared didn't say anything.

Jared grinned. "Sophomore year. He climbed the tree in my back yard and when he got to the top he just laughed his head off like an idiot. I was on the ground still and I just remember looking up at him and thinking that I could look at him forever."

"Damn that's really gay."

Jared cackled. "Like you're one to talk." *** Okay so he'd be lying if he said he still didn't like Connor Murphy. He was growing on him: the way he took his coffee black next to Evan's mess of sugar and creamer, his eyes that looked intense even when he was tired or stoned, his soft stories about Evan and drive through fries and about the way loneliness ate at him sometimes. Only Connor didn't say the last thing lightly. Conversations about feelings happened when Evan was on a date and they both felt bitter and cracked open at their chests and knees and ankles. Connor would talk about the scars on his wrists and the lies his brain told him. Jared wasn't so forthcoming. He guessed, when he thought about it, he was used to bottling things up.

"I mean I don't tell my parents much. When I need to say something I know they don't want to hear I just lie."

"I guess I like pissing off my parents," he said. He was cooking a strange mess of eggs in one of Jared's frying pans. Connor Murphy tended to help himself in their kitchen. Although this time he was making food for the both of them. "That dude Evan's out with looks like he belongs in a fucking Wes Anderson movie."

"Yeah and you look like a Twilight extra but I don't say anything about it."

"You're so funny Kleinman," he replied in monotone. "Here, have some eggs a la Murphy." He put the mess of broken yolks and pepper speckled egg bits in front of him before dousing the mess in hot sauce.

"Thank you? I hope you're not trying to poison me Murphy."

Connor rolled his eyes and leaned his elbows on the counter. It was kind of late for eggs. It was nearly 10 and Evan wasn't back from his date yet. "I used to cook random food when I got really depressed. It was all shit and I usually burned something but it kept me from..." he trailed off, fingering the scars on his wrists. "I don't anymore because food's not cheap and my roommates would probably kill me if I set off the fire alarm."

"What do you do instead?" Jared asked, prodding at the eggs with his fork.

"I sound proofed my room so sometimes I just go in there and scream my head off. Or I talk to Evan. Or I bother you."

Jared looked up at him, meeting Connor's self-conscious gaze. "I kind of don't hate you Kleinman."

"Thanks. I don't hate you either." This felt like something. He didn't know what that something was but it seemed important. "And you aren't bothering me," he blurted before the moment was gone. "I don't make friends very easily and it's nice to have...God, I sound like Ev. I'm not trying to make a big deal out of it or anything. It's just nice not to be alone."

"Yeah," he said. "You don't have to eat the eggs just because we're bonding or whatever."

"Oh thank God." *** The more he saw them hang out together the more he thought he should stop being a coward and just ask. Ideally it would be a light, no pressure kind of inquiry, but every time he pictured himself doing it went more like "HI JARED HI CONNOR I LIKE BOTH OF YOU CAN WE ALL GO OUT TOGETHER?" Shouted incomprehensibly in the kitchen or living room or God forbid out in public.

He was having trouble sleeping again. When he wasn't worried about his sexuality he was worried about school. Finals were fast approaching and several of his professors had opted for group projects instead of exams. His groups tended to push all of the work on to him when they realized he was a good student and too quiet to protest. Evan was better at talking to people now but he was still nervous about confrontation. He was getting kind of weighted down and stuck between a rock and a hard place because he didn't want to upset his group members and he also didn't want to have a breakdown. He was walking home from the library and thinking about how much work he had to do and how lonely and weak he felt. It was getting cold. It might even snow tomorrow and his feet were freezing in his worn out boots. Maybe if he started crying his tears would freeze on his face.

"Jared?" When he opened the door he was wrapped up in warmth and the scent of tomato sauce and he could hear crackling from the kitchen. "I'm home. What are you doing...oh."

Jared and Connor were grinning and laughing at each other, both had aprons on and Connor had flour in his hair. "Hansen! You're home," Connor exclaimed when he noticed Evan standing there.

"You're here," Evan replied.

"Evan we're making homemade pasta," Jared explained as Evan stood numbly in the doorway. "We thought you could use a nice dinner but this idiot didn't bring a pasta maker and so it looks kinda fucked up but I think it'll cook alright."

"Are you okay?" Connor asked when Evan remained speechless. His happy expression from a moment earlier faded a bit and Evan felt guilty. He ruined everything didn't he? He was just a big, broken third wheel.

"I'm fine," he said, but his voice cracked pitifully.

"Oh Ev, what's wrong?" Jared put down the spatula he was holding and then Evan started sobbing. He'd tried to hold it in all day but now, seeing two of his favorite people doing something nice for him on a day that wanted to kick him when he was down, was more than he could handle.

Then Jared's arms were around him and he was shaking like a leaf and stuttering out apologies like he was in high school. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry this is so nice I ruin everything and I'm awful so..."

"You're not awful," Connor said. Jared pulled back and rubbed Evan's shoulders while he tried to calm his breathing."What happened Hansen?"

"Nothing," he choked. He suddenly felt hot and panicky. "It's nothing you guys I'm just a l-little overwhelmed s-sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Connor said.

"Hey," Jared said. He cupped Evan's face in his hands. "You know you can tell me anything too."

"I-I um..." he trailed off, blushing furiously, eyes still blurry from the tears. Connor cleared his throat and Jared quickly took his hands off Evan's face.

"Let's have pasta," Jared said and then backed up (into Connor accidentally which was awkward for a second and involved Connor's hands fumbling on Jared's arms.)

The rest of the night was better than breaking down in his kitchen. The pasta noodles were misshapen but surprisingly excellent. After they ate Jared put on The Office and the three of them curled up on the couch with Evan in the middle. Jared had the dorkiest laugh and Connor leaned his head on his shoulder in a way that grounded him. He liked them so much.

"Call me if you want to talk," Connor said when he walked him out. "I'm always here."

"What did I do to deserve you?"

Connor laughed. "I'm a mess and we both know it."

"I think you're great."

"You know you don't ruin anything right?"

Evan shrugged. It was cold and he hadn't bothered to put his coat back on. Connor was wearing the scarf he'd knitted him and his face was pink from the cold.

