#their names are so ridiculous. these girls never stood a chance at normalcy

[hamsternamedmarinette]

✨ School pictures ✨

[exceptionimagines]

Meeting and Dating Don Collier

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You and Don meet when him and his men roll through your city. 

- When the war broke out, you were lucky enough to be one of the few towns who went relatively untouched and because of that, the American soldiers; who had planned on just passing through, decided to take refuge there for a few days and set up camp. 

- Whether or not it was a smart idea is up for debate but, when your father; or one of your relatives who you lived with, saw the men going about their business, they decided to invite some of them back to your families farm for a night; or however long they wished to stay, of “normalcy”. 

- Which is how you; and the rest of your family, ended up standing at your kitchen window in shock as your father walked alongside a beat up tank, guiding them onto your property as he made his way home from work. 

- Once he steps through the door, he offers the men a couple of things, introducing you and your mother with a wave of his hand as you momentarily lock eyes with the man who seems to be the groups leader; the man whose mere presence has your heart racing. 

- No one; besides perhaps your father and the men, is exactly sure of how to react and while you question the older mans sanity, your family attempts to go about their days like normal and show the surprise guests as much hospitality as you can.

- That night, the five soldiers join your family for dinner and you get an inside look at the relationships between all the men. Don; or Wardaddy as you’d heard his men call him, seemed to rule over the soldiers with an iron fist. You got the impression that he was keeping them on their best behavior; particularly for you and your mothers; and any other siblings, sakes. 

- After everyone finished their dinner, your father asked you to gather up some spare blankets and pillows for the men; which you did. When you returned with them, you decidedly handed them to the youngest, least threatening one in the room and merely gave the leader; Don, a flustered nod as he thanked you and your father. 

- When you woke up the following morning, you came downstairs to a strangely filled home: soldiers littered here and there, doing their own things and conversing with each other. It felt like you’d been thrusted into the life of a bed and breakfast owner; everything felt so surreal. 

- Nevertheless, you found that one of your house guests was missing and out of sheer curiosity; and a girlish infatuation with the man, you decided to look around and see if you could find him. 

- After trying your best to look around as unsuspiciously as you could, you found that he was nowhere in the house and moved your search to outside. And to your surprise: you had no luck; not until your eyes fell on the barn. 

- It was there that you found him, standing by one of the stables, his hands stroking across one of your horses faces with a familiarity that had you guessing he was used to being around the gentle giants. 

- You decided it was time to announce yourself instead of standing there, watching him like a creep and so you called out the name of the horse, walking a bit closer and leaning against one of the columns nearby. 

- The man glanced over at you and questioningly repeated the name before turning back to the animal. The two of you stood in silence before he asked how old they were, if you rode them, what kind of equipment you used, etc. 

- The conversation wasn’t long; just a few questions as he patted the horses head, but it had opened up the gate and you found yourself falling head over heels like school girl. You chalked it up to the fact that all the available boys in your town had been off at war for at least a few years by then. 

- Regardless, there you were, doing whatever you could to inconspicuously spend time with the man and borderline following him around like a lost puppy.

- It seemed he didn’t mind, in fact, he genuinely seemed to enjoy the companionship at times: occasionally inviting you to walk with him or amusedly explaining whatever he was doing whenever you asked. 

- He hadn’t invited you to sit with him when he was outside one night but you’d found him all the same, asking if you could join him as he stared out at your property. It was there that the two of you shared your first kiss. 

- You’d been silent for the first few minutes, merely taking in the atmosphere of the night and enjoying the lack of people around you. But, when he did speak, your heart dropped. 

- He told you he’d be packing up and heading out the next day; en route for some war torn capital that was sure to have a bunch of clueless Krauts none the wiser to their upcoming arrival. 

- You weren’t sure what to say and so you stayed silent, looking anywhere but at him. “We’ve done it before” he said next, perhaps to reassure you, perhaps to reassure himself; you weren’t sure which but it certainly didn’t make you feel any better. 

“Did it turn out alright?” You asked and he nodded, telling you that it worked out fine enough; that they’d be fine enough, and you told him you were glad; your eyes finally meeting his. 

- The two of you locked eyes for a long moment before you found yourselves slowly leaning in. You hesitated for a few seconds, your lips mere centimeters away, before he’d finally tilted his face and kissed you. 

- The two of you wind up doing a lot more than sharing a kiss, and while you probably should have regretted it; you didn’t. You merely wished that he didn’t have to go, wrapped up in his arms as dawn approached. 

- You’ll have to wait a while but he intends on coming back to you one day. You just hope that that one day is soon....

- It may not be considered “Pda”; which if it isn’t then you don’t do a whole lot of that, but he’s constantly got his hands on you in someway whenever you’re out in public. He wants to keep you close and let people know who you belong to.

- His hand gripping the back of your neck and head. It’s oftentimes how he pulls you into kisses; either that or he’ll tell you to “come here” with a little smile and press his lips to yours.

- His hand on your knee or the back of your chair whenever you’re sitting together. He has a habit of holding onto you in general: whether it be you, your clothes or something you’re on.

- If there’s sweet, actual affection happening; particularly in public, then chances are, you’re the one performing it. So he’ll be glaring out at something and you’ll be kissing his cheek or holding onto his arm and hand.

- Hugging him from behind. He’s secretly a big fan of it.

- Forehead and temple kisses. They’re always featherlight but it never fails to make you melt whenever he does it.

- How he kisses you depends on the day. Sometimes he’s soft and slow; his lips being the only rough things about him. Other times it’s harsh, abrupt, and dominant; stealing your breath away and making you feel like you’re drunk.

- Sitting in his lap. It’s one of the only things he’s really verbal and obvious about liking.

- Whenever the two of you cuddle, he’s always got a tight grip on you; keeping you plastered against him until you’ve got a good reason to get up. He’ll usually wind up being the big spoon or wrapping his arms around you while cuddle into his chest.

- He calls you “sweetheart” more than anything. It’s his favorite pet name to use; both on you and mockingly on other people.

- Don secretly; or not so secretly, craves a quiet and domestic life. He’d want a girl who; at least somewhat, fits into that traditional feminine role: the caretaker and homemaker that he; and most other men of the time, was raised on.

- Relaxing evenings spent inside or alone together; rather than going out.

- Going shopping together. He likes running errands with you; he finds it soothing to be by your side and do something so normal after the life he’s lived. He also just likes keeping an eye on you.

- Cooking for him.

- Early, peaceful mornings spent sitting together at your dining room table or cuddled up on your couch.

- Horseback riding.

- Picnics.

- Memorable dates or trips that you talk and reminisce about years later. He likes making new memories with you; ones he can wholeheartedly enjoy when he looks back on them.

- Don’s sort of just willing to do whatever you want to do. You can almost always persuade him to go and do something; both because he likes making you happy and spending time with you and because he likes keeping an eye out for you whenever you’re out in public.

- The two of you are inseparable most of the time. You spend most days by each other’s sides, helping him get used to normal life again and being the constant companion that he needs after the harsh realities of war. You’re sort of the only person he really has left in his life so the responsibility is going to lie on you.

- Don is wholeheartedly whipped. The amount of times you can puppy dog eye him and get your way is borderline hilarious.

- Convincing him to go with you into photo booths. He’ll probably roll his eyes and just keep the same serious face on the whole time but he’ll go in with you. He does secretly enjoy seeing your bright smile and your adorable attempts at copying his glare after you notice he isn’t smiling.

- Going dancing. He thinks he looks ridiculous in a nice evening suit; and you cannot convince him otherwise, but he suffers through it for a night every now and again to make you happy.

- Tracing the scars on his face. The softness of your touch makes him melt on the inside.

- He says a lot with his eyes. After a while, you’ll learn to read what he’s trying to say or thinking from them.

- He likes listening to you talk; even if it’s just rambling about something he would arguably have no interest in.

- Getting taught how to play card games and gamble like a pro. He’s gotten ridiculously good at swindling people out of their money over the past few years and he likes seeing your bewildered expression every time he wins or tries showing you something new.

- He loves teasing you. He finds it amusing to annoy you from time to time; grinning as you roll your eyes or snap back at him. That being said, he always knows how to tastefully push your buttons and never goes overboard.

- Him cutting both your hair. He cuts his own so he probably gives you a little trim from time to time as well.

- Wearing his dogtags.

- He really doesn’t like telling you about his time in the war but you could probably convince him to after a bit of pestering. Although, even when he is telling you stories, he tends to steer clear of the more gory details; instead talking about places he had to visit and funny shenanigans.

- He lowkey tries to keep you away from his crew. You probably have either never met them or have only had brief; and most likely somewhat tense, interactions with them. He thinks of them as part of the war and not necessarily as his friends.

- The only person he probably keeps in contact with after the war is either Norman or Bible and you’ll occasionally invite them over or exchange letters with them.

- Helping him deal with his past. He’s done a lot of things in his life that he isn’t proud of and sometimes he really thinks that he doesn’t deserve you but you refuse to let him think that way and stay with him through thick and thin.

- It takes him a while to really be comfortable with you seeing his scars. He tries not to be shirtless around you as much as possible, or have you touch his back, but you just have to reassure him that you want to see it and that it doesn’t bother you.

