#that’ll show em. that won’t give them more fucking excuses for when they can’t do literally anything

[juniestar]

How on earth is harris v trump a tight race??? How do ppl look at donald trump having SEEN the way he acted in his presidential term, seen his LENGTHY criminal record, seen the fact that NOBODY else in his party aside from some loose hanging cultists wants to associate with him, seen the way he literally incited riots after losing an election which resulted in at least seven deaths, seen his total lack of coherent policy plan, and think yeah well but Kamala is a cop. Which isn’t even fucking true

[flamehairedwritings]

hi! could you do some hcs about hopper and his gf going to a fancy event and him being all handsy?

I’m so sorry this has taken so long!! Thank you so much for requesting this, I hope you’re doing okay!

NSFW below the cut!

Hopper hates going out.

Actually, hate is a strong word.

He hates going somewhere he doesn’t know. He doesn’t like going out. If he could, he’d hole up in his trailer until the end of time with beer, his record player, crime novels and a TV.

That was before he met you. When he did... well, he kind of started to like going out, as long as it was with you. In your first few months of dating, you went to the cinema, to restaurants, to shops, to his favourite bar, over to his colleagues’ houses for BBQs and dinners and he found that maybe, slightly, a little bit, sometimes, he enjoyed himself. As long as you were back at his or yours by midnight.

‘oKaY CiNdErElLa’ you are oft to say as he pulls his jacket on and eyes up the door.

The Hawkins City Hall Gala is an event that happens every year, once a year to celebrate the bravest and best of Hawkins, with some citizens invited who are honoured, and officials and those from the police, hospital and fire department also in attendance. It sounds fancy? It isn’t. As much as Mayor Kline likes to put on a show, get all those invited dressed up to the nines and free champagne going, it’s just an adult version of a school awards assembly.

Hopper has to go. Has to. When he once tried to decline, Kline sent a huge gift basket to his trailer and to the Station every day until he called and said ‘ACTUALLY YES I WILL COME’.

Usually he goes with his work buddies and they bring their wives or girlfriends and they’ll hang around in a corner drinking and eating until the awards ceremony starts and then they’ll all sit together at the back bored out of their minds.

You’ve been dating for nearly six months when it comes round to it, and he invites you, in the way that Hopper would invite.

‘It’s just a shitty little ego parade thing for Kline, some people are good there, they deserve the awards sometimes, but more often than not it’s just some kids and old people gettin’ ‘em for living a long time or doing the most paper rounds or some shit like that, but the food’s good and the drinks are free ‘cause Kline wants everyone to have a good time and it finishes at about 11 and then there’s the after-party which is usually shitty, too, so we can just come home or go to a bar with the guys and their girls or just come home, I don’t mind.’

‘... So do you want me to come.’

‘Yeah. If you’re not busy or have anything better to do ‘cause really it is so shitty─’

‘I’ll come.’

‘You sure? It’s really shitty, it’s just the worst─’

‘Stop, I’m coming.’ you will be

On the night, you’ll be dressed up to the nines like everyone else, wearing your favourite outfit, which also happens to be Hop’s favourite outfit on you, but he likes anything on you so it doesn’t exactly count, and he’s in a suit, one hand in his pocket, the other holding yours.

After being greeted by Kline and his wife on the steps, the Mayor’s constant grin verging on maniacal, Hop’ll make a beeline for the nearest drinks and you’ll just have caught up with him when he’s heading to a corner, his colleagues already there with their partners. They’ll have hoarded some food and beer and champagne bottles already and you’ll resign yourself to the not so terrible idea of just hanging out here all night.

Hop’s hand will settle on your lower back and a conversation with start up about the food or the drink or Kline, in hushed tones, and that’ll be it.

Except you start to feel Hopper’s hand drifting down a little.

And then a lot.

Your back is to the wall, so no one can see, but you’re very much hoping no one notices your slightly widening eyes, your lips parting then quickly closing, and the hitching in your breath.

Hopper, on the other hand, is cool as a cucumber, nodding and carrying out a conversation with Powell without missing a beat. His hand is now fully cupping your ass, fingers splaying and gently caressing. You have to fight very hard to stop your back from arching.

You bastard...

What is it about him and his touch that has you turned on in seconds?

His fingers drift lower, sliding in until they’re near your covered pussy, and damn him...

Your attention is drawn away, momentarily, by someone standing at the other end of the room calling for everyone’s attention. As the preliminary speeches start, your little group quietens, but Hopper’s hand doesn’t move.

It slides even closer, his fingers caressing in slow, light circles.

You have to fight so hard to keep your breathing even, your hands clasped tightly in front of you.

Hopper shifts his stance slightly, his head leaning down, and he murmurs into your ear so only you can hear;

‘I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you.’

Oh, fuck.

Clearing your throat, you smile politely at your group and excuse yourself quietly, saying you need to use the restroom. Hopper’s hand slides off your ass, but not before his fingers give a slight squeeze.

Message received.

You have to ask one of the staff where the restroom even is, hoping your slightly flushed and faintly jittery attitude will just be interpreted as confusion and a desperate need to go.

She points towards a grand staircase and tells you to go right before it. You do, your heart pounding with anticipation.

God, this place is fancy.

Hopper mutters all the time about how Kline has poured the majority of the town’s money into this place, and, hell, next time he mutters you’re going to join him.

There are three doors, all having a gold ‘W/C’ on them. You open the furthest one at the end of the corridor and step in, quickly closing the door behind you and leaving it unlocked before you survey the room. It’s very fancy.

Gold everywhere. Gold everything.

You pull a slight face at trying to take it all in, the slightly dim lighting shining off of it all.

Then, the door opens behind you.

Turning, you watch Hopper step in, your breath catching in your throat. His eyes are on you, darker, focused. Closing the door, he doesn’t even blink as he locks it.

‘Are you?’ he asks in a low, gravelled tone.

Your three seconds of silence are just to tease him.

‘Yes.’

He closes the distance between you in two seconds.

Hands cupping your face, he captures your lips in a fierce, demanding kiss, long fingers spreading across the sides of your neck. You return it instantly, hands gripping at the back of his suit jacket to both steady yourself and keep him against you.

He’ll take you hard against the counter, your hands having to grip the sink as he thrusts into you from behind, hands tight on your hips.

‘Look at me...’ he’ll growl, and you’ll lift your gaze, meeting his in the reflection of the gilded mirror as moans tumble from your lips. ‘... Yeah... Look at me while I fuck you, sweetheart... while my cock’s deep inside you... I want you to look at me while I feel you cum...’

No one will notice that it takes you both ten minutes to return, and that you’re still trying to catch your breath, and his shirt is rumpled, tie now knotted too tightly.

It’ll only take a few moments for his hand to return to your ass, and a smile will pull at your lips, his last words to you lingering in your mind.

‘Oh, you just wait until we’re home, sweetheart...’

—

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[just-a-creep-babe]

Hoodie Yandere Alphabet ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Commissioned by anonymous, thank you so much! 💗💝💗

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Despite everything, ya boi isn’t really that affectionate. He doesn’t like being vulnerable cause he doesn’t wanna risk the control he has, so any affection usually comes in the form of sickly sweet teasing & mocking. Like he’ll drag a knife/gun up & down their body while cooing about how pretty they look when they’re all scared & helpless beneath him, and that’s about as affectionate as he gets

But he is, admittedly, a huge softie in the mornings when he’s half-asleep & also when he’s a little woozy from blood loss. In that case, he won’t be so afraid to smother his darling in plenty of kissies & cuddles :3 And once he’s got a grip on them, it’s damn near impossible to escape; boy’s got some thicc 👏ass 👏muscles 👏 just perfect for trapping his squirming darling against his broad chest, even when he is just waking up or injured 👀

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Mmh he won’t actively make an effort to cover them in blood or anything, but he does appreciate how those streaks of scarlet look on their skin. He sometimes likes cutting them when they’ve misbehaved, and he especially loves whipping them until the blood starts beading up, but other than that, he’s prolly more of a fan of bruising. Too much blood can make too much of a mess, which just isn’t worth the effort in his opinion. He’s a clean boi uwu

Still, despite that, he’s not afraid of getting his hands real dirty every now & then when the occasion calls for it ;)

And on the other hand, if he gets injured while he’s out, he‘ll picking at his wounds & stitches until blood gushes out just to smear it on his darling. It brings out this kinda possessive side of him when they’re covered in his blood—his mark. He also enjoys how kinda fucked up it is—and bonus points if it freaks his darling out too :)))

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He’s pretty damn cruel tbh. He enjoys hurting them physically, but he also absolutely adores messing with their head. He’ll act sweet & caring one second, then flip the switch & start mocking them for thinking he might actually be a good person. He likes being unpredictable with his cruelty too—it keeps them on edge. If they expect him to ridicule them, he won’t, and if they let their guard down & start believing he might genuinely care this time, he’ll be extra cruel~

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Oh, he definitely would. He’s smart enough to realize that what he’s done isn’t right, and he‘s probably beyond redemption at this point, so why not? Homeboy knows he’s going to hell anyways, he might as well enjoy the ride & do what he pleases ;p

He does many-a things against their will, and like I mentioned, he loves mind games & generally messing with their head, to the point of possibly breaking them. He’s also certainly not against dishing out punishments too. Whether or not they deserve it is sometimes questionable, but he’ll find a way to gaslight them into thinking it’s prolly their fault regardless ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He doesn’t like being vulnerable with someone he knows won’t reciprocate said vulnerability. Boy’s just not about taking those unnecessary risks. So he doesn’t really let himself show any kind of emotions towards them. And this mans is fucking excellent at hiding what he’s feeling, and tbh, as a yandere, it just makes him all the more downright terrifying

The only time he might start opening up is when, again, he’s tired/injured & his defences are down, or he thinks his darling might be falling for him & their relationship is getting,, kinda more serious/genuine. Even then, it’s a slow process, cause opening up to someone isn’t exactly a familiar concept to him

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Oh, he loves it when they fight back. They can’t make things too easy for him now, can they?~ He likes when they aren’t afraid to show a bit of spunk; it only makes things all the more entertaining~

And besides, he knows that when it boils down to it, they can’t overpower him, so it’s not like he’s got anything to be afraid of anyways. They just end up looking super cute all flustered & upset trying to fight him off—all bark & no bite~

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

The whole thing is definitely a game. He wants to see if they can outsmart him—it gives him a huge rush & brings out this competitive side of him. He knows he’ll win in the end, ofc, but still, boy loves his little fucked up tricks & mind games, especially when his victim’s as cute & precious as his little darling~

When it comes to escaping, he’ll even go as far as to purposely letting them leave, just so he can leave traps around the forest & see if they can make it home—or if they end up crawling back to him. Make no mistake however; if they somehow, against all odds, manage to escape, he’s not gonna let that be the end of it. In fact, he’ll probably grow even more obsessed with them because they actually outsmarted him. The game would only really begin at that point 😈💀

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

I don’t think there’d be one specific event that’d be the worst experience. If anything, the constant manipulation & gaslighting would wear them down over time and really fuck ‘em up in the long run. Just the whole experience of being his captive would leave some lasting trust issues, to say at the very least

But yeah, he isn’t one to get too physically violent unless it’s they’ve really misbehaved so they aren’t likely to experience any emotional outbursts/near-death experiences. He plays the long con & would rather fuck up their life by twisting & warping their perspective so bad no one could undo it. Not that they have much of a chance at returning to the real world w/o him, anyways. Cause, like I said, even if they escape, he’ll likely keep watching them from the shadows before reclaiming or killing them. They’re either stuck with him, traumatized for life among the normal population, or they’re dead, plain & simple

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Well, he’s got about a thousand back-up plans if they ever manage to escape that’ll lead them right back to his arms, but other than that, he doesn’t really,,,, know or care about the distant future?

Part of him realizes he might not always have his darling, while the other part of him’s convinced nothing could possibly tear them away from him. He’s kinda just betting they’ll eventually cave in, accept their fate & admit they love him back. At the same time though, he doesn’t want his little game to end, and he doesn’t want them to become complacent, so to speak. Despite all his careful planing ahead, he’s not really sure what he wants in the long run :/

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), he’s not one much for jealousy. In fact, he’d definitely let Masky, at the very least, play around with his darling because ya boy knows sharing is caring 😏😉

Yet despite his easy-going nature, there are time when even he, himself, isn’t immune to those sharp pangs of jealousy & possessiveness. It’s more of a mental thing than a physical one, though. Like he’s fine with letting his darling be around others, as long as everyone knows they ultimately belong to him, but if he catches hint that his darling’s thinking about someone else, then he‘ll be none too pleased.

He wants their thoughts to always be about him; and whether in a positive light or a negative one, he doesn’t care which. So he’d find some way to punish them or gaslight them until they can’t think of anyone else anymore. They should know they’re all his, no excuses

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Hm, Hoodie’s generally a reserved person, and that doesn’t change much around them tbh. He won’t be as quiet as he is around the other creeps, but he’s def not the type of yandere to gush about how much he loves his darling & how much they mean to him & stuff

Sometimes, he can even be,, kinda cold & stoic. He enjoys confusing them, so he might act like he doesn’t care about them & their presence is a burden—like he didn’t actively choose to kidnap them. He might range from acting like a cuddly murderous teddy bear to a detached blank slate of a person. Typically, when he puts some distance between him & his darling, it’s cause he wants them to fill the gap. He wants to see how far he’s twisted their mind to have them crave his acceptance, despite all the terrible things he’s done to them. So not only is he mentally unpredictable, but he’s also physically unpredictable too

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He probably just,,,,, wouldn’t go through any courting. He knows that if he wanted, he could easily slip his way into their life like everything’s normal, since he does look like a regular dude, but that’s not really what he’s about

If anything, he’s more the type to stalk them for a few weeks, even months, slowly making his presence more & more known until they know something funky’s going on. At that point, either they’ll snap & hunt him down, or he’ll just break in & take them. Either way, he’ll wanna have his fun even before kidnapping them—none of that trying to impress them bs

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yeah, they are, but mostly cause he’s just so quiet & reserved that people don’t expect him to be so sadistic behind closed doors. Anyone that doesn’t know him well prolly thinks he’s a big ol’ softie, which he can be when he wants to, but they severely underestimate him. The creeps that know him a little better have an inkling of an idea as to what his true colours are, but he’s just so damn mysterious & elusive that it’s hard to get a good grasp on what he’s truly like. Only Masky and maybe EJ know what he’s really all about 👀😳

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Ooh, he’s got a whole arsenal of punishments. There’s the regular physical ones like tying them up & sorta just,,, leaving them there for a while, there’s spanking, whipping, cutting—y’know, the typical punishments you might expect. He might also starve them or deny them warmth & human contact until they’re begging for his attention. He’ll also emotionally manipulate them & gaslight them until they feel super bad for doing whatever they did. Boy just likes playing a whole lotta mind games w his darling, what can I say? 🙃

Tbh, he can get pretty creative with his punishments if he’s in a sadistic mood. And he likes to keep his darling on their toes, so there’s no knowing what he might do to them. Sometimes the anticipation of the punishment is worse than the punishment itself :”)

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Hmm... it depends how bratty they’d get. If his darling is the type to fight back a lot, he’ll take away most of their rights. No outside time, no getting untied, limited bathroom breaks, the whole shebang. But if they’re a bit more on the docile side, he’ll actually be pretty lenient. Like he’ll even leave the doors unlocked & let them go out whenever they please, so long as they come back before their curfew. The more obedient they are, the more rights they’ll have, so a lot of it depends on them tbh

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Hoodie’s a pretty patient dude by default. And for his darling of whom which he adores so dearly? Oh yeah, he’s got plenty of patience. That doesn’t mean he’ll let them get away with misbehaving tho; it just means he won’t get upset when/if they do misbehave. He’ll never snap or yell at them or anything. This boy’s got a wild sense of control so, despite everything else, at least his darling doesn’t have to be afraid of him getting mad & going manic 👉👈

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If ever his darling manages to leave or successfully escape, it’s cause he let them. Either he lost interest or he wanted them to return to their lives while he watches from the shadows. If he decides to keep them alive even after releasing them, he’ll still keep tabs on them, maybe popping in every now & then to remind them that their time spent with him wasn’t just a horrifying dream

If they die, however, and it wasn’t on purpose, he’ll be pretty upset. It’ll maybe be the only time he’ll have an outburst—when no one’s around to see it, ofc. But boy will just explode in a fit of rage & regret. He’ll completely wreck the room, taking out all of his aggression on the things around him—and boy won’t hold anything back. He might even inadvertently end up self-harming in the process too :”c

He’s not usually one to feel guilt, but he’d definitely blame himself for their death. He’d try to focus on his work to distract himself, to the point where he’d almost become a shell of a person. It’d take a good few months/years before he’d get over it. But I mean, he has killed some of his pretty close friends before, so he’ll prolly recover just fine. What’s one more body of his loved one to add to the count? :)

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Nah, not really. Aside from blaming himself if they accidentally die, like I mentioned, nothing really makes that mans feel guilty. He knows what he did is wrong, he just,, doesn’t care lmfao 😅

And he probably wouldn’t let them go, either, unless he gets bored of them. But even then, the chances of letting them go instead of killing them are about 50/50; boy really just Does Not Give A Shit™️

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Homeboy used to be a super sweet dude that wouldn’t hurt a fly, but Slender’s influence kinda brought out this twisted, fucked up amoral side of him. He already stalks & kills people for a living, so what’s the harm in bringing his work home sometimes, ya know?

He just wants to watch a cutie squirm in his possession—it makes him feel alive. Not to mention, those cat-and-mouse games go a long way in providing stress-relief from work. He just wants some good ol’ fashion fun & entertainment, can you really blame him? ;)

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Honestly, he,,,, he kinda likes it 😳😳 Lowkey gets off to seeing them cry ngl, it just gives him this fucked up kinda rush. If he sees them curled up and crying, he might go up to them & caress their face, cooing his usual deceit, or he’ll grip their cheeks & lick the tears off as a way of mocking them

He might cuddle or comfort them if he’s feeling particularly sweet. If they’ve been bad, however, he’s more likely to leave them crying in the corner w/o paying much mind to them. Screaming’s a similar case, too, except he might gag them & let them scream until their throat’s raw. Only if they’ve been good will he give them some positive attention uwu

How he reacts to them isolating themselves depends. If they’ve been good, he’ll find a way to coax them to stop, usually via some kind of manipulation, and if they’ve been bad, he’ll just,,, let them do as please. If they keep isolating, only then will he start losing patience. He’ll find some way to force them out of it. This includes, again, manipulation of all sorts, withholding food & warmth from them, all that “fun” kinda punishment stuff. But he won’t apologize. At that point, it almost becomes a game to see who caves in first, and homeboy will not lose

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

While he does love his darling, they tend to be more of a plaything to him. And he might not stick to just one singular darling over the course of his life. He might let some go, or he might get bored & kill some others; it all depends on their chemistry. He gets obsessed with all of them, ofc, but he might legitimately care more deeply about some than others. In fact, the ones he really cares about, he‘ll even let himself be more vulnerable towards. But if he’s vulnerable w someone & eventually grows bored of them, he’ll kill them w/o releasing them, cause he doesn’t want anyone knowing his secrets. It can be difficult to do if he still loves them, but he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do

The whole thing’s really all just a game. It’s only if/when he manages to find the perfect victim that he’ll keep them forever. Someone who’s not too docile but who also isn’t afraid to fight back. They’ve gotta be pretty smart, resourceful & entertaining, too. He wants them to end up falling in love with him, but he also doesn’t want them to stop fighting him. It’s only once he finds the truly utmost perfect darling that he’ll keep them all to himself forever and ever~

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Oh god, he honestly,, doesn’t really have any weaknesses. If his darling wants to escape, they just gotta hope he’ll let them go. Either that, or they gotta find some way out of his twisted game. Even if they manage to escape, he’ll keep tabs on them, so they’ll never truly be free. Once he’s got his sights on someone, the only escape is death tbh :/

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Oh yeah, for sure lol

He’s a pretty damn sadistic boi uwu. He’d hurt them physically and emotionally; boy just doesn’t care. How much & how often he hurts them all depends on how well behaved they are 🥴

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Hm he’s not quite the type to worship his darling. He adores them & thinks they’re damn precious, but he likely won’t put them on a pedestal or anything. The only chance he’d grow to revere them is if they outsmart him & prove themselves time & time again in his little games

He also doesn’t really care what his darling thinks of him. He knows he’s a bad person & probably doesn’t deserve their love. He’s accepted it, really. But it won’t stop him from gaslighting & manipulating them until they possibly fall for him. Love just becomes part of the game at that point ¯\_(ヅ)_/¯

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He likes to thoroughly think things through before making any decisions, so he’s likely to wait a good few weeks/months before making up his mind. He just wants to be certain before putting too much effort into things, ya know?

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yeh, he probably would. If they can’t handle his mind games, they’ll break one way or another. But honestly, how cruel he is depends a lot on his darling. If they‘re nice & obedient, he’ll be sweet and rewarding as long as they don’t bore him too much, so breaking isn’t likely at that point. But if they’re super defiant, he’ll be much harsher, and if they keep ignoring his warnings, things will keep escalating until they break or he just kills them skdjkdls. He wouldnt want his perfect darling to break though, cause that’s just no fun. Boy realizes a lot of them are likely to break because he’s not exactly,,, the kindest of yanderes ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ)

[punkscowardschampions]

Rio & Buster

Rio: I just got the last of my stuff from Dan’s… so that’s officially dealt with and done

Rio: You said your parents had a conference THIS weekend, right?

Buster: Yeah? So he’ll still be crying by then, but you don’t have to be, ‘cause I did say that, they’re [deets] all weekend

Rio: You don’t need to concern yourself with how he is or isn’t feeling ever again, sweet as that is, babe

Rio: Great, because I have likewise just finished convincing my mum that Nance needs some quality girl time and she, for some reason, can’t come here as per and I NEED to go to yours

Rio: I can even pull a sickie Monday so Sunday can really count too

Buster: The party I’m gonna throw is a perfect cover for why you’ve gotta be here with Nance, there ain’t a bigger cunt move than inviting everyone from school to swarm all over our house, and it’ll work for how loudly you’re gonna wanna tell me you miss me when you can get a second away from her

Rio: Even if her go-to is locking herself in her room, I’ll convince her it’ll be more fun to join in

Rio: hers is not the room I don’t wanna leave the whole time I’m there, like

Rio: 🤔 I might be able to invite some people to come hang with her

Rio: Your party will have plenty to offer for people that aren’t me, yeah?

Buster: ‘Course, it’s me hosting it, it’ll have everything

Rio: I won’t oversell it quite that hard 😏

Rio: but I know people who’ll be down

Rio: Ava went with them, or is she coming here?

Buster: Get her drunk and you can come see me play on Sunday before she’s even awake to realise you’re gone

Buster: Ava’s going to a friend’s after school on Friday ‘til they get back, probably having her own kid party, like

Rio: I can just wanna drool over the other lads on your team

Rio: she’ll think that’s standard straight girl behaviour and not bother to get out of bed for it

Rio: Cute

Buster: You can wanna before you’ve seen any of ‘em, yeah

Buster: Long as she steers clear of the Brandy in her friend’s parents drinks cabinet, it’ll be fine

Rio: The whole squads busted? Awkward

Rio: Luckily you know my actual motivation to get up at the crack of dawn

Rio: Undoubtedly, she’s smarter than us

Rio: I know all my siblings make me feel like a total idiot in comparison

Buster: Compared to me

Buster: She’s less reckless than me, but less cautious than Nance, as combinations go, I reckon she’ll do alright with that

Buster: I ain’t sorry for living dangerously though and an idiot is the last thing I feel like

Rio: I don’t need to see them to know that

Rio: Good, because if you were going to turn around and tell me not to come already…

Rio: I was scared you’d get back to London and not talk to me again like before

Rio: like, I didn’t think you would with my rational brain but that other 10% or whatever

Buster: I was thinking you’d not be able to get to London without the excuse of someone getting married or born or dying, shouldn’t have underestimated you, or how much my sister didn’t wanna come back

Rio: Mum is pretty chill, it’s more explaining it when your parents are about

Rio: or when you suddenly want to come here again

Buster: Thank Christ they never are

Rio: It does work in our favour

Rio: and if I wanna see the sights, no one is going to be mad at me staying safe and staying with family to do so, right?

Rio: it’s mainly Nance who we need to worry about

Buster: We don’t have to worry about anything, she’s preoccupied with her own shit

Rio: Yeah, can’t argue with that

Rio: or blame her

Buster: That said, we won’t take unnecessary risks

Rio: When you put it like that, I obviously want to

Rio: only the necessary ones then

Rio: because some are

Buster: Right now they all feel like they are

Rio: Tell me about it

Rio: I feel like I’ve barely been here because I wanna be with you so bad

Buster: Alright, I’ll tell you about how I hard I get when I think about seeing you again so I couldn’t come to the airport even armed with the best excuse to ‘cause a glimpse of you would mean I’d have no choice but to stay in the car and then immediately pile all your suitcases on top of me

Rio: Now I’m going to miss you even more on the drive to yours

Rio: How am I not going to just jump on you as soon as I see you

Buster: I’ll make sure you don’t see me until you can

Rio: Is it better to have the party in full-swing when I arrive or is there any chance we can be properly alone before?