"You don't Hansen. You're my best friend."

"You're my best friend too."

Connor smiled. "See you Hansen. Tell Kleinman I said bye."

"Yeah...okay."

Evan went back inside and helped Jared clean up the dishes. "You guys seem c-close now."

"Yeah," he replied. "Murphy's not a total asshole."

"I liked the pasta."

"Well don't get used to it nerd." He wiped his hands on a dish towel. "Goodnight Ev."

"Night." He'd wanted to say more. He'd wanted to ask him, in a jealous and insecure way, if he liked Connor more than he was letting on.

Who was he kidding? Including him would be too much work. If they liked each other he'd be happy for them. He repeated this in his head so he wouldn't forget it.

Happy for them. Happy for them. Happy for them.

He didn't have time to worry about this. He had class and projects and strangers to date so his head didn't explode. If there was one thing Evan Hansen was good at it was evasion. *** Jared liked it when it snowed. He liked the way it blanketed the trees and turned to slush by the roadside. He liked walking in it with a cup of coffee in hand. Everything seemed stiller on nights when it snowed. It was like the night was holding its breath. Everything felt fresh and expectant and important.

He didn't expect to see Connor Murphy on his porch swing when he got home. It was late. He'd been doing some studying of his own away from the distractions of the house (which often included Connor Murphy.)

"What are you doing here? You must be fucking freezing."

Connor looked up from his hunched position. He had snow in his hair and eyelashes. He'd been crying or smoking it was hard to tell. "I was going to surprise him. But uh...after an hour I texted him to try to figure out where he was and..."

"Evan's on another date. He's got an endless supply of phone numbers apparently."

Connor laughed bitterly and tossed the bag of jolly ranchers he had in Jared's direction. "I got him his favorite," he croaked. "What the fuck am I still doing here Kleinman? Do you know?"

"Come inside. We can..."

"I don't want to come inside." He bared his teeth and spoke in a low growl.

Jared took off his scarf and wrapped it around Connor's bare neck. "Fine then. I'll stay out here with you until you do. He sat down. Connor was shaking. His hair covered his face and Jared could tell he was trying to hide his tears the same way Jared had that night at the party.

"I keep trying to tell myself that he's not worth all this. That I don't know...that he's a bad person or whatever but he's not. He's not seeing other people to hurt me or some shit. He just doesn't like me. He just...I just don't deserve someone like him." His voice sounded so broken that for a moment Jared hated Evan. He hated him even though Connor was right and he wasn't doing anything wrong.

"You do deserve someone like Evan."

"You don't have to lie to me Kleinman I'm not a fucking kid."

"You do!" He repeated and it was too loud and echoed in the icy streets, sound tangling with the amber glow from the street lamps. Connor looked up. Jared had realized they had the same weird eyes years ago but he didn't think he'd ever really looked at them. He didn't think he'd looked at the freckles on Connor's nose before either, or the mystery bruise on his right cheekbone he claimed he woke up with and didn't remember how he'd acquired. There was snot on his face and his eyes were red.

Jared had learned that Connor Murphy's default tended to be anger. He yelled. And his tears were more often angry than sad.

Connor drew in a long breath. The anger faded from his face into something more tired and vulnerable. "Why doesn't he like me?" He said.

Maybe they were more alike than he realized. Maybe Connor could understand him the way he understood Evan.

Jared leaned in fractionally, involuntarily and then stopped, rational part of his brain urging him to pause. You don't just do things. You think, you plan, you engineer your image so people can't see all the ways you fall short. For once the irrational and reckless and unconscious won. He leaned in the rest of the way and kissed him. He kissed Connor Murphy and he tasted like smoke and salt and felt impossibly warm.

What are you doing?

He drew back, apologies on his lips. "I shouldn't have done that. You're obviously in a bad place and it's fucked up to take advantage of..."

Connor cut him off by kissing him back, long and drawn out and hot and mutual and hungry in a way he didn't expect. Because it was just him. It wasn't someone kind and sweet like Evan or hot and edgy like Connor it was just him: not that nice or attractive or confident. It was just him and yet Connor's hands were on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. They broke apart for air.

A loud smacking sound pulled their eyes off of each other. Connor reacted first.

"Fuck! Hansen are you okay?" Evan was lying on his back in the driveway, facing away from them as if he'd been in the process of turning around to go back the way he'd come when he slipped.

Connor reacted first but Jared was the first to stand up. He could feel his heart in his throat. Beside him Connor was breathless, his lips very red even in the dark. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. He hated the snow. Shit like this only happened when it snowed.

He ran off the porch and into the driveway, more careful with his steps now. Evan still hadn't said anything. He was covering his face with his hands.

"Ev you're going to have to say something because you're scaring the shit out of me."

It was quiet in his head despite the fact that Connor was yelling something from the yard and a car was driving by. It was quiet and then Evan spoke and it wasn't anymore.

He uncovered his face and looked up at him with a horrified and supremely embarrassed expression. "I'm really sorry."

#sincerely three #dear evan hansen #deh #deh fic #jared kleinman/evan hansen #kleinsen #treebros #jared kleinman #connor murphy #evan hansen #awi's fic

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wemythings · 5 years

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The Botham Jean Murder and the Negro Stockholm Syndrome

Ex Dallas Police officer Amber Guyger has been sentenced to ten years in prison in the shooting death of Botham Jean. As the story is told Amber Guyger upon returning to her apartment complex entered the wrong apartment. Though she was said to have been off duty, she still had her uniform on which held a service pistol. Guyger opened the door of what she thought was her apartment and saw a big black man which was Botham Jean. Guyger mistaking Jean for a robber shot and killed him in cold blood.

Amber Guygers Apartment vs Botham Jeans Apartment

The Dallas apartment complexes that Jean and Guyger lived in had many similarities. Jean put a red carpet under his door to differentiate his apartment from the others.The interior layouts of the apartments based on the belongings, where the furniture was, pictures on the wall, made the apartments polar opposites of each other.

Guygers apartment seemed slightly cleaner while Jean had food and uncleaned dishes on the table a T.V. and a Lab top on. If Amber Guyger just analyzed her surroundings this situation could have been completely avoided.