- He’s literally been covered in brain matter and intestines; your period or you shaving isn’t going turn him off. So yes, the two of you are very comfortable with each other; or at least you can be comfortable around him without fear of judgement.

- Comforting him whenever he goes through something. Just your presence does wonders in grounding him and making him feel better or think more clearly.

- Certain things really tick him off; like nazis for example, and you’ll occasionally have to calm him down and stop him from killing someone.

- Patching him up after fights or whenever he manages to hurt himself.

- In turn, he takes care of you: making sure you eat and sleep enough, telling you to wear a jacket, etc. He’s used to patrolling people and acting like a father of sorts to them, so it’s sort of just become a habit of his.

- Don prides himself on not playing along with silly little games so you aren’t going to be able to make him jealous; at least not purposefully. He’ll merely quirk an eyebrow at your antics and frustrate you with how little he reacts.

- That being said, when it comes to other people flirting with or taking interest in you, he tends to be a little bit more responsive. He usually just interrupts and; in some way, scares them off before things can get out of hand, but if you cluelessly wave him off so that you can talk with the other person more, his jealousy will really begin take root and he’ll find himself silently despising the other person.

- He’s incredibly protective of you; never letting anyone get too close and always keeping you in his sights. You’re the most important thing in his life and he isn’t going to let anything; not even something perfectly trivial, happen to you.

- The two of you really don’t fight all too often; perhaps because you both sort of knew what you were getting into when you first started your relationship. Regardless, when you do fight, they range from yelling and being cruel to just frustrated scolding; usually on his part.

- When the actual fight is over, he’ll usually search your face, forcing you to look at him and trying to see how you’re actually feeling. A nagging feeling of guilt will invade his body and he’ll; usually, try to make things up to you without verbally apologizing; though he certainly isn’t incapable of doing so if the moment really calls for it.

- He doesn’t outwardly tell you he loves you incredibly often but he shows it and says things that let you know that he does all the time. That being said, he does love the look on your face whenever he does finally say it: a cross between surprise and an overwhelming wave of joy as you try your best not to look too excited.

- After being in the war for so long, he thinks he’s suffered enough retribution for his crimes; inside of it and out, and he’s looking forward to spending the rest of his life with you; if you’re able to handle it.

[maxrev]

Snapchat Shenanigans

For Virmire Week @spectrekaidanalenko​

Shepard and Kaidan overhear a convo between Ash and her youngest sister, Sarah. Shepard can't help but be curious and wants to know more. Kaidan is just the innocent bystander who gets roped into a challenge. 

Ashley grinned at the screen as she talked to her youngest sister, Sarah. A pang of loneliness and longing hit her so strongly, it nearly brought tears to her eyes. She missed her mom and her sisters so damn much. Maybe after they caught Saren, the Normandy crew would get some leave and she could visit. Having had a big hand in helping raise her sisters after her dad died, she sometimes felt more like a mom to them rather than an older sister.

A call home after the fustercluck on Eden Prime was exactly what she'd needed to ground her to reality once again. Just for a few moments of normalcy and to chase away the pain of losing her entire squad. And the guilt. It wouldn’t last long and she knew it but damned if she wouldn’t ride the high for as long as she could, though. Sarah was the last one on to vid chat because they all knew they’d never get a chance to talk to Ashley otherwise.

Brought out of her reverie by the fond thought, she tuned into Sarah's conversation again. “How come you never send us Snapchats anymore? Are you too serious now, soldier girl?”

“Sarah...” Ashley sighed in annoyance. She tried to remember what it was like to be so young; she failed. “I just don’t have time for it anymore, okay? When I actually get a few minutes somewhere, I’ll play around with the app and send you something.”

Her little sister grinned wickedly, "I'll just bug you until you do!" Ashley groaned and Sarah added, "I want several. There are so many cool filters on it now! I’ll send you my favorites.”

Ashley couldn't keep from laughing, “Okay, okay, fine.”

Being silly had gotten them through the endless moves from colony to colony, the heartbreak and frustration of making and losing friends and beginning all over again, with their dad's deployments over the years. Sometimes, their mom had used Snapchat with them, first to bring some laughter into her daughter's lives and then as they began to leave the house, as a way to stay connected and have fun. It had become routine and those silly photos always showed up when Ash needed them most. Maybe Sarah needed them, too.

Thinking on the past, Ash didn’t realize Sarah was asking her something, a sly and calculating smile on her fresh, young face. oh no, this couldn't be good.

“Sooooo...you said you were serving on the Normandy with Commander Shepard, right?" At Ash's nod, she rushed on, words tumbling from her lips, "We all saw him on the news. He’s hot, Ash!"

"Shhhh!!! Sarah, stop!"

It was like she hadn't heard, “Do you get to talk to him a lot? Go on missions together and study strategies...side by side?” With every ounce of dramatics in her teenage voice, it echoed loudly from the vid. "Do you like him?” Before Ashely could even sputter a reply, Sarah added breathlessly, “Oh! And what about Major Alenko? We saw him too! I think you should go for one of them. They’re so...dreamy!” She gave a girlish sigh.

Despite being alone in her corner of the bay, Ashley felt her cheeks pinken and warm at Sarah’s assessment. A furtive glance to the left and behind her showed neither Wrex nor Garrus paying her any attention. She wasn’t entirely immune to either man's 'hot factor', as Sarah dubbed it, but it wasn't a path she wanted to head down.

“Sarah, you know damn well there’s no fraternization. They’re both my superiors and I wouldn’t do anything to mar dad’s memory or make the Williams name look worse. Dad fought for every posting, remember?”

The look of excitement ebbed from Sarah’s face and Ashley fought the pain of not being able to give her little sister a hug. Maybe she’d been too harsh but...Sarah wasn’t a child anymore. Bringing her omni-tool up, she tapped a few buttons and an image of her with a silly, squashed face came on the screen.

She sent it to Sarah. “Message incoming.”

A beep sounded over the airwaves and Sarah glanced down at her own omni tool. She grinned and laughed, looking up at Ashley with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Happy now?"

"Yes! Thank you. I'm going to show it to all my friends at school...oh, and mom and Abby and Lynn, too."

Wonderful. Just the kind of thing the world needed to see about the Normandy crew right now. "Sarah, I don't think it's a good idea to be showing anyone outside the family."

Sarah wasn't listening, typing fast and furious on her omni-tool.

"Show who what?"

Caught unawares, Ashley jumped and squeaked simultaneously. When she turned to see who it was, she wished the floor would open up and shoot her into space. Right now would be perfect, too.

Ashley saluted smartly. "Uh…nothing, sir. Just having a chat with my sister."

Sarah's awed voice floated towards them, "Commander Shepard…"

He grinned and waved at the screen, "One and the same. Who am I having the pleasure of speaking with?"

Ashley stared at him. He was engaged in a conversation with her sister. Oh no, this could not go well at all. For any of them. Sarah would talk his ear off first while also embarrassing Ashley, without even trying.

"You okay, Ash?"

She squeaked again. Good grief, she sounded like a damn mouse...hadn't seen the LT either. Double shit. She was a goner for sure. Might as well go pack her rucksack and be ready to disembark at the next stop.

"Just fine, LT. Didn't mean to take up so much time on my vid call. Sarah can...go on a bit." She'd completely forgotten he and Shepard were doing duty station inspections.

He chuckled, crossing his arms and relaxing with a tilt of his head at the screen. "So I see."

Ashley turned and heard Shepard ask, "Snapchat? What is it? Don't think I'm familiar with it and I have a lot of apps on my omni-tool."

Oh hell freaking no. This wasn't happening to her. Several thoughts ran through her head, vying for attention: Sarah could not show him Snapchat, couldn’t tell him he was hot, couldn’t ask him if he liked her sister and...wait, Shepard had apps on his 'tool? As the thoughts tumbled over and over, she realized something else…

Kaidan had snorted with amusement when Shepard mentioned he had lots of apps. Turning to look at him, she wondered just how well he knew their CO. Something else occurred to her. She gazed at Shepard in a new light. He was just as ordinary as the rest of them on this ship. Easy to forget when he seemed larger than life.

Loud enough to speak over her sister’s gushing voice, Ash said, “We really need to go, Sarah. We have inspections and we’ve taken up enough of Commander Shepard’s time.”

“Oh...yeah, sorry.” She looked crestfallen.

“We have?” Shepard turned those clear blue eyes on Ashley, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Wait...he was enjoying this? What about the inspections? Protocol? Or her soon to be embarrassment. Hadn’t happened yet but it was inevitable.

“Uh, well…” She wasn’t sure how to proceed.

Shepard turned back to Sarah, “So tell me how this Snapchat works.” He played with his omni-tool. “Okay, it’s downloaded, now what do I do?”

Sarah launched into an explanation of what the app was, what it did, the different filters and how to take a picture. Shepard alternated looking at her face on the screen and his omni-tool, confusion written on his face.

“Hang on.” Typing on her own ‘tool, a ping soon came from Shepard’s. “Just to get an idea of what you’ll be doing.”