Rio: Could ask Nance to get snacks and stuff for my arrival, that’s a believable amount of cheek from me and would get her out of the house for at least long enough to say hello properly if we time it right

Buster: We’ll time it right then, just ‘cause she ain’t throwing a party don’t mean she can get away with being a shit host

Rio: I think that makes sense

Rio: your friends aren’t going to just ignore me straight away, that’s just facts not being cocky

Rio: so it might take a while to get lost during

Buster: Yeah, they don’t all show up wasted, some of ‘em can handle their pre-drinks

Rio: I should hope so, even if they’re all posh boys

Rio: otherwise the friends I’m gathering could be unimpressed enough to trash your place and that isn’t the energy we’re looking for

Buster: Only if we could convince Nance to handle the clean up on her own and the line of how much of a pushover she is has gotta be drawn somewhere

Rio: I somehow can’t see it

Rio: especially as they’re meant to cheer her up, not do the opposite

Rio: At least your place is big

Buster: And I’ve only got the one sibling getting in our way, it’s fucking never-ending at yours

Rio: There is double the amount of us compared to yous

Rio: If I can handle them, this will be easy

Buster: Exactly

Rio: When we go to your match, can we go somewhere after, get some breakfast or something

Buster: My victory ain’t gonna celebrate itself, babe, and I know just the place

Rio: I’m excited 😁😁

Rio: For all of it, not just the promise of breakfast, obviously

Buster: I’d do more if I could, I want to, but it’ll look weird if I take you shopping or whatever before Nance can

Rio: I know

Rio: we can’t take those kind of risks yet

Rio: It’ll be easier when we’re a bit older and me showing up on a whim to shop is more plausible

Rio: I swear this is the worst age to be, no one totally trusts you to be an adult but you don’t get treated like the kids either when they want you to be ‘grown up’ 🙄

Buster: There has to be a way we can go from everyone believing we hate each other to not thinking it’s fucked we wanna spend time together like we used to without having to wait that long

Rio: You’d think but I can’t 🤔

Rio: Unless you want your whole perception with the rest of the fam to change too

Rio: Obviously it’s fine that we’ve got more in common, we’re closest in age

Rio: but if you don’t give the rest the time of day at all, that’ll raise eyebrows

Buster: I taught them all how to fight and play football, didn’t I? It ain’t my fault Grace isn’t into any of that, or that Nance and your brother are the real anti-social ones

Rio: Yeah, but that was a while ago now

Rio: I doubt anyone would say anything but it’ll probably be weird you showing up at fam functions again for a while

Rio: but only in a way that ultimately benefits you, they’ll think you’re growing up and being all mature

Buster: Fuck’s sake, I can hear everyone now, the bullshit they’d have to say

Rio: Yeah, it’ll make you wanna die

Rio: but I’ll make it worth it

Buster: You already have, I’ll do it for you, I’d do anything

Rio: You know I will for you too

Rio: Including ditching your sister as much as is possible without being a total bitch

Buster: She’s still as heavy a sleeper as she always was

Rio: That is a theory we’re going to have to test

Rio: There’s zero chance I can promise to be quiet all weekend

Buster: Me either, but I like our odds after my solo tests

Rio: That was so 🤓 sounding but also 🤤

Rio: Rude

Buster: Call it preparation, that’s who I am here, like

Rio: I know who you are

Buster: Good, don’t forget ‘cause of who I have to be

Rio: Up until very recently you were still treating me like you hated me, remember

Rio: I can handle it

Buster: You’ve never been here, however I’ve treated you at family functions is still toned down, Nance doesn’t hate me for no reason, you know

Rio: I’m not her though

Buster: I don’t want you to have to handle it anymore, that’s all

Rio: You have to do what you have to do

Rio: You live there, I don’t

Rio: Say what you want to your friends

Buster: Okay

Rio: It is okay

Rio: I mean, what’s the alternative?

Rio: I understand why you have to

Buster: Like you said, this age is shit, there won’t be an alternative until we’re older

Rio: Yeah, if you even think about treating me like this when you go to Uni

Rio: I don’t care what your friends think about me

Rio: it’s not like I plan to just take it anyway

Buster: You didn’t have to be so hot about it or get me thinking about how incredible the future is gonna be when the present is torturous enough

Rio: Yeah I did

Rio: can’t have you forgetting how you really feel about me

Rio: Maybe you can just stay at Uni forever

Rio: it’s practically expected you won’t keep in touch or come home enough

Rio: we can be together every day, with no one around to interrupt us

Buster: That’s settled then

Rio: 😄🥰

Buster: What time’s your flight?

Rio: [a time early enough that the party won’t be on and we’re keen

but not so early Nancy will be like umm can you not come then lol]

Buster: You really want me to keep feeling a type of way about you, yeah?

Rio: That should be obvious by now

Rio: You can’t get sick of me ever

Buster: It should be obvious by now that I won’t

Rio: Don’t

Rio: Everything’s changed for good

Rio: I have

Buster: Even if I still wanted to pretend, I can’t, I barely could before, it’s not gonna happen, Rio

Rio: Me either, I’m scared I can barely pretend as much as we need to to stop doing it in private

Rio: never mind fully going fucking back

Buster: You’ll do what you have to as well, I know you and what you can handle even if I don’t like that it’s the way things are

Rio: I’m sick of thinking about what I have to do, what I need is you

Buster: You’ve got me, whether you’re here or not, whatever else is going on in your head or what bullshit is happening around us, I’m with you for it

Rio: I love you

Buster: I love you too

Rio: What kind of thing do Chelsea girls wear to house parties then?

Buster: Nothing you ever would

Buster: It's really bad, like

Rio: 😂

Rio: Okay, I’ll look good and stand out instead of trying to match the energy then

Buster: There really ain't no alternative in this instance, babe

Rio: You won’t be into my cosplay, noted 😏

Buster: Not unless it was the school uniform you were planning on nicking, anything else they wear isn't gonna do fuck all for either of us

Rio: Obviously I have that outfit

Rio: If you can think of any valid reason I’d have that packed, like

Buster: Insisting on costumes before my birthday is a weird flex but I've done worse

Rio: They’d be fuming at the lack of notice

Rio: plus I’d never convince your sister to leave her room if she has to wear a stupid costume

Rio: next time

Buster: I do wanna see what you're gonna wear for me when you're not also dressing for a wedding/Easter egg hunt

Rio: Good thing you aren’t the only one who can rise to the challenge under pressure

Rio: I’m pretty sure I know exactly what you like, as I’ve had to dress to get your attention for years now

Rio: It’s how much attention you want your friends to be paying me too

Buster: However you dress all eyes will be on you anyway, from the moment you walk in, I can and will give you every compliment on what you’re wearing and how you look, obviously, but it ain’t stopping there

Buster: It’s everything else too, from the way you move to what you do and don’t say, it’s exactly what I like ‘cause I’ve got good taste, and if they’ve got any, they’re gonna wanna rise to the challenge of trying to get your attention

Rio: You’re the one who always knows exactly what to say

Rio: I’m so lucky

Rio: so they can try, no one but you registers for me

Buster: It’s not luck, what I say is in direct response to you and how you make me feel, the try hard girls ‘round here who haven’t ever registered for me would be lucky to get a second of eye contact Buster: You know you deserve every word and gesture

Rio: I’d attempt sympathy if I didn’t know how bitchy they were

Buster: Don’t or I’d have be more serious in offering it to the paperboy

Rio: 😏

Rio: I think I feel bad enough for both of us, it’s fine

Buster: No it ain’t, you’ve got fuck all to feel bad about, he wasn’t good enough for you, end of

Rio: I can still feel sorry for him

Rio: Obviously it was the right thing to do

Buster: He’ll feel sorry enough for himself for not keeping hold of you, as he should

Rio: Bless him

Buster: He’s not someone to waste any more of your time thinking about, like I said, it’s his loss

Rio: I’m not

Rio: All I really think about is you

Buster: As long as you’re not feeling sorry for me

Rio: I have a bit more self-esteem than that, babe

Buster: If you don’t now you will when you get here

Rio: You wouldn’t risk it if I wasn’t worth it

Rio: Likewise

Rio: There’s no pretending you aren’t just

Rio: everything I want

Buster: It’s not a risk ‘cause we won’t get caught, but I’d want you even if it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done instead of the only thing that makes sense

Rio: You know what I mean though

Rio: even if we never get caught

Rio: it could still be a total headfuck

Buster: Nothing’s gonna change my mind, however much of a headfuck it is, we’ll handle it, it’s not gonna be worse than what we’ve already had to

Rio: Seeing you before was honestly tortuous

Rio: as much as I’d dread what you would say, how much you’d ignore me and I’d have to ignore you

Rio: I also wanted to savour every second of it and it was never long enough

Buster: Seeing who you’d bring nearly killed me every time, and them, but as much as I wanted them to fuck off, it was the thought that you’d follow ‘em out if they did that I dreaded most, ‘cause yeah, for all the family functions, there was still never enough time even with every second I then spent reliving it later

Rio: I never did though

Rio: I couldn’t miss anything, even if all I missed was more ignoring

Buster: Don’t act like I could ever really ignore you

Rio: Didn’t you sometimes believe it

Rio: Think you were convincing yourself that there was something there that wasn’t

Buster: I sometimes believed you wanted me to

Rio: Exactly, we both must’ve ‘wanted’ that on some level some of the time

Rio: even if we really wanted the opposite, both could be true, you know

Buster: I don’t just do whatever the hell I want, contrary to popular belief, you know

Rio: Of course I do

Rio: This is big

Buster: I knew what I wanted then, now and always

Rio: I just wish things were simpler

Rio: but they aren’t, and I can and will handle how they are

Buster: How I feel is the part that is, and I’ll do whatever I can to keep the rest as simple as possible for you

Rio: This is better than what we were doing, that’s a start

Buster: Yeah, but I can do better

Rio: I don’t know if I can handle better 🥴

Buster: I definitely don’t believe that, babe

Rio: We’ll have fun working out who’s right

Buster: I am, but you won’t mind being proved wrong

Rio: I need it to be the weekend NOW

Buster: I can’t give you that, which is making me angry, so where are you now?

Rio: Home

Rio: Meant to be doing homework

Buster: Anyone else meant to be doing it with you?

Rio: Even if there was, you know they aren’t

Buster: [Obviously call her cos you miss her and are extra]

Rio: I love hearing your voice

Buster: It was starting to feel like forever since I’d heard yours

Rio: Day to day is so normal and boring without you I don’t even know what to do

Buster: I’ll have to keep doing what I can to make sure you’re not bored

Rio: The problem isn’t you it’s everything else

Rio: you’re never boring

Buster: Which is exactly why it’s a problem I can solve by helping you forget about everything else

Rio: I love you

Rio: so, do you actually like any of your friends or what’s the craic

Rio: I’ll be less rude to those ones if you do

Buster: Of course I don’t, what’s to like?

Rio: I don’t know, I’ve never met them

Rio: I know the people Nancy particularly dislikes, if only by name

Rio: but they’re actually your quote unquote friends, some of them might be okay, to you anyway

Buster: Come on, don’t underestimate yourself, you’ve met me and admitted to checking my socials regularly

Buster: You’ll be as good a judge as I am who to avoid at the weekend and who you could take a shot with without risking that boredom again

Rio: I was mainly giving you a chance to talk about it

Rio: I doubt anyone else is asking

Buster: And I’m giving you the chance to make up your own mind, I already said don’t feel sorry for me

Rio: I will regardless

Rio: and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to

Buster: I know I don’t, like you don’t need my permission to treat any of the partygoers however you want to, whether I reckon they’re a cunt or not

Rio: You don’t need to be sarky about it

Buster: You don’t need to be patronising about it either, like, how that shit is is how it’s been for long enough that I know what I’m doing

Rio: I wasn’t being patronising, I was trying to talk to you but I won’t fucking bother then

Buster: That’s an impossibly quick turnaround from me not having to talk about it if I don’t want to, but fine

Rio: We’ve talked about stuff like that before

Rio: I told you how I don’t feel like one of them properly either here; so what, you suddenly don’t want to talk to me about anything important?

Buster: What do you want me to say? I’m not drunk now and I’m not Nance

Rio: Fine

Rio: I have things I should be doing anyway

Buster: Don’t be like that, you know I wanna talk to you about everything, it doesn’t mean it’s that simple

Rio: If you didn’t want to, then just say that

Rio: You don’t need to turn it into a whole thing and act like I’m the idiot for asking

Buster: That’s what I do, or did, before

Rio: Old habits and all that, sure

Buster: I’m sorry, to start a new one

Rio: Okay, we can rewind to before that whole part of this conversation

Buster: No, you’re right, we should talk about it, otherwise what I said about being able to do better, anything I’ve said to big myself up, is bullshit and I might as well get a paper round too

Rio: There’s nothing wrong with a paper round 😏

Rio: I’m not asking you to be ‘perfect’

Rio: whatever that even is

Rio: I just genuinely thought you might want to talk about it, that’s all

Buster: As a kid, but however immature that lot are, I ain’t one any more and I don’t wanna be dragged down to their fucking level, ‘cause I’m above it

Buster: So are you, my definition of perfect at least, I wanna be someone who deserves you, not the kind of cunt who feels so powerless all he can do is bitch and moan about it, but I know lashing out at being backed into a corner ain’t no better this time or what I want either, not when you’re the target

Buster: There’s usually something I can actually do, options I have, that’s who I am, but keeping the two worlds separate isn’t gonna work now that you’re the centre of both

Rio: You already deserve me, no conditions

Rio: but I’m not going to hold you to the standard you have to be with your friends, or judge you for doing it, I’d do the same

Buster: I told you they bring out the worst in me, there are no standards

Rio: How else are you meant to fill your time

Rio: We’re teenagers, not adults just because we’re not kids

Rio: You don’t have to judge yourself that harshly for it

Buster: Why not? Everyone else is, including you not long ago

Rio: It’s not something your parents can really get on board with

Rio: and only because you were being a twat to me, that’s not necessary to the rest of it, surely

Buster: I didn’t mean them, but whatever

Buster: It was all connected, part of what I had to do

Rio: No one’s gonna thank you for being a prick, especially if they can’t see your reasoning and motivations

Rio: Maybe she should be able to but she’s preoccupied with her own feelings towards it all

Rio: If you’re fed up of feeling like the bad guy, you have to find time when you ain’t, or of course you’re gonna feel like that’s who you actually are

Buster: I know

Rio: I don’t think you’re the bad guy

Rio: Ava doesn’t

Buster: She doesn’t yet, there’s loads of time for it though before I’m done with school and everyone there

Rio: Respectfully, I don’t think you’ll have to fail to protect her from bullies

Rio: Not that it is that simple, but you know what I’m saying

Rio: She’ll be, what, 12/13, when you get done with school, it’s not gonna happen

Buster: That’s not the only way to be a prick is all I’m saying

Rio: Go on

Rio: Why else do you reckon Nancy doesn’t like you now

Buster: Old habits die hard, like you said, and I’ve formed plenty she reckons are bad hanging out with them and if you’ve got things you should be doing it’d be quicker to speculate on what she don’t hate about me by this point

Rio: She’s probably jealous, though it would not be worth pointing that out

Rio: even if she thinks they’re the worst, you still have people to do stuff with and she doesn’t

Buster: Everyone who meets me is, difference is, she knows it’s not effortless, I keep my schedule full, with the good as well as the bad and put work in while she’s doing fuck all but feeling sorry for herself and jealous of what I’ve got

Rio: I think she tries, or at least did try

Rio: but it wasn’t exactly working for her so why bother at this point, right

Buster: You can’t just try once and give up, yeah I scored first time but it took ages before I knocked someone out in the ring, ‘course you’re gonna get nowhere if you don’t make what you want happen

Rio: I don’t think she wants it though

Rio: you’re making the best out of a bad situation, yeah

Rio: but she’d rather not, that doesn’t mean she loves being friendless, just it’s slightly preferable to being friends with people she doesn’t like

Buster: Nobody’s saying she has to be friends with them, the whole school ain’t against her, she’s got other options

Rio: I’m not saying she’s fully in the right, no way

Rio: She just can’t see further than what they say right now

Buster: I’ve done what I can to make her see sense

Rio: I know

Rio: I just don’t think that’s gonna happen, I’m sorry

Buster: Don’t worry, I wasn’t holding my breath or anything, I know which battles are worth picking

Rio: You’ll get there, just probably not for a while

Rio: She needs to sort herself out, it’s literally not your battle

Buster: Tell me something I don’t know, like

Rio: You clearly do feel a bit responsible

Rio: even if you could have done some things different, doesn’t mean this wouldn’t have still happened and she wouldn’t still feel like this

Buster: She’s my sister, I do have a responsibility to look out for her, but that don’t mean she’s not responsible for making it worse for herself after I’ve done everything I can to try and sort it out

Rio: I don’t disagree

Buster: Good

Rio: I’ll keep talking to her anyway

Rio: even if it doesn’t achieve much either

Buster: If anyone could get through to her it’d be you, I haven’t forgot about any the shit you managed to talk me out of when we were younger

Rio: I wasn’t that much of a fun sponge though thank you

Rio: I said yes to plenty of things too 😏

Buster: Just the things I should probably thank you for, if it wasn't more fun to focus on what you've said yes to, especially recently

Rio: It is more fun to say yes to you, especially recently

Rio: ‘scuse me whilst I enjoy the flashback 🤤🤤🤤

Buster: It's only gonna get more fun

Buster: I can't believe you're actually coming here but the frequency of those flashbacks will keep it feeling real

Rio: Sometimes it’s hard to differentiate from all the fantasies and daydreams from before though, they felt so real

Rio: [pic] that should help

Buster: It’s definitely proof I didn’t need that you won’t have any problem living up to the years of dreams I’ve had

Rio: That’s all I want right now

Rio: I can prove to you how worth it this is all going to be

Buster: It’s always fun to give you what you want, as long as you know you don’t actually have anything left to prove, I knew how worth it this is and would be before you’d ever even touched me

Rio: I have to keep proving it, I can’t take this or you for granted

Rio: I never thought this would actually happen

Rio: I’m not going to waste a second being second best, trust me

Buster: You won't, trust me, there's nobody you could come second to, this is happening 'cause we're joint first and I've never met anyone else I could say that about with a straight face

Rio: It makes perfect sense, when you think about it

Rio: Who else?

Rio: There’s no one else like you and no one else like me

Rio: We’ve both tried

Buster: Exactly, and now the only regret I have is how long I spent fighting against it

Rio: Even if I could fight it longer

Rio: I don’t want to, it’s exhausting

Buster: We don’t have to, Thank Christ, keeping it a secret will seem loads easier by comparison

Rio: Seriously

Rio: not to mention it has all the potential to be kinda fun and pretty hot

Rio: because we won’t get caught, so we can just enjoy the thrill for what it is

Buster: I object to kinda fun and pretty hot, but when we don’t get caught and you’re enjoying the thrill I’ll get you to be much more enthusiastic, like

Rio: 😅

Rio: I’m not as good with words as you, poor baby

Rio: it’s so unfair

Buster: Nah, I object to that too, you’re incredible with words and actions

Rio: Actions, I’ll agree to

Rio: Words I’ll work on

Rio: not everyone likes that

Buster: There’s nothing you need to work on

Rio: 🤏🥺

Buster: I don’t have a single complaint

Rio: I just wanted to hear you say that 😋

Buster: I’ll tell you how perfect you are as many times as you want

Rio: ‘til you can’t speak

Buster: Losing my voice is the only thing that’ll stop me

Rio: Challenge accepted

Rio: I can make it happen before that point

Buster: I’d still be able to use actions to tell you though, the actual challenge would be anyone or anything stopping me doing that

Rio: I definitely can’t pack handcuffs

Rio: LOVE to see their faces at the airport, like

Buster: We’ll think of something else to use that either you can pack or I already have in my room

Rio: I can’t believe I’ve never been in your room

Rio: still weird to think about

Buster: Yeah, like you said, some of the fantasties felt so real

Rio: I wish I could stay in there with you

Buster: Once Nance is asleep you can

Rio: I know, I just don’t wanna think of you on your own

Buster: You won’t get a chance to think about anything like that, don’t worry

Rio: Okay, so what DO I pack

Buster: Your necklace, obviously

Rio: I haven’t taken it off

Rio: it’s so gorgeous 😍

Rio: never met a boy with taste

Buster: Good ‘cause I haven’t either

Buster: You’ve met me, didn’t you think I had taste before?

Rio: You weren’t buying me jewellery and I wouldn’t want to know if you were anyone else

Buster: ‘Course not, but since when is that solely the benchmark for good taste? You’ve seen what I’ve bought myself

Rio: You can have good taste for yourself and terrible taste in girl’s stuff

Rio: You’ve seen what your friends think is hot in the opposite sex

Buster: Other lads can and they do but don’t underestimate me, babe

Rio: No more

Buster: I just wanted to hear you say it

Rio: What else do you wanna hear me say?

Buster: Right now? Everything you probably shouldn't get into the habit of saying even if Nance is out of the way

Rio: [Audio examples of that]

Rio: Can’t call it a habit yet, we’re safe

Buster: You sure? Sounds like it could be becoming a habit to me

Rio: You aren’t going to keep an eye on me to make sure?

Buster: That’s already a habit, you know that, can’t keep my eyes off you

Rio: I don’t mind some codependence

Buster: That’s a relief ‘cause it’s arguably either too early or too late for you to try and change me

Rio: I don’t wanna change you

Buster: ‘Course not, why would you? We’re perfect for each other as is

Rio: and you’re perfect

Buster: You are, but yeah, I’m keeping up

Rio: You are

Rio: on both counts, thank you

Buster: You ain’t seen nothing yet, babe, but you will, when you get here

Rio: Call me? So it doesn’t seem so far off still 😖😩

Buster: [obviously will even though he did earlier because what is chill]

[toxicxxmyth]

The Truth Untold; Sebastian Stan -> II

.Previously 

Summary:  Y/n Y/l/n, born and raised in south side Chicago. Now raising her five younger siblings, she’s not even sure if some of them are actually related to her. But she takes care of them nonetheless, as best as she can. While her drunk father continues to make their life harder. And her drug addicted mother comes bursting through the door once every to years. Its a chaotic life for a 23 year old, but she made it work. Until one day, the most notorious mob leaders of the country  shows up to do some business in the south side.

Au: Shameless!Au, Mob!Seb

Warning(s): Cussing, smut(fingering), violence, and tiny mention of domestic abuse.

Word Count: 5.9k

Authors Note: I said i wasn’t going to make a second part but here we are, 1 month later lmao.

@chims-kookies @superdrysuperfry

a doua întâlnire

Sebastian Stan; An enticing enigma.

As people come to learn—he comes and goes whenever he pleases—takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants. And no one says a word, too afraid to face him. God forbid anyone say a word. He’s a walking dynamite ready to explode. A man of his word, and many duties. The devil in sheep’s clothing. If you were to cross his path, you outa be afraid. His gaze was intense, cold, almost. But if you stared just a little longer, you’d see the lost hope and dreams swimming in his ocean blue eyes. It was impossible though, no one would dare look him in the eye, too afraid to stir the beast he contains. Women of the evening which his trusted cohorts would provide for him—they never cared enough to look deep into his eyes to notice. Not that he cares. Hell, he didn’t even know it himself. Too invested in his business—and his business only. If you’d do him wrong, no amount of praying will save you from him. Some would call him a sociopath, owning to the fact that he was completely deadpan when it comes to killing or torturing those who don’t follow his rules. He’s a drug lord. He cannot be contained. He vanishes at the forbidden hour — only returning when the aubade is at its highest peak.

He was toxic. Lethal. Everywhere he walked, a trail of pain and fear followed. One might say he feeds off it, he lives off it. He was a beautiful yet wicked soul nature spit out. A wise man who everyone knows not to mess with. He was astute, fatal and leery. A true nightmare.

So why did meeting you somehow made him feel something? Was it because of your troubled life? Nah, couldn’t be. He has met thousands of people with troubled lives and had no issue and making their situations worse.

Maybe it was because you didn’t throw yourself onto him like most females and males did. He was especially surprised at the fact that didn’t become responsive and enticed when he pulled his money out. Yeah, maybe it was that?

He almost felt like he knew you. What type of person you were. So he knew for a fact, that you wouldn’t keep the money he had sent to help you and your family. He sent some of his men to watch over you just in case something wrong happen, even though he knew you were capable of taking care of yourself. But finding him wasn’t easy. He just wanted to see at what extent you’d go just to tell him off. It was only a matter of time before you went after him.