Why the death of Botham Jean should be viewed as a Tragedy in the black community

Unlike many of the black men in America who were gunned down by police Botham Jean was completely innocent. Botham Jean wasn’t returning from a strong armed robbery like Michael Brown. This man didn’t get caught breaking into cars like Stephon Clark and Laquan Mcdonald. He wasn’t on the corner selling drugs like Freddy Grey. Botham Jean was not resisting arrest like Eric Garner.

These men were deified and celebrated as martyrs in the black community after their deaths. Despite the fact that overwhelming evidence against these men show that they directly or indirectly contributed to their own demise.

This man’s case is completely different in that he was in his apartment sitting on his couch minding his own business. He was doing nothing to no one and his life was taken from him. The only real mistake he made in this situation is leaving his door open.

Botham Jean embodied what black men in America should strive to be in 2019. A black person without a criminal record or background and multiple children at 26. This man was far from perfect but he sought to walk upright in all of his ways. An educated man who got his degree in a meaningful field. Botham Jean didn’t just graduate, but became certified to work in his profession and was hired by a large company to do so.

For the most part Botham Jean went to work and went home. He was about the business of bettering himself without subtracting from or harming another. This is the mantra black men in America should live by in 2019.

There are no social media footprints or accounts linking this man to flashing guns, cash and twerking online. Botham Jean was never caught licking Ice cream and putting it back at the grocery store. Botham Jean didn’t take part in the cucumber challenge. There is no footage of this man wearing a dress. All of the black deviant behaviors that permeate through the black community destroying the image of the race this man took no part in it. Because of that alone this man’s death should be viewed as a tragedy in the Afro-American community.

Reasons why Amber Guyger could have gotten life

Tommy Sotomayor continues to make great content on topics like these and he held back no punches on this case as well. Tommy explained that based on Amber Guyger’s position and the evidence given she should have received at least 25 years in jail. New evidence of text messages of Guyger making fun of the MLK parade, sexting back and forth and openly admitting to being a racist.

What was disturbing in this situation was Guyger constantly talking about her propensity to shoot and kill another person. One of her many post that come to mind is this one:

Given the nature of the crime in congruent with these disturbing messages a life sentence should not have been off the table accident or not. This is a person that walked into another person’s place of residence and shot first, without analyzing her surroundings, asking questions or using any logic or reasoning.

Nor did she make a semiconscious attempt at reviving the man. Instead she texted her boyfriend demonstrating that she panicked and in some cases based on the nature of the text didn’t care. An argument could be made that she tampered with evidence. Accident or not if this was a male who had committed this crime, that person would have been given the max. But taking a page from the pro-black play book because she was a dainty pretty white female all she had to do was fall out and cry in order to illicit sympathy from the court and a black judge.

Stockholm Syndrome demonstration in the court

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Tommy Sotomayor made a point to explain this first and I am in complete agreement with him that this man demonstrated more compassion for this women who took his loved one from him than black people show each other on a regular basis. Based on the sayings in the bible his actions aligned perfectly with the christian thought:

Colossians 3:13- “ Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”

Maybe as a christian man he didn’t want to live with a vengeful heart wrought with rage and anger of losing his brother for the rest of his life. He could have been trying to bring closure to a broken heart. Everyone excepts tragic situations differently and in his case that is just part of being human.

Outside of that I disagree with this man telling the murderer of his brother that he loves her and wishes well for her. I didn’t understand him asking to reach out to touch the same person that used those same hands of hers to put a bullet in his brother’s heart. Hugging the person that killed his loved one is almost out of a fairy tale movie. I disagree with the black officer constantly running her hand through this alleged murderer’s hair. The same person that admitted in numerous text messages that she was a racist. Going so far as to make fun of the death of Martin Luther King.

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I didn’t understand the black judge pulling out a bible after handing down a light sentence and trying to console this women almost turning her into a victim. Now from a christian standpoint maybe this makes sense but considering how black people always use buzzwords like white supremacy this was bizarre.

Considering the stark differences in the trials, treatment and the sentencing given to most black offenders especially by pro black thought this was something out of a manga. You would have to witness this to believe it. The only thing that comes to mind is Stockholm Syndrome you love those that you claim to be evil and out to destroy you, no matter what they do to you.

The black community will send police at each others homes for no damn reason over internet beef aka Hassan Campbell being swatted. Black people will dox black men pulling out their name, where they live, what their family looks like aka Mad Black Atheist being doxxed.

They will make 70-90 videos about one man in a year constantly making up new stories about him and his life aka Tommy Sotomayor because of what he says. You will get up and troll each other online and call each other names, dig up dirt and go back and forth like 10 and 12 year old children at the ages of 40 and older. But the one incident where all that goofy energy is needed as a race and the majority of you are silent. And these are just incidences on the internet.

This doesn’t include the murders that take place in the south of black people being beaten and stomped out “To the white meat” in the club. This doesn’t include the drive by shootings not only in south central but all of LA county in general. This doesn’t include black dudes in the east coast running down on and knocking out, stabbing and shooting other black men. And we don’t need to discuss places like Baltimore, Saint Louis and Chicago, or Louisiana.

Bringing it all together

Anybody is capable of making a mistake that’s just life. Maybe she mean’t to do it, maybe she didn’t. The issue is that an innocent man is dead. All because she as a cop failed to analyze the situation properly, but the reactions of the victims brother and the judge was something i don’t think anyone has ever seen in court. A sad state of affairs indeed rest in peace Botham Jean because unlike all the other so called victims of a white cop killing a person of color you were truly blameless in your ways.

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youremyonlyhope · 7 years

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Winter is Coming

So... despite the fact that I’ve been spoiled for like... half the stuff that happens in Game of Thrones... I’m officially watching it. And I’m gonna live blog it.

But like... I already know half of the deaths and resurrections and plot twists and stuff just because I’ve been on the internet and I have a brother who loves the show and likes to tell me vaguely what happens after each episode.

But I was not aware that the very first episode is called Winter is Coming. If the episode where winter finally comes isn’t called Winter is Here then I’m gonna riot.

Also the fact that tonight aka the night that the episode where Gendry finally comes back was aired is also the night I decide to start watching the show is not a coincidence. Literally I’m half watching this purely for Gendry. I know nothing about the show but I know I’ll love Gendry. So I’ll be patiently waiting for Gendry.