Standing next to Kaidan, Ash felt paralyzed, hoping Sarah hadn’t sent him something ridiculous...or incriminating. Glancing at her CO, she was surprised to see his shoulders shaking. Oh no. Her eyes connected with Sarah’s in the vid, laughter in their depths. She had a sudden sneaking suspicion.

“Hey, LT, come take a look at this will you? I don’t think the message came through correctly.” He was clearly struggling to speak.

Kaidan stepped up next to him, looking at the ‘tool. He smiled wide, giving Ash a side-eyed glance. Shit. She was going to jail for killing her little sister. All the sacrifices she’d made in the name of her career, only to be taken out by a teenager.

The LT called her over. “Ash, can you come here? I think we need another opinion.”

Dreading every step she made closer to the two of them, she approached warily. Shepard thrust his ‘tool closer so she could see what they were looking at. It was the photo she’d just sent Sarah right before they’d walked up. In the snap, she had a squashed face and bowl type haircut.

Yep, going to be taken in for murder. Looking up at the screen, she saw Sarah looking back at her, childish glee in her eyes, a smile playing about her lips. All the annoyance drained out of her. How could she be mad at her baby sister? Turning thoughtful, she had an idea. There was another way to play this.

She smiled. Crossing her arms and leaning back on one leg, she gazed at Shepard and said, a challenge in her tone, “Yep, that’s me, playing with Snapchat. Bet you can’t do any better than that.”

Hearing Kaidan choke on a laugh, she knew she was on to something. Shepard stood up straight the look on his face enough for her to know he was going to take the challenge.

He affirmed her assessment, “You’re on.”

The next thing Ashley knew, all three of them were in a Snapchat war. From behind them, she could hear Sarah struggling to suck in air between wheezing. When she could speak, it was to egg them on. Before long, all of them were giggling like idiots, tears rolling down their faces, doubled over in laughter. They couldn’t continue, unable to even hold their ‘tools up to take photos anymore.

When they could finally breathe, they looked up. The looks on Garrus' and Wrex's faces had them falling into fits of laughter all over again. One by one, they slid to the floor, piling against each other in a tangle of limbs, trying desperately to come back to some sense of normal.

Sarah’s voice ghosted over their heads, “Hey! Where’d you all go? Are you still there?”

Shepard spoke up, “Still here Sarah. We just...needed a break.”

Ashley stood up, smiling fondly at her little sis, still wiping tears from her eyes. “Time to go, sis. I’ve got work to do. Enough play time.”

A pout formed on her lips, “But...I want to see the snaps. I was so excited.”

Feeling the LT and her CO stand up behind her, Ashley started to say something but Shepard beat her to it. “We’ll look through them and see which ones actually turned out. I think all of us were having trouble between the laughter. Okay, Sarah?”

If her face lit up anymore, Ashley figured she could light the colony. “Yeah, that’d be great!” Then she smiled shyly, “I could...uh...send you all some of mine, if you want.”

“That would be really great, Sarah,” smiled Kaidan over Ash’s shoulder. “We better let you go now. Thanks for the fun.”

She nodded and cut the feed. This call was going to cost Ash big, she knew it. She just wasn’t sure how much, beyond the credits she'd have to pay for going over her time limit.

Turning, she regarded the two men with a suddenly serious face. “I can’t thank you both enough for making my little sister’s day. I just want you to know, I didn’t plan this and I’m sorry things got out of hand.”

Their smiles died quickly, replaced by confusion. They looked at each other, then back at her. “Ashley, we enjoyed this as much as you. We all need to let loose and laugh. Don’t worry about the length of the call and you certainly aren’t in trouble. In fact,” Shepard added, “next time you plan on calling Sarah, let me know. I always need new apps.”

Relief surged through her and she let out a deep sigh. “Yes, sir. I’ll do so. Just remember, she really loves to talk. And loves her apps. You might get more than you bargained for.”

Kaidan groaned, shaking his head. “Which means I’ll be busy fixing his omni-tool and cleaning it up as per usual.”

Feeling more like she fit in than ever, Ashley grinned. He probably would be. She’d seen first hand their CO wasn’t very tech savvy. The one area she’s seen him fall short in.

“Well, we’d better get back to it. Keep up the good work here. Your station is clean, organized and the weapons are working better than ever.” Shepard clapped her on the shoulder and he and Kaidan turned to leave. How he even noticed with all that transpired, Ashley didn't know.

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” she called after them.

His lips twitched with humor at the nickname. Ash knew she was going to enjoy this posting after all.

[breetannerprotectionsquad]

A Mother’s Advice

Edward/Bella/Jacob

There are times where Edward is an old man. He talks as though he were one, walks with the gait of one, but it’s that look in his eye that does it. So dazed and distant, as though he were remembering a life that no longer exists. Then there are times where he is entirely seventeen. Young and wild, impassioned and reckless and immature. As he blasts angry rock and paces his room with stomping footsteps, Esme couldn’t help but think this is one of those times.

She stood outside his bedroom door, hesitant. Edward in a mood was not one easily dealt with. But even she had to admit that this was getting to be a bit ridiculous. It had been hours, one angry song after the other. It had driven everyone else in the house away, with the exception of Rosalie. She was determined to stick it out, for complaining rights most likely.

Esme sighed before knocking gently on the door. Edward she thought, her inner voice soft but calling. The music stopped, and a moment passed. Then the bedroom door opened.

“Yes mom?” Edward’s voice was even, no doubt with great effort on his part.

“May I come in?” She asked. Edward hesitated, before stepping to the side. Esme walked in and immediately situated herself on his futon. He stared after her, before shaking his head and shutting the door.

“Edward -”

“Nothing’s wrong,” His tone was sharp as he cut her off. Esme fixed him with a look that had him wilting for a moment. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” She shrugged. She played with the edge of the blanket that laid across the futon before forcing herself up. She began to tidy up his bedroom. It was, of course, a mess. This was an entirely seventeen year old trait as well, she decided.

Edward watched, face pensive. He was probably digging through her thoughts, trying to figure out if he should divulge his secrets upon her. She attempted to focus on something else.

“You don’t have to clean that, you know,” He said after a moment of silence. She side eyed him.

“Because you will?” Her voice was teasing. He rolled his eyes before flopping down onto the futon with a groan. His eyes were screwed shut, but his hand was searching the ground for something. She hesitated before picking up a nearby pillow and putting it in his hand. He murmured his thanks under his breath before putting the pillow over his face. His scream was muffled. Esme couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“I am not being melodramatic!” Edward insisted suddenly, propping himself up on his elbows. The pillow fell onto the floor once more. Esme snorted, shaking her head before picking it up again. She tossed it onto his stomach.

“I bought these for the futon. Not the floor. If I wanted pillows for the floor I’d pick some that matched the carpeting better,” She said. Edward rolled his eyes once more. Then he was looking at her carefully again.

“I think Bella knows,” He said suddenly, as if he were forcing it out. Esme froze, bent over with a shirt in hand. She knew Edward must have been trying to read her thoughts, but they were going to quickly for even her to fully understand. Panic spasmed throughout her. Plans of disappearing into the night quickly formulated in her mind, thoughts considering what should be packed and what should be left behind flying around her head. What excuse could she give to the school? Where would they even go? Rosalie had been right. Forks was so perfect for them. The lack of sun allowed for some semblance of normalcy. Remembering that night was like a splash of cold water. It brought Esme right out of her shock. What Alice had said - about Bella becoming one of them - calmed the panic. Edward’s glare was harsh.

“She won’t be one of us,” He insisted. Esme stared at him incredulously. Alice was rarely sure of the future, but when she was she was never wrong. Edward’s glare intensified.

“How does she know? Did she confront you?” I thought you couldn’t hear her mind. She walked over to the futon and knelt before it. Edward shook his head.

“Jacob Black,” He said his name in such a way that Esme had absolutely no clue as to how he felt towards him. “Her boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Esme said. “But Alice’s -”

“I told you. Alice was wrong.”

Or maybe they are just destined to break up.

“I don’t want them to. They are entirely too happy together to think any ill will against.”

Esme chewed on her lip. “So she figured it out? Then she told him?”

Edward nodded. “And his dad as well.”

“His dad?”

“He’s one of the Quillete’s. His dad warned him in hopes he’d keep Bella away from me.”

“Why would she need to be kept away from you?”

Edward paused. This look on his face was completely unrecognizable to Esme. She had never seen him like this. Suddenly, Esme realized that Edward’s own attempts to fight the future didn’t have any impact on the girl’s own feelings.

“She has a boyfriend!” Esme said. If this girl was willing to stray from a relationship, was she really worthy of her son?

“It’s not like that! Jacob knows. He’s approved of it.”

“Approved of it it?” Esme choked out. “How could he possibly approve of this?”

“Because apparently, I’m the most beautiful white boy he’s ever seen,” Edward said bashfully. Esme couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “He kept thinking it when I walked Bella over to him. He came to pick her up today from school. He was driving her truck. Apparently he was so excited about getting his license she let him borrow it. It was sweet, really. He kept thinking ‘Bella’s going to be so happy her truck’s back in one piece’. He was so proud of his driving skills it -” Edward cut himself off suddenly, his expression sheepish. “I only thought it was sweet, mom. Nothing more to it.”