“Has it been delivered?” Sebastian asked as he rose an eyebrow. Making the tattooed boy avert his eyes elsewhere. Anthony, his best man, couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

“Yes, Sir” The boy nodded, hands behind his back. Eyes everywhere but his.

“Good, now get out.” Sebastian groaned as he got up from his seat and walked over to his mini tray of alcoholic beverages. Watching as the younger male hurriedly left the room.

“You ain’t gotta be so harsh on the boy” Anthony couldn’t help but chuckle, accepting the drink Sebastian was offering him.

“I wasn’t being harsh” He scoffed, turning toward the spot where the boy had been.

I just think that you should go a little easy on your men” Anthony muttered while bringing the glass full of scotch to his lips, brows raised.

“That’ll only give em’ a reason to walk all over me. And I can’t have that. I’ll kill em all.” Sebastian defends his posture, his tone all too serious for Anthony’s liking.

Although Anthony was just as dangerous and powerful as Sebastian was, he was, to many peoples surprise, a pacifist. Which is almost impossible to be in a business so parlous. He just didn’t believe in violence, completely opposite from Sebastian himself.

“See now you’re just far fetching” He pointed a finger at the man, brow raised as he got up from his seat.

“So this girl? You paying child support?” He laughs. “I knew one of these days you were gonna knock up one of em hoes” (I am so sorry. Long live hoes. Be proud of your hoeness)

Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh at the comment, shaking his head as he sat on his wooden desk.

“Nah. Just a beautiful girl who needs a little push” He shrugged, eyes trained on his glass as if it were the most interesting thing in the whole room. He was just hoping he’d change the subject.

“Her name?” Anthony led on.

“Not important” Sebastian breathed out, eyes meeting his as he raised an eyebrow. Adjusting in his seat as he fixed his tie. Hoping he’d change the subject.

“Whatever” Anthony laughs. “Anyway, I gotta go. Have a meeting in half-hour”

Sebastian nods in understanding, glass pressed against his lips. Watching as his best friend leaves his temporary office.

After a few seconds of sitting there, skimming over the papers scattered over the desk. He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the thoughts that consumed him. It was almost unbelievable how his thoughts could change from what his next deal was to how you’d be doing, and if you were safe.

He knew damn well that there were bad men at the club that night, he knew they were watching. And it worried him that they’d take it the wrong way, causing you to be in danger.

“Well it seems like you know everything about me, so why don’t you tell me about yourself. I bet it’s much more interesting than my shitty life” She chuckled, though I could barely hear it due to the irritating music that was being played throughout the club. It was adorable, actually. Before I could come up with a lame ass excuse for a profession, I noticed a couple of men in the vip area whispering to one another each other, their gaze firmly on her.

“It’s really crawdad in here, let’s go outside” I lied, wanting to get her out before something happens.

“No” She simply stated. Causing me to stop my movement, I was shocked. I let out a cough as I recomposed myself at the unexpected answer.

“This is how things work. I walk out with you, you tell me your oh so tragic childhood which causes me to pity you. Soon, once I’m under your spell, you chloroform me and a white van appears out of nowhere and I’ll be part of an illegal sex and drug trafficking ring” She gave me an innocent smile. There was no reasoning with her, so I moved closer as if to protect her.

“I’d actually be much more creative in kidnapping people”

“Y/n, it’s been a week. I can’t believe it’s taken you this fucking long to find one guy” Jeremy hisses as he passes back and forth in the kitchen, where you sat in one of the stools.

“It’s not easy, okay. This guy literally just disappeared in midair. It’s driving me crazy” You groan, elbows resting on the table as you ran your fingers through your hair in frustration.

It’s been exactly a week since you’ve received that money, and you were growing desperate everyday trying to find the mystery man who dropped it on your front door. By the fourth day you kind of gave up. Juggling three jobs and taking care of all your siblings was stressful enough, and playing Where’s Waldo was not how you decided to spend the rest of your days. So your only choose was to tell Camille about the whole situation. You put your faith in her, she was the closest thing to an FBI, and so you were certain she would find him.

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re going to have to use that money eventually” Your head shot up and the sound of your other brother, Cameron.

“What-“

“I told him” Jeremy sighs while leaning against the counter, one arm resting on his hip.

“We are not going to use that money.” You firmly say.

“Why not?” Cameron snickers in disbelief.

“We’re running out of food, there’s no water and I’m pretty sure Ethan is selling drugs. Jeremy’s tuition is up his ass and we just got an eviction notice. We have no other choice, Y/n” He finishes, his eyes sad.

“Give me some time and we’ll find a way to pay off everything.” You sigh sadly. He was right, this money could help with at least some problems you had. Before you could make another promise, your front door opened and shuts with a loud bang.

“I found that motherfucker” Walks in Camille with a piece of paper in her hand. Her brows raised and lips pursed.

“Him? As in, him, him?” I asked hopeful, brows raised as I got up immediately walking over to her.

“Yeah, but, I think we need to talk first about your...plan” She sighs, causing you to shake your head in confusion at her change in mood.

“What about it? I’m going to give it back, just like we talked.” You confirm, looking at her, then back at Jeremy and Cameron, confused.

“Yeah well, it won’t be as easy as we thought.” You could already tell she was hiding something.

“Why not?” You press on. Suddenly confused as to why her chocolate face turned pale, or her tongue pressed against her cheek as she looked down at the piece of paper still her hand.

“Well the guys you hooked up with happens to be Sebastian Stan.” She sassed, hands on her hips and a brow raised—a posture a mother only a mother would give at her disobedient child. Which made you feel slightly uncomfortable—but the confused laugh that ripped from your throat only caused her to stare harder. By the looks of the two males still in the kitchen—they seemed to know exactly who it was.

“So who the hell is he?” You sigh, throwing yourself on the couch, a head starting to form. You rest you elbows on your knees—staring blankly at the black tv.

“Only the most dangerous man in the whole damn country. Goddamn it Y/n, what the hell where you thinking?”

“I-I don’t know” You couldn’t help but stutter. You were disappointed in yourself, and you could tell that he was too. And there was no worse feeling than the feeling of letting your family down. You felt like a child being scolded. Their eyes piercing into your tensed frame. You could feel the disappointment in Jeremy’s eyes, the shock in Cameron’s, and the sympathy in Camille’s. It was overwhelming, you feel like you just committed the worst crime—or maybe you were just overthinking the whole situation —all of you were. All you had to do was give the money back.

“I’ll fix it” You closed your eyes while taking a deep breathe. “I’ll fix all of this” You confirmed, mostly to yourself. ���Just tell me everything you know about the guy-“before you could finish your sentence, the phone in your pocket started to ring, startling you in the process.

“It’s a private number” You whispered once you took the phone out and read the ID caller. You looked at Camille—as if asking permission. But all she gave you was a shrug, brows furrowed in confusion. You took a deep breathe before answering in a rush.

“Hello?”

“I hope you put that money in good use” Came a deep raspy voice. Confusion filled your body, but your mind went back to that in the club—his soft lips against the shell of your ear as he whispered profanity’s in the dirty bathroom. You breathe hitches in your throat, eyes wide in shock.

“Who the hell is it!?” Hissed Cameron, clearly worried.

“What the hell do you want?” You spat as you recomposes yourself. Jeremy seemed to know exactly who it was due to his reaction. It’s like his whole body shut down as he ran his fingers through his hair letting out a breathy fuck.

“Whoa there dragă, not need to get so defensive” His calm voice only seemed to fuel you even more. “That’s no way to speak to the man who sent you very generous gift” He finishes, and you could almost see the smirk on his beautiful face.

“Oh so this is a privilege?” You scoffed. “Well guess what, dipshit, I don’t fucking want it, so both you come and get it or stop hiding behind *67 and tell me where you are. We don’t need your goddamn charity” You finished your rant, anger radiating off you at the nerve of this guy. You felt proud of yourself, but your confidence faded into thin air when you looked at the three people still in your living  room who’s faces where drained from color.

“Tsk tsk tsk. You really hate people trying to help, don’t you?”

“I’m not a damsel in distress needing saving, Sebastian”

“Fine, come find me. I’ve been itching to see you again, if I’m being honest.” It was pitiful of you, but you swear you just felt your heart skip a beat at his words.

“How do I do that” You spat, not letting the words affect you the way you knew he wanted them too.

“Looks like your friends got that covered” He says seriously while hanging the phone up.

“He’ll kill you” Jeremy says while shaking his head, walking toward the saris, Cameron following hesitantly behind him.

You sigh I defeat, like your whole body just shut down after the comment.

Here you are, fucking your family over once again.

“This is not a good idea, Y/n. In fact, this is a very, very bad idea.” Camille speaks, eyes focused on the road but you could clearly tell how worried she was by the way her forehead wrinkled as her brows furrowed in worry.

“God, I don’t need this right now. I would’ve brought Jeremy if I wanted a freaking lecture about my shitty choose in decision.” You sigh as run your clammy fingers through your hair.

“And all for what? Because he left you some money? Now that’s some bullshit right there.” She scoffs, obviously ignoring your obvious annoyance at another lecture.

“Yes, Camille. Because he left some money. I mean, who the fuck does he think he is? My knight and shining armor? No, fuck that. Him and his money.” You spat loudly, index finger pointing at the windshield as if he was right there. Noticing your best friend’s eyes softening, you immediately cooled off.

“This is very dangerous. Just, don’t let your temper get the best of you while you’re with him. IF you even get to see him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be okay.” You smiled softly, reaching out to grab the hand that was firmly gripping onto the steering wheel.

“Plus, he said he told his ‘men’ to escort me in or whatever” You chuckled as you shook your head at the silly thought. Completely missing the flash of worry crossing Camille’s eyes.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” You demanded bravely. The room was dim, you could barely see your surroundings other than the middle, where you were met directly with his back, his very sweaty back. The cries of pain that came from his front caused you to lose your composer, just slightly — enough for you to regain it before he noticed. Sebastian stopped his movement slowly turning around, seemingly confused at the sudden interruption. Blood covered sleeves rolled up to his elbows, knuckles bruised and a half unconscious body lying motionless on a broken chair, face so beaten you could hardly identify the person. Which is what Sebastian was going for.

You were aghast, to say the least. Your eyes winded in shock, gripping your cross body bag (where you kept the money) tightly, your body shaking slightly at what you were witnessing.

A smirked formed on his lips as he watched your frightening state. He was amused at your bravery, hearing you walk in like you owned the place. Cussing at every single man that tried to stop you from walking any further. Of course he knew none of them would hurt you because of his orders. But he liked it. Liked your fierceness. But seeing you shocked with terror made him go somewhat soft on the inside. Wanting to cover your eyes from the brutality that was in front of you as if you were a kid.

“Come, let’s talk outside so you don’t have to see any of this” He coughs out, motioning you to follow. Without question, you did. Not standing the sight of the poor man who laid half dead in a rusty chair, his pleads and cries of terror would surly leave a mark on you.

“Why’d you do that?” You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat roughly, almost sure he heard it. You fought hard against the tears that were threading to spell out, you hated to admit it, but under your tough girl act you were sensitive. And seeing an innocent man (to you at least) lay so helplessly made your head shatter.

“He stole from me” He shrugged. As if it was the most normal think ever. As if he does this once a freaking week, as if he was play miniature golf with his high school friends.

“And who the fuck are you? Pablo Escobar” You replied sarcastically, pulling yourself together, not wanting him to smell your fear. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head while stopping in front of a large door.

Well his laugh made him sound less intimidating. It almost made you forget the sight of him killing a person only seconds ago. Almost.

“Come on in. We’ll talk in here.” He gives an attempt at giving you a small smile, you appreciated it. But then you remembered why you were here in the first place. And whatever you were feeling at the moment was replaced with anger.

“What are you trying to do here, huh? Some charity work? You took pity on me and now you wanna be the good fucking guy and help out? No, fuck that and fuck you. I can handle my own shit and I don’t need a stranger coming to my rescue. I’ve done this my whole life alone and I’ve been fine, we’ve been fine. So you can politely fuck off.” You were out of breathe, you were angry, completely forgetting the fact that he was extremely dangerous. Menacing.

After a long pause, he spoke.

“Did my men treat you right? There wasn’t any hassle?” He furrowed his eyebrows. Clearly changing the subject.

“Don’t you fucking dare” You tilted your head to the side, finger pointing accusingly at him.

“I was just trying to do you a favor.” He sighs, hands up in surrender.

“Well I don’t need your favors. I don’t even know you. Just because you took a lucky guess on how shitty my life is doesn’t mean you know me either.” You went from pointing at the ceiling, to him and then to you. “So here’s your money back. I don’t want it” You spat, hands harshly opening your bag and pulling out the stacks of money. Your hair was all over you face, but you could tell his hands were crossed over his chest. Lips pursed in hilarity.

“Don’t do that.” He sighs as he lays his enormous hands on the stack of money that was placed next to him on his desk, reviewing it. After a few seconds he looks at you, eyes squinting as if he was trying to memorize every detail. He then proceeded to walk toward you slowly, as if taking his time. It made you feel small.

You looked at the ground, once again, swallowing the lump in your throat as you felt his body heat on yours. You were faced to face with his chest, refusing to look up. His breath dancing over your forehead. And it took everything in you not to lean in, even though he wasn’t touching you.

Then you dared speak.

“Where you even telling the truth?” You whispered, the words barely audible. But by the way his breathed hitched in his throat, you knew he heard.

“What do you mean?” He gritted his teeth, staring at you dead in the eyes as pulled away from you, making you whine at the loss of heat. But he didn’t notice, lucky for you. He crossed his arms over his chest. You didn’t even think about your next words, or the consequences that would follow—but you didn’t dare hesitate.

“The night in the club. Your mother. Was she really sick? Or was that some bullshit excuse. Did your dad really leave you and your mother to die? Or was that also part of the plan. Fuck, is your name even Sebastian?” You snickered. Even though the situation was far from funny. The disbelief of the situation you had gotten yourself into was so unbelievable that you couldn’t help it when the noise escaped past your lips. And just like that, he was red. You could practically see the smoke coming from his ears as his eyes changed from a light blue mischief to a dark blue hatred.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” He yelled, letting his temper got the best of him. You jumped back in surprise, not expecting the outburst at all, but you knew it would happen. “I never lied to you, Y/n. I’d never joke about my mother’s sickness just for a fun story. My father did leave us, he left us for dead. And he paid for it. Just like every single person that was with him.” His breathe was uneven, he clearly had more to say—he was struggling to keep calm and you didn’t know why.

“What did you do, Sebastian? You killed him? Huh, is that was you did? Is that how you solve all your messes?” You raised your voice—edging him on. His outburst caused your own anger to bubble up in you.

“Yes. I fucking killed him, is that what you want to fucking hear, Y/n? I’m a fucking killer, a murderer. I sell drugs and guns. I’m a fucking drug lord. It’s what I fucking do. Don’t you get that?” His face was red due to all the movement he was causing and yelling, the vein on his neck prominent. You finally caught a glimpse of his belt. You froze in fear as you saw the gun that was tucked neatly under his leather belt. All the possibilities of you being killed ran through you mind and the fact that he was confessing to his crimes made it worse. “I kill people, I’ll kill anyone who stands in my fucking way.” His eyes where dark, intimidating. He confessed his dues even though you were already aware. But you didn’t get the answer you quite wanted. You were stepping on dangerous grounds, but you chose to ignore the gun that was tucked away in his belt, in a position where he could swiftly grab it and shoot you dead before you could even scream. But you continued, because you were just like that.

“How’d you kill him?” You spoke softly. His eyes immediately lit up as a sinister smile crept on his lips. And he spoke slowly, as if taking his time in remembering each detail.

“I chopped off each of his limbs off one by one as he watched in horror, not being able to do anything other than scream in agony. Started with his hands, cut off each finger before cutting his whole hand off. He didn't deserve them anyway.” He shrugged as if it was nothing. But it made your skin crawl. “I’d watch him beat my mother countless times, and I was unable to do anything; to defend her. But when I knew the power I had, I did something. Something I dreamt of doing for years. Then, I chopped off his feet. And you know what I did next? I ripped his fucking heart out while he was barely conscious. And I don’t regret a single thing.” He smirks while shaking his head, sinful tongue poking out just slightly out of his now dry mouth. His once perfect hair messed up by all the times his ran his dried bloody hands through it. Face red and sweaty as he calmed down from his outburst. Your brows were furrowed—fist clench tightly as you looked up at him. You somehow knew he was missing details.

Before he could even think of speaking (only adding to you infuriated mood) you jumped on him, legs poorly wrapped around his waist, arms holding onto his broad shoulder and lips smashing into his. Surprisingly, he did not hesitate to kiss you back just as aggressively. You couldn’t help but moan at the taste of his mouth. All you could taste was alcohol, weed and a hint of mint. Normally you’d be repulsed by this, but all you could think about was how amazing his lips felt on yours, how amazing his tasted in your tongue.

You could feel his smirk against your wet lips—and just for a second did you realize what you were doing—how desperate you must look right now. His smirk against your mouth infuriated you, causing you to bite his bottom lip harshly with a moan—causing him to growl animalistic. And god you could come right then and there. Small drops of blood seeping out of the cut your teeth made only made him look even more ravishing. Your tongue darts passed your lips as you took a slow lick over the wound, collecting the little blood that was shown—and wince coming out of him.

The heat in your core intensifying. Your short spell on him quickly vanished as soon as his rough and bloody hands went up to grab your ass giving it a tight squeeze. The moan that slipped out of your mouth only seemed to fuel him. Cautiously, he walked both of you toward his desk, careful not to break the kiss—and careful not make both of you fall. Your lips trailed desperately along his stubbled cheek, sharp jawline and neck, immediately licking a stripe up the vein that was popping out. His eyes closed momentarily, swallowing harshly as he relishes the feeling of your warm, wet mouth worshiping his neck.

Lazily, he cleared the area while dropping you on top. Wasting no time in taking your jeans off—buttons barely off, you were certain he broke them, but his face buried between your breast wouldn’t allow you to think. Once your pants where off, he forcefully opened your legs, causing a loud moan to slip past your lips as you felt your legs stretch deliciously. You could feel him chuckle against your cheek, a hand coming up to squeeze your chin between his finger, while the other didn’t hesitate to harshly slip under your underwear.

Wasting no time in separating your lips with his index and pinky finger to have a better angle to use his middle and ring finger and rubbing your clit harshly. Letting out small whimpers as you desperately bucked your hips into his hand. He moaned as he felt your warm pussy pulsing into his hand. It was heavenly, never had a man been so rough with you, and the fact that this wasn’t just a random man, but a feared mob boss. His dick was hard, fighting against hid dress pants, it was thick, extremely. The mere thought of having it in your mouth made your mouth water and your pussy wetter. This whole situation was dangerous. The hand of killer as buried deep in your underwear and all you could think about was sucking his dick.

“Fuck baby, you’re getting wetter by the second” He groans as dips his middle and ring finger down to your slit, collecting the juices that shameless fell out of you—only to bring his wet fingers back up to your clit, making it easier for him to rub. You couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

“God, i wanna suck your dick so bad” You let the pornographic moan out, causing him to let out a growl—then a snicker. Your face was red in embarrassment at the sudden confession, but you didn’t give a fuck at this point. The hand that was still tightly wrapped around your chin, forcefully pulled you into a kiss. Teeth clashing against each other, tongues exploring each other mouths. It wasn’t even a kiss due to how desperate it was. It was an erotic scene.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll be sure to put this sassy mouth to good use” He smirked. And if it weren't for your immense attraction to him, and in the current position you were in. You probably would've slapped him. But his words were nothing but hot and provocative.

And in just minutes, you felt your orgasm approaching, just by his fingers. Pathetic. You knew he could sense it just by the way your clit kept pulsing on his fingers.

“Oh, is my baby gonna cum already. Just by my fingers.” He whispered while licking your parted lips. A cockily look on his sweaty face. All you could do was nod pathetically as your head rolled back, brows knitted together and eyes shut tightly.

“Open your fucking eyes.” He growls as he hands harshly grabs your chin once again. This only caused an even louder moan to come from you. It made you 10 time horny at how rough he was being.

“I’m-i th-im about to cum-“ You whined rather loudly, hands that were once gripping his wooden desk reached up to his clothes shoulders, gripping at them desperately. And you felt it, your climax just around the corner. But before your orgasm could wash over you, a loud, obnoxious knock sounded throughout the whole office. His fingers immediately stilled on your beating clit, causing you to lean forward with a cry.

“No!” You couldn’t help but whine. You could feel how tensed and angry Sebastian was at the sudden interruption.

“Come in!” He shouted—making your eyes go wide in shock, and mouth agape. Especially since his hands was still inside your underwear. You tried to move away from him but he held you still, fingers still roughly placed on your sensitive clit.

“Sir we-“The built man stopped abruptly in his track, eyes wide at the sight. Sebastian only turned lightly to get a good look at his face, his face was unreadable, completely emotionless, making the man squirm under his gaze.

You could only imagine what you looked like. Sweaty, hair stuck to your face with euphoric yet embarrassed features. You wrapped your arms around Sebastian’s neck, burying your head in his neck at an attempt to cover yourself from the man. You could feel his smile as he kissed the top of your head. You would’ve thought it was a sweet gesture if his hand wasn’t buried in your underwear. In front of another dangerous man.

“Yes?” Sebastian asked—clearly irritated by the sudden interruption and the lack of information he was giving.

“Um—the-the crates, they’re here, sir” The man coughs, eye everywhere except Sebastian’s eyes, afraid he’d piss him off. And eyes definitely not on you. Knowing the consequences if ever looked at his girl.

“I’ll be right out.” Sebastian says irritably, making the buff man leave quickly.

With a sigh, he softly took his hands out, making you whimper at the loss of contact. His hands were wrinkled due to your juice, but with the cool air, they began to dry. That didn’t stop him from sucking on them as if it were frosty on a cake. You bit your lips at the sight.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t finish you off properly, dragă.” He says sadly. You couldn’t lie, you were disappointed yourself.

“But if you give me a chance, I’d love to take you out to dinner. Then I can fuck you like you deserve.” He ran his tongue across his bruised lip. You couldn’t help but blush at how explicit he was, even when trying to be romantic.

“Hmm. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it” You shrugged—smiling innocently at him as you hop off his desk. The wetness in your core started drying up, making it uncomfortable to even stand. Sebastian smirked as he nodded his head, leaning against the same spot you were sat on as he watched you pull your pants back up.

“I’m not an easy man to contact, how will I know your answer?” He bit his lips.

“You obviously know where I live and have my number” You teased. Walking back up to him and pulling him down boldly for a much more passionate and slow kiss, completely different from the ones you had moments ago. It felt nice—having his warm lips against yours. One hand draped lazily around your waist while your arm was draped lazily around his neck.

“I’ll see you around.” You whispered breathlessly while slowly dragging your hands from his neck, down to his chest as if to pull him away. Your foreheads still touching, lips caught between your lips. He was so intoxicating, it almost made your head throb. None of you finding the strength to pull away from each other. Weirdly enough, you felt safe in his arms, warm and it just felt right.

“I have to go” You whispered; nodding mostly to yourself — reminding yourself.

“Okay, baby” He nods, yet made no effort in pulling away. So you mustered up all the strength you had in your drained body and pulled away, his hands reaching for yours as he gave you one last kiss. Letting it linger around. And cue the butterflies. You felt like little school girl when her crush finally notices her. But you didn’t care at all.

“I’ll be waiting for that response” He hollers, arms crossed over his chest. Yet again, that infamous smudge look took place on his beautiful face.

“You just have to be patient, Stan” You winked as, not sparing him another glance as you walked out, immediately being met by one of his many bodyguards to escort you out. But not before Sebastian have them a murderous look.

Once out, you ran straight toward the abandoned warehouse where you had left Camille parched just in case something happened. Ready to tell her everything that had happened. The thought of him being a mafia leader far from forgotten.

“You just have to be patient, Stan” You winked as, not sparing him another glance as you walked out, immediately being met by one of his many bodyguards to escort you out. But not before Sebastian gave them a murderous look.

Once out, you ran straight toward the abandoned warehouse where you had left Camille parched just in case something happened. Ready to tell her everything that had happened. The thought of him being a mafia leader long forgotten.

“Hey, Vince” Sebastian calls, phone pressed tightly on the phone, one hand crossed under the arm that held the phone.

“I need you to keep an eye out on Y/n Y/l/n, 24/7. Her and her whole entire family. No- I don’t fucking care. Yes, even the fucking cashier at her local supermarket. Just keep an eye on her. Yeah, she knows too much, we can’t risk it.” He sighs, staring at the spot where you once stood.

[weareallfallengods]

Flight from Grace Chapter 1 - A small stumble

The long-awaited complete 1st chapter of my WIP novel! I started this over 6 months ago and I’m finally getting into the swing of it.

Synopsis: What happens when a Fallen Angel with no memory of her own eternal past meets a woman who can see her for who she really is? A head on collision between the world as we know it and an eternal battle between the immortals tasked with safeguarding the mortal realm. 