Wow. Already I think I recognize a Harry Potter actor. Yep, IMDB tells me he’s that replacement Malfoy cronie from Prisoner of Azkaban because either Crabbe or Goyle hurt themselves during filming, so Malfoy had a random Slytherin boy with him during the more physical scenes. And this is the random Slytherin boy. The very first frame of the show. And someone’s from Harry Potter. Britain literally has like 20 actors in total. Oh. Ew. Nah. I’m literally making audible sounds because of the shots of the chopped up bodies. My mom just asked me what’s wrong. We’re just getting right into making this M rated. Ok but was that little girl’s body there before? I don’t think it was. THEY’RE GONE. SO I BET HER BODY WASN’T THERE BEFORE EITHER. SO THESE THINGS MUST BE FAST. Blue eyes. That’s new. Oh nah. Is that thing gonna turn around and be the little girl? Ok. It was. But that was not as jump-scary as I thought it would be. Just creepy. Poor Slytherin boy. Now time for the 10 minute long intro. Oh look it’s Jon Snow! And that’s Prince Charming from Cinderella right? And the mom looks familiar too. Jean Grey and Lady Me! So basically we’re seeing everyone in the first 5 minutes. YES ARYA YES. Night’s Watch. I’ve heard that before. Sometime around when Jon Snow either died or was resurrected I heard people mentioning it. I’m gonna keep up a count of the times “Winter is coming” is said since I’ve been counting the number of “ganks” in Supernatural but wished I had started counting earlier. So I’m not letting that happen for GOT. Winter is coming #1 It’s been 15 minutes and we’ve had 2 onscreen beheadings. Direwolf! I know that word too! SAME. I AM JON SNOW ADOPTING THE DIREWOLVES. Ok. This dude who wanted to kill the puppy, he looks familiar too. WHY DO YOU ALL LOOK SO FAMILIAR? Yep. Hearing Jon mention the 5 Stark kids and the 5 direwolves is making me remember my brother talking about them... and I think he mentioned they all die or something at some point... maybe. See, this is why I kind of hate watching shows I’ve been spoiled for. But also on the internet it’s hard to avoid spoilers. I think I had heard about Jon getting the runt too... OOooooh.... it’s THE throne. Cersei... is she the one who’s like... super incestuous...? Ooooh the green screen while little Bran runs around the top of the tower. It’s not good. It’s been 6 years and it’s already starting to not age well. Wait. Wait. Is Joffrey the king they were talking about? That just hit me as the kid came riding by that he’s king of something eventually. Oh god. I love the way Sansa shrugged when she was asked where Arya was. Never mind. Joffrey’s not king. Yet. And I don’t like the look he gave Sansa, nor the look she gave him back. Come on girl. A MONTH? Riding for a month? Oh yay it’s Peter Dinklage! Hey look it’s Daenarys! And Son Of Mine, who I know I will end up hating again but I also know he’ll get what he deserves eventually so I’m not gonna waste any energy truly hating him. I’ll just let him do his creepy thing and relax knowing he’ll get what’s coming to him. Oh god ,he’s even more of a creep than I thought he was, and I already knew he was one of the biggest creeps in the show.

Oh my god, iiSuperwomanii mentioned this scene. The scene where Daenarys goes into a tub and it’s super hot but she didn’t care and it was in one of the first episodes. It was foreshadowing for something. Glad I was spoiled so I can catch on to whatever it is this is foreshadowing.

Oh it’s Khal Drogo! See, I know I’ll end up loving him too. But right now he’s scary.

“I would let his whole tribe fuck you. All 40,000 men and their horses too if that’s what it took.” ... ... ... WHAT. THE. FUCK. No but dude. Seriously. What the hell? What. How do you manage to make yourself worse every single time you do something new? I swear you open your mouth and my body reacts in anger. I didn’t want to have to waste energy hating you since I know your fate, but I might have to.

See, tonight (as in literally 2 hours ago) my brother spoiled for me that Jon Snow isn’t really a Stark and that it was just revealed in tonight’s new episode. So... all this talk about bastards... Jon... you don’t know. Winter is coming #2. I might start saying WIC. WIC #3 ...I kinda sorta love Rob Stark... I don’t remember hearing about him dying... I hope he doesn’t... I also hope he doesn’t turn out to be completely horrible too... Ok but like... what if this letter about whats-his-face (I’m already losing track of names) being murdered is a lie and it’s meant to convince Ned to take the job as the King’s Hand so they can actually murder the Ned the new Hand? Or maybe they murdered the old Hand to get the job open for Ned. Maybe. OOOOOOH, DRAGON EGGS Ok, Emilia Clarke is so tiny compared to Jason Momoa and it just makes this all so... terrifying. I don’t like V-whatever-his-name-is-Son-Of-Mine-Harry-Lloyd. But Harry Lloyd is great. I feel almost kind of bad that he can play creeps so well. I hope he’s not type casted. This is the most people of color I’ve seen so far in this episode, and probably the most I’ll see all season. I meant to say it earlier, but I kind of love that the clothes of Daenarys are mostly just like... simple fabric shapes draped and folded and fastened with intricate pins. I love it. Oh poor girl. I know from spoilers that in the books apparently this scene was more consensual, but god why did the show have to change it to this. Ok... something about Bran is familiar... I kind of had deja vu looking at him when he first appeared on screen... and for some reason when he was looking at Ned leaving to hunt the feeling came back... so who is this kid... Is this little boy gonna die by falling off this tower? He better not. Never mind. He didn’t die. But I was right about Cersei being super into incest, so that’s... good? Good that I knew, not good that she’s into it. Jamie. If you push this little boy out the window... WELL FUCK YOU TOO.

I LEGIT GASPED. AT LEAST IF LITTLE BRAN HAD FALLEN WHILE CLIMBING, IT’D BE HIS OWN FAULT. HIS MOM WARNED HIM EARLY ON, HE DOES IT AGAIN, HE DIES, IT WAS FORESHADOWED, IT’S SAD, BUT HE’S A KID AND GOT IN AN ACCIDENT. THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE. ALSO THE DIREWOLF WAS DOWN THERE. DID THEY BOTH DIE!?