Esme looked at him wryly. As much as Edward tried to hide that aspect of himself, she knew. And she knew that he knew she knew. He couldn’t hide something like that from her just as much as she wouldn’t have been able to from him. Sure, she couldn’t read minds. But there was no one in the world who knew him as well as she did.

“But Alice didn’t see this Jacob boy in her vision,” Esme said. His face fell, just a bit, before he smoothed it into impassivity once more.

“I never said I wanted for Jacob to be involved in this,” He said. Esme arched an eyebrow. You didn’t have to.

Edward rolled his eyes. “I’ve only met him a handful of times.”

“I only met your father once before he turned me,” Esme reminded. Edward frowned.

“I can’t have both of them,” He said.

“Who says?” Esme asked. We’ve met plenty of vampires who have taken multiple partners. Sometimes loving more than one person makes eternity easier to bear.

Edward looked thoughtful. He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes squinted in concentration. Finally, he spoke. “I want the both of them. Badly. I’m worried I might go insane if the both of them don’t love me. Is this how you felt about Carlisle?”

Esme got the feeling that if she said the wrong thing he might break. She had never seen him look so vulnerable before. She had never seen him look so truly seventeen before. 

“Not at first, no. I hardly knew him. He was nothing more than a fantasy for me. But when I was turned . . . well that is an entirely different story. If your father hadn’t had fallen in love with me, I think the heartbreak would have killed me somehow,” She said. She reached out for his hand, squeezing it once it was in her own.

“What do I do? I love Bella. She loves Jacob. But she loves me as well. At least, he thinks she does. And I want Jacob. And for whatever reason, he wants me. God, it’s truly unbearable how much I much I want them both.”

Why? Why do you want them? You’ve never expressed any interest in anyone before, let alone humans.

“I could list off all the reasons why I love Bella, and why I find myself so enamored with Jacob, but we’d be here till the sun rose. As for the initial attraction - it’s completely lost on me. With Bella, I suppose my lack of ability to hear her thoughts is what spawned it. But with Jacob it makes absolutely no sense. I can hear his thoughts as clear as his own voice, but they don’t turn me off like with everyone else. I find them endlessly fascinating. I did from the very beginning. If I couldn’t hear his thoughts, it’d be a tragedy comparable to the burning of the library of Alexandria.”

Melodramatic much? Esme thought playfully. Edward huffed, but Esme couldn’t stop smiling. Her boy - her sad, lonely boy - was in love. And they wanted him back! The idea of seeing Edward finally happy with someone, loved by someone other than his family, put her on a high.

“You know what to do Edward. Just go be with them.”

“But what if - ”

“Whatever happens, we’ll help you deal with it,” She said and patted his hand before getting up. She didn’t want to give him any chance to argue with her. She left quickly, Edward staring after her with the wide eyes of a seventeen year old boy.

Based off of this au post I made

[blackberrywidow]

The Death of Me

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Angst. Violence. Death. Blood. Hurt/Comfort. Nothing too explicit, but it’s all there.

Summary: You left Peter because of the danger. You weren’t the kind of girl that could be with a superhero, no matter how much you wanted to be. You thought you were protecting both of you. You just never imagined that death would still find you.

A/N: This is my submission for @spxderbarnes‘s writing challenge. This really isn’t TOO dark, but it’s still more than I thought it would be. Also, I don’t usually write violence, so I really hope this isn’t complete trash.

You were a runner. Always had been, always would be.

It was how you were made—with a predetermined fight or flight response that always lead to flight. You simply weren’t the kind of person that stood your ground and fought. You were the kind of person who ran from your problems.

Run to run another day. Self-preservation at its finest.

Except that your predilection to run is what put you in this position.

You ran three years ago, when your abusive boyfriend had threatened to kill you if you ever left him. Ran all the way to New York, where you found a job at Stark Industries and a means to support yourself.

You had been content, being single and self-sufficient after a year of living under someone else’s thumb. You had a job, a sense of purpose, a home. A safe place.

But then you met Peter Parker, and suddenly you were running again. This time, directly to him.

After that, you were better than content. You were ridiculously, insanely happy. The happiest you could remember being.

Peter was amazing. He was handsome, funny, intelligent, clever, kind—everything you had ever wanted. And he gave himself to you willingly, selflessly. With sweet words and hidden smiles and shared jokes.

It hadn’t been long before you fell in love, something that you knew should scare you after your past relationship. But this was different, because this time it was with Peter. Peter, who you trusted inexplicably.

You were right to, in a way. Peter would never hurt you. But therein lie the problem. he wasn’t just Peter. He was Spider-man, as you found out one rainy night in the heart of Midtown.

You had laid in the rubble of a destroyed restaurant, bleeding and disoriented as you watched your boyfriend—Spider-man—fend off a man with crazy eyes and electrified gauntlets on his hands.

You were terrified and injured and confused. And you didn’t know what to do. So you ran. This time away from the one thing you had ever considered fighting for.

It was only natural.

—

Two weeks later, and you were spending what was a normal night at home—well, as normal as any night had been since you left. Which meant that you were crying into a tub of ice cream while watching reruns of Friends.

After the first week, you had given up on any forced sense of normalcy and decided to just accept that this was your life now.

Not much had really changed in your life since the night you ran out of the destroyed restaurant and straight to a hospital. A few stitches in your forehead, a busted upper lip, and bruises that covered various other parts of your body are all that you had as evidence that that night had even happened.

You still went to work. Still smiled at your coworkers and made plans that you intended to cancel later. Still went home to your dog and Netflix. There was just a huge absence in your life.

Namely, Peter. Who you hadn’t heard from in nearly two weeks either.

You had seen him only once since the incident at the restaurant. The next morning, he had shown up with flowers and an apology. He had tried to explain everything to you then—Spider-man, the Shocker, his other various enemies and his life as an Avenger. But you had decided quickly that you didn’t need his explanations or apologies.

Peter was a superhero. He was someone made of much stronger stuff than you. He needed someone who could stand beside him and face the dangers that came with life as an Avenger. Not someone who only knew how to run awayfrom conflict.

It was almost laughable, that someone like you fell in love with someone who dedicated their life to running towards danger rather than away from it.

He hadn’t approached you again, leaving your apartment with understanding but heartbroken eyes and an assurance that you wouldn’t hear from him again.

Your heart had broken too, because despite the fact that he was giving you what you asked for, you knew it wasn’t what you really wanted.

So yeah. You were lonely and depressed, but you knew that it was for the best. Hence the crying and general self-loathing. But it was something that you knew you would have to move past eventually.

A crash sounded down the hallway, drawing your attention and bringing you back into the present.. Tessa—your dog—jumped to her feet and started growling, which should have been your second clue that something was going on.

“What is it girl?” you asked, placing your ice cream down on the coffee table to stand up and join her at the door. “Do you need to go out?”

She had no time to respond, even if she were capable, as your front door was kicked in just a fraction of a second later, and suddenly you were diving to the floor as Tessa leapt forward.

You heard a yelp and looked up from where you were covering your face to see your dog fly across the room and land in a heap against the wall in your living room. Your head whipped around, and your blood ran cold.

“Remember me?” The Shocker asked, lowering the blue hood of his jacket to smile down at you from your doorway. “I sure remember you. Spider-man’s girl, right?”

You frantically backed up, still on the ground, as you shook your head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said with a confidence you didn’t feel, with only the slightest of tremors in your voice. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” he mocked, slamming a metal covered fist against your wall, leaving a sizable dent in its wake. “Why do you think I’m here? Your boy has been a pain in my ass for a long time now. Came real close to putting me away again the other day, as I’m sure you noticed. But I’ve managed to stay one step ahead of him. Thing is… that’s just not good enough anymore. So, I’m gonna take you, and then we’ll see how the spiderling feels about leavin’ me alone. Sound good baby?”

“It won’t matter,” you said, mouth dry and hands clammy as you slowly stood on shaking legs. You had analyzed the situation during his little speech, looking for any possible escape routes or opportunities to run. There were none. So for once, you really had no choice but to make a stand. And if you had to do it, you would do it with a fearlessness that belied the terror clouding your mind and a calmness that hid the way your hands trembled. If you were going to be brave, you would do it right. If not for yourself, for Peter. “I’m not his girlfriend, and he won’t let you get away with murder just to save me. He’s a hero—stopping assholes like you is kind of what he does.”

There was a beat of stunned silence where the villain just stared at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. It didn’t last long.

“Ha!” he cackled, doubling over to grip his knees as his amusement overcame him. The moment his eyes left you, your hand shot out to snatch the first thing you touched on the kitchen counter to your right without much of a thought. You supposed you were operating on survival instincts you didn’t know you had. Whatever it was that you had landed on, you clutched it tightly and dropped your hand back down to your side as he raised his head to grin at you. “Man, you really are something sweetheart. I can see why he likes you.”

You shook your head mutely, taking an involuntary step back as he started walking toward you. His grin only widened, the overhead lighting reflecting off his eyes manically. You swallowed as your back hit a wall, nowhere left to run.

“Too bad he won’t get the chance to appreciate you for much longer,” he mused, reaching out with a sparking hand.