Grace can see things she shouldn’t be able to; after all, immortals have gone to a lot of trouble to make sure we can’t see them as they really are, so Something Has Changed, and she and her Fallen Angel will find out what’s going on, and why they seem to always be stuck in the middle of it all.

Themes: Angels and Demons, examination of mortality and our understanding of and belief in the supernatural as well as the eternal nature of existence. The battle between good and evil, and how no one is ever what they seem to be when we look past prejudices and social judgements. LGBTQ+, proper ethnic and cultural representation (read: most characters aren’t straight or white!).

Triggers: If you don’t like stories that put an often irreverant and sacriligeous spin on Christian mythos, this isn’t for you. LGBTQ+ romance, slow burn, non-explicit.

===================================================

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

Some neanderthal interrupted my deep contemplation of the double whiskey sour in front of me. Which was very rude. Whiskey sours demand your undivided attention and get cranky if ignored for too long. He should have known that, but either he didn’t know or didnt care, so either way- neanderthal.

He was leaning on the bar with the casual air of someone who has done this same dance too many times, the practiced ease of a used car salesman slapping the roof of a car. At least this one’s breath wasn’t too foul. Not that this hadn’t happened before. Oh no, I’d never been badly hit on in this bar like ten thousand times already. No that never happened. I was able to just sit in peace with my drink for the entire night. Yeah, right. Why do I keep coming back then, you ask? Well, Grace makes one hell of a whiskey sour for one thing.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

Ugh, this one wasn't going away with simply being ignored. Lovely.

“Excuse me?” I looked over languidly, with as much disdainful irritation on my face as I could possibly muster from the depths of my three-drinks-in soul.

“I said, ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

His stupid shit-eating leer didnt help my mood any. I wasn’t ever in a good mood if I showed up here, and that’s probably one of the reasons I kept coming back- assholes like this gave me a vent for my foul mood.

“No actually. It’s less of a fall and more of a stumble really. More like getting tossed out of a club by a bouncer than falling down the stairs. Couple of bruises, a minor scrape, more damaged pride than anything really.”

I could see his monkey-brain churning slowly to try and digest my response that didn’t fit his pre-programmed scenario. I half expected to see steam coming out of an ear. God, some men are just so... ew.

“Um, what?”

Apparently I broke him. Well, that happens sometimes, when I give someone a response they weren’t expecting. Which happens more often than I’d be willing to admit to myself.

“I said that getting tossed out of heaven doesn’t hurt as much as you’d think it would. It’s not that far of a tumble really.”

He chuckled, “That’s real cute darlin’, never heard that one before! How’s about you and me find a table so I can hear more about it? Maybe have a look at those bruises, make sure you don't need more…attention.”

Sweet Mother of Mikhail, that was bad. Like even worse than his initial pickup line. I almost had to respect his commitment to such a shitty way of trying to pick me up. He had some balls, that’s for sure, either from drunken stupidity or pure ignorant self-confidence. They say that bravery and stupidity go hand in hand, and here was their shining example.

“Believe me sweetie, you don’t want my 'attention’,” I said softly, for the first time raising my eyes to lock with his glazed gaze. “My attention can become very… uncomfortable.”

He started to smirk for just a split second, but when my eyes met his, both the smirk and the color melted from his face. His mouth hung slack as he felt his soul staring down the opening fiery abyss that he found reflected in my eyes. I watched his mind recoil in horror at the emptiness it saw as it tried futilely to pull back from the horror of empty infinity it was confronted with. I saw in his eyes the sudden awareness of how small and insignificant his place in the universe was, and shrink in horror, trying to flee internally only to find that there’s no escape from your own mind and the finality of human existence.

I looked away just as his eyes started to roll back in his head. No need to cause a scene with him passing out. After all, my whiskey sour was crying from being ignored. As they do.

“I think you should probably go home now Blake,” I demurred softly. “You’ve probably had enough, and your wife would be happy if you tucked the children into bed for once. Oh, and coffee won’t remove the smell of alcohol, so just have a peppermint. Your kids like that smell, reminds them of Christmas.”

He kind of half nodded, like a sleepwalker. I sighed. Hopefully he doesn't have an existential crisis later and just shrugs it off as being too drunk. Hell, maybe he’ll cut back on the sauce. I hate it when I hear about someone offing themselves after meeting me, especially if they have kids. Well, hopefully he just takes the daily inebriation down a notch or two. I can hope, can’t I?

As he shuffled off, lager forgotten at the bar, I hoped he’d be alright. Genuinely. Sure, I enjoyed taking my frustration at being stuck here out on them, but I didn't actually wish them lasting harm. A lesson or two in politeness and decency, a minor scuffle to break up the monotony, but no real damage. That’s what I told myself anyway. Made it easier to pretend to sleep at night. Hope he makes it home ok. Hope his kids get a happy memory of daddy saying goodnight for once. Hope he says he loves his wife, and apologizes. Hah. Yeah. Like that’ll happen. But, what can I say, I’m a foolish optimist at heart. And nothing hurts more than having your hopes crushed. I should know.

Damn. My drink was crying, a small puddle of condensation soaking into the bar napkin it rested on. Again. Another sigh. And one more for the first sigh. I hate sighing. It’s the most comprehensive sound of the acceptance of defeat ever created. The acknowledgment of futility. And I hate that. I thought I’d be fighting to the bitter end, but apparently Destiny had other plans. Fucking Destiny. She’s the whole reason I’m even drinking in the first place.

“Get you a fresh one?”

A sweet silver-bell tinkle of a voice broke my unintentional reverie. Grace was back, checking on me. She knew my peccadilloes by now. She knew how much I hated when my drink got watered down by the ice melting if it got ignored for too long. I nodded.

She smiled pleasantly and slid over a new drink, already prepped.

“I figured, after that creep pounced on ya.”

I frowned slightly. There was something different about this one. Hunh. Oh, the ice. There wasn’t any. There were two black cubes sitting in it instead. OK, why are there rocks in my drink?

I looked up at Grace, still slightly puzzled.

“Oh those? Yeah I noticed you didn’t like it when your drink gets watered down, so I bought some Irish whiskey stones! That way your drink stays cold, but doesn't dilute. Got 'em special, just for you.”

I cocked one eyebrow slightly, “Just for me?”

“Yep! Let’s face it, you’re the only one who comes in here with that kind of class, so I put 'em in the freezer back here with a big 'ol note so Jimmy doesn’t think I’m crazy for keeping rocks in the fridge,” her airy chuckle sprinkled across my ears.

I stared. I was in shock. OK, well maybe I’m being dramatic, but I was still surprised. People don’t normally do nice things for me. Or to me for that matter. If I’m honest, they mostly run away.

“Why…” I couldn't even formulate a coherent sentence. Jesus, get yourself together!

“I dunno, I just figured you don't seem like you have anyone looking out for you, and you seem to attract a lot of the wrong sort of attention, so I thought you could use a nice surprise, y’know, cheer you up a little.”

I nodded, more in surprise than agreement. I literally couldn’t recall the last time someone voluntarily tried to do something nice, just for me, no hope or expectation of reward or compensation. I was probably silent a little too long for a comfortable conversation. Hey, I was revelling in the new experience, cut me some slack.

“Well. Wow, um, thanks.” Yeah real smooth. Sweet Mikhail’s Grave I have no idea how to actually talk to this woman.

In retrospect, that should have been my first clue, but hey, I was a little distracted.

“I appreciate it, that’s really sweet of you.” Ok that’s slightly less glaringly awkward.

“Not trying to be rude at all, but I gotta ask- what’s your deal? Like you come in here all the time, lookin’ like a million bucks, never talk to anyone, get in fights every so often, get harassed like every single time but you keep coming back? I mean, I’m not trying to pry if you don’t wanna talk, but you know, like I’m totally trying to pry!”

Now it was my turn to stare slack-jawed. Oh Fates, how your twists are cruel. I closed my mouth a lot faster than the sot from earlier though, so my pride wasn't too damaged.

“It’s kind of a long and uninteresting story really. Mostly, you make the best whiskey sour. And the people here are…interesting.”

“Honey, there’s no way a story coming from someone who looks like that,” she waved generally up and down at me, “could possibly be boring. Plus, it’s slow, as always, so humor me.”

Sometimes, I can be kind of thick. Slow. Moronic. A nincompoop. A maroon. Several minutes of conversation with this girl and I only just now noticed- she hadn’t looked away from my eyes. She was meeting my gaze with no problem. She wasn't sweating and shaking and passing out. She was looking me right in the eye, just like a normal person, no fear showing on her face. No reaction at all. Just a normal girl, having a normal conversation, with what she thought was another normal person.

“Are…you OK?” Grace looked a bit concerned.

Aw shit, I was staring, and not even trying to hide it. Well now I felt dumb. And, why did I feel dumb? What was up with this girl that she made me feel so self conscious, so uncomfortable, like one of those fainting goats that just freezes and falls over when you blink too hard at them. Speaking of blinking really hard.

“Um, oh, yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Really. Sorry, just not many people actually want to have a real conversation with me.”

Grace leaned over the bar a little, propping up on her elbows, lowering her tone a bit. “Well, I don’t know why, 'cuz you sure seem hella interesting to me.”

“Hunh. Well, I don't know about that. But I would like to ask you something first, if you don't mind?”

“Fire away honey!”

“This might sound odd, but, why aren’t you looking away? What do you see when you look at me?”

She pulled a tiny bit closer. “Nothin’ more than just about the sparkly-est green eyes I ever seen; a dash of blue, like the Bahamas. Somethin’ else I can't quite put my finger on…” as she trailed off, I felt her finger lightly brush the knuckles on my hand that was still holding my drink. “I kinda wanna find out though.”

OK, now that was smooth. Holy fuck, that was really, really smooth. Like two hundred year old Laphroaig single malt filtered through the blessed socks of His Holiness the Pope smooth. Hold up, now she was trying to pick me up? What the hell universe? What’s going on here?

I swallowed, unable to look away now myself. “That’s all? Nothing that scares you?”

“Not yet, sugar.”

Alright, that’s different.

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

I grabbed her hand. Maybe a little too hard from the slight wince I saw.

“OK we need to leave. NOW.”

“Hold up honey, we were just talkin’, we ain’t there yet!” She tried pulling back a little.

“No, no, you don’t understand! I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be able to see that. I can’t explain right now, but we have to figure out how you can see me that way.”

“But my shift’s not over for a couple more hours!”

“OK OK, I’m not being clear, sorry, this is the first time this has happened, so I’m a little shaken.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She actually blushed a little. “I just saw how you shot down every guy who came up to you, and I thought….well, you know, maybe…omg I’m sorry I didn't mean to upset you! I come on strong sometimes, when I’m interested in something, and when you first walked in, I saw those heels and that dress, and I just was like ‘oh wow’ and kinda couldn’t breathe for a minute, you know I don't see many girls come here lookin’ like that and oh God now I’m babbling and someone please shut me up I'm so sorry…”

I put a finger over her lips, gently.

“I’m not upset. Far from it actually. But we have something a tiny bit more urgent than that to address. I’m not who you think I am. Or what, I should say. But more to the point, there’s something bigger going on here. And I need to find out what. Fast.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad I hit on you?”

“We don’t have time for that now!” She recoiled slightly at my vehemence. “No, I’m not upset, but that’s not the point! You shouldnt be able to see my eyes. My real ones anyway. I was too slow on picking that up right away, and I’m sorry, but we have to get out of here, now, because something is different, and in my world, that’s never a good thing.”

“Your world?”

I was getting frustrated. “Yes, but I’ll explain later! I need you to come with me now. We need answers, and we need them fast. So, do you trust me?”

She hesitated. “Yeeeeees? I think? Like I wanna, but I don’t really know you?”

“Good enough for now! Let’s go!”

To her credit, she just dropped her bar towel, grabbed her phone from under the bar and came out from behind it, grabbing my hand as she yelled to the back, “Hey Jimmy! I gotta leave! Personal thing- cover for me?”

Just then, there was a bit of a commotion at the door. Grace turned to look, but I didn’t need to. I already knew what was there. I just clutched her hand even tighter and yanked her towards the back; there was an emergency exit near the bathrooms from what I remembered of that one really bad 'birthday’. Yeah, that was a bad one. But we ran.

Good thing I’m not super tall, wouldn’t want to draw attention, I thought to myself sarcastically. Goddamn heels. Why do I even wear these?

Sounds of glass breaking and shouting reached us as we plowed through the emergency exit into the alleyway. Don’t worry about that now, just keep moving.

“This way!” I pulled her to the front of the alley.

“Holy shit, that’s your bike?” She sounded genuinely impressed. Finally, I wasn’t the only one who had that reaction at seeing it. 

“Oh yeah, she’s a sweet ride, and perfect for this situation. Or any situation, really. Jump on.”

I probably should have shut the door behind us, but hey, it was a day for me missing obvious things. The noise coming from the bar was getting louder.

“I’ve never done this before!” Grace exclaimed excitedly in my ear as I kicked my beast to life.

We roared out into the street, my white and gold Valentino’s left sparkling on the pavement where I kicked them. Fuckin’ useless, beautiful shoes. Sigh, they weren’t cheap. Oh well, they’re just shoes.

“Where are we going!?” Grace yelled over the rush of wind whipping our hair like tiny flails of purgatory.

“Not sure yet! But we’re going to find out!”

“I don't even know your name!”

My heart sank a bit.

“Don't worry! Neither do I! ”

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

The bar exploded behind us as it faded into the night thanks to the fabulous Ducati between our legs. Oh and that wasn’t metaphorical- I glanced in the mirror at the sound; it literally exploded. Ball of fire and all. I guess that’s to be expected, what with all the alcohol and what I’d suspected for a while was going on in the basement. Way too many flammable liquids in one place. But that didn't really matter now. All that mattered was getting away from what caused the explosion as fast as we possibly could. 

“What the hell was that!?” Grace yelled in my ear. Again. I’m going to have to get some headsets or something if this is going to be a habit. Well, the riding together part, not the fleeing for our lives part anyway. 

“I’ll explain as soon as we can talk, promise! For now, just hold on! And don't look behind us!" 

“As if I’m gonna let go now!”

That glance in the rear view told me as much as I needed to know, which was more than I wanted, but enough to have an idea of what we were running from. I mean, I figured that’s what it was, but I’m still tired of being right, even after all this time. You’d think I'd be used to it by now. 

That pale blue and red glow was enough. Hell, the noise it made had been enough for me to know what it was. And trust me, I was not overreacting by running first. I’d seen that color a few too many times in my life to think that there was anything else to be done except run. Once was more than enough for anyone. Who am I kidding? Most people don't get a chance to see it more than once. Guess I’m just lucky. Or the opposite. Pretty sure I’m the latter actually. 

Grace was shivering on my back as we sped away. She’d gone quiet, her mood matching the night around us, the neon signs and street lights reflecting their multi-colored halos in the rain-slicked streets. Fog was starting to rise from the pavement, adding to the soft glow the streets were taking on. Thin, wispy strands curling around street lights and bus stops, blasted into nothing as the bike tore through them, the roar of the exhaust shattering the relative quiet of the late night calm. 

Well, it should have been quiet anyway. The explosion of the bar kind of changed that. Then came the sound. 

It mixed with the growing whine from the crotch rocket under us, which seemed like a fitting counterpoint to the cacophony of something that sounded like if you’d thrown a hundred maltese dogs into a tornado and then blasted it over a crappy school intercom. I hated that sound. Almost as much as the dogs it reminded me of. 

“Aw shit, it saw us.” Time to see if the tires on this baby gripped as well as the kid at the shop claimed they did. 

Well, at least there wasn’t too much traffic. Still, even though there weren’t many trucks and accountant-driven sedans to weave in and out of, there were still enough of them that it took a hell of a lot more concentration than my alcohol soaked brain was ready to deal with. Definitely hadn’t planned on being the next Lewis Hamilton after a night at the bar, that’s for damn sure. 

“What the fuu….?” Grace’s expletive trailed off in the whipping wind as I kept us weaving in and out and through, gunning the shit out of my bike whenever there was an opening big enough to do so without turning us into extremely messy, if fashionable, pancakes.

“Try not to worry about it! OK I mean, yeah, worry, but not like understand worry!”

“How the hell do you not worry about...that!?”

I took a good look back for the first time as we whipped around a corner, using the rain-slick street to slide without losing any speed. My heart sank. At least it wasn’t in my throat choking me anymore. Sarcastic positivity in the face of death? Yeah that’s my jam. Even if I do keep it to myself. Most of the time anyway.

The damn thing was getting closer. Faster than I thought it could. Damn, tonight just wasn’t my night for noticing things, now was it?

That second of splitting my attention nearly sent us flying and a tired busboy standing at the corner bus stop to the hospital, but we only just missed him, with barely enough room to avoid slamming into the back end of something that should have been parked at a kids soccer game, not getting on the expressway at this time of night. 

Slipping into an alley entrance, Grace’s nails dug through the flimsy material I was wrapped in, making me yelp in surprise. 

“Sorry,” she muttered.

I was about to tell her it was cool, considering the circumstances, and given that I wasn’t sure if it made me jump because it hurt, or her hands were cold, or because of where they’d slid down to, when we blew out the other side of the alley, causing a literal postcard explosion from the stand I clipped as we bounced out on to the main road again, just in time to swerve hard to avoid becoming Penske poster-girls for a single truck. 

"Sweet Jesus fuck! What the hell IS that?"

Goddammit, didn’t I tell her not to look back? I wasn’t going to tell her how the beast chasing us had seen us dart down the alley, and since it couldn't fit through the traffic as neatly as we could, silently charge down the side of the building, slamming into the same shop front that had so recently lost it's postcard stand as it tried to take the same corner, still snuffling the ground and air to track us. I managed to gain us a few precious seconds of lead as it disentangled itself from the fruit cart, re-launching itself down the alley, bicycle wheel still caught in it's whiskers that streamed and whipped behind it.

“It’s running fucking sideways on the buildings!”

Aw shit. She can see it. I was afraid of that.

And that was all the distraction it needed too. 

With a last spring off the corner of an empty flower shop, the beast took a massive swipe at us. Come on, come on, make the corner! It's thick talons cut a blazing arc through the rain as it howled. One of its claws caught the rear end of the bike, knocking it heavily to the side, and nearly throwing Grace off. Good thing she’s got a death grip on my hips right now. Oh boy don’t think of that, too distracting right now, that’s how you get killed!

Grace screamed again as the bike was whipped around violently from behind, and Grace she was confronted with a vision not even her wildest nightmares could have come up with. At least, I hope she doesn’t have nightmares like this anymore. 

The beast’s jaws opened wide to crush us like a nutcracker on adderall, glowing drool whipping around in thick, viscous strands from teeth bigger than my hand, while she seemed mesmerized by the halo of tentacle-like whiskers that seemed to float in slow motion, despite how fast everything was happening. The beast looked at me, it’s eyes burning red meeting mine as I tried to maintain my grip on the bike that was rapidly being torn from my hands. I was holding on to that tank with my knees in a way that would have made the Russian Women’s weightlifting team proud. I could hear the scream that tried to jump from Grace’s mouth only for it to turn into a slow rush of soundless breath as she slammed into my back from the force of me yanking that bike around as hard as I could possibly manage. 

Ground. Street. Tires on. People off. Stay upright. Don’t let go. Run.

The bellow from the beast behind us meant nothing to me now. I was numb, my world narrowing to the few feet in front of me, and Grace behind me. Swerve. Dodge. Car. Bike. Red light. Faster. Green. Faster. Faster. Get away. Car. Car. Bus. Turn. 

Suddenly the cars all dropped away. The turnpike. Oh thank God. I opened up the throttle all the way and finally realized I should probably start breathing again. 

Grace was trying to yell something, probably wanting an explanation. I mean I can’t blame her, but I said I’d explain! Did it look like now was suddenly the time for it? Then again, maybe it was important. 

I turned my head a bit to try to talk to her, but I paused with my mouth still open. The beast was gone.Like gone gone. Vanished. Vamoosed. Not even like really far away gone, just not there any more. I squinted. Yeah, that was a little too easy.

“Did we get away?” 

I was actually about to answer her, when a glowing blue shape cashed into us from the side, just as I was starting to finally let my legs relax a little. Everything seemed to slow down. I know, everyone says that, but it’s true! I don’t know, maybe it was the whiskey sours, but as soon as we got hit, the world turned in to super slow-mo as the bike was ripped from my hands, and I felt Grace be pulled away from me. 

This thing tossed us like a couple of rag dolls thrown from a child’s stroller being kicked by a football player. Or at least it started to go that way. Somehow, as the bike ground across the pavement, with just my left hand managing to keep any kind of hold on the bike, I managed to swing myself around it like a gymnast on a gold-medal winning vault-horse routine, snagged Grace’s bar apron with my free hand, and with sheer desperate strength, yank all three back together, right as the beast’s slavering maw snapped shut on empty air where Grace’s head had been just milliseconds before. Through pure accident of positioning, my toes raked across it’s eyes as my leg swung around and I slammed them back down on the pegs, jammed the throttle all the way open, even as Grace somehow managed to complete the circle I’d pulled her in, ending by straddling my hips, arms and hair akimbo while we slid sideways, fortunately tires first. 

Grace’s eyes were wider than a kid who opened their eyes to Disneyland on a Christmas morning as she slammed into me, and I used our momentum to get the bike fully upright, only barely escaping a second snap from the beast as it lunged again, trying to tear us apart. 

That near miss, and the sigh of relief I almost let happen, didn’t get a chance to last long. 

Her damn hair was in my face, which at any other time, wouldn’t have been a problem, really, but just at that second, was incredibly, blindingly, distracting. And it might have saved our lives. 

Something hot burned into my shoulder and face as the sound of crashing metal and people yelling slammed into me. Hm, spicy.

“Shit! Watch out! Sorry!” Grace called to the one lady who wasn’t running for the hills as we smashed through her food cart. Can you get third-degree barbecue sauce burns? Food trays, sauces and meat all went flying as we dervished our way right through the middle of her street-side restaurant, sweet and spicy and sticky all at once, all over the ground, and all over me and Grace as well. I couldn’t think of anything more than just keeping everything together and moving forward. Run. The only thought occupying my mind. Just run.

“Hey.”

The softness of her voice is what brought me back to the girl squished up against me and out of the rabbit-instinct flight mode I was in. 

I don’t know why but for some reason, my brain decided that was the perfect moment to notice that I’d never realized how captivating the color brown could be. Grace’s eyes were less than inches from mine, and I froze for a second. Again. 

“I think it’s stopped.”

I glanced back. The beast had been right on top of us when we hit the food cart, but now it was standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, sniffing around for all the world like the biggest, dumbest, glowiest dog you’ve ever seen. OK, a dog that could tear a truck apart like a box of tissues, but still. 

“What the hell is it doing?” 

“Maybe it’s hungry.”

I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud. I’d never seen one of these things just...stop like that. It didn't make sense. 

No time to think of that right now, just enough time to dart down another alley, blocking the beast from view as it sat down to lap up all the spilled barbecued beef at its feet. 

As we weaved and darted through alleys and parking lots, squeezing through sidewalks and darting across small streets, I started to recognize where we were now, and had the barest inkling of a plan besides ‘get away without dying.’

“Whatever that thing is, I think it likes barbecue.”   

Grace’s whispered comment snapped me back to what was right in front of me, the whole reason I was in this kind of mess again in the first place. . 

“Hunh?”

“I think it stopped to eat at the barbecue stand we knocked over. It’s not chasing us anymore- look.”

I tried to check the mirror again, only to find they’d both been ripped off by now, so switched to glancing over my shoulder quickly, and saw no ominous glow behind us, other than the few street lamps on the small boulevard we were going down. 

“Barbecue?” I was still pretty confused. Probably drunk too. But definitely confused. 

Grace’s laugh was carried away on the night like fireworks swept away in a light breeze. “Well, I dunno what the hell that thing was, but I haven’t met anyone yet who wouldn’t drop everything for good barbecue, honey.”

Raising an eyebrow, I laughed, “Well it’s good to see I’m not the only one here who can make wildly ridiculous comments with horrible timing!”

“Funny the things you think about when you should be focusing on other stuff that’s a little more important, hunh? Like right now, all I can think about is a nice rack of ribs.” Grace grew quieter as her head sank back down on to my shoulder. “Where we headed, sugar?”

“Somewhere close. Safe. I think.”

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

The old loft was just as dank and dirty and run down on the inside as it looked on the outside. Probably worse. No diamonds in the rough here, that’s for sure. Broken glass scattered on the beat up industrial floor scattered the glow of the streetlight through the mist that filled the space. Definitely not up to my usual standard, but hey, we couldn’t really complain too much.

Throwing an old, discarded, and probably moldy, but definitely more disgusting than I wanted to ever touch again, mover’s blanket over the plate window helped to at least hide a little bit of how gross this place looked. Plus, privacy. A quick scan around and I found a pile of old tarps and a couple skeezy mattresses that I definitely wasn’t going to think about where they’d been or who’d done what on them for how long. It’d have to do. A dirty mattress was a small price to pay for still being alive.