It’s 1:30 am. I gotta be up in like 6 hours. And I should try to get some sleep. Ugh.

Ok fine, Game of Thones. I’m sucked in. If only because you possibly killed this little boy and I need to know if he’s ok.

Also I think I figured it out, the kid just has eyes that remind me of Joshua Colley’s from Newsies and Les Mis. At least I think that’s who he’s reminding me of. And looking up Bran’s actor on IMDB spoiled for me that he’d be in more episodes after this so... he either lives or he becomes a ghost. I’m guessing he lives. I should just stop with looking up these actors on IMDB honestly.

And I never say the F-word unless it’s truly deserved (and as you can see from me saying “the F-Word” just now instead of just saying the word, I really rarely curse) and so far Jaime and V-whats-his-creepy-face-Harry-Lloyd have both deserved it.

#hope watches game of thrones #ignore me if you want

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deans-fire-dragon · 8 years

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What Comes After, SPN Fanfic, Gen, Chapter 10 part C

...continued from part b...

As soon as the door closed, Dean threw the congealed bacon back on the plate with a plop. He wrapped his arms around his middle, leaning forward until his forehead rest on the table. Hollowed out, he sighed and let his head roll to the side. He was sick of the ice block camping out in his gut, sick of the heaviness pulling at him constantly. He’d forgotten what it felt like to truly feel well. Maybe he was a corpse that didn’t yet know it was dead?

Everything was flat. The flavor of food, the temperature of coffee—even the colors around him seemed muted, slightly off. Dean didn’t want to scare Sam, but he scaring himself. Truth was, he wasn’t sure killing the shadow creature and unbinding Jessica would stop this. How could he be sure of anything when they had no precedence for this?

The only certainty he had was in how much he ached. His chest burned, his back throbbed and a whopper headache stabbed his brain relentlessly despite the medication saturating his system. Had he been alone, truly alone, he’d have curled up under a mass of blankets and let come what may.

He must’ve drifted off, because, in the next minute, the door opened again, letting Sam enter balancing two large coffees in a to-go container. Dean jerked into a sitting position, grinding his teeth on a moan when he remembered why that was a bad idea.

“Hey, if you’re tired, go rest after you eat. I can start researching and we’ll talk later.”

“Naw, I’m good.” He rubbed his gritty eyes hoping it would help the blurriness, but when he blinked, a hazy halo fuzzed everything.

“Here ya go,” Sam said as he dropped a plastic fork onto the table in front of Dean. “Too bad this place doesn’t have a microwave, huh? I could see if they’d let me use the microwave at the gas station?”

The false brightness lifting Sam’s words drew Dean’s focus to his little brother. Sam hovered beside him, the worry practically vibrating Dean’s teeth. For a brief moment, he imagined Sam cutting up the pancake for him and maybe even force-feeding it to him, such was the manic twitch of Sam’s fingers.

Dean picked up the fork and glared at the pancake. He didn’t think heating it up would make it more appetizing, but with Sam standing there watching intently, he cut into the cake and stuffed a bite in his mouth, forcing his jaws to move.

“I’m good. See?” He smiled with his mouth full. It was enough to get Sam moving on to other things.

The food tasted of nothing, just wet, sticky mush coating his teeth and tongue. He had to concentrate on keeping repulsion from clogging his throat, gag building in his gut. Taking a gulp of his coffee, he was disappointed to find it wasn’t much better. Though it looked black as tar, the taste was barely that of coffee water. It didn’t have the texture of mush, though, which was something. Mechanically, he shoved food in and forced himself to chew and swallow. Sweat broke out all over his body from the effort.

Sam reappeared to take the other seat and stole the last piece of cold bacon from the plate. Thank God. Dean raised an eyebrow at his salad loving brother only to double-take when he realized Sam’s hair was wet. His brother had apparently showered and dressed in fresh clothes all while he’d been grappling with the food.

“What?” Sam said, unaware of Dean’s inner thoughts. “I enjoy bacon.” Sam shrugged.

Dean simply pointed at the computer and drank another mouthful of coffee so he wouldn’t have to speak.

Wiping greasy fingers on the side of his jeans, Sam pulled the machine closer. “So? Creature or spell?”

Dean laid his fork aside. Nausea slow-rolled through his stomach with an uncertain turn.

“Creature.” He belched, one hand creeping up to rub at his stomach.

Shooting him a look of disgust, Sam opened his browser, letting his fingers hover over the keyboard. “So, what are we thinking?”

“Definitely the phantom variety. I’m thinking ancient and pissed.”

“And you know that because?”

“Yesterday I found ectoplasm where that girl, Julia, died.”

Sam’s jaw clenched as he sighed out his nose. “So, you went to not one, but two scenes without me.”

He reached up with both hands and scrubbed at his face, hoping to rub the irritation away. He was so not in the mood for another Sam inquisition—his nerves and his patience were stretched to their limit. Lips pressed together in a thin line, he glared at his brother.

“It was the freaking middle of the day. There was no reason it’d still be hanging around—especially that far out of the way. Even so, I doubt it would’ve been strong enough to hurt me there.”

“It had no problem killing Julia there.”

Oh, Dean hated that look. The one that said in blinking neon ‘you are the biggest moron on the planet.’ Maybe Dean hadn’t graduated with a diploma, and maybe Sam had enough brains for two people—but that did not make Dean the stupid one.

“Yeah, Sam,” Dean bared his teeth as his eyes narrowed, “an unsuspecting girl who was unprepared and caught off guard in the dark. She probably fed it all kinds of juicy emotion being alone like that. I’m hardly any of those things—I had full view of the whole area. Did I mention it was broad daylight? I’m not a drooling idiot despite what you think.”

Surprise defined Sam’s face and he held up his hands, palms out. “Whoa. I didn’t mean—”

“No, you never do,” Dean growled, “at least not to my face, but it’s what you really think.”

The words popped out before his brain could abort—something he rarely ever allowed. Now Sam regarded him with wide, slightly hurt eyes and no small amount of worry. The frustration and anger fled so quickly, he was left aching and empty.