In the seconds before his fist approached your face, you strengthened your resolve. You clutched the make-shift weapon in your hand tightly—the hilt of the steak knife you had carelessly left out after your dinner the night before. You steadied yourself, forcing the shaking in your arm to subside. You saw him draw back, preparing to deliver you a blow that would knock you out, and you waited.

He drove his fist forward.

Now.

You dove to the right, felt a slight breeze as his heavy fist sailed over your head, and shot up, right hand raising instinctively.

You wanted to close your eyes, to block this all out and just hope for the best, but you forced yourself to watch as you drove the knife into his jugular. Had to make sure that you made your one shot count. Fortunately, it did.

He didn’t expect it, to say the least. You couldn’t really say for certain that you did either. One moment he was attacking you, your situation hopeless, and the other you were defending yourself with random cutlery.

And it happened so quickly. It didn’t register until his body hit the ground, blood pooling under him as gasps ripped from his throat and the life left his eyes that you had killed him. You had just killed a man, and it had taken mere seconds. A life lost to an inexperienced hand in the time it takes to turn the page of a newspaper.

Terrible, horrible, bloody and wrong. But necessary.

You weren’t sure if that made it better.

You weren’t sure of anything really.

You dropped the knife with a sob, bloody hands flying to cover your mouth without a thought. You stood frozen, staring down at his body in mute horror for what felt like hours. You couldn’t say for certain how long it really was.

Eventually, movement drew your eye from across the room, and you were relieved to see Tessa standing up to slowly walk over to you, seemingly fine. You dropped to your knees, checking her over for any injuries as a way to reassure yourself that she was really unharmed as well as buy time.

It didn’t last long though, and a moment later you were stumbling over to pick up your phone from where it was laying on your coffee table. You hesitated as you pulled up your contacts, but it was useless. You knew there was only one person you wanted—needed to talk to.

It only rang once before clicking over, and his voice instantly soothed your nerves. “(Y/N)? Are you alright? I—”

You closed your eyes, taking in the concern and hope in his voice before cutting him off with a broken sigh. It was best to just cut to the chase. “I just killed a man. I need your help.”

A beat of silence, and you worried that he hung up. You should have known better, of course, because in the next second he’s answering, his voice now steady and commanding as he said, “Don’t leave. I’ll be right there.”

—

You didn’t wait long. You weren’t sure if that meant he was simply nearby or if he had put on the suit and swung all the way from Queens, but you didn’t really care. The only thing you felt when you saw him stumble his was into the broken doorframe of your apartment was relief.

“(Y/N)!” Peter called the moment his wide eyes took in your destroyed door, panic and fear both expressed so clearly in that single word.

“Here,” you said, voice quiet in the stillness of your apartment. You rose from your seat on your couch, taking a single step in his direction before hesitating. You couldn’t imagine what you looked like right now, covered in a dead man’s blood without a hint of guilt on your face. What would he even say?

“Oh thank God,” he breathed the second his eyes met yours, and suddenly he was crossing the room and crushing you against his chest. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” you answered numbly, hands slowly moving up to grip the back of his sweater in your bloody fists. “I—I’m so sorry.”

The words tumbled from your mouth unbidden and slightly hysterical as sobs fought to wrack your body. Your shoulders shook as you tried to suppress them, and Peter tightened his grip on you, burying your head into his chest. You went willingly, seeking out the comfort he provided.

Why had you ever tried to run away from this?

“You need to tell me what happened, (Y/N). Please.”

Your eyes snapped open and you saw the blood out of the corner of your eye.

Right. That was why.

You sucked in a deep breath, steadying yourself, before recanting the events of the past thirty minutes in a lifeless monotone. It was easier to pretend that you were just telling a story, one that you had no personal attachment to or investment in. An unhealthy coping mechanism, one that you couldn’t use forever, but one that would get you through the night.

After you were done, feeling a little more relieved to have shared your burden with another, Peter left you long enough to call the police and report the crime. You spent the time alone—well, as alone as one can be when only ten feet apart in a small apartment—thinking. About Peter and Spider-man and near-death experiences and the way a knife wet with blood felt in your hand. You weren’t sure what sort of conclusions you were supposed to be coming to, if any, but you considered them.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do, (Y/N),” Peter said, taking your hands as he crouched down in front of you, breaking you out of your trance. “It’s clearly self-defense. Plenty of evidence that he broke in here and tried to hurt you. Only thing is… technically you should have called the police first. It’s gonna seem suspicious that you called me. So we’re just going to say that I was on my way here and came in as it happened, okay? And that we called them right after to report it. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded, eyes never leaving his. Peter was calm, something of a rarity for the high energy, almost constantly nervous man. But he ha always had a strength about him, that drew you in and made you want to be better. To be strong and sure like he was. You had never thought that you could be, but…

“I’m sorry,” you said again, because it seemed right and you weren’t sure what else youcould say. “I… I’m just so sorry, Peter.”

His brow furrowed and he squeezed your hands, shaking his head. “Why are you sorry? God (Y/N), I’m the one who should be sorry. And I am! I mean… because of me, that guy came in here and he—he tried to hurt you. He tried to take you and do who knows what to you because of me! Because I was careless and put you in danger.”

He stopped suddenly, biting his lip and lowering his eyes as tears welled in them. You wanted to say something, deny that it was true, but it was. And you got the sense that he wasn’t quite finished yet either. So you sat in silence, holding each other’s hands like it was your lifeline to sanity and waited until he finally raised his head, eyes resolute.

“I should have never let this happen. I should have protected you. I—I should have never even dragged you into this, and I’m sorry that I did. (Y/N)… I just need you to know that I never wanted this to happen. I love you. I never want you to be in danger. So after this is all taken care of… I’ll do whatever I can to make sure that you’re safe from afar. I promise.”

Peter’s conviction had always drawn you in, made you feel comforted by his honesty and earnestness. Now it made you feel cold and desperate, even as your heart swelled with the reminder of why you weren’t completely freaking out.

“No,” you said, voice firm and unwavering. “I think that if this has taught us anything, it’s that ‘from afar’ doesn’t really work.”

Peter shook his head, guilt flickering through his eyes. “I know, I’ll work on i—”

“Wait,” you cut him off, shaking your head and giving him a look. “Let me finish. I love you too Peter.” You saw confusion and hope flash across his face, but he heeded your request and waited for you to continue. You took it as a good sign. “I never stopped loving you. I just—I didn’t think that I would ever be enough for you. I mean… you’re this amazing person without all of the superhero stuff taken into consideration. So with it? I just can’t compare. And I don’t mean that in an envious way. I just don’t compare to that at all. I don’t stand and fight for myself, let alone others. What business do I have being in love with Spider-man?”

You hesitated, stopping suddenly as you considered what it was you were telling him. It was all true, of course. But it was probably more than you should have said. It had been weeks, Peter didn’t need to be hearing excuses—

“That’s ridiculous,” Peter scoffed, seeming to take your inner debate as permission to cut in. You were grateful. “You, not enough for me? Insane. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, (Y/N). I put you in danger just by being at your side. And you were right about one thing—you don’t have any superpowers or enhancements. My mere existence puts the people I care about most in danger, and that just isn’t fair. Especially when said people can’t defend themselves. It was wrong of me and I—”

“Okay,” you cut in fiercely, shaking your head and meeting Peter’s eyes sternly. “That’s the thing Peter. I did defend myself. Maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe he was just a really shitty villain. I don’t know and I don’t care. The point is for the first time in my life, I didn’t run away. I stood up and defended myself and… it felt good.”

Peter blinked in shock at this revelation and raised a brow at you in question. You hastened to correct yourself. “Not like that! I mean, I didn’t like killing the guy, or being in danger for that matter. But it was… okay. I survived, and I stood my ground. That’s what matters. That I can do it. I left you because I didn’t think I could, and because I thought you deserved someone that can. Well… now I know that I can, and if this—being in semi-regular danger and fighting off bad guys—is what it takes to be with you… then it’s a price willing to pay.”

Peter was still silent, and you would be more concerned about how he was taking it if his eyes weren’t wide and full of love the way they always are when you talk too much. You smiled, just a small, discreet twist of your lips, and reached forward to grasp his face in your hands, ignoring the blood that you smeared on his cheek. “I knew the day I met you that you would be the death of me, Peter Parker. Obviously, I didn’t know how literally that could be, but it doesn’t change anything. So if I’m running anywhere, it’ll be with you. If you’ll have me, of course.”

You waited with bated breath, face only a few inches away from Peter’s now as you let him absorb what you said. His face was serious, and his eyes seemed to be searching yours for some kind of sign. It only took him a moment to find it.

“You know,” he said, sighing as his eyes flickered down to your lips, “I won’t let you die, right?”

Your smile broadened. “I will hope for the best, I suppose.”

“Fine,” Peter finally relented, rolling his eyes at you before closing the distance between you.

It was a soft kiss, just the faintest of contact for the briefest of seconds before he drew away. But you understood. The police were on their way, there was a dead man only ten feet away from you, you had literally just gotten back together after breaking up, and you had gotten blood on both his face and his sweater. The situation was far from ideal. But you were together again, and as you sat there, smiling serenely at each other, you knew that you would be together for a long time.