"It's not the Four Seasons, but it'll do for now. It's kinda cold- I don't think the building even has heat, but I think we can keep warm enough to make it through the rest of tonight at least."

Grace flopped down heavily on the mattress, exhausted, shoulders slumped, staring vacantly at the floor.

"That was...was that...I don't even know where to start. My brain's been turned to oatmeal. What…? What happened? What in the name of all fucks just happened?"

“Yeah, there’s kind of a lot to unpack here isn’t there?” I just crumpled down into one of the old blankets like a sock puppet being dropped into its nest. “I’m not even sure where to begin.”

“Ya think? Like one minute, I’m trying to mind my business, working my shift at the bar, wondering whether I’m going to have to give another statement to the cops after another bar fight breaks out, and the next I’m getting tossed around like a hot sweet-potato, almost get eaten by a glowing, walking catfish that got beaten a little too hard with the ugly stick, get covered in barbecue sauce, do-si-doed by a goddamn motorcycle ninja, only to wind up in some place that looks like it was lifted straight out of Zillow for Crackheads!”

A snort of wry, tired amusement escaped me. “Yeah, I guess it really does look that bad here. I mean, I’m surprised this place is even still standing after all this time, but you’re right, it definitely looks a bit sketchy.”

“Way to avoid the point, hun.”

“Yeah, I know.” Not sure why, but she kept making me nervous, and the way she was sort of frowning while pinning me down with those sparkling coffee eyes definitely wasn’t helping. Probably just wasn’t used to people making eye contact. Which was the whole reason I was in this mess to begin with. Another sigh. 

“Alright. I’ll explain as much as I can. You deserve that much.”

Grace flopped down on the edge of the mattress, chin propped in her hands for all the world like a kid during goddamn story time. How the hell was I supposed to concentrate when she’s doing things like that? Look away! Only way to save myself for now. 

“OK, here goes. So the thing you saw? Well, it’s a…” I scowled. “It’s a...sunuvabitch, I don’t really know what it’s called. Alright, further back then. The basics. Got it.

“Supernatural things exist. Like you believe that humans are the highest species on this planet and that you’re all alone in the universe, and no one can quite agree on whether there was anything before or after this life or what happens when you die, right? Well, a lot of what most people believe to be myth or religious superstition is actually, um, real.”

So she hasn’t tried to run away just yet. That’s a good sign, right?

“From what I’ve been able to piece together, from the bits I can remember, what you would call ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ are real places- they’re just not really visible to mortals. Most of the time. ‘Angels’ and ‘demons’ are real things too, but they’re a little bit different than most people tend to think of them from what I’ve seen. 

“I don’t know how many there are, but there’s angels and demons walking around, living just like you and me, every day. The thing is, that mortals like you can’t see them. And that’s where the problem is.”

“Like me?” It wasn’t really a question. Her tone made that clear enough.

“Oh boy. OK, here’s the big one- because with the heaven and hell stuff, most people can be like ‘meh, it’s all superstitious nonsense anyway’ and brush it off. This? Not so much. 

“I’m not human. Or mortal. I can see angels and demons walking around plain as day, just like the ones I’ve met can see me. Mortals...see something else.”

“Like the creep at the bar earlier? Did he see...something else? In you?”

“Yeah. On the outside, at first glance, I look like any other girl. But look closer? Well, you saw what happened. People just aren’t ready to see my real nature.”

“But that didn’t happen to me.” Now Grace was looking a little bit confused- but the kind of confused you get when a teacher is explaining something that you know should make sense, even if you were having a hard time getting it. 

“No, it didn’t. And it took me way too long to pick up on that. I should’ve realized right away. If I had, maybe I could have gotten you out of there faster and that whole ‘sweet potato’ thing wouldn’t have happened.”

“So what should I be seeing? When I look into your eyes I mean?”

“Probably something along the lines of falling through an eternally expanding universe, a sense that you’re tinier than a piece of sand in the scope of the cosmos, that sort of thing. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from a couple of the ones who were able to be slightly coherent afterwards. There haven’t been many of those over the years.”

“Wow. I definitely don’t see that.”

“And that’s the problem, really. I’ve never heard of something like that happening before. I don’t know what it means, or why you can, or anything! All I know is that something is very, very different, and very, very wrong, otherwise that thing wouldn’t have been after us. And right now, I don’t know if what’s wrong is you, or me, or both of us. But we need to find out if we’re going to not be looking over our shoulders for...what did you call it again?”

Grace laughed. A genuine laugh, not weighed down by worry or terror. “A glowing, walking catfish?”

“Ha ha, yeah, that got beaten too many times with the ugly stick!”

Grace sat up suddenly, nodding sharply to herself. “Alright, well, you’re either batshit crazy, or I owe my gran an apology.” Grace was still half chuckling, but looking very intent. 

“Your gran?”

“Yeah, she was super religious, always prayin’, talkin’ and singin’ about god. She must’ve gone to church three times a week! Boy, would she have loved to hear all this.”

“I’ll bet!”

“So, I just wanna make sure I’ve got all the stuff you said- angels are real, and something’s wrong with the fact that I can see your real eyes, and not like, the fires of the Big Bang or something, but you don’t know why that’s a problem or what caused it.. Right?”

“I’d say that about covers it for now, yeah.”

“Alright, I can live with that much for now. I’m clean tuckered out, and you look like you’re about to just fall over any second now. Whaddya say we call it a night?”

“Yeah.” I really could barely keep my eyes open at this point. I guess pretending my motorbike was a juggling pin kind of took it out of me.

Grace popped up, suddenly all business.

“So doesn’t look like this place has a big ol’ tub to dump you in, so we’ll have to settle for a couple of wet wipes. Here, help me get these blankets on to the mattress here. They’re gross, but it’s better than freezing to death.”

“You’re the boss!” Those wet wipes were a pocket-sized blessing, wrapped in foil paper. I’m more of a Chanel and gunpowder type, not so big on the earthy, barbecue scents.

I was starting to stumble a bit as we plopped the discarded blankets down as well as we could in the relative darkness of the loft.

“Probably better to stay dressed with how dirty these blankets are.” Grace frowned as she watched me struggle to pick up one of the heavier blankets a couple of times.

That didn’t even register until much later.

“OK, you, lay down. No more for you tonight. Sleep.”

I couldn’t even argue with her. I just curled up in a ball on the bed, barely aware of Grace pulling a couple of the blankets over me, but I thought I could just make out her arm resting on mine as we both drifted off into the heavy, dreamless sleep that comes when you’ve been pushed to your limits. At least, I kind of hope it was. 

=============================================

Story tag list

@random-with-garlic @a-dinosaurs-left-phgkneecap @flower-in-the-ashes @nixabee @luvnaught @pens-swords-stuff @alice-and-cheshire-cat @humans-are-seriously-weird @flying-f1shsticks @Neil-gaiman @glumshoe @lykanyouko @kaylewiswrites @just-a-bit-paranoid @thatsmybluefondue @Alice-and-Cheshire-cat @violet-galaxies @biggest-gaidiest-patronuses @midnight-spectrum-again @slytherinlovespuff @friendofcybermen @hemi528i @mirbisduschoen @khelladon @walkin-in-the-cosmos

As always, if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, just shoot me a message and your wish is my command. 

[dearericbittle]

Sterek masterpost

So, now that I’ve written 30 (!) Sterek fics, I figured it was about time that I made a masterpost of my stories. You can find the full list on my Tumblr as well!

Been here before and it just feels right (strangers tonight) - (T, 3.4k) Summary: Derek Hale was an awkward teenager, but he grew into himself. He grew out of that pulling pigtails phase. Shame that being reunited with his old crush brings it all back. Even worse: Stiles doesn’t even seem to recognize him. Or does he?

Better that I break the window (than miss what I should see) - (M, 9k) Summary: Someone opened Stiles’ window. But he’s all the way on the 7th floor - how the fuck did that happen? Spoiler alert: werewolves are real. And really hot.

Bring on the monsters (bring on the real world) - (E, 11.1k) Summary: He was supposed to be making an impression on Lydia, but instead he’s making fun of a terrible werewolf costume. To be fair, those mutton chops remind him of Michael J. Fox in the worst way, and the guy didn’t appear to be too offended. He was too busy smelling Stiles for some reason. He really shouldn’t have forgotten cologne.

but that’s just a first impression (I could be totally wrong) - (T, 2.9k) Summary: Derek is on a really awful blind date (Laura will pay for this). But the waiter is really cute.

The coolest wolf in the whole wide world - (T, 8.3k) Summary: Stiles is surprisingly good at being a wolf. Like, super good at control, loves the drama of making weird entrances, and determined to try all the things. Because he has to find out what’s different about being a wolf. And Derek is going to be his Yoda, whether he wants to or not. Only Stiles is pretty sure Yoda never smelled this good.

Detective Stiles Stilinski and the Case of Derek Hale’s Mysterious Mate - (T, 5.6k) Summary: Mates are a thing. A werewolf thing. Which is fine and shit, but finding out that Derek fucking Hale has a mate? That gets to him. And seeing as Derek won’t tell him who it is, well… Guess that means this is a job for Detective Stiles Stilinski - if he’s not too distracted by his traditional banter with Derek.

Everything mixed up (and baked in a beautiful pie) - (T, 6/6, 42k) Summary: Stiles’ friends are more of a pain in the ass than usual around the holiday season. Just because he spends all of his time at his bakery, doesn’t mean he’s unhappy. So hiring a fake boyfriend seems like the perfect, simple solution. Instead Stiles stumbles onto a stupid quest to make Derek Hale happy. But surely that will all work out in time.

Fit hot guys have problems too (don’t objectify us with your male and female gaze) - (T, 1.7k) Summary: To Cora, 1:24 AM: im tired of guys just wanting to hook up with me. im like, guys, i know im pretty and i have a slammin bod and i love making out, but cant someone treat me with respect?? Derek is tired of being objectified. Enter Stiles Stilinski, hot mess who has an opinion about everything. Derek is surprisingly intrigued.

Gymnophoria - (T, 0.9k) Summary: Stiles is paranoid - he keeps feeling someone’s eyes on him. Surprisingly, no nefarious plans happen.

He got lost in my DMs (wanna be way more than friends) - (T, 2.8k) Summary: Derek is somewhat of an online hero, providing candid pictures of himself to anyone who wants persistent suitors to just go away already. Stiles… is suddenly surrounded by assholes who apparently really want to hear about how great his fake boyfriend is. Part 1 of Slide into those DMs

Heard you were tough (but you don’t look it) - (T, 3.6k) Summary: Derek is a protective Alpha, and whenever he sees a human in danger, he has to step in. Usually people are grateful. This guy? Not so much. 3 times Derek saves that ungrateful magic user’s life, and 3 times the ungrateful asshole saved his in return

Here we are two strangers (with nothing but this little spark) - (T, 6k) Summary: Stiles is only at this masquerade party for revenge. Theo Raeken has taken everything from him, and this is the only way he can get close enough to ruin his fucking life. He gets sidetracked by a mysterious stranger who’s looking for revenge of his own. Maybe they can help each other…

I might never be (your knight in shining armor) - (T, 2.9k) Summary: So, in Stiles’ defence, he didn’t actually know that the woman harassing the dude-sel in distress was an actual witch. Or that the dude in question was an Alpha werewolf who claimed to be able to handle himself. Stiles agrees to disagree on that one.

I take this magnetic force of a man (to be my lover) - (T, 6k) Summary: Derek is pretty happy with the mate he’s somehow chosen, even though Stiles has no idea - and no interest in Derek. But that’s fine. Except Peter just has to open his big mouth, because he clearly wants to ruin Derek’s life. Part 2 of Laura Hale is the best Alpha

I’d be a fearless leader (I’d be an Alpha type) - (T, 7.8k) Summary: Most teenagers would run off if they found a bleeding half-wolf, half-lady with red eyes snarling at them. But Stiles’ fight or flight response has always been a little fucked, and Laura Hale looks like she could use a break. Part 1 of Laura Hale is the best Alpha

I’m gonna light a spark (gonna hold my breath until the morning) - (T, 2.5k) Summary: Derek hates the bus, hates how people use it as an excuse to sit close to him and bat their eyelashes at him. And then this stranger who smells like home just falls asleep on his lap.

Lie under different stars (I’ve not seen you in the flesh for so long) - (T, 3,4k) Summary: In which Laura Hale is a queen of holding on to childhood mementos and seeing things her brother won’t, and Derek Hale rediscovers his love of Mischief.

The man who’s gonna marry you (make you feel alive) - (T, 4.2k) Summary: Only Finstock could marry the wrong people. Only Greenberg could fill out the papers wrong, but Finstock didn’t even check. It was like he wanted Stiles to be married to Derek Hale. And no one would want that, except maybe… Stiles.

No more dark sad lonely (k)nights - (T, 2k) Summary: Derek is an Alpha without an emissary, so his nosy betas made sure he attended the convention. Stiles is clearly in the wrong convention hall, because his Batman cosplay does not appear to be going over well.

Old you in the garbage (new you in display case) - (T, 13.4k) Summary: Stiles is lonely and desperate and suffering from a crush on the grumpiest librarian. So what’s a boy to do but cook up a ridiculous plan to get himself dated and/or finally get laid before the holidays? He just wants his She’s All That moment, okay? He never expected that the plan would actually help him get the guy.

Real life isn’t a movie (life doesn’t make narrative sense) - (M, 11.6k) Summary: Somehow accidentally insulting a hot guy in a coffee shop leads to pretending to be his boyfriend in front of a house full of werewolves. Stiles Stilinski is living his best life and making the most of his Hallmark movie moment.

Shoot your shot when you see em (he’s already in my DMs) - (T, 3.9k) Summary: Derek may or may not be falling in love with one of Laura’s employees, and he’s only ever spoken to him on the phone. Stiles doesn’t even know his name! But apparently, he does know how to slide into his DMs. Part 2 of Slide into those DMs

Some Cupid kills with arrows (some with mistletoe) - (T, 9.5k) Summary: It’s the same thing every time. Derek Hale comes home, the town is in a snit, and Stiles Stilinski polishes his metaphorical armor and gets ready for a battle of wits. Not that he considers Derek’s comments particularly witty. Their friends are just tired of the sexual tension and the rampant egos, and they’re ready to do something about it.

Such great heights (corresponding shapes like puzzle pieces) - (T, 3.3k) Summary: In which everyone in the pack is together and alive, because fuck canon. In which Stiles is surprised that Derek’s super hearing fails him. He just wants to know how tall Derek is, why is that such a big deal?

Teach me how to thrive (i was a loser just like you) - (T, 4.9k) Summary: Scott was cool now - the Squip had made sure of that. Stiles? Not so cool. All he has left are his cryptic conversations with perpetually wasted Derek Hale as he desperately tries to get an evil computer chip from taking over Beacon Hills.

We were young once (innocent and fun once) - (T, 5,3k) Summary: So maybe making Lydia jealous is just an excuse for him to finally talk to Derek Hale - it’s been ten years and clearly that high school crush is not over. There’s just a lot more to Derek than he was expecting.

We’ll put on a show (Scotty has to know) - (T, 7.7k) Summary: Stiles is a stubborn asshole, determined to have fun in Europe even though Scott stays behind in Belgium because of a girl. So asking a stranger to make out with him for the ‘Gram? Totally the best decision he’s ever made, and not just because that’ll totally show Jackson (and Scott!). Shame he won’t see the guy again, though.

What it looks like to forget (it’s easier that way) - (T, 4.9k) Summary: He has no idea who he is, but the stranger with the whiskey eyes is calling him Derek. And the guy has been sitting at his bedside for three days, so he’s got some credit. Especially because the guy smells like he should be his - though that is a supremely weird thought that he probably needs to figure out first.

You want forgiveness (I’ll give that to you) - (T, 2.8k) Summary: Derek is running from the Alpha, suffering from wolfsbane poisoning and he’s clearly losing it. Why else would he be seeing his mother - and everyone else he might as well have killed himself. But Stiles can’t just let him get what he deserves. Stiles never leaves him behind, even when he should.

You’re moving me around you (I said darling hold me) - (T, 14,5k) Summary: Derek is the only beta in a pack of two, blaming himself for the loss of their entire family. When his sister pays someone to get him used to human contact again, Derek preps himself for a couple unwilling handshakes before he kicks the stranger out of his den. Stiles is… not what Derek expected.

[marcuschan]

just gonna post this unfinished:

Alright, fine. Here's the status report, in no particular order:

I'm back in Seattle. I wrote a blog post on the flight back from Windsor, which I have to make a few edits to (adding a few links, etc).

A good number of months ago, I went to the dentist. (I still don't brush my teeth more than once a week, which in typical fashion I was thinking would change after I went. My track record for changing my habits by consciously trying to change my habits is, literally since as far back as I can remember, entirely failures.)

The dentist seems like a competent doctor and perfectly nice person – more than that, really, as he did go out of his way to ask patients if they didn't like dentist visits and what he could do to help. However, his bedside manner really doesn't work for me in that he doesn't give the patient any information or give really any opportunity for questions. So while I'm sure he's right in his medical care and all, I don't have any level of emotional trust for him.

This is a problem because he referred me to an oral surgeon to get my wisdom teeth removed. So I'm supposed to do that, but it sure is easy to avoid a major medical procedure when you don't have any information about it or trust in the one saying you should do it.

Similarly, I went to my GP a while ago and got a referral to a... I don't actually remember exactly what, but it's for my anus. Probably should follow up on that, but I haven't had as much of the problem it's for, so again, it sure is easy to avoid.

Thirdly in the "medical stuff" category, I feel like I should probably be going to regular therapy/counseling of some kind. For, y'know, the "avoiding stuff" thing, among what I'm sure is a multitude of other repressed things. And maybe consider an antidepressant or somesuch (which would be through that avenue as well).

In the small category of potentially enjoyable things, I'm tempted to look for piano lessons. I do have a long and storied history of hating things I'm not yet good at, but if I stuck with it, I bet music could be a really enjoyable thing. Oh wait, I haven't stuck with anything of any kind in my entire life. Potential problem there.

As far as school goes, I was supposed to sign up for [something] at Seattle Central College... let's see, it opened on the 21st, so a week ago. I did 'enroll' before I left for Windsor, but never having actually used my online account, it's screwed up in some way, which I presumably have to contact the college to fix. However, I didn't see anything on the class list that actually sounds enjoyable or useful, I don't know if anything will be available (very likely yes, but not being sure it's an easy excuse), there are probably a lot of unpleasant steps like getting my old transcripts sent to the college that I was supposed to have done ages ago, none of the people at the college were at all nice when I did go so I don't want to talk to them again, and anything involving being a student makes me have really avoidant, and usually self-destructive, reactions. So that's a good time.

Thanks, high school experience. Also, fuck you, high school experience.

(Nota bene: I've never had suicidal or dangerous urges, and if I ever do I'll seek a lot more help than I do now. Avoidance is obviously bad, but at least it doesn't really get worse than "don't do the thing or any related things.")

I am pretty angry pretty much all of the time, though. I have a really excellent mostly-finished post about this from the beginning of the year when I was planning to post something every day (didn't work out, obviously). But I think that's separate from the previous paragraph. Mostly I'm angry that so many things are unfair to and hurt people I care about and innocent people who I don't know but nevertheless care about in some abstract way. And that I feel helpless to change that.

...Well, and that my previously addressed issues prevent me from helping to change things. I take it back, it's totally connected to the previous paragraph.

I have a lot of guilt. I don't really know how much, because it's one of those things that's debilitating to try and fully consider and I've been down that road before in high school. I will absolutely grant that addressing your faults and stuff is necessary and that you can't just live ignoring them forever (common theme in fictional media, it seems), but pushing it down the road is nice compared to last time when it broke me. This is why I probably need professional help, I imagine.

Short list of topics, though:

...eh, actually let's come back to that. It's actually pretty difficult to enumerate them into a list, not even in the emotional sense, just in the "hmm what were they again" sense. I can just flag 'em as I remember 'em.

Continuing: Rebecca's mental and financial situation. Financial first: the poor treatment of and lack of opportunities given to ~minimum wage, what gets called "unskilled" even though that's fucking bullshit, workers pisses me the fuck off. Like I said, I'm always angry – and on reflection, I think I tend to come across as uncaring about things that actually make me angry because given the choice between expressing a destructive emotion destructively and not expressing it and trying to stay levelheaded, I pick the second. The "be constructive" and "express that the emotion is there to show people you care without letting it control and overwhelm you" options that logically I know exist are... well, difficult and risky.

I remember when my mom was basically like, "oh, so you get upset a lot about this one person's situation?" And: sure, yes, of course I do, why wouldn't I? But I see that situation applied to literally billions of people in the world and I'm upset on all of their behalfs. She almost certainly wasn't implying that it *only* bothers me because I have a personal connection with someone in the situation I'm upset about, but it kind of sounded like it in the moment, and I'm damn offended if anyone actually thinks that about me. Oh well. Anyway, hi, I have far left political leanings because apparently "people who have hard lives should have easier ones, we as a society can make that happen on a large scale so we should" is an extremist position? What?

Aaaaaaannyway getting back to the status report. I feel guilt (1) about my lack of educational credentials and independence because they would allow me to help Rebecca's situation, and those of all of my friends, and those of people I don't know too. I literally have a note titled "what to do when you have your own money" which basically just says "help people." That's the only way I could feel good about myself.

But when the only way you can feel good about yourself is (okay, 'feels', not necessarily 'is') behind a door that makes you want to react self-destructively... it doesn't feel like there's any path that'll make you feel good about yourself. It just makes you feel hopeless, and angry, and like you don't want it to be this way, and that's close enough to feeling like you want it all to stop that it's easy to conflate the two.

Remember, if you feel this way too: They're *not* the same. It's a normal thing to mix those feelings up, but it's not true. Remember that.

Moving on. Rebecca's medical situation is... hm. I'll kind of write this out backwards because it's easier to recount that way. The post I wrote on the plane (I'll post it after this) is about, among other things, finance, and how I make financial decisions with the indefinite amount of resources available to me.

Rebecca doesn't have sufficient medical care for their mental health. Not by a small margin or in an unimportant way. Some of the reasons for this are financial, and of course some are not. The ones that are financial are, in my mind, things I have the ability to solve, and that it would be the financially responsible thing for that to happen. I have zero doubts about this.

I won't go into much more detail for the reasons of privacy. But as we're listing unresolved things that are on my mind, if one were to ask me in this context, "are things okay," my answer is no, and to "do you guys need help," my answer is yes.

- hair

- promises

[no-gorms]

Cas and Dean at a neighborhood potluck, in an AU where they’re both kinda assholes. (ao3)

Castiel is still arranging his trio of bowls on the table when Meg wanders over. He refuses to be cowed by her judgmental squint, and keeps moving them until they’re in their best configuration.

“Ah,” Meg says, “so you went with the salsa.”

“I’m regretting it a little,” Castiel admits. “Don’t know how long it’ll last in this weather.”

“I did tell you,” Meg says. “But at least you’re wearing the shirt that makes you look like saran-wrapped beef, so not all my advice was wasted.”

“I’m wearing this because it’s comfortable, not because you said so.” Castiel ignores her protesting eye-roll and adds, “What did you bring?”

“Cupcakes. They’re on the dessert table.”

“Store-bought?”

“Obviously,” Meg says. “It’s not like it’s false advertising. I told Anna that it’d be for the best if I don’t inflict my cooking on people, and she agreed. Give me that, I want to try.”

Castiel stands back while Meg takes a tortilla chip, and represses the urge to scold her when she scoops out an exorbitant amount of salsa from the main bowl. It’s far from Castiel’s first potluck but the whole thing still makes him nervous for no reason he can pinpoint; he’s hardly known for his cooking so it’s not like anyone has expectations, and he always, always prepares something easy and unremarkable.

Still he waits, uncomfortable, while Meg chews and swallows.

At long last Meg says, “It’s all right.”

Castiel relaxes. “Thank you. Maybe later you can help me finish it off if there’s leftovers.”

“Hell no,” Meg scoffs. “I’m keeping space for Dean’s pies.”

“Winchester’s brought pies, plural?” Castiel looks around for the noisiest corner of get-together, for chances are that’s where Dean Winchester can be found. Sure enough there he is, hiding his face behind his hands, for some reason trying to avoid Jo and Benny’s attempts to take a picture of him. Castiel sighs. “What am I talking about, of course he did.”

“I’ll get you a slice, don’t worry,” Meg says, ignoring Castiel’s side-eye. “Actually, I’m going to go try Rufus’ mini-cheesesteaks, so you can stay here and be anxious about your salsa by yourself.”

“I’m not…” Castiel trails off because Meg’s gone, weaving her way through the crowd for the mains table.