“I’m sorry.” Dean bowed his head, rubbed his forehead with a shaky hand. “I’m an ass. Really, man, I’m sorry.”

If anything, his apology made things worse because now Sam had that constipated look he got when he wasn’t sure what emotion he wanted to lead with—concern, anger? Flip a quarter, Dean thought with an internal sigh.

“So,” Dean cleared his throat, swallowed to keep the food in place, and tried to steer things back on track, “we’re looking for something with ectoplasm, cats’ eyes—really tall, nasty claws and a nasty temper to match. And, wind. Wind tore the room apart despite the outside air being completely calm.”

Sam fixed his gaze on the floor and pursed his lips. At first Dean thought maybe he was waiting. For what, Dean didn’t know—the roof to fall on their heads, Dean to implode before his eyes—who could be sure when it came to Sam’s enormous capacity for worry. But then he realized his brother was contemplating whether or not to speak to him at all. Anger, it was.

“Sammy, please,” Dean whispered when all attempts to catch Sam’s eyes failed, “you can be mad at me all you want, but please—let’s figure this out.”

Just about the time Dean shifted to leave the table, Sam nodded. Stiffness making his voice flat, he said, “Okay, that’s a place to start.” He started typing in the search window. “What about the spell?”

He still wouldn’t meet Dean’s eyes, but at least he was talking. Dean would take it with a smile on his face—as long as they kept moving forward.

“Now that, I don’t know. We know fire is involved and it requires an object that was important to the person. Probably used to bind the spirit? I thought maybe…” Dean yawned, his jaw cracking loudly. “I thought we could put in a call to Bobby for that one.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said. He stopped what he was doing and looked up. “I got it covered, why don’t you rest?”

The words came grudgingly, but they were said to Dean’s face and with sincerity. Sam’s face was still marred with a deep scowl, though, and that just wouldn’t do. Dean graced him with a blinding, goofy grin. Sam valiantly tried to ignore him, but he held firm, smile in place until his checks burned and a good portion of it became genuine.

Seeing Sam relenting, he topped it off with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Who’s your favorite brother?”

Finally, Sam’s lips twitched and he shook his head, grin sliding across his face. He narrowed his eyes and cracked, “If you’re not careful, it’s gonna get stuck that way. Jerk.”

As Sam’s eyes searched his, Dean could practically feel him pick right back up where he left off stewing.

“Dude, you’re sweaty and green. You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

Dean slumped against his chair. “No. But if I spew, it’s gonna be in your direction. I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

Sam’s obligatory glare lacked any real heat. “Go. Lay. Down.”

He glanced at the bed and wondered if he could get away with a few minutes. Sleep called like a siren and the meds had him wrapped in a fuzzy, woolen cocoon. He reasoned there was enough light in the room to keep him from dozing too soundly and his body could really use some rest. Plus, Sammy was here to watch over him. He trusted his brother to keep him safe.

“If I start to dream—at all—you wake me up. Got it?”

Sam nodded mindlessly, already immersed in some article on the internet.

“Sam,” he said sharply. “I mean it. Don’t let me dream.”

At that, his brother looked up. He took in Dean’s seriousness and said, “Sure, man. Don’t worry. I got it.”

Satisfied, Dean pushed his chair back and stood. A wave of dizziness swamped him and he grabbed for the table. He felt Sam catch his other wrist, steadying him. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on that touch, wishing it felt solid on his numb skin like it should. He released the table to press the back of his hand to his mouth, swallowing hard and breathing deep through his nose until all was settled again. Blinking his eyes open, he looked down at his brother. Sam’s eyes were saucer wide, making him look so much the little kid Dean remembered—before all this, before the YED, before Stanford, before.

“Dean?”

“Stood up too fast.” He smiled, easy and calm.

Dean gently took his arm back, giving Sam’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before he turned and walked unsteadily to his bed—shoulders twitching from being watched each step of the way. He crawled on top of the covers and settled with a hearty sigh, moaning his pleasure into the soft pillow he burrowed his face into and closed his eyes. He pushed all his fears into his worry box and slammed the door firmly shut. It felt luxurious to let go and sink into the bed. Screw consciousness, it was highly overrated anyway.

After a while, Sam’s breaths behind him calmed too and were joined by light tapping on the keyboard—making a soothing soundtrack to relax into. His stomach called a shaky truce and he was able to fall into sleep a short while later.

After indeterminate, blessed nothingness, the dreams came. They started out mild enough, but soon evolved into him on the ceiling, burning as Jessica reached out to him. As before, he was too grief stricken and wrapped in guilt to decipher the message.

This place—and he was sure it was a place—overpowered his senses, overrode reason. The acrid fire, the metallic blood, the scorching skin—all vivid and distinct. Sam’s inhuman, garbled screams rammed his battered heart and the smell of burning pork assaulted his nose—the lingering taste of ash pungent on his tongue. No bland numbness, no fuzzy head and blurring vision to save him here. Pain bubbled and peeled his skin, every nerve dancing in sharp agony.

This time, instead of slamming him repeatedly against the ceiling, Jessica laid a hand on his face, the icy cold of her drawing some of the heat away. A relieved groan escaped him, the flames receding down the length of his body at her cooling touch.

“Dean,” she said, drawing her hand down his face, resting it on his lower jaw. “Please, let go.”

His eyes opened and he blinked at her. “Let go? I-I don’t know…I—

“Let go,” she whispered inches from his face. “It’s time. Stop.”

Dean stared into her blue-blue eyes—compassion and something he didn’t understand held him captive. Maybe she meant for him to let go of life. Maybe that’s how Sam would find release, if he let go. But, he couldn’t. There was something dangerous out there. He couldn’t leave Sam to fight alone. He couldn’t without making sure he was safe first. Maybe then, maybe then he could.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Sam…”

Jessica whipped around to look behind her. Dean couldn’t see beyond the flames, didn’t know what she was looking at, but he felt her touch slip away. The fire took over in her absence. He squeezed his eyes shut and sealed his lips against the scream clawing at his throat. His chest heaved with moans as he failed. A large hand rested on his chest, right over his heart—a heavy, steadying weight. An additional hand joined the first to grip his upper arm and, while this touch didn’t take the pain instantly away, it dulled it into the background.