You also knew that you would have a lot to deal with to make it through, and that you should probably not be smiling like a lovesick fool when the police showed up to investigate the homicide, but that could wait at least another minute or so.

“I love you,” you reminded him, reaching out to pet Tessa when she came up to nuzzle against Peter’s side. “And Tessa missed you. So… I’m glad you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Peter laughed, stroking Tessa’s side and smiling down at her. “Me too.”

Only a few more moments passed before the police arrived, and then it was more of the same. Describe what happened. Do you know this man? Why was he here? Blah, blah, blah.

You answered all of their questions to the best of your ability with a rapidly depleting patience. You were happy when they finally released you, but your apartment was officially a crime scene, so you and Tessa packed your bags and headed to Peter’s. You were relieved, to be honest.

You held onto Peter’s hand with your right and Tessa’s leash with your left as you walked down the sidewalk, happily listening to him fill you in on what had happened in the past two weeks. You were disappointed that you had missed so much of his life, but you were also glad that you had the opportunity to grow from your separation.

Before, you had been so sure that you were incapable of fighting for Peter. Now… you knew that you could. That you were more than a terrified girl who ran away from all of her problems. You had just discovered that you had a back bone, and you were going to figure out how to use it. Preferably without having to stab any more men in the neck.

But you would, you thought, smiling up at Peter as he continued to ramble. If you had to, you wouldn’t hesitate. You had him now, and you weren’t going to run away from him again. Even if it was the death of you.

Taglist: @desir-ae, @foggys, @tina8009, @littlebookbengal, @youclickedthislink, @spideypeach

[lighthouseofthewanderess]

Experiment

Have you ever done something you clearly know isn’t meant for you? If yes, welcome to the club of Unlucky yet Brave Experimenters. UBE was a one member secret club for the longest time before the founder, me, dissolved it out of realization that life itself was about experimenting. But I could resurrect it and we can pretend to be the Illuminati or something.

My years of experimenting started long ago. I don’t know if we can count it, but I ate chalk when I was in kindergarten. In my head, I had eaten earth from the garden and it had tasted so rich. The texture was brilliant, and the color stuck to my fingertips. Some of the earth got under my nails and I could snack on that later. Chalk I thought was no different. But when I ate it, oh boy it tasted so much better! It even came in an easy stick format to break off into bites. My grandpa on my mother’s side looked amused every time I bounced up to him demanding slate chalk. I would always say it got over,  I’m studying well, or that my friends stole it from me. He willingly gave into my trickery till he caught me chewing on it while practicing my alphabets on the slate. I just couldn’t help it; I need to think and chewing chalk helped. After that, my grandpa made it a rule that I drink a glass of milk -- “she’s eating chalk because her body needs calcium.” he would scold my grandma like it was her duty to have figured this out before him.

Anyhoo, I kept UBE a secret affair. The caterpillar that just won’t float on water? I really thought they were capable of it. The dolls with eyes carved out and replaced with marble? Why was it creepy, she had beautiful eyes now. For a long time I stuck to things around me and it fueled my curiosity but I also got bored of it too soon. I gave it up  -- for the poor butterflies, the ants, and flowers that were getting tortured by me. My heart was a noble one. Head held high I went about life accepting things the way they were. Then I got the brilliant idea of experimenting with myself. The mission was simple; do one unexpected thing every day. What was I on the search for? The million different parts of me that make me who I am. It started with the coloring. My teachers in India complained that I might have an eye problem. “She is coloring roses blue and all.” I wish I can see their faces now when there’s not just blue but black roses as well. Ha! Then I thought why not fight for the things I believed in. I undid the red ribbon of a girl in class and when she yanked it from my hand, I yanked it back. It turned into a fight just like I expected and we stood on top of the benches and wrestled with each other. That experiment ended up with bruised elbows and a 100 ‘I am sorry’ on the blackboard. Damn that girl. I was just trying to see if I had a fighter in me. UBE would have to some basic rules that saved them from situations like this. Rule #1: If your experiment involves a person, an animal, a flower or any living thing… do not harm it. Fate will boomerang back. That left me the only choice of putting myself in awkward situations. After pre-school, mom would take about 2 hours to come pick me up. Her job was tricky. So I would play around, seesaw on my own or just sleep on benches. A light bulb went off in my head during one of those slumbers. Next day after I finished up, I climbed the stairs and sat inside the 5th grade class. The teacher didn’t object, the students welcomed me with open arms. Literally. They picked me up and took turns seating me on their lap. The blackboard swarmed with letters and symbols I didn’t understand but I stared at it fully in awe. In my eyes,  this experiment was a successful one. I would come back and wait right on time for mom to pick me up. I was so used to the routine that even the lunch my mom packed would be forgotten, eaten only minutes before she arrived. One unlucky day she caught me eating my lunch, which had kind of gotten spoilt in the summer heat, on the steps by myself. I looked super content, but my mom almost burst into tears. After that she got an aaya to pick me up right after school and keep me with her, make sure I was fed on time. Time for UBE to have another rule. Rule #2 - Tread with caution when there are moms involved. They have the power to banish all experiments.

With these two rules, I had my fill of experimenting without hurting anyone for years. Even in the US. Climbing trees, hanging like a bat, fries in my ice cream. Life was so rich when every day was a new affair. There was one time I took UBE to the next level. A midnight release of a new Harry Potter book was announced. There would be games and exciting gifts, almost the whole school was going. But I wasn’t a fan. I knew nothing the other potter heads knew. Rise to the experiment, oh brave one I told myself and dragged my mom with me. At the library every one had dressed up. Polaroids were being clicked. There were cauldrons with little wands. There was a line of people waiting to answer and get their prizes. I happily went and stood there. As my turn approached, I didn’t have the slightest fear that I wouldn’t be able to answer. The point wasn’t to win, it was to experiment. The lady at the counter asked me a question.

“What was the name of Ron’s brothers?” Um, no clue. I shook my head. The line behind me gasped. I heard them whisper that I didn’t know even the basics.

“Okay. Here’s an easy one, hon.” She asked me about the platform number. Someone in line even offered to answer for me. I shook my head again.

“I just wanted to know what the prize was, that’s all.” I said to her, shrugging my shoulders. She smiled and gave me one last questions.

“Who are Muggles?” I paused to give it a thought. The line was getting restless, they hated my guts. Well, everyone has to human right? Plus she used ‘who’.

“Humans?” I stated. Everyone broke into an applause and some even clapped me on my back. Well done they said. At least you know the difference between the wizard and the human world. I was just happy I get the gift. It was a pack of gummy worms. Aw man, really? Rule  #3: A smart experimenter assesses risks.

From there I went on try one thing after another. Spanish classes. Adding ‘ito’ to everything didn’t work so I stepped out of class. Bharatnatyam went on for a bit but Ballet was more fascinating. Swimming felt like I still needs to sprout some fins so I made a mental note to try it out later. Caramel apples. Plaster-of-Paris. Swinging from the door. They all went down in UBE’s history. I remember playing the piano for a recital. I practiced with a Casio keyboard at home and rendered the beautiful ‘To a wild rose’ by McDowell. Bach. Beethoven. It started getting too sad for some reason. Switch to something else. Karate. Held onto that till the gold belt and then tossed that away too. I was super restless. I was focused so much on getting my little feet into everything that I never stuck to anything for too long. What if I’m meant to do something more? Ice skating. The flute. Singing.  It was all a whirlwind when I look at it now. I don’t even know if I had a favorite hobby. Well, maybe climbing trees. But I couldn’t choose one. Too much experimenting. Rule #4: UBE practices a good interval between two experiments. To learn and experiment better in the future.

Somehow, on the way to India, I lost UBE. Maybe I packed it with the wrong boxes. Maybe I have to join another secret club when I land there. I knew it the minute cranberry juice was placed in front of me, a thousand feet above sea level. I didn’t feel like trying it out. What? That doesn’t normally happen. I tried to sleep it off. Then I blamed it on the jet lag. Then came the ‘national’ language called Hindi and what a horrible experiment. When my Principal, John Zachariah, admitted me in the middle of the year he asked me why I was hell bent on Hindi. Why not try French? “I am a secret experimenter” I whispered when my mom stood far, straining to hear what we were discussing. In a year, I changed that to Tamil, another experiment but a successful one at that. I tried my hand at throwball, loved the matches in the rain. For the sports day, I did the ridiculous thing of trying out for tug-o-war. Here was another joke -- this girl was underwait, a thin fragile thing and she fainted a lot. But when pitched with others at the tryout, I won all three. Pure bone weight. All those glasses of milk and chalk must have nursed my bones. The last significant thing I tried, apart from writing, was the National Cadet Corps. NCC in a lot of ways made me tougher, even thought I was just eyeing the 15% marks that would come out of it. On my first NCC camp, I tried a lot of new things and every night I would ache all over but feel intensely successful as a member of UBE. In the early morning jogs and yoga, I came to realize two things about me. I am not a morning person and Yoga made me sleeps. And just like that, I was able to draw observations about myself after every lab session. Even from the ones I think I would suck at the most. Rule #5 - When you’re unsure about it, that’s the UBE sixth sense telling you that you have to do it.