It’s a decent turn-out today, and Castiel’s actually very happy for Anna, what with it being the first time she’s hosted the semi-regular potluck. Castiel’s mild anxiousness pales in the face of Anna’s past week, rushing through plans and secondary plans, eventually settling on doing the neighborhood gathering in her wonderfully-decorated terrace and backyard, which would honestly put even the Romans to shame.

Castiel usually doesn’t stay long for these get-togethers, but he’s decided to hang around this once, for Anna’s sake.

So he tries a little bit of everything, and talks a little bit with everyone, and then retreats behind the drinks table with a plate of finger food and a tall glass of blue something that he’ll take as long as possible to finish. Every so often he checks to see where Anna is, and if she looks more harassed than usual – she isn’t – and then lets his mind wander to his checklist of things he needs to do when he gets home.

Castiel is trying to decide whether he needs to clean the ceiling or deal with upstairs sink first, when he registers the presence of a person nearby, just pressing into his personal space and possibly has been trying to get his attention. Castiel looks over and bites back another sigh.

“Oh, hey,” Dean says. He’s grinning, which is the norm for him.

“Hello,” Castiel says warily.

“So, I was wondering,” Dean says, which has Castiel thinking frantically of an excuse as to why he hasn’t tried any of Dean’s pies yet, “and I can’t figure it out. Which one’s yours?”

“The salsa,” Castiel says.

“Really? I tried that, it was pretty good.”

“Thank you.”

“Spicy,” Dean says. “Like you.”

“Good god, here we go,” Castiel mutters under his breath. More normally, he adds, “Yes, that was on purpose. It was a commentary on my personality.”

“So what’s it say about me that I like making pies?” Dean says thoughtfully. “And it’s not even like I’m doing anything different – everyone here knows it’s my shtick, and I made ‘em anyway.”

“It’s saying that you’re predictable?”

Dean nods, with a kind of exaggerated air that sets Castiel further on edge. Dean’s like a living cartoon character sometimes, so loud and tactile and enthusiastic about whatever has his interest today. “Maybe I could try being unpredictable,” Dean says.

“I think that would be more terrifying,” Castiel says flatly.

“I could start by saying, hey, Cas, you look really nice today.”

Castiel starts, and scowls slowly. “What?”

“The get-up,” Dean says, gesturing vaguely at Castiel. “You look good. I mean, you usually don’t—”

“If this is going to be like the time you made fun of my shirt and tie, I think you’d better stop.”

“Hey, it wasn’t going to be,” Dean says airily. “It wasn’t, because you do look nice. Actually you look nice all the time; the problem is just your regular choice of shirts and ties get in the way.”

“There it is,” Castiel sighs.

“I didn’t mean it like…” Dean exhales. “Do over. You look nice. Period.”

“Thank you.” Castiel considers Dean’s look – he’s still wearing his usual plaid and jeans, but it’s a nicer set that accentuates the tapering of his torso. “You look nice, too.”

Dean winks. “I know.”

“Oh good lord.” Castiel turns away a little, needing reprieve from the full-frontal of Dean’s charm. Almost everyone else in their little community loves it and him – Dean’s made more friends in the past few months than people Castiel’s known ever – and Castiel’s somehow ended up one of the last bulwarks of indifference to Winchester charisma.

It’s not even that Dean’s a bad guy. He can be funny and thoughtful, and has volunteered more often than is necessary for community events, but he’s just so much, and he keeps doing things like pointing out Castiel’s prickliness and indifference to fashion and tendency to forget to do anything respectable to his hair (which most people at least choose to politely ignore or not notice).

Hell, the first time they met, Dean made fun of Castiel’s car to a friend, not realizing that Castiel was in earshot. Then when Castiel made himself known and called Dean an ass, Dean hadn’t had the decency to be embarrassed, oh no. Dean took that as invitation to ask Castiel to take a ride in Dean’s ridiculous muscle car, and his whole face lit up when Castiel flipped him off. (Okay, Castiel hadn’t flipped him off, but he thought about it, and it must’ve been evident on his face.)

Castiel still tenses up a little whenever he hears Dean’s car around the neighborhood.

Whatever the case, this is the routine. Dean is being Dean, and Castiel feels like it’s his moral responsibility to be as aggressively Castiel right back at him.

“Did you even try my pie this time?” Dean asks.

“No,” Castiel says.

“You still hung up on the last time I asked if you wanted to try?”

“Oh, that private taste-test in your house you talked about?” Castiel asks. “Yes, I remember that quite vividly.”

“I mean, lots of people would be flattered,” Dean says. “You saw how quick this one went? And I wasn’t even using my best crusts.”

“My loss.”

“My loss. The joy isn’t just in the making. It’s in others enjoying it. I mean – I enjoyed your salsa. Really, I did.” Dean smiles, broad and hopeful, and this right here is the problem with Dean: the actual earnestness in between the flash and bang.

“Thank you,” Castiel says weakly.

Dean blinks, looking almost distracted for a second, then shakes his head. It’s hardly new for Castiel to be confused around Dean, but he’s even more confused than usual when Dean turns to him with as serious and determined an expression as he’s ever seen, and says, “Okay Cas, have you been to Jody’s since she refurbished?”

“No?” Castiel says.

“You really should. Wednesday nights are great, she has a special that is – well, if I say it’s amazing, it has to be amazing.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“So you’ll go?”

Castiel shrugs. “I haven’t been in a while, so yes, I’d probably go one of these days.”

“Wednesday,” Dean presses. “Wednesday’s are good, like this coming Wednesday.”

“I suppose that’s doable.”

“So you’ll go? This Wednesday? Jody’s right over there, can I tell her?”

“Uh…” Castiel thinks quickly – he doesn’t think he has anything on for that day, and he has been meaning to see the new place. “Sure, I think that’ll work.”

“That’s a yes?” Dean’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “Fuck me, that’s a yes. Okay, you won’t regret it, I swear. I’ll see you there, or, or do you want me to pick you up?”

“What?” Castiel says.

“Yeah, we can decide that later, but anyway, it’ll be great, I’m gonna show you a good time and… Wait, you’re doing that frowny face at me, did I miss something? This not cool? You don’t want to have dinner with me? Because that’s… okay, too.”

“Uh,” Castiel says. “Dinner with you?”

“Yeah?” Dean says, suddenly hesitant. “At Jody’s. On Wednesday?”

“Oh,” Castiel says. “Okay.”

Dean’s grin has possibly never been this blinding before. “Cool. I’m gonna go let Jody know, I’ll be right back.”

Castiel blinks at the empty space where Dean was standing a second ago. “What.”

+

Honor be damned, Castiel flees to the kitchen where he finds Anna and Raphael scrounging around and yelling at each other about missing spare cups.

“Anna!” Castiel exclaims.

“Do you know where the spare cups are?” Anna asks. “Because I could have sworn there was a bag on the table and it’s… What’s wrong with you?”

“I think Dean might have been hitting on me,” Castiel says.

Anna and Raphael seem to freeze in place, cups forgotten as they both slowly turn to stare at him.

“Really?” Anna says in an odd tone. “No way.”

“Wow,” Raphael says. “Unbelievable.”

“I know, unbelievable.” Castiel thinks. “Maybe I was just imagining it.”

“Oh no,” Anna moans, jabbing Raphael in the side. “Trust that initial gut reaction, Cas. If you think Dean was hitting on you, he probably was.”

“But it’s just so…” Castiel tilts his head. “Actually, I think your cups are on top of the fridge.”

“But we just—oh.” Anna bounces up on her tiptoes just as Raphael reaches above her, grabbing the bag and pulling them down. The pair of them start rushing back outside, but Anna manages to call over her shoulder, “I’ll catch up with you later! I want all the details!”

But in order to do that, Castiel needs all the details, and he has the feeling he’s missing some of them.

His phone buzzes just then, and he looks down to see a message from Dean (yes, Castiel has his number, they’ve been on committees together), which says: “knew you liked me! is ok I like you too ;)”

“Fuck,” Castiel says.

[driftingmindsproductions]

Second Topic: What would you tell your past self?

D. M. Production’s Social Initiative is a movement that makes up the base of DMP. We trade tips, advice, and share information that could help one another. A very introspective topic that pulled a ton of responses was "What would you tell your past self?"

Many of our members had a lot to say. Varying from "Don't do this" to advice about the lifestyles they once led and are currently leading. Some of the things we wanted to tell our past selves included: (All quoted. Please excuse any language, we are all grown here. Also this was all gathered in a safe social space, grammar is not our concern.)

○ Get your license before grad school. Don't take caffeine pills to pull all righters. Don't skip prom for the avengers premiere

○ Don't be afraid to speak. Don't flirt with everyone. Don't take things so seriously

○ DON'T LET THEM CUT YOUR HAIR

○ Don't be afraid to do what makes you happy.

○ Don't let pride take over

○ Stretch always!

○ Start a saving fund asap

○ Don't be afraid or ashamed to feel. You aren't in love and you won't be for years and years. You are gonna have bad days, and everyone will tell you that you're just lazy. But your feelings are valid and it's okay. You aren't crazy. You'll learn soon that you're just mentally ill, and that doesn't make you any less or more important than everyone else. Learn from your mistakes, because you will make them. Insist on being taught how to drive, and don't let anyone tell you no because you don't pay attention. Be annoying until you learn, cuz it's important. Don't be afraid to ask for help.

○ It's okay to walk away from toxic people.

○ Fuck them. If it makes YOU happy do it.

○ Real talk.. its ok to try and let ppl in. Your "spartan pride " is goin to drive ppl away. Paranoia will smack u in the mouth and u will feel like everyone is out for you. Some are some aren't females will come and go. Even tho they hurt you ot doesnt mean everyone else (regardless of gender) will. Most problems can be solved without use of fists knees elbows etc. Try to talk it out first. Some ppl soon will try to get you to open up. Let them. Take one day as it comes. You put more pressure on yourself than anyone else

○ Patience is a virtue but don't let people abuse it.

It being yours

○ You need to speak up. Or you finna get cursed and fussed while still being the bad guy. It's okay to say something it doesn't make YOU the bad guy it's makes your feeling valid.

○ Don't get so attached to your friends that you can't make new ones

○ You like girls baby it's okay your friends and family will still love you and accept you

○ Step out of your comfort zone, it's how you grow as a person.

○ You don't have to have black friends to be black. Your punker friends are genuine and will stick around much longer then everyone else

○ Stop trying play on that knee, rehab and get it looked at

○ The world will only see you as black first so it's ok to listen to trap music in white neighborhoods on full blast. Their gonna call cops even if your not

○ YOU GO THROUGH ANOTHER PUBERTY AFTER 21 YOUR NOT DYING AND STOP LOOKING SHIT UP ON GOOGLE AND GO TO THE DOCTOR

○ Just because they are giving you "attention" doesn't mean their intentions are right.

○ If you don't want to be what others want you to be. Don't. 

They aren't living your life, you are. At the end of the day, you gotta live with the person you become. 

So aim to be the best version of yourself.

○ Don't try and make a situation work if you know it ain't going anywhere. It is okay to walk away, even if you put so much emotional effort into it.

○ Don't fuck her

○ Fuck Him

○ Don't get caught up in the positive reinforcement of social media. Don't look for likes and comments. Look for things that'll help you grow.

○ Don't let others judgement/criticism of you being a virgin beat you up mentally. There is nothing wrong with waiting to have sex. If people keep putting you down because you're waiting, they aren't your friends.

○ No homie tats or piercings

○ Don't be so insecure about your body. It's going to change, you're gonna have fluff and rolls and marks. You're still beautiful, you'll still be riding faces.

○ Mind ya business. You can't save everybody. Focus on yourself.

○ *tells self the lottery numbers*

○ Your lazy af stop making promises that you'll help people when you know you won't

○ SAVE SOME FUCKING MONEY

○ Be more open minded.

○ Don't fuck with close minded people you will never be understood and you will have a constant headache

○ Get out of your room and make friends your freshmen year of college

○ Adult DO NOT know everything

○ Change your major

○ Your are not to short to model babe do commercial or print and show tf off

○ Your imagination is the right direction to shoot for

○ Make peace with your Dad's side of the family.

○ You have a natural talent for literally anything you wanna do.

○ You don't have to respect your parent or parents if they didn't do anything to deserve it.

○ Do NOT be friends wit a coke dealer

○ Don't stop playing that instrument. You'll regret it tremendously.

○ You gone be one of the weird kids in school but it's okay you finna be popping later

○ Niggas well say anything if it keeps them from being the bad guy

○ Get your hoodies back

Party foul! Why you snatching back hoodies?!

You ain't getting hoodies back. Should have bought two of the same.

DEF GET UR HOODIES BACK

NO HOODIES BACK

You forfeited those hoodies my guy

You aint gon get em back. Somewhere in you, you knew they was gone

But take their rompers!!!! REVOLUTION

let me see u try

#RunThemRompersRevolution

Viva la romper revolution!!!

Clearly we went off on a tangent, but we got back on it. But as you can see there was tons of advice people had for their younger selves. And this is not even half of the things people had to say. People clearly led lives they learned from and we hope that others can learn from their experiences as well, especially if you happen to be going through anything at the moment.

We leave you with this:

Be confident and be open. Not everyone will do what's best for you, but you can so be smart and make decisions you can be happy with. But don't forget to live your life! We only got one, enjoy it!

If you are interested in joining our group chat for the social initiative, please Slide into Our DMs Today!

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 72)

The dining hall of Manor Schnee had been temporarily turned into a combination situation room/planning area/mess hall for the space and the slapdash nature of their operations.

Among other Queensguard, Agent Gumshoe waited there, pulling out a Fizzle Stick from her breast pocket, putting it into her mouth, and lighting it with her antique Zippo. The tip of the candy started to crackle, the sugar inside it melting and pouring out the other side, and she began to chew.

“They say we were all lucky that we came when we did, guns blazing and putting all kinds of holes in the plans of the Heralds and whoever the hell the ‘Council’ are,” she said. “Poor bastards don’t realize we Queensguard didn’t have the winning numbers on our tickets, and probably never will.”

Used to it, and with their own eccentric quirks beside, none of the other agents commented.

“It’s a hard life, being a Queensguard.

“You got your personal issues, your awful pasts, and your honest desire to make a difference in this world and help people out by putting holes in others, wondering if you’re a fuckin’ hero who deserves a parade, or just a gun with two legs someone else is throwing into the fray for them.

“Then you join the program, and everything goes to even deeper shit.

“Physical training that’ll make the Old World’s Marine Corps weep. School, the kind of eyebrow burning usually done by people lookin’ to tack some fancy letters to their name, have people callin’ em Dr. Whoever-The-Fuck. And don’t get me started on the third part of our training…

“Psychological Conditioning’ they call it, if only because ‘Mental Torture’ doesn’t sound as nice.

“They build us up, then seni through straight through hell and back, then send us back for however many go-arounds it takes before we break. Then they pick the pieces up, glue ‘em all back together best as they can, rinse and repeat, until they either wash out, or they come out the other side one certified Badass Motherfucker who can take on goddamn anything.

“You can’t do something like that without leaving plenty of scars, though, some of them more obvious than others.

“Take Agent Qi, here. Fuckin’ obsessed with the number 7, and his fancy revolver.”

“Seven is life,” Agent Qi said. “Six bullets, one barrel—seven.”

“Won’t say no to a mission that doesn’t have anything—and I mean anything—about it that is or adds up to seven, be it the time the shit’s going down, the letters in the name, or even the coordinates on the map.

“But if it does, you can be sure as shit he’s going to coast through all that with a smile on his face, like he’s the luckiest man in all the realm.”

“Then there’s Agent Gwendolyn, AKA ‘The Knight.’

“Lost her whole team in a mission where she was shadowing all the other functioning nutcases we call ‘Queensguard Agents.’ Almost died along with them—had actually, for a few seconds before her suit’s revival protocols kicked in and zapped her brain back to life, but either something went wrong in the process, or it was that particular moment that she cracked like the rest of us Rank 7’s did, got it in her head that the only way she was going to get through this and more if Gwendolyn died, and was reborn as someone better.

“So now she goes around narrating everything like me, except she calls herself ‘The Knight.’”

Everyone stopped as a new agent walked in, carrying a tray of food in her still armoured hands.

“Hello everyone,” Winter said.

Gumshoe pulled out the free seat next to her.

“Thank you,” Winter said as she sat down, and began to eat.

“You’re welcome, doll. If’n you don’t mind, I’m gonna continue my whole shtick with you.”

“Go on ahead, Gummy, it’s not like it isn’t all over the Info-Grid,” Winter replied.

“Thanks, doll.” Gumshoe replied. She chewed what remained of her fizzle stick for a few moments, then continued.

“And then there’s Winter.

“You’d think the name was her call sign, seeing as she’s got a reputation for keeping her cool through everything; melting her walls and becoming the warmest damn person you’d ever met in your entire life if it’d serve her mission well to butter you up before she cut straight to your heart like a hot knife; and being more than a little bit of a bitch, but no:

“That’s what her grandma named her, like she could see in the future and decided to save a future lover the trouble of nicknaming her their own version of ‘Frosty the Snowbitch.’

“So what’s wrong with someone who sounds like the mythical Queensguard Agent that makes it through training completely intact? Even someone who looks about as well-put together as can be like Ironwood has got his issues.

“Five words: The Keeper of the Grove.”

Winter choked on her food. Gumshoe picked up her drink for her, she took a long swig then sighed in relief.

“You need me to stop, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine...” Winter whispered.

“If you say so. Anyway...

“As Fear is a pretty helpful emotion for getting your ass in gear when you need it to, she didn’t beat it out of her so much as she made it so that she was scared of as few things as possible. Maybe she might get startled or uneasy, but never shitting-your-pants terror.

“It had seemed like a good idea at the time: she was already pretty well and tramautized from a horror show way back when she was still a sweet and innocent kid, and what would be the problem with being scared exclusively by someone that only existed in myth, pop culture, and really bad costumes on Eve of the Ether?

“When it turns out they live in Reality too, that’s what!

“As the Keeper was terrorizing her and her little sis in this very mansion, us crazies in the Queensguard thought Winter had finally broken for good, that this time, there would be no picking the pieces back up and gluing them back together. All we thought we were doing when we hauled her conked-out ass back to base was fix her as much as possible before we set her up for a nice, quiet civilian life with a hefty pension and a whole lotta perks beside.

“Then we all watched the Keeper 86 her sister on live holovision, and it turned out that the only thing in little tiny pieces that couldn’t be put back together was what we thought was reality.

“Nothing new, really, considering all the other crazy shit that happens in Avalon that necessitates an even crazier bunch of loons willing to protect it—AKA the Queensguard—but it still caught us all off guard.

“By the time we realized our big mistake, her sister was dead, the rest of her whole family was in the ground or may as well have been, and since she only ever kept working for us to keep her sister safe, she had pretty much lost everything she ever gave a fuck about.

“And what do you do with someone with nothing to lose?

“Give them everything to gain—namely, the Shepherd Suit Mk. IV, the latest in the line.

“First, Piper’s gearheads strapped guns and sturdy pieces of scrap metal to exo-suits originally made for hauling boxes around, then we started slapping armour and weapons designed specifically for getting shot and shooting right back, and then we shrank it down so you if you wanted to enter a building, you’d only have to duck to avoid banging your head, than break down the door and take a good chunk of the wall while you were at it.

“So where do we go from there?

“You make it smaller, faster, and strap some wings and the very cutting edge in energy-weapons to it, is what you do.

“There’s only three things that are keeping the Big Guys Upstairs from equipping every single trooper with these:

“One, it’s expensive as hell to mine, refine, and use this much Exanite and a shit-ton of other super-rare metals that all the armour, the weaponry, and the wiring needs.

“Two, it eats up power like a bus full of relapsed alcoholics at last call for Happy Hour, which is why it’s a damn good thing it can take out entire armies in the blink of an eye.

“And three, once you put it on, you can’t ever take it off—unlike its older siblings, the spine-jack on this thing becomes part of your actual spine.

“We thought we were just making the best of a very bad situation like usual, squeezing out some more use out of someone we thought we were going to have to put out to pasture, and who didn’t want to go there yet, either.

“But it turns out, the timing couldn’t have been better, because now the little sister turns out to be a whole lot less dead than we thought, we’ve got a messiah gone missing and possibly rogue, and a whole bunch of loonies with alien magitech and animal ears running about the whole realm causing hell and talking about something they call ‘The Truth.’

“You could be blind, and still read all the signs pointing to the one place that has the answers to all the latest mysteries Avalon is throwing at us:

“The Viridian Valley.

“So how many of us loons are going with you out there, soon as it gets dark and we don’t get turned to people-jerky soon as we step out the barrier?” Gumshoe asked.

“None,” Winter replied. “I’m going in with two Tinmen, and that’s mostly for recharging my core.”

Surprise came over all the agents faces.

“Seriously, doll?” Gumshoe asked.

“Yes, seriously,” Winter replied, her serious expression the most serious the others had ever seen.

“Sure you won’t end up putting your waste-management subsystems on overdrive when you eyeball her?” Gumshoe continued.

“I’m sure,” Winter replied. “I may have been absolutely terrified of the Keeper for almost all my life, but that ends now, because the face of my nightmares has kidnapped my little sister, brainwashed her, and seduced her.”

She raised her fists to the sky and started screaming.

“DO YOU HEAR ME, KEEPER?!

“YOU SEALED YOUR FATE WHEN YOU ‘KILLED’ MY LITTLE SISTER ON LIVE HOLIVISION, AND I’M ONLY MORE DETERMINED TO UTTERLY ANNIHILATE YOU NOW THAT YOU’VE KISSED HER ON LIVE HOLOVISION, TOO!

“I’M SCORCHING YOU WITH MY LASERS LIKE BOTH THOSE SCENES WERE SCORCHED INTO MY BRAIN—ESPECIALLY THE SECOND ONE!

“SERIOUSLY! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”

Winter sighed and got up from her seat. “Excuse me, everyone, I need to go get some last-minute repairs and upgrades before my big mission...”

“You do that!” Gumshoe yelled, as she and all the other agents were gathered up at the furthest corner away from Winter as possible, holding up their guns and projecting shields.

Winter left the dining hall, the agents slowly returned to their seats.

“Turns out there’s a fourth downside to the Mk. IV!” Gumshoe muttered as she chewed the last of her fizzle stick, pulled out a new one with shaking hands. “If it turns out the person you put it in is STILL pretty batshit insane, getting them out of the suit is going to be a LOT harder than putting them in…

“Like I said: we thought it was a good idea at the time...”

[weareallfallengods]

Flight from Grace Chapter 1- A small stumble

The long-awaited, actually edited, complete first chapter of the novel that I began for NaNoWriMo 2019! Please, like, reblog, but most of all, COMMENT!

Synopsis: What happens when a Fallen Angel with no memory of her own eternal past meets a woman who can see her for who she really is? A head on collision between the world as we know it and an eternal battle between the immortals tasked with safeguarding the mortal realm. 

Grace can see things she shouldn’t be able to; after all, immortals have gone to a lot of trouble to make sure we can’t see them as they really are, so Something Has Changed, so she and her Fallen Angel will find out what’s going on, and why they seem to always be stuck in the middle of it all, but most importantly, why they’re drawn to each other in the first place.

Themes: Angels and Demons, examination of mortality and our understanding of and belief in the supernatural as well as the eternal nature of existence. The battle between good and evil covering a multi-planar universe, and how no one is ever what they seem to be when we look past prejudices and social judgements. LGBTQ+, proper ethnic and cultural representation (read: most characters aren’t straight or white!).

Triggers: If you don’t like stories that put an often irreverant and sacriligeous spin on Christian mythos, this isn’t for you. LGBTQ+ romance, slow burn, non-explicit. 

——————————————————————————————–

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

Some neanderthal interrupted my deep contemplation of the double whiskey sour in front of me. Which was very rude. Whiskey sours demand your undivided attention and get cranky if ignored for too long. He should have known that, but either he didn’t know or didnt care, so either way- neanderthal.

He was leaning on the bar with the casual air of someone who has done this same dance too many times, the practiced ease of a used car salesman slapping the roof of a car. At least this one’s breath wasn’t too foul. Not that this hadn’t happened before. Oh no, I’d never been badly hit on in this bar like ten thousand times already. No that never happened. I was able to just sit in peace with my drink for the entire night. Yeah, right. Why do I keep coming back then, you ask? Well, Grace makes one hell of a whiskey sour for one thing.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

Ugh, this one wasn’t going away with simply being ignored. Lovely.

“Excuse me?” I looked over languidly, with as much disdainful irritation on my face as I could possibly muster from the depths of my three-drinks-in soul.

“I said, ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

His stupid shit-eating leer didnt help my mood any. I wasn’t ever in a good mood if I showed up here, and that’s probably one of the reasons I kept coming back- assholes like this gave me a vent for my foul mood.

“No actually. It’s less of a fall and more of a stumble really. More like getting tossed out of a club by a bouncer than falling down the stairs. Couple of bruises, a minor scrape, more damaged pride than anything really.”