From a distance, he could hear his name.

“Dean! Please. Please wake up.”

He tried to resist, he didn’t want to see. Nausea grew in his gut until he gagged with it. A rippling sensation rolled over his body and he struggled to breathe through the gossamer shroud enveloping him.

“Dean, hey!”

Sam’s voice pulled him against the barrier separating them. But he didn’t know which Sam he would see if he opened his eyes. A biting burn deep in his neck forced his eyes open, air flooding into his lungs. His Sam, the real Sam, leaned over him, ashen and sweaty—looking sick. Which, yeah.

“Gonna be sick!” Dean choked out, shoving away blankets that hadn’t been there before.

A small, grimy trashcan appeared under his face and he heaved violently. By the end of it, tears wet his face and his whole body trembled. Dean slumped against the headboard, muscles weak and rubbery. Sam brought him a glass of water to rinse his mouth out and then set the trash can aside. He winced at Sam’s shaking hands running through his lanky hair.

Visibly gathering himself, Sam asked, “Is that what it was like? Last night?”

“Uh, yeah. More or less, I guess.” Clearing his throat, he pushed himself further up the headboard to sit. “Wh-what happened?”

Sam’s knee jut into his thigh when he turned into him. His little brother had always had the boniest, sharpest knees—it was a familiar comfort.

“Um…well,” he faltered. “For the first hour…was it an hour? I don’t know, maybe a little more…” he shook his head. Earnest, like Dean might not believe him, he said, “You just slept. N-nothing unusual.”

He reached out and squeezed Sam’s leg, hoping to calm him. Letting him know he wasn’t alone.

“I was in the bathroom when I heard you making noise, talking maybe? I thought you’d be okay until I finished. But, uh—by the time I got out here, you were—god, Dean—you were keening through your teeth—your back was bowed off the bed. I tried to shake you awake, but I couldn’t-I couldn’t…and y-you were burning up… I-I don’t know if it was fever or, or...”

Sam looked to Dean, one hand wiping across his mouth. He let it drop away and said, “I swear, your skin glowed from within and I smelled smoke. How’s that—how can that be? What were you dreaming about?”

Dean closed his eyes. There were ten million other questions he’d rather answer. How could he say those words? Describe to his little brother the pain of watching the skin melt from his bones even as he, himself, burned on the ceiling? Like his girlfriend—like their…

He sure as hell couldn’t tell his brother about the letting go part. Sam continued on, though. The kid couldn’t stop, words tumbling out before he could settle on a single thought.

“I couldn’t wake you up. You-you wouldn’t wake up,” Sam’s voice faltered and he wiped at his nose. “You fell deeper into the dream and I couldn’t pull you out. You had stopped moving and were barely breathing and I—”

Dean let go of Sam’s knee to squeeze his forearm, stopping the manic speech.

“I’m awake now. You did good—I’m okay.”

“I had to pinch your trapezoid muscle hard, Dean. It was the only thing that worked.” Sam huffed a nervous chuckle. “You’ll probably have a bruise. Talk to me, man. Tell me what’s going on. Please?”

“Gimme a minute. I need....” He tried clearing the sand from his voice, but it stuck like cement. “Help me up.”

He pushed himself from the headboard to sit on the side of the bed next to Sam. Once settled, he asked, “We got anything to drink?” His throat burned like he’d actually inhaled fire and smoke. He could taste it on his tongue.

“Just tap water,” Sam said.

“Anything,” Dean told him, “Whatever we got.”

He returned with the glass of water and Dean drank it all down. Sam’s nose crinkled in disgust before he flopped boneless into the nearest chair.

“I’m worried about you,” he said after a drawn pause. “You’re really scaring me.”

Dean found himself answering honestly. “Me, too. But… it’s gonna be okay. We always find a way. You just gotta believe in that.”

Sam pursed his lips as if to say more, but ended up nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Dean felt warm wetness tickling his upper lip and touched his fingers to it. Blood. Sam’s distressed expression, when their eyes met, caused a current of anger at himself, at his weakness, to surge through him. Yanking a handful of cheap tissues from the box at his bedside, he tilted his head back and pinched his nose roughly. He was glad when it hurt.

“I’m okay,” he told Sam. Dipping his chin at the laptop, he asked, “Did you find anything?”

Sam studied him for a moment, his questions still hanging in the air between them. Dean shut his eyes and hoped for space—everything was too fresh, there was too much. Please, Sammy, please. I just can’t right now, please let it be. He counted on Sam understanding the unspoken message. Dean heard him sigh before tapping his touchpad.

“Looks like we’re dealing with a Sumerian utukku—commonly known as an ekimmu. Can be twice as tall as a human with a humanoid body. Violent death and leaving the body unburied seems to be their origin. They tend to be vengeful toward the living and they can’t find peace without a resting place—basically, a spirit driven insane by their own unrest and violent death.”

Sam looked meaningfully at Dean as he read the next part. “They are sometimes referred to as “evil wind gusts” because of the wind associated with their presence. They’re able to attach to people even if they have nothing to do with their death, can influence people—amp up their emotions, even cause criminal behavior. Besides feeding off flesh and blood, they feed off the energy of human emotions and can take someone’s spiritual life force to replenish themselves.”

“Peachy,” Dean lifted his head and looked over, eyebrows raised. “Sounds like our guy.”

“Yeah, pretty spot on. Maybe even explains why I got so mad this morning. I remember being so angry ever since I left the apartment last night—almost overwhelmed by it. Do you think the ekimmu has anything to do with what’s going on with you?”

“I don’t see how.” Dean shook his head as he tossed the tissues. “Nothing you described explains how I’m feeling.” Raising both brows, he said, “I’m thinking, though, its current host isn’t able to sustain it and that’s why it’s randomly striking out at whoever is convenient.” Dean waited for Sam to connect the dots himself.

Sam cocked his head. “What, you think…you think it’s attached to Jess?”

“It would explain some things. If that’s what her initial message to me was about, that she needed help?” Dean watched Sam closely, hoping each next word wouldn’t be the one that broke the camel’s back. “But now it’s killing randomly because it can’t feed on something with no life force… but they can’t separate fully either, so it can’t attach to anyone else and, when it weakens, it always gets pulled back to Jessica.”