I have been following these rules for a long time now. I have surprised myself time and again with the things I set out to do. Solo travel. Tattoos. Gardening. Oh what the hell, even babysitting. And I think the only mistake one can make as a member of UBE is fearing the outcome. That gives birth to normalcy and monotony. The kind that makes you pick the same things from a menu, the same colors from the clothes aisle. Choose a heavier ball when you go bowling, take a different route to work, eat Doritos with chopsticks. Sometimes I’ve taken a chance on people too; meeting them once just to see how it goes. I love getting to know them and experimenting in understanding what I feel for them. Even if this goes against Rule#1, I know I wouldn’t harm them no matter what. I know to step back from there. One can argue that repetition of certain tasks and decisions forms tastes, styles, and shapes one’s personality. And I agree. Yes, comfort in the familiar is a safe thing, but then again as Tove Lo puts it, ‘If you had any flavor in the world, would you still choose vanilla?’

[gilbertandanne]

Third installment to the Serendipity/Amaranthine universe. How far would you go in order to protect someone you love? WARNING: as with the first two parts in the series, there is an overall trigger warning for abuse (physical, mental, emotional). That, combined with the adult themes in this fic (alcohol, language, situations, etc), are the reason for the rating. Primarily Rucas.

Rating: M

Soundtrack (not at all in order and will be edited as the story progresses)

Word count: 3,621

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine |

                                                     Elysian

Chapter Four: Weret Hekau

Weret Hekau – ‘An Ancient Egyptian goddess who protected the king. Because she was a powerful symbol of protection, her name along with the symbol of a snake often appears on magical weapons buried with the dead to help them protect themselves in the underworld.’

Riley frowned as she scrolled through the apartment listings near NYU.  Most places were either too small, cost way too much money, or weren’t available at all within the next three months.  She knew that finding a decent place in the city with the budget they had would be difficult.  She didn’t think that it would be impossible.

Despite encountering dead end after dead end over the last few weeks, she found herself slightly grateful that their search had proven to be a little difficult.  It gave her the opportunity to really dive into the search instead of spending most of her time moping around about the fact that she hadn’t seen her boyfriend in nearly three weeks.  Her summer class distracted her some, but not nearly enough to fill up the sixteen hours a day she was awake.  “One more month,” she mumbled as she clicked on a different listing.  It was only the beginning of June.  One more month and then she would be able to see him.  She couldn’t wait to spend an entire week under the stars with Lucas.  She had survived three weeks without him.  She could make it another four and a half.  She bit her bottom lip as she browsed through another page of options.  Yes, looking for an apartment offered a much needed distraction. She just hoped that they would eventually find the perfect place for the perfect price.

“Honey, I’m home,” Maya sang out as she crawled into the bay window.

“Hey,” Riley answered without looking up from her laptop.

“Not quite the greeting I was expecting considering the fact that I brought your mail.”

Riley turned toward her.  “How did you get our mail?”

Maya shrugged.  “Thought about using the front door, so I slid in behind Ms. Rhodes…you know how much she loves me.  She asked if I was coming up to see you and thought that it would save you a trip to the lobby to get it.”  She handed Riley the small stack of mail.

Riley chuckled.  “Well, thank you for getting it for me.  You know, I was going to use it as an excuse to step away from the computer for awhile.”  Riley stood up from her bed as she began to thumb through the mail.  She wasn’t expecting anything, but wanted to make sure that the school hadn’t sent her anything before she handed off the bills and junk mail to her parents.

Maya flopped on Riley’s bed as she reached for the laptop.  “I’m sure it’s not that bad, is it?”  She began to scroll through a few of the listings. “250 square feet,” she nearly shrieked.  “For how much?!”

“I told you,” Riley answered wryly before she lowered her eyes back to the mail.  She furrowed her eyebrows when she noticed that there was something for her.  She scanned the return address as she slowly sat the rest of the mail down at the foot of her bed.  It definitely wasn’t from the school.  Her palms began to sweat and she could feel all of the color drain from her face as she read the return address a second time.  Images she hadn’t thought about in months—years even—came back to her as she desperately tried to wake herself up from what had to be a nightmare.  Whatever news this envelope held wouldn’t be good.  She knew it even without having to open it.  The feeling of dread, the feeling that something was about to change charged back her.  Was this it?  Was this why she didn’t want him to leave?  Was this why she wanted time to stop the night before he left?

“This is ridicul…” Maya trailed off as she looked up at Riley.  “Riles?  What is it?”  She frowned as she looked down at the envelope in the brunette’s hands.

Riley cleared her throat as Maya’s voice brought her back from her not-so-wonderful trip down memory lane.  She flipped the envelope over as her trembling fingers opened the letter.  She bit the inside of her cheek as she scanned the contents of the letter once—twice—three times before she finally remembered how to take a breath.  

Maya scrambled to get off the bed the second she noticed the tears that had formed in her best friend’s eyes.  “Riley, what’s going on?  You’re scaring me.”

Riley didn’t even realize tears had pooled in her eyes until she felt them slide down her pale cheeks.  Wordlessly, she handed Maya the letter.  When Maya began to read it, Riley turned away as she walked toward the bay window.  As she slowly sat down, she realized that her only hope was that she had misread something or that this was another one of her ridiculously vivid dreams.  This couldn’t be happening, not now.  This wasn’t supposed to happen this soon.  She wasn’t ready.  She couldn’t handle this.  Five minutes ago, she could have sworn that she could handle anything life threw at her, but now, she felt the first crack form in the strength she thought she possessed.  This had to be a nightmare.  ‘Wake up, wake up, wake up,’ she mentally screamed at herself.

Maya felt her throat run dry as she read the letter.  How was this even possible?  “Riley?”

The slight tremble in Maya’s voice told Riley that she hadn’t misread anything and this wasn’t some nightmare that she could just wake up from.  This was real.  Riley slowly looked up at Maya.

Maya was taken aback by the sight of her best friend perched in the bay window.  The girl who, not even five minutes ago, seemed to be ready to take on the world suddenly looked like a lost little girl.  It had been years since she had seen Riley look like that.  She had hoped—and honestly had grown to expect—to never have to see that look of pure terror on her best friend’s face again.  “They wouldn’t actually…let him out though…not after what he…this is just some formality, right?”

Riley took a deep breath. Then, she slowly took another.  “I thought that this wasn’t even going to be a possibility.  I thought it was ten years.  I don’t even think they mentioned it when they sentenced him…especially after only serving three years.”  She felt her stomach churn.  She knew that eventually she would have to face a world in which he was back out there somewhere, but she wasn’t prepared for it to happen this soon.

Maya scanned the letter once more.  “July 7th.”

Riley stared down at her hands for a long moment before she finally shook her head.  “I’m not going.”

Maya slowly sat the letter down on Riley’s bed.  “Riley, I think that you should go.  I know it’s going to be hard for you, but I mean, if there’s a chance that they could release him, you need to be there to remind them what he did to you that night.  I’ll go with you if you want me to.”

She glanced at Maya.  “I can write a victim’s statement and give it to them.  I don’t have to…I don’t want to be there.”  Her eyes fell to the ground.  “I want to go to Texas.”

Maya furrowed her eyebrows.  “Riley, we have all summer to go to—“

“Maya, I don’t want to go, ok?”  She wrapped her arms around herself.  “I don’t want to see him again. I don’t want to have to relive that…it’s in the past.  It happened three and a half years ago, and I’m…all I want to do is move on.  I have moved on.”  She saw him once after the trial, and even then, it was because she felt like she had no other choice at the time.  She wanted her life back, and she thought that by confronting him, she would be able to put him exactly where he belonged—in the past.  She didn’t want to relive that chapter of her life again.  She didn’t want to ever have to see him again.  She knew that even though she had finally found a sense of normalcy, she was still petrified of the idea of seeing her ex-boyfriend again.

“You’re falling apart at the idea of him getting out, Riley.  That’s a perfectly normal feeling.  You’re the strongest person I know.  You’ve not only survived what happened, but you’ve found happiness.  You’ve learned to live again.  While that’s incredible, I think you need to know that what happened has affected who you are today, and as much as it sucks, this is something you can’t completely move on from…no matter how much you want to.”  She sat down next to the brunette.  “I know that if it were me, I wouldn’t be able to.”

“Well, I have,” she answered adamantly.  “He’s…He’s the reason I have so many awful memories of high school.  He’s not going to take anything else away from me.  He’s not going to get out.”  She looked at the letter on her bed.  “This is just some stupid formality.  I’m not going to let it ruin my summer.”

“Riley, I know you miss Lucas, but—“

Riley’s head snapped up as she glared at Maya.  “It has nothing to do with Lucas.”

“You know he’s going to tell you the same thing.  He’s not going to let you fly across the country to see him when you could be here, ensuring that Charlie stays locked up.”

Riley was quiet for a long moment.  Maya was right.  The moment Lucas found out about Charlie’s parole hearing, he would insist that she stay in the city.  He might even fly back to go to the hearing with her.  Riley’s stomach lurched at the thought.  “Yeah, I know that,” she answered evenly.  “It’s one reason why he doesn’t need to know about it.”