I could see his monkey-brain churning slowly to try and digest my response that didn’t fit his pre-programmed scenario. I half expected to see steam coming out of an ear. God, some men are just so… ew.

“Um, what?”

Apparently I broke him. Well, that happens sometimes, when I give someone a response they weren’t expecting. Which happens more often than I’d be willing to admit to myself.

“I said that getting tossed out of heaven doesn’t hurt as much as you’d think it would. It’s not that far of a tumble really.”

He chuckled, “That’s real cute darlin’, never heard that one before! How’s about you and me find a table so I can hear more about it? Maybe have a look at those bruises, make sure you don’t need more…attention.”

Sweet Mother of Mikhail, that was bad. Like even worse than his initial pickup line. I almost had to respect his commitment to such a shitty way of trying to pick me up. He had some balls, that’s for sure, either from drunken stupidity or pure ignorant self-confidence. They say that bravery and stupidity go hand in hand, and here was their shining example.

“Believe me sweetie, you don’t want my ‘attention’,” I said softly, for the first time raising my eyes to lock with his glazed gaze. “My attention can become very… uncomfortable.”

He started to smirk for just a split second, but when my eyes met his, both the smirk and the color melted from his face. His mouth hung slack as he felt his soul staring down the opening fiery abyss that he found reflected in my eyes. I watched his mind recoil in horror at the emptiness it saw as it tried futilely to pull back from the horror of empty infinity it was confronted with. I saw in his eyes the sudden awareness of how small and insignificant his place in the universe was, and shrink in horror, trying to flee internally only to find that there’s no escape from your own mind and the finality of human existence.

I looked away just as his eyes started to roll back in his head. No need to cause a scene with him passing out. After all, my whiskey sour was crying from being ignored. As they do.

“I think you should probably go home now Blake,” I demurred softly. “You’ve probably had enough, and your wife would be happy if you tucked the children into bed for once. Oh, and coffee won’t remove the smell of alcohol, so just have a peppermint. Your kids like that smell, reminds them of Christmas.”

He kind of half nodded, like a sleepwalker. I sighed. Hopefully he doesn’t have an existential crisis later and just shrugs it off as being too drunk. Hell, maybe he’ll cut back on the sauce. I hate it when I hear about someone offing themselves after meeting me, especially if they have kids. Well, hopefully he just takes the daily inebriation down a notch or two. I can hope, can’t I?

As he shuffled off, lager forgotten at the bar, I hoped he’d be alright. Genuinely. Sure, I enjoyed taking my frustration at being stuck here out on them, but I didn’t actually wish them lasting harm. A lesson or two in politeness and decency, a minor scuffle to break up the monotony, but no real damage. That’s what I told myself anyway. Made it easier to pretend to sleep at night. Hope he makes it home ok. Hope his kids get a happy memory of daddy saying goodnight for once. Hope he says he loves his wife, and apologizes. Hah. Yeah. Like that’ll happen. But, what can I say, I’m a foolish optimist at heart. And nothing hurts more than having your hopes crushed. I should know.

Damn. My drink was crying, a small puddle of condensation soaking into the bar napkin it rested on. Again. Another sigh. And one more for the first sigh. I hate sighing. It’s the most comprehensive sound of the acceptance of defeat ever created. The acknowledgment of futility. And I hate that. I thought I’d be fighting to the bitter end, but apparently Destiny had other plans. Fucking Destiny. She’s the whole reason I’m even drinking in the first place.

“Get you a fresh one?”

A sweet silver-bell tinkle of a voice broke my unintentional reverie. Grace was back, checking on me. She knew my peccadilloes by now. She knew how much I hated when my drink got watered down by the ice melting if it got ignored for too long. I nodded.

She smiled pleasantly and slid over a new drink, already prepped.

“I figured, after that creep pounced on ya.”

I frowned slightly. There was something different about this one. Hunh. Oh, the ice. There wasn’t any. There were two black cubes sitting in it instead. OK, why are there rocks in my drink?

I looked up at Grace, still slightly puzzled.

“Oh those? Yeah I noticed you didn’t like it when your drink gets watered down, so I bought some Irish whiskey stones! That way your drink stays cold, but doesn’t dilute. Got 'em special, just for you.”

I cocked one eyebrow slightly, “Just for me?”

“Yep! Let’s face it, you’re the only one who comes in here with that kind of class, so I put 'em in the freezer back here with a big 'ol note so Jimmy doesn’t think I’m crazy for keeping rocks in the fridge,” her airy chuckle sprinkled across my ears.

I stared. I was in shock. OK, well maybe I’m being dramatic, but I was still surprised. People don’t normally do nice things for me. Or to me for that matter. If I’m honest, they mostly run away.

“Why…” I couldn’t even formulate a coherent sentence. Jesus, get yourself together!

“I dunno, I just figured you don’t seem like you have anyone looking out for you, and you seem to attract a lot of the wrong sort of attention, so I thought you could use a nice surprise, y’know, cheer you up a little.”

I nodded, more in surprise than agreement. I literally couldn’t recall the last time someone voluntarily tried to do something nice, just for me, no hope or expectation of reward or compensation. I was probably silent a little too long for a comfortable conversation. Hey, I was revelling in the new experience, cut me some slack.

“Well. Wow, um, thanks.” Yeah real smooth. Sweet Mikhail’s Grave I have no idea how to actually talk to this woman.

In retrospect, that should have been my first clue, but hey, I was a little distracted.

“I appreciate it, that’s really sweet of you.” Ok that’s slightly less glaringly awkward.

“Not trying to be rude at all, but I gotta ask- what’s your deal? Like you come in here all the time, lookin’ like a million bucks, never talk to anyone, get in fights every so often, get harassed like every single time but you keep coming back? I mean, I’m not trying to pry if you don’t wanna talk, but you know, like I’m totally trying to pry!”

Now it was my turn to stare slack-jawed. Oh Fates, how your twists are cruel. I closed my mouth a lot faster than the sot from earlier though, so my pride wasn’t too damaged.

“It’s kind of a long and uninteresting story really. Mostly, you make the best whiskey sour. And the people here are…interesting.”

“Honey, there’s no way a story coming from someone who looks like that,” she waved generally up and down at me, “could possibly be boring. Plus, it’s slow, as always, so humor me.”

Sometimes, I can be kind of thick. Slow. Moronic. A nincompoop. A maroon. Several minutes of conversation with this girl and I only just now noticed- she hadn’t looked away from my eyes. She was meeting my gaze with no problem. She wasn’t sweating and shaking and passing out. She was looking me right in the eye, just like a normal person, no fear showing on her face. No reaction at all. Just a normal girl, having a normal conversation, with what she thought was another normal person.

“Are…you OK?” Grace looked a bit concerned.

Aw shit, I was staring, and not even trying to hide it. Well now I felt dumb. And, why did I feel dumb? What was up with this girl that she made me feel so self conscious, so uncomfortable, like one of those fainting goats that just freezes and falls over when you blink too hard at them. Speaking of blinking really hard.

“Um, oh, yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Really. Sorry, just not many people actually want to have a real conversation with me.”

Grace leaned over the bar a little, propping up on her elbows, lowering her tone a bit. “Well, I don’t know why, 'cuz you sure seem hella interesting to me.”

“Hunh. Well, I don’t know about that. But I would like to ask you something first, if you don’t mind?”

“Fire away honey!”

“This might sound odd, but, why aren’t you looking away? What do you see when you look at me?”

She pulled a tiny bit closer. “Nothin’ more than just about the sparkly-est green eyes I ever seen; a dash of blue, like the Bahamas. Somethin’ else I can’t quite put my finger on…” as she trailed off, I felt her finger lightly brush the knuckles on my hand that was still holding my drink. “I kinda wanna find out though.”

OK, now that was smooth. Holy fuck, that was really, really smooth. Like two hundred year old Laphroaig single malt filtered through the blessed socks of His Holiness the Pope smooth. Hold up, now she was trying to pick me up? What the hell universe? What’s going on here?

I swallowed, unable to look away now myself. “That’s all? Nothing that scares you?”

“Not yet, sugar.”

Alright, that’s different.

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

I grabbed her hand. Maybe a little too hard from the slight wince I saw.

“OK we need to leave. NOW.”

“Hold up honey, we were just talkin’, we ain’t there yet!” She tried pulling back a little.

“No, no, you don’t understand! I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be able to see that. I can’t explain right now, but we have to figure out how you can see me that way.”

“But my shift’s not over for a couple more hours!”

“OK OK, I’m not being clear, sorry, this is the first time this has happened, so I’m a little shaken.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She actually blushed a little. “I just saw how you shot down every guy who came up to you, and I thought….well, you know, maybe…omg I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you! I come on strong sometimes, when I’m interested in something, and when you first walked in, I saw those heels and that dress, and I just was like ‘oh wow’ and kinda couldn’t breathe for a minute, you know I don’t see many girls come here lookin’ like that and oh God now I’m babbling and someone please shut me up I’m so sorry…”

I put a finger over her lips, gently.

“I’m not upset. Far from it actually. But we have something a tiny bit more urgent than that to address. I’m not who you think I am. Or what, I should say. But more to the point, there’s something bigger going on here. And I need to find out what. Fast.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad I hit on you?”

“We don’t have time for that now!” She recoiled slightly at my vehemence. “No, I’m not upset, but that’s not the point! You shouldnt be able to see my eyes. My real ones anyway. I was too slow on picking that up right away, and I’m sorry, but we have to get out of here, now, because something is different, and in my world, that’s never a good thing.”

“Your world?”

I was getting frustrated. “Yes, but I’ll explain later! I need you to come with me now. We need answers, and we need them fast. So, do you trust me?”

She hesitated. “Yeeeeees? I think? Like I wanna, but I don’t really know you?”

“Good enough for now! Let’s go!”

To her credit, she just dropped her bar towel, grabbed her phone from under the bar and came out from behind it, grabbing my hand as she yelled to the back, “Hey Jimmy! I gotta leave! Personal thing- cover for me?”

Just then, there was a bit of a commotion at the door. Grace turned to look, but I didn’t need to. I already knew what was there. I just clutched her hand even tighter and yanked her towards the back; there was an emergency exit near the bathrooms from what I remembered of that one really bad 'birthday’. Yeah, that was a bad one. But we ran.

Good thing I’m not super tall, wouldn’t want to draw attention, I thought to myself sarcastically. Goddamn heels. Why do I even wear these?

Sounds of glass breaking and shouting reached us as we plowed through the emergency exit into the alleyway. Don’t worry about that now, just keep moving.

“This way!” I pulled her to the front of the alley.

“Holy shit, that’s your bike?” She sounded genuinely impressed. Finally, I wasn’t the only one who had that reaction at seeing it. 

“Oh yeah, she’s a sweet ride, and perfect for this situation. Or any situation, really. Jump on.”

I probably should have shut the door behind us, but hey, it was a day for me missing obvious things. The noise coming from the bar was getting louder.

“I’ve never done this before!” Grace exclaimed excitedly in my ear as I kicked my beast to life.

We roared out into the street, my white and gold Valentino’s left sparkling on the pavement where I kicked them. Fuckin’ useless, beautiful shoes. Sigh, they weren’t cheap. Oh well, they’re just shoes.

“Where are we going!?” Grace yelled over the rush of wind whipping our hair like tiny flails of purgatory.

“Not sure yet! But we’re going to find out!”

“I don’t even know your name!”

My heart sank a bit.

“Don’t worry! Neither do I! ”

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

The bar exploded behind us as it faded into the night thanks to the fabulous Ducati between our legs. Oh and that wasn’t metaphorical- I glanced in the mirror at the sound; it literally exploded. Ball of fire and all. I guess that’s to be expected, what with all the alcohol and what I’d suspected for a while was going on in the basement. Way too many flammable liquids in one place. But that didn’t really matter now. All that mattered was getting away from what caused the explosion as fast as we possibly could. 

“What the hell was that!?” Grace yelled in my ear. Again. I’m going to have to get some headsets or something if this is going to be a habit. Well, the riding together part, not the fleeing for our lives part anyway. 

“I’ll explain as soon as we can talk, promise! For now, just hold on! And don’t look behind us!“ 

“As if I’m gonna let go now!”

That glance in the rear view told me as much as I needed to know, which was more than I wanted, but enough to have an idea of what we were running from. I mean, I figured that’s what it was, but I’m still tired of being right, even after all this time. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. 

That pale blue and red glow was enough. Hell, the noise it made had been enough for me to know what it was. And trust me, I was not overreacting by running first. I’d seen that color a few too many times in my life to think that there was anything else to be done except run. Once was more than enough for anyone. Who am I kidding? Most people don’t get a chance to see it more than once. Guess I’m just lucky. Or the opposite. Pretty sure I’m the latter actually. 

Grace was shivering on my back as we sped away. She’d gone quiet, her mood matching the night around us, the neon signs and street lights reflecting their multi-colored halos in the rain-slicked streets. Fog was starting to rise from the pavement, adding to the soft glow the streets were taking on. Thin, wispy strands curling around street lights and bus stops, blasted into nothing as the bike tore through them, the roar of the exhaust shattering the relative quiet of the late night calm. 

Well, it should have been quiet anyway. The explosion of the bar kind of changed that. Then came the sound. 

It mixed with the growing whine from the crotch rocket under us, which seemed like a fitting counterpoint to the cacophony of something that sounded like if you’d thrown a hundred maltese dogs into a tornado and then blasted it over a crappy school intercom. I hated that sound. Almost as much as the dogs it reminded me of. 

“Aw shit, it saw us.” Time to see if the tires on this baby gripped as well as the kid at the shop claimed they did. 

Well, at least there wasn’t too much traffic. Still, even though there weren’t many trucks and accountant-driven sedans to weave in and out of, there were still enough of them that it took a hell of a lot more concentration than my alcohol soaked brain was ready to deal with. Definitely hadn’t planned on being the next Lewis Hamilton after a night at the bar, that’s for damn sure. 

“What the fuu….?” Grace’s expletive trailed off in the whipping wind as I kept us weaving in and out and through, gunning the shit out of my bike whenever there was an opening big enough to do so without turning us into extremely messy, if fashionable, pancakes.

“Try not to worry about it! OK I mean, yeah, worry, but not like understand worry!”

“How the hell do you not worry about…that!?”

I took a good look back for the first time as we whipped around a corner, using the rain-slick street to slide without losing any speed. My heart sank. At least it wasn’t in my throat choking me anymore. Sarcastic positivity in the face of death? Yeah that’s my jam. Even if I do keep it to myself. Most of the time anyway.

The damn thing was getting closer. Faster than I thought it could. Damn, tonight just wasn’t my night for noticing things, now was it?

That second of splitting my attention nearly sent us flying and a tired busboy standing at the corner bus stop to the hospital, but we only just missed him, with barely enough room to avoid slamming into the back end of something that should have been parked at a kids soccer game, not getting on the expressway at this time of night. 

Slipping into an alley entrance, Grace’s nails dug through the flimsy material I was wrapped in, making me yelp in surprise. 

“Sorry,” she muttered.

I was about to tell her it was cool, considering the circumstances, and given that I wasn’t sure if it made me jump because it hurt, or her hands were cold, or because of where they’d slid down to, when we blew out the other side of the alley, causing a literal postcard explosion from the stand I clipped as we bounced out on to the main road again, just in time to swerve hard to avoid becoming Penske poster-girls for a single truck. 

"Sweet Jesus fuck! What the hell IS that?”

Goddammit, didn’t I tell her not to look back? I wasn’t going to tell her how the beast chasing us had seen us dart down the alley, and since it couldn’t fit through the traffic as neatly as we could, silently charge down the side of the building, slamming into the same shop front that had so recently lost it’s postcard stand as it tried to take the same corner, still snuffling the ground and air to track us. I managed to gain us a few precious seconds of lead as it disentangled itself from the fruit cart, re-launching itself down the alley, bicycle wheel still caught in it’s whiskers that streamed and whipped behind it.

“It’s running fucking sideways on the buildings!”

Aw shit. She can see it. I was afraid of that.

And that was all the distraction it needed too. 

With a last spring off the corner of an empty flower shop, the beast took a massive swipe at us. Come on, come on, make the corner! It’s thick talons cut a blazing arc through the rain as it howled. One of its claws caught the rear end of the bike, knocking it heavily to the side, and nearly throwing Grace off. Good thing she’s got a death grip on my hips right now. Oh boy don’t think of that, too distracting right now, that’s how you get killed!

Grace screamed again as the bike was whipped around violently from behind, and Grace she was confronted with a vision not even her wildest nightmares could have come up with. At least, I hope she doesn’t have nightmares like this anymore. 

The beast’s jaws opened wide to crush us like a nutcracker on adderall, glowing drool whipping around in thick, viscous strands from teeth bigger than my hand, while she seemed mesmerized by the halo of tentacle-like whiskers that seemed to float in slow motion, despite how fast everything was happening. The beast looked at me, it’s eyes burning red meeting mine as I tried to maintain my grip on the bike that was rapidly being torn from my hands. I was holding on to that tank with my knees in a way that would have made the Russian Women’s weightlifting team proud. I could hear the scream that tried to jump from Grace’s mouth only for it to turn into a slow rush of soundless breath as she slammed into my back from the force of me yanking that bike around as hard as I could possibly manage. 

Ground. Street. Tires on. People off. Stay upright. Don’t let go. Run.

The bellow from the beast behind us meant nothing to me now. I was numb, my world narrowing to the few feet in front of me, and Grace behind me. Swerve. Dodge. Car. Bike. Red light. Faster. Green. Faster. Faster. Get away. Car. Car. Bus. Turn. 

Suddenly the cars all dropped away. The turnpike. Oh thank God. I opened up the throttle all the way and finally realized I should probably start breathing again. 

Grace was trying to yell something, probably wanting an explanation. I mean I can’t blame her, but I said I’d explain! Did it look like now was suddenly the time for it? Then again, maybe it was important. 

I turned my head a bit to try to talk to her, but I paused with my mouth still open. The beast was gone.Like gone gone. Vanished. Vamoosed. Not even like really far away gone, just not there any more. I squinted. Yeah, that was a little too easy.

“Did we get away?” 

I was actually about to answer her, when a glowing blue shape cashed into us from the side, just as I was starting to finally let my legs relax a little. Everything seemed to slow down. I know, everyone says that, but it’s true! I don’t know, maybe it was the whiskey sours, but as soon as we got hit, the world turned in to super slow-mo as the bike was ripped from my hands, and I felt Grace be pulled away from me. 

This thing tossed us like a couple of rag dolls thrown from a child’s stroller being kicked by a football player. Or at least it started to go that way. Somehow, as the bike ground across the pavement, with just my left hand managing to keep any kind of hold on the bike, I managed to swing myself around it like a gymnast on a gold-medal winning vault-horse routine, snagged Grace’s bar apron with my free hand, and with sheer desperate strength, yank all three back together, right as the beast’s slavering maw snapped shut on empty air where Grace’s head had been just milliseconds before. Through pure accident of positioning, my toes raked across it’s eyes as my leg swung around and I slammed them back down on the pegs, jammed the throttle all the way open, even as Grace somehow managed to complete the circle I’d pulled her in, ending by straddling my hips, arms and hair akimbo while we slid sideways, fortunately tires first. 

Grace’s eyes were wider than a kid who opened their eyes to Disneyland on a Christmas morning as she slammed into me, and I used our momentum to get the bike fully upright, only barely escaping a second snap from the beast as it lunged again, trying to tear us apart. 

That near miss, and the sigh of relief I almost let happen, didn’t get a chance to last long. 

Her damn hair was in my face, which at any other time, wouldn’t have been a problem, really, but just at that second, was incredibly, blindingly, distracting. And it might have saved our lives. 

Something hot burned into my shoulder and face as the sound of crashing metal and people yelling slammed into me. Hm, spicy.

“Shit! Watch out! Sorry!” Grace called to the one lady who wasn’t running for the hills as we smashed through her food cart. Can you get third-degree barbecue sauce burns? Food trays, sauces and meat all went flying as we dervished our way right through the middle of her street-side restaurant, sweet and spicy and sticky all at once, all over the ground, and all over me and Grace as well. I couldn’t think of anything more than just keeping everything together and moving forward. Run. The only thought occupying my mind. Just run.

“Hey.”

The softness of her voice is what brought me back to the girl squished up against me and out of the rabbit-instinct flight mode I was in. 

I don’t know why but for some reason, my brain decided that was the perfect moment to notice that I’d never realized how captivating the color brown could be. Grace’s eyes were less than inches from mine, and I froze for a second. Again. 

“I think it’s stopped.”

I glanced back. The beast had been right on top of us when we hit the food cart, but now it was standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, sniffing around for all the world like the biggest, dumbest, glowiest dog you’ve ever seen. OK, a dog that could tear a truck apart like a box of tissues, but still. 

“What the hell is it doing?” 

“Maybe it’s hungry.”

I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud. I’d never seen one of these things just…stop like that. It didn’t make sense. 

No time to think of that right now, just enough time to dart down another alley, blocking the beast from view as it sat down to lap up all the spilled barbecued beef at its feet. 

As we weaved and darted through alleys and parking lots, squeezing through sidewalks and darting across small streets, I started to recognize where we were now, and had the barest inkling of a plan besides ‘get away without dying.’

“Whatever that thing is, I think it likes barbecue.”   

Grace’s whispered comment snapped me back to what was right in front of me, the whole reason I was in this kind of mess again in the first place. . 

“Hunh?”

“I think it stopped to eat at the barbecue stand we knocked over. It’s not chasing us anymore- look.”

I tried to check the mirror again, only to find they’d both been ripped off by now, so switched to glancing over my shoulder quickly, and saw no ominous glow behind us, other than the few street lamps on the small boulevard we were going down. 

“Barbecue?” I was still pretty confused. Probably drunk too. But definitely confused. 

Grace’s laugh was carried away on the night like fireworks swept away in a light breeze. “Well, I dunno what the hell that thing was, but I haven’t met anyone yet who wouldn’t drop everything for good barbecue, honey.”

Raising an eyebrow, I laughed, “Well it’s good to see I’m not the only one here who can make wildly ridiculous comments with horrible timing!”

“Funny the things you think about when you should be focusing on other stuff that’s a little more important, hunh? Like right now, all I can think about is a nice rack of ribs.” Grace grew quieter as her head sank back down on to my shoulder. “Where we headed, sugar?”

“Somewhere close. Safe. I think.”

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

The old loft was just as dank and dirty and run down on the inside as it looked on the outside. Probably worse. No diamonds in the rough here, that’s for sure. Broken glass scattered on the beat up industrial floor scattered the glow of the streetlight through the mist that filled the space. Definitely not up to my usual standard, but hey, we couldn’t really complain too much.

Throwing an old, discarded, and probably moldy, but definitely more disgusting than I wanted to ever touch again, mover’s blanket over the plate window helped to at least hide a little bit of how gross this place looked. Plus, privacy. A quick scan around and I found a pile of old tarps and a couple skeezy mattresses that I definitely wasn’t going to think about where they’d been or who’d done what on them for how long. It’d have to do. A dirty mattress was a small price to pay for still being alive.

“It’s not the Four Seasons, but it’ll do for now. It’s kinda cold- I don’t think the building even has heat, but I think we can keep warm enough to make it through the rest of tonight at least.”

Grace flopped down heavily on the mattress, exhausted, shoulders slumped, staring vacantly at the floor.

“That was…was that…I don’t even know where to start. My brain’s been turned to oatmeal. What…? What happened? What in the name of all fucks just happened?”

“Yeah, there’s kind of a lot to unpack here isn’t there?” I just crumpled down into one of the old blankets like a sock puppet being dropped into its nest. “I’m not even sure where to begin.”

“Ya think? Like one minute, I’m trying to mind my business, working my shift at the bar, wondering whether I’m going to have to give another statement to the cops after another bar fight breaks out, and the next I’m getting tossed around like a hot sweet-potato, almost get eaten by a glowing, walking catfish that got beaten a little too hard with the ugly stick, get covered in barbecue sauce, do-si-doed by a goddamn motorcycle ninja, only to wind up in some place that looks like it was lifted straight out of Zillow for Crackheads!”

A snort of wry, tired amusement escaped me. “Yeah, I guess it really does look that bad here. I mean, I’m surprised this place is even still standing after all this time, but you’re right, it definitely looks a bit sketchy.”

“Way to avoid the point, hun.”

“Yeah, I know.” Not sure why, but she kept making me nervous, and the way she was sort of frowning while pinning me down with those sparkling coffee eyes definitely wasn’t helping. Probably just wasn’t used to people making eye contact. Which was the whole reason I was in this mess to begin with. Another sigh. 

“Alright. I’ll explain as much as I can. You deserve that much.”

Grace flopped down on the edge of the mattress, chin propped in her hands for all the world like a kid during goddamn story time. How the hell was I supposed to concentrate when she’s doing things like that? Look away! Only way to save myself for now. 

“OK, here goes. So the thing you saw? Well, it’s a…” I scowled. “It’s a…sunuvabitch, I don’t really know what it’s called. Alright, further back then. The basics. Got it.