Sam shook his head. “But is that possible? Can a spirit attach to a spirit?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not attachment. Maybe bound together because of the binding spell? Whatever the case, the ekimmu will keep lashing out at whoever gets in its way until its strong enough to break free and find some poor soul to ride.”

Sam sat for a long while thinking. Dean could see the flashes of emotion crossing his brother’s face and he hated how he’d had to put these thoughts about his girl in his head. He could imagine which direction Sam’s thoughts had taken.

“You think she’s suffering?” Sam finally asked. “You think it’s hurting her?”

Dean wished he had a pat answer. “I don’t know. I doubt it can hurt her like it can a living person. Whatever it’s capable of, it’s probably moved on from her when it realized she was a spirit too.”

Sam nodded, seemed accepting of that. His lips thinned and his face became stony hard. “We have to get this thing. Whether it’s hurting her or not, I want it dead.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean held his gaze, lips pushing together. “I know you do.” He said with as much confidence as he could muster, “And we will.” Sam bobbed his head once and turned back to his laptop. “So,” Dean asked, “you find out how we kill this thing?”

“Uh, well,” Sam scrolled down the website. “Says here giving the body a proper burial usually does the trick. But, obviously that’s not an option since we have no way of knowing who it once was or where the body would be. Some of the stuff I read suggested there was a ritual or maybe some kind of exorcism that sometimes worked, but I’ll need to research it more to know for sure. And,” Sam said, “we may need to do the unbinding spell first.”

Dean heard the implication. If they didn’t unbind Jessica from this thing, she might get dragged down into the exorcism with the ekimmu or, her being part of the deal, the exorcism might not work at all.

“Yeah, I agree.” Dean rubbed his hands together. “So we’ll have to find a way to trap it at least until that’s done. Shouldn’t be too hard, almost everything has something that works. Okay, so I guess we need to figure out the binding spell next.”

“Yeah, I called Bobby while you were sleeping. He said he’ll call back when he finds something.”

Nodding his head, Dean wiggled his toes in the carpet. “You heard from Becky today?”

“Yeah…called her too. She said there was no change in Aaron.” Sam turned away from the open page on the computer screen. “You think whatever is happening to Aaron can be reversed? Because I’ve been thinking—there’s no physical reason he should be in a coma. It’s like he’s sleeping, like those kids in Wisconsin with the Shtriga. Maybe it was the ekimmu, not Jess.”

Dean thought about that. It hadn’t occurred to him before, but Sam had a good point. Leaning forward, Dean rested his aching head in his hands. “Well, you said it feeds on psychic energy, so basically it’s the same deal. Maybe it couldn’t kill him because Jessica wouldn’t let it?”

“Right, because she was there at the hospital, too. So, if—when—we kill this thing, he should wake up, right?”

“Maybe. Definitely a possibility.”

Sam nodded and stretched his long legs out in front of himself. “Think we should tell Becky and the others?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I mean, what if we’re wrong? What if…” he left the sentence hanging, unable to finish it. He didn’t want to think about Sam’s friend not waking up. He looked at Sam, knowing how much hurt losing Aaron would cause. How much these people meant to his brother. They’d been his family when Dean couldn’t be. And if Dean had to leave…

“I’ve been thinking, too,” Dean said. A lump rose in his throat. He wasn’t sure he could force the words out now that he was faced with saying them out loud. “Maybe, when we’re done here…maybe—if you wanted—you could stay.”

“What?” Sam’s faced wrinkled, the words not absorbing. “What are you talking about?”

Dean looked down, nodded. “Look, it’s okay. If you want to stay, go back to school…I’m saying you could do that.”

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. “Right. Where’s this coming from? How hard did you hit your head, man?”

When Dean leveled his serious expression Sam’s way and said nothing, Sam laughed a little hysterically. “No, Dean, I couldn’t do that and you know why.”

“Come on, Sam. Dad and I, we can keep looking for the demon—we can keep him off your back—”

“You don’t even know where Dad is and I’m in this now. Jess was my girlfriend—I need to be a part of this. You’re the one who keeps saying we’re stronger together!”

“I know, but just think about it,” Dean said, beseeching. “It’s not too late for you. You’ve got good friends here, a family. They miss you and I think you miss them. Dad and I, we can keep you in the loop, but you can stay. Get on with your life.”

“What the hell, Dean?! Do you want me to stay? Is that what you want? Because I—I thought we were in this together.”

No, Dean thought. But it’s not about what I want. It’s about what you need. “It’s just…Dad and I can do this without you and, uh, I think it’d be better if you stayed as far away from this demon as possible. It wants you for a reason—but if you’re not available? One less thing to worry about.”

Dean wanted to vomit even as he said the words. Nothing could be further from what he wanted, but Chris’s words kept echoing in his ears. Even Jessica urged him to let go—maybe this is what she meant? Maybe she knew what the demon wanted? No matter the logic in it, though, wrongness dug deep in his gut. Watching the hurt confusion rippling across Sam’s face, maybe his brother felt the same. The aching pressure in his chest ballooned until the physical pain made him want to double over. He forced himself to breathe through it and keep strong.

Sam swallowed and dropped his gaze. “I thought…I can’t believe…” Pressing his lips out, he nodded. “If that’s what you think. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should stay.”

The words fell like dead weights in the air between them. For the strangest few seconds, Dean was blissfully numb—his brain couldn’t register what his ears had heard. Once it sank in, though, his breath hitched in his chest and it was all he could do to keep his face straight. Some small part of him had hoped Sam would refuse.

Going it alone, leaving his brother unprotected—not knowing if Sam was safe day to day—could he really do this? Could he go back to days, weeks, months of silence, no human interaction beyond working the case—constantly wondering if his family was safe, if they ever thought about him too? Just one big blur of one hunt melting into the next until he lost track of the whens and wheres. ‘Cause he knew, he absolutely did know Dad wouldn’t be joining him, he’d be on his own again. He could hear his dad’s commanding baritone, Too risky, Dean. I need you boys safe. Stick close to Sam. But Sam would never have to know, would he?

TBC…

#angst #hurt dean #dean winchester #supernatural #fanfic #hurt and comfort

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