“Supernatural things exist. Like you believe that humans are the highest species on this planet and that you’re all alone in the universe, and no one can quite agree on whether there was anything before or after this life or what happens when you die, right? Well, a lot of what most people believe to be myth or religious superstition is actually, um, real.”

So she hasn’t tried to run away just yet. That’s a good sign, right?

“From what I’ve been able to piece together, from the bits I can remember, what you would call ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ are real places- they’re just not really visible to mortals. Most of the time. ‘Angels’ and ‘demons’ are real things too, but they’re a little bit different than most people tend to think of them from what I’ve seen. 

“I don’t know how many there are, but there’s angels and demons walking around, living just like you and me, every day. The thing is, that mortals like you can’t see them. And that’s where the problem is.”

“Like me?” It wasn’t really a question. Her tone made that clear enough.

“Oh boy. OK, here’s the big one- because with the heaven and hell stuff, most people can be like ‘meh, it’s all superstitious nonsense anyway’ and brush it off. This? Not so much. 

“I’m not human. Or mortal. I can see angels and demons walking around plain as day, just like the ones I’ve met can see me. Mortals…see something else.”

“Like the creep at the bar earlier? Did he see…something else? In you?”

“Yeah. On the outside, at first glance, I look like any other girl. But look closer? Well, you saw what happened. People just aren’t ready to see my real nature.”

“But that didn’t happen to me.” Now Grace was looking a little bit confused- but the kind of confused you get when a teacher is explaining something that you know should make sense, even if you were having a hard time getting it. 

“No, it didn’t. And it took me way too long to pick up on that. I should’ve realized right away. If I had, maybe I could have gotten you out of there faster and that whole ‘sweet potato’ thing wouldn’t have happened.”

“So what should I be seeing? When I look into your eyes I mean?”

“Probably something along the lines of falling through an eternally expanding universe, a sense that you’re tinier than a piece of sand in the scope of the cosmos, that sort of thing. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from a couple of the ones who were able to be slightly coherent afterwards. There haven’t been many of those over the years.”

“Wow. I definitely don’t see that.”

“And that’s the problem, really. I’ve never heard of something like that happening before. I don’t know what it means, or why you can, or anything! All I know is that something is very, very different, and very, very wrong, otherwise that thing wouldn’t have been after us. And right now, I don’t know if what’s wrong is you, or me, or both of us. But we need to find out if we’re going to not be looking over our shoulders for…what did you call it again?”

Grace laughed. A genuine laugh, not weighed down by worry or terror. “A glowing, walking catfish?”

“Ha ha, yeah, that got beaten too many times with the ugly stick!”

Grace sat up suddenly, nodding sharply to herself. “Alright, well, you’re either batshit crazy, or I owe my gran an apology.” Grace was still half chuckling, but looking very intent. 

“Your gran?”

“Yeah, she was super religious, always prayin’, talkin’ and singin’ about god. She must’ve gone to church three times a week! Boy, would she have loved to hear all this.”

“I’ll bet!”

“So, I just wanna make sure I’ve got all the stuff you said- angels are real, and something’s wrong with the fact that I can see your real eyes, and not like, the fires of the Big Bang or something, but you don’t know why that’s a problem or what caused it.. Right?”

“I’d say that about covers it for now, yeah.”

“Alright, I can live with that much for now. I’m clean tuckered out, and you look like you’re about to just fall over any second now. Whaddya say we call it a night?”

“Yeah.” I really could barely keep my eyes open at this point. I guess pretending my motorbike was a juggling pin kind of took it out of me.

Grace popped up, suddenly all business.

“So doesn’t look like this place has a big ol’ tub to dump you in, so we’ll have to settle for a couple of wet wipes. Here, help me get these blankets on to the mattress here. They’re gross, but it’s better than freezing to death.”

“You’re the boss!” Those wet wipes were a pocket-sized blessing, wrapped in foil paper. I’m more of a Chanel and gunpowder type, not so big on the earthy, barbecue scents.

I was starting to stumble a bit as we plopped the discarded blankets down as well as we could in the relative darkness of the loft.

“Probably better to stay dressed with how dirty these blankets are.” Grace frowned as she watched me struggle to pick up one of the heavier blankets a couple of times.

That didn’t even register until much later.

“OK, you, lay down. No more for you tonight. Sleep.”

I couldn’t even argue with her. I just curled up in a ball on the bed, barely aware of Grace pulling a couple of the blankets over me, but I thought I could just make out her arm resting on mine as we both drifted off into the heavy, dreamless sleep that comes when you’ve been pushed to your limits. At least, I kind of hope it was. 

================================================

Story tag list

@random-with-garlic @a-dinosaurs-left-phgkneecap @flower-in-the-ashes @nixabee @luvnaught @pens-swords-stuff @alice-and-cheshire-cat @humans-are-seriously-weird @flying-f1shsticks @Neil-gaiman @glumshoe @lykanyouko @kaylewiswrites @just-a-bit-paranoid @thatsmybluefondue @Alice-and-Cheshire-cat @violet-galaxies @biggest-gaidiest-patronuses @midnight-spectrum-again @slytherinlovespuff @friendofcybermen @hemi528i @mirbisduschoen

As always, if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, just shoot me a message and your wish is my command. 

[weareallfallengods]

Repost bcz the 1st one is too far down my blog

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

Some neanderthal interrupted my deep contemplation of the double whiskey sour in front of me. Which was very rude. Whiskey sours demand your undivided attention and get cranky if ignored for too long. He should have known that, but either he didn’t know or didnt care, so either way- neanderthal.

He was leaning on the bar with the casual air of someone who has done this same dance too many times, the practiced ease of a used car salesman slapping the roof of a car. At least this one’s breath wasn’t too foul. Not that this hadn’t happened before. Oh no, I’d never been badly hit on in this bar like ten thousand times already. No that never happened. I was able to just sit in peace with my drink for the entire night. Yeah, right. Why do I keep coming back then, you ask? Well, Grace makes one hell of a whiskey sour for one thing.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

Ugh, this one wasn't going away with simply being ignored. Lovely.

“Excuse me?” I looked over languidly, with as much disdainful irritation on my face as I could possibly muster from the depths of my three-drinks-in soul.

“I said, ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

His stupid shit-eating leer didnt help my mood any. I wasn’t ever in a good mood if I showed up here, and that’s probably one of the reasons I kept coming back- assholes like this gave me a vent for my foul mood.

“No actually. It’s less of a fall and more of a stumble really. More like getting tossed out of a club by a bouncer than falling down the stairs. Couple of bruises, a minor scrape, more damaged pride than anything really.”

I could see his monkey-brain churning slowly to try and digest my response that didn’t fit his pre-programmed scenario. I half expected to see steam coming out of an ear. God, some men are just so... ew.

“Um, what?”

Apparently I broke him. Well, that happens sometimes, when I give someone a response they weren’t expecting. Which happens more often than I’d be willing to admit to myself.

“I said that getting tossed out of heaven doesn’t hurt as much as you’d think it would. It’s not that far of a tumble really.”

He chuckled, “That’s real cute darlin’, never heard that one before! How’s about you and me find a table so I can hear more about it? Maybe have a look at those bruises, make sure you don't need more…attention.”

Sweet Mother of Mikhail, that was bad. Like even worse than his initial pickup line. I almost had to respect his commitment to such a shitty way of trying to pick me up. He had some balls, that’s for sure, either from drunken stupidity or pure ignorant self-confidence. They say that bravery and stupidity go hand in hand, and here was their shining example.

“Believe me sweetie, you don’t want my 'attention’,” I said softly, for the first time raising my eyes to lock with his glazed gaze. “My attention can become very… uncomfortable.”

He started to smirk for just a split second, but when my eyes met his, both the smirk and the color melted from his face. His mouth hung slack as he felt his soul staring down the opening fiery abyss that he found reflected in my eyes. I watched his mind recoil in horror at the emptiness it saw as it tried futilely to pull back from the horror of empty infinity it was confronted with. I saw in his eyes the sudden awareness of how small and insignificant his place in the universe was, and shrink in horror, trying to flee internally only to find that there’s no escape from your own mind and the finality of human existence.

I looked away just as his eyes started to roll back in his head. No need to cause a scene with him passing out. After all, my whiskey sour was crying from being ignored. As they do.

“I think you should probably go home now Blake,” I demurred softly. “You’ve probably had enough, and your wife would be happy if you tucked the children into bed for once. Oh, and coffee won’t remove the smell of alcohol, so just have a peppermint. Your kids like that smell, reminds them of Christmas.”

He kind of half nodded, like a sleepwalker. I sighed. Hopefully he doesn't have an existential crisis later and just shrugs it off as being too drunk. Hell, maybe he’ll cut back on the sauce. I hate it when I hear about someone offing themselves after meeting me, especially if they have kids. Well, hopefully he just takes the daily inebriation down a notch or two. I can hope, can’t I?

As he shuffled off, lager forgotten at the bar, I hoped he’d be alright. Genuinely. Sure, I enjoyed taking my frustration at being stuck here out on them, but I didn't actually wish them lasting harm. A lesson or two in politeness and decency, a minor scuffle to break up the monotony, but no real damage. That’s what I told myself anyway. Made it easier to pretend to sleep at night. Hope he makes it home ok. Hope his kids get a happy memory of daddy saying goodnight for once. Hope he says he loves his wife, and apologizes. Hah. Yeah. Like that’ll happen. But, what can I say, I’m a foolish optimist at heart. And nothing hurts more than having your hopes crushed. I should know.

Damn. My drink was crying, a small puddle of condensation soaking into the bar napkin it rested on. Again. Another sigh. And one more for the first sigh. I hate sighing. It’s the most comprehensive sound of the acceptance of defeat ever created. The acknowledgment of futility. And I hate that. I thought I’d be fighting to the bitter end, but apparently Destiny had other plans. Fucking Destiny. She’s the whole reason I’m even drinking in the first place.

“Get you a fresh one?”

A sweet silver-bell tinkle of a voice broke my unintentional reverie. Grace was back, checking on me. She knew my peccadilloes by now. She knew how much I hated when my drink got watered down by the ice melting if it got ignored for too long. I nodded.

She smiled pleasantly and slid over a new drink, already prepped.

“I figured, after that creep pounced on ya.”

I frowned slightly. There was something different about this one. Hunh. Oh, the ice. There wasn’t any. There were two black cubes sitting in it instead. OK, why are there rocks in my drink?

I looked up at Grace, still slightly puzzled.

“Oh those? Yeah I noticed you didn’t like it when your drink gets watered down, so I bought some Irish whiskey stones! That way your drink stays cold, but doesn't dilute. Got 'em special, just for you.”

I cocked one eyebrow slightly, “Just for me?”

“Yep! Let’s face it, you’re the only one who comes in here with that kind of class, so I put 'em in the freezer back here with a big 'ol note so Jimmy doesn’t think I’m crazy for keeping rocks in the fridge,” her airy chuckle sprinkled across my ears.

I stared. I was in shock. OK, well maybe I’m being dramatic, but I was still surprised. People don’t normally do nice things for me. Or to me for that matter. If I’m honest, they mostly run away.

“Why…” I couldn't even formulate a coherent sentence. Jesus, get yourself together!

“I dunno, I just figured you don't seem like you have anyone looking out for you, and you seem to attract a lot of the wrong sort of attention, so I thought you could use a nice surprise, y’know, cheer you up a little.”

I nodded, more in surprise than agreement. I literally couldn’t recall the last time someone voluntarily tried to do something nice, just for me, no hope or expectation of reward or compensation. I was probably silent a little too long for a comfortable conversation. Hey, I was revelling in the new experience, cut me some slack.

“Well. Wow, um, thanks.” Yeah real smooth. Sweet Mikhail’s Grave I have no idea how to actually talk to this woman.

In retrospect, that should have been my first clue, but hey, I was a little distracted.

“I appreciate it, that’s really sweet of you.” Ok that’s slightly less glaringly awkward.

“Not trying to be rude at all, but I gotta ask- what’s your deal? Like you come in here all the time, lookin’ like a million bucks, never talk to anyone, get in fights every so often, get harassed like every single time but you keep coming back? I mean, I’m not trying to pry if you don’t wanna talk, but you know, like I’m totally trying to pry!”

Now it was my turn to stare slack-jawed. Oh Fates, how your twists are cruel. I closed my mouth a lot faster than the sot from earlier though, so my pride wasn't too damaged.

“It’s kind of a long and uninteresting story really. Mostly, you make the best whiskey sour. And the people here are…interesting.”

“Honey, there’s no way a story coming from someone who looks like that,” she waved generally up and down at me, “could possibly be boring. Plus, it’s slow, as always, so humor me.”

Sometimes, I can be kind of thick. Slow. Moronic. A nincompoop. A maroon. Several minutes of conversation with this girl and I only just now noticed- she hadn’t looked away from my eyes. She was meeting my gaze with no problem. She wasn't sweating and shaking and passing out. She was looking me right in the eye, just like a normal person, no fear showing on her face. No reaction at all. Just a normal girl, having a normal conversation, with what she thought was another normal person.

“Are…you OK?” Grace looked a bit concerned.

Aw shit, I was staring, and not even trying to hide it. Well now I felt dumb. And, why did I feel dumb? What was up with this girl that she made me feel so self conscious, so uncomfortable, like one of those fainting goats that just freezes and falls over when you blink too hard at them. Speaking of blinking really hard.

“Um, oh, yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Really. Sorry, just not many people actually want to have a real conversation with me.”

Grace leaned over the bar a little, propping up on her elbows, lowering her tone a bit. “Well, I don’t know why, 'cuz you sure seem hella interesting to me.”

“Hunh. Well, I don't know about that. But I would like to ask you something first, if you don't mind?”

“Fire away honey!”

“This might sound odd, but, why aren’t you looking away? What do you see when you look at me?”

She pulled a tiny bit closer. “Nothin’ more than just about the sparkly-est green eyes I ever seen; a dash of blue, like the Bahamas. Somethin’ else I can't quite put my finger on…” as she trailed off, I felt her finger lightly brush the knuckles on my hand that was still holding my drink. “I kinda wanna find out though.”

OK, now that was smooth. Holy fuck, that was really, really smooth. Like two hundred year old Laphroaig single malt filtered through the blessed socks of His Holiness the Pope smooth. Hold up, now she was trying to pick me up? What the hell universe? What’s going on here?

I swallowed, unable to look away now myself. “That’s all? Nothing that scares you?”

“Not yet, sugar.”

Alright, that’s different.

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

I grabbed her hand. Maybe a little too hard from the slight wince I saw.

“OK we need to leave. NOW.”

“Hold up honey, we were just talkin’, we ain’t there yet!” She tried pulling back a little.

“No, no, you don’t understand! I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be able to see that. I can’t explain right now, but we have to figure out how you can see me that way.”

“But my shift’s not over for a couple more hours!”

“OK OK, I’m not being clear, sorry, this is the first time this has happened, so I’m a little shaken.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She actually blushed a little. “I just saw how you shot down every guy who came up to you, and I thought….well, you know, maybe…omg I’m sorry I didn't mean to upset you! I come on strong sometimes, when I’m interested in something, and when you first walked in, I saw those heels and that dress, and I just was like ‘oh wow’ and kinda couldn’t breathe for a minute, you know I don't see many girls come here lookin’ like that and oh God now I’m babbling and someone please shut me up I'm so sorry…”

I put a finger over her lips, gently.

“I’m not upset. Far from it actually. But we have something a tiny bit more urgent than that to address. I’m not who you think I am. Or what, I should say. But more to the point, there’s something bigger going on here. And I need to find out what. Fast.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad I hit on you?”

“We don’t have time for that now!” She recoiled slightly at my vehemence. “No, I’m not upset, but that’s not the point! You shouldnt be able to see my eyes. My real ones anyway. I was too slow on picking that up right away, and I’m sorry, but we have to get out of here, now, because something is different, and in my world, that’s never a good thing.”

“Your world?”

I was getting frustrated. “Yes, but I’ll explain later! I need you to come with me now. We need answers, and we need them fast. So, do you trust me?”

She hesitated. “Yeeeeees? I think? Like I wanna, but I don’t really know you?”

“Good enough for now! Let’s go!”

To her credit, she just dropped her bar towel, grabbed her phone from under the bar and came out from behind it, grabbing my hand as she yelled to the back, “Hey Jimmy! I gotta leave! Personal thing- cover for me?”

Just then, there was a bit of a commotion at the door. Grace turned to look, but I didn’t need to. I already knew what was there. I just clutched her hand even tighter and yanked her towards the back; there was an emergency exit near the bathrooms from what I remembered of that one really bad 'birthday’. Yeah, that was a bad one. But we ran.

Good thing I’m not super tall, wouldn’t want to draw attention, I thought to myself sarcastically. Goddamn heels. Why do I even wear these?

Sounds of glass breaking and shouting reached us as we plowed through the emergency exit into the alleyway. Don’t worry about that now, just keep moving.

“This way!” I pulled her to the front of the alley.

“Holy shit, that’s your bike?” She sounded genuinely impressed. Finally, I wasn’t the only one who had that reaction at seeing it. 

“Oh yeah, she’s a sweet ride, and perfect for this situation. Or any situation, really. Jump on.”

I probably should have shut the door behind us, but hey, it was a day for me missing obvious things. The noise coming from the bar was getting louder.

“I’ve never done this before!” Grace exclaimed excitedly in my ear as I kicked my beast to life.

We roared out into the street, my white and gold Valentino’s left sparkling on the pavement where I kicked them. Fuckin’ useless, beautiful shoes. Sigh, they weren’t cheap. Oh well, they’re just shoes.

“Where are we going!?” Grace yelled over the rush of wind whipping our hair like tiny flails of purgatory.

“Not sure yet! But we’re going to find out!”

“I don't even know your name!”

My heart sank a bit.

“Don't worry! Neither do I! ”

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

The bar exploded behind us as it faded into the night thanks to the fabulous Ducati between our legs. Oh and that wasn’t metaphorical- I glanced in the mirror at the sound; it literally exploded. Ball of fire and all. I guess that’s to be expected, what with all the alcohol and what I’d suspected for a while was going on in the basement. Way too many flammable liquids in one place. But that didn't really matter now. All that mattered was getting away from what caused the explosion as fast as we possibly could. 

“What the hell was that!?” Grace yelled in my ear. Again. I’m going to have to get some headsets or something if this is going to be a habit. Well, the riding together part, not the fleeing for our lives part anyway. 

“I’ll explain as soon as we can talk, promise! For now, just hold on! And don't look behind us!" 

“As if I’m gonna let go now!”

That glance in the rear view told me as much as I needed to know, which was more than I wanted, but enough to have an idea of what we were running from. I mean, I figured that’s what it was, but I’m still tired of being right, even after all this time. You’d think I'd be used to it by now. 

That pale blue and red glow was enough. Hell, the noise it made had been enough for me to know what it was. And trust me, I was not overreacting by running first. I’d seen that color a few too many times in my life to think that there was anything else to be done except run. Once was more than enough for anyone. Who am I kidding? Most people don't get a chance to see it more than once. Guess I’m just lucky. Or the opposite. Pretty sure I’m the latter actually. 

Grace was shivering on my back as we sped away. She’d gone quiet, her mood matching the night around us, the neon signs and street lights reflecting their multi-colored halos in the rain-slicked streets. Fog was starting to rise from the pavement, adding to the soft glow the streets were taking on. Thin, wispy strands curling around street lights and bus stops, blasted into nothing as the bike tore through them, the roar of the exhaust shattering the relative quiet of the late night calm. 

Well, it should have been quiet anyway. The explosion of the bar kind of changed that. Then came the sound. 

It mixed with the growing whine from the crotch rocket under us, which seemed like a fitting counterpoint to the cacophony of something that sounded like if you’d thrown a hundred maltese dogs into a tornado and then blasted it over a crappy school intercom. I hated that sound. Almost as much as the dogs it reminded me of. 

“Aw shit, it saw us.” Time to see if the tires on this baby gripped as well as the kid at the shop claimed they did. 

Well, at least there wasn’t too much traffic. Still, even though there weren’t many trucks and accountant-driven sedans to weave in and out of, there were still enough of them that it took a hell of a lot more concentration than my alcohol soaked brain was ready to deal with. Definitely hadn’t planned on being the next Lewis Hamilton after a night at the bar, that’s for damn sure. 

“What the fuu….?” Grace’s expletive trailed off in the whipping wind as I kept us weaving in and out and through, gunning the shit out of my bike whenever there was an opening big enough to do so without turning us into extremely messy, if fashionable, pancakes.

“Try not to worry about it! OK I mean, yeah, worry, but not like understand worry!”

“How the hell do you not worry about...that!?”

I took a good look back for the first time as we whipped around a corner, using the rain-slick street to slide without losing any speed. My heart sank. At least it wasn’t in my throat choking me anymore. Sarcastic positivity in the face of death? Yeah that���s my jam. Even if I do keep it to myself. Most of the time anyway.

The damn thing was getting closer. Faster than I thought it could. Damn, tonight just wasn’t my night for noticing things, now was it?

That second of splitting my attention nearly sent us flying and a tired busboy standing at the corner bus stop to the hospital, but we only just missed him, with barely enough room to avoid slamming into the back end of something that should have been parked at a kids soccer game, not getting on the expressway at this time of night. 

Slipping into an alley entrance, Grace’s nails dug through the flimsy material I was wrapped in, making me yelp in surprise. 

“Sorry,” she muttered.

I was about to tell her it was cool, considering the circumstances, and given that I wasn’t sure if it made me jump because it hurt, or her hands were cold, or because of where they’d slid down to, when we blew out the other side of the alley, causing a literal postcard explosion from the stand I clipped as we bounced out on to the main road again, just in time to swerve hard to avoid becoming Penske poster-girls for a single truck. 

"Sweet Jesus fuck! What the hell IS that?"

Goddammit, didn’t I tell her not to look back? I wasn’t going to tell her how the beast chasing us had seen us dart down the alley, and since it couldn't fit through the traffic as neatly as we could, silently charge down the side of the building, slamming into the same shop front that had so recently lost it's postcard stand as it tried to take the same corner, still snuffling the ground and air to track us. I managed to gain us a few precious seconds of lead as it disentangled itself from the fruit cart, re-launching itself down the alley, bicycle wheel still caught in it's whiskers that streamed and whipped behind it.

“It’s running fucking sideways on the buildings!”

Aw shit. She can see it. I was afraid of that.

And that was all the distraction it needed too. 

With a last spring off the corner of an empty flower shop, the beast took a massive swipe at us. Come on, come on, make the corner! It's thick talons cut a blazing arc through the rain as it howled. One of its claws caught the rear end of the bike, knocking it heavily to the side, and nearly throwing Grace off. Good thing she’s got a death grip on my hips right now. Oh boy don’t think of that, too distracting right now, that’s how you get killed!

Grace screamed again as the bike was whipped around violently from behind, and Grace she was confronted with a vision not even her wildest nightmares could have come up with. At least, I hope she doesn’t have nightmares like this anymore. 

The beast’s jaws opened wide to crush us like a nutcracker on adderall, glowing drool whipping around in thick, viscous strands from teeth bigger than my hand, while she seemed mesmerized by the halo of tentacle-like whiskers that seemed to float in slow motion, despite how fast everything was happening. The beast looked at me, it’s eyes burning red meeting mine as I tried to maintain my grip on the bike that was rapidly being torn from my hands. I was holding on to that tank with my knees in a way that would have made the Russian Women’s weightlifting team proud. I could hear the scream that tried to jump from Grace’s mouth only for it to turn into a slow rush of soundless breath as she slammed into my back from the force of me yanking that bike around as hard as I could possibly manage. 

Ground. Street. Tires on. People off. Stay upright. Don’t let go. Run.

The bellow from the beast behind us meant nothing to me now. I was numb, my world narrowing to the few feet in front of me, and Grace behind me. Swerve. Dodge. Car. Bike. Red light. Faster. Green. Faster. Faster. Get away. Car. Car. Bus. Turn. 

Suddenly the cars all dropped away. The turnpike. Oh thank God. I opened up the throttle all the way and finally realized I should probably start breathing again. 

Grace was trying to yell something, probably wanting an explanation. I mean I can’t blame her, but I said I’d explain! Did it look like now was suddenly the time for it? Then again, maybe it was important. 

I turned my head a bit to try to talk to her, but I paused with my mouth still open. The beast was gone.Like gone gone. Vanished. Vamoosed. Not even like really far away gone, just not there any more. I squinted. Yeah, that was a little too easy.

“Did we get away?” 

I was actually about to answer her, when a glowing blue shape cashed into us from the side, just as I was starting to finally let my legs relax a little. Everything seemed to slow down. I know, everyone says that, but it’s true! I don’t know, maybe it was the whiskey sours, but as soon as we got hit, the world turned in to super slow-mo as the bike was ripped from my hands, and I felt Grace be pulled away from me.