“Riley, he has to know.”  Had she completely lost her mind?  Of course Lucas had to know about this.  He was there that night.  Maybe if he knew, he could fly back and they could all go to the hearing to support her?  Texas would still be there in a few weeks.  This was more important.  Why couldn’t she see that?

“Know what exactly? That Charlie has a parole hearing?  It’s only going to make him worry or even get angry and it’s not…Charlie’s not worth it.”  She waited a beat.  “He’s in Texas to help Pappy Joe and to get closer to his dad.  He doesn’t need to know about something that probably won’t even become anything.”

Maya sighed.  This was insanity.  Riley had to know that she wasn’t making any sense right now.  “What if it does become a thing?  What then?”

Riley shrugged.  “I can’t…I can’t think like that right now.”  She slowly stood back up as she walked toward the laptop.  Charlie Gardner wasn’t about to disrupt the life she had built for the last two years.  Giving him even five minutes of her time was more than he deserved.  Riley took a deep breath as she began to scroll through more apartment listings.

“Riley, I don’t want you to close yourself off from everyone.  Let me help.”

Riley took a deep breath.  “Then help me find an apartment for us to move into before classes start again in August.”

“It’s not fair,” Riley softly laughed as she looked at her computer screen.  “You’re already super tan and I think I’m getting paler by the minute.”

Lucas leaned his back against the headboard as he looked at his girlfriend.  God, he missed her.  He had managed to survive a month without being able to see her whenever he wanted.  He thought he’d be used to it by now.  He thought that after three summers, he would know how much he would miss her and remember what it felt like when she wasn’t around.  He knew now that either he misremembered everything, or that being away from her was getting more and more difficult.  He found himself living for their nightly skype conversations.  Sometimes they couldn’t talk for long for one reason or another, but just being able to see her was enough for him to survive until the next day.  He smirked when he noticed that she was staring at her reflection in the camera.  “Well, when I get skin cancer and die by the time I’m 40, you can have the last laugh at my funeral.”

Riley frowned as she looked back at him.  “Please don’t say that.”

“Say what?  I was only kidding.”  He waited a beat as he studied the pensive expression on her face.  Something was wrong.  He had picked up on it a few weeks earlier.  She seemed more solemn, contemplative.  At first, he thought it was because the apartment search turned out to be more work than she thought it would be, but as the days wore on, she seemed more agitated, anxious even.  He knew that if she wanted to talk to him about it that she would, but two weeks later, and she still hadn’t said a word about it to him.  He wanted to respect her space, but truthfully, he was beginning to worry about her.  “Trust me.  You don’t want to be here working on the farm in this heat.  It’s been a pretty brutal summer so far.”

“Tell me about it,” she mumbled as she picked at her comforter.

Lucas frowned.  He couldn’t ignore her melancholy any longer.  “What’s going on?  You’ve seemed…quiet the last week or so.” ‘Try sixteen days,’ he mentally corrected himself.

Riley shrugged.  She knew that he would eventually pick up on her mood, but try as she could, she couldn’t shake the cloud that had hung over her head ever since she got that stupid letter.  He had enough on his mind.  She didn’t need to pile on, and besides, there was nothing to worry about.  She just couldn’t wait until this whole thing was over with so everything could go back to normal again.  Until then, she knew she had to handle it on her own.  “I don’t know.  Maybe I just…maybe I just miss you is all.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is,” he asked before he lifted his laptop in order to stretch his legs out in front of him.  “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah,” she said as she mustered up enough energy to give him a small smile.  “I think I’m just frustrated with apartment searching and doing the same thing day in and day out.  I should’ve taken another class during the second session…just to give me something to do.  The days feel so long, and that’s even with going to campus every morning.”

His frown slowly faded as a smirk formed in its place.  “I love how bored you get without me there.”

She smiled playfully at him as she shook her head.  “I can feel your ego inflating.”  She sat up as she adjusted the screen.  “I just feel like I’m going stir crazy right now, you know?  I live in one of the biggest cities in the world and I feel like I’ve run out of things to keep me busy and keep my mind off of…” she trailed off when she realized that she was about to tell him the one thing she couldn’t.

“Two weeks,” he gently reminded her.  “Only two weeks to go and then you’ll be here.  And after you get back, we’ll only have a month until I’m back in the city.”

She crossed her legs as she ran her fingers through her hair.  She didn’t want to talk about the distance or what was going on with her.  She wanted an escape from all of that.  “Tell me something.”

“What do you want to know?”

She shrugged as she pulled her hair up into a bun.  “Anything.  Everything.  Tell me something that you’ve never told anyone before.”

“Hmm,” he thought about it for a long moment.  He wasn’t sure if he should tell her the first thing that came to his mind because it was something they hadn’t talked about before, but he couldn’t immediately think of anything else.  Besides, he was curious about what her opinion would be on the idea.  “I had a dream about you the other night.”

Riley raised her eyebrows.  “Oh really?  Good dream or bad dream?”

Lucas pursed his lips together.  “Well, it depends...”

She frowned.  “On what?”

“On how you feel about it.”

She narrowed her eyes.  “I’m not sure I understand.”

He took a deep breath.  He didn’t expect to get into this conversation with her tonight, but she was the one who asked him to tell her something.  “Well, it was a few years from now.  We were still together.”

“Well, that’s a good start,” she chuckled.

He looked down.  “We were more than just together,” he slowly admitted before he looked back up at the screen in front of him.  “We were…we had gotten married.”

Riley bit the inside of her cheek as she waited for him to elaborate a little more on what his dream was.  When he didn’t, she looked down at her bed.  “W-What happened?”

Lucas frowned.  He couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn that Riley seemed uncomfortable with his admission.  What was so wrong about it?  They had talked about their relationship countless times—enough to know how they felt about one another, so what seemed so off-putting about a dream he had about them?  He cleared his throat.  “Nothing,” he tried to downplay.  “That was it, basically.”  No, not basically.  They were married.  They were happy.  They had a family.  It was everything he wanted it to be and so much more, and he wanted to tell her all about it, but the anxiousness he saw in her eyes was enough for him to refrain from revealing all the details.  They hadn’t talked about their future in any specific terms yet.  It was always understood that they wanted to be together and that they were happy with one another.  They hadn’t talked about the possibility of marriage one day.

Now that he thought about it, she seemed fairly adamant on their anniversary date that she wasn’t ready for marriage.  Yes, they were young, but what exactly did she mean by that?  Did she mean that she wasn’t ready now or that she would never be ready or that she was ready, but wasn’t sure that she saw that kind of future with him?  He swallowed as he waited her to say something, anything to lighten the mood or put him at ease.  The room felt thick, something that he hadn’t felt with her since they were in high school.  His heart dropped when she seemed to be distracted by something off screen.

“Hey Lucas, I have to go.  Maya’s here and we really need to try to figure out this whole apartment thing.”

His frown deepened.  It had to be nearly midnight in New York.  Why would Maya show up at midnight to talk about their living situation?  “Oh.  Ok.”

She gave him a small smile.  “I love you.  Can’t wait to see you soon.”

“Yeah, me too,” he returned her half smile with a slightly forced one of his own.  “I love you too.”

“Goodnight,” she said before she ended the skype call.  She looked up at the empty space between her bed and window.  Why did she lie to him?  She never lied to him, especially about something as ridiculous as Maya coming over.  She glanced at the alarm clock on her nightstand. ‘Yeah.  Maya came over at midnight to talk about the apartment.’  She groaned.  There was no way he bought that.

Riley fell back on her bed.  What was the big deal?  She must have had that dream about her, Lucas, and their children on the hill a dozen times since they got back together.  What was so catastrophic about him dreaming about something similar?

Riley reached over to her nightstand to grab the letter.  She wasn’t sure why she even opened it anymore; she already knew every word by heart.  He could get out.  He could very well be released from prison.  What then?  Was she going to sleep with one eye open for the rest of her life?  Was she going to live in constant fear that he would find her and finish the job he started three years ago?  She closed her eyes as she gripped the letter.  He had nearly ruined everything she tried to build with Lucas the first time.  He had taken up so much of her thoughts.  He was her biggest fear and she knew that he knew it.  He was the source of everything that went wrong the last year and a half of her high school career.  He wasn’t going ruin everything she had spent the last two years building.

She sat up as she reached for her laptop once more.  She had to finish writing that statement.  They had to know the fear she felt every single second she was in the cabin that awful night.  They had to know what releasing Charlie would do to her sanity, not to mention what it could do to “Lucas,” she breathed as she hesitated for a moment.  

Lucas had come so far since high school.  There was no way she’d ever let Charlie get to him.

[literal-fand0m-trash]

Georgia on My Mind Part 14. Triggerfinger

Note: I do not own any of The Walking Dead characters, but I do own Georgia May Grimes. Please leave comments and enjoy.

Summary: AU. Georgia is Rick’s oldest daughter from a previous relationship. This is the story of how she survives the zombie apocalypse, fight walkers, bonds with her new family, and finds love. (Is that too cheesy?)

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13

Masterlist

Carl, T-Dog and I were setting the table for the dinner Patricia was putting together to try and create a sense of normalcy in a world where Hershel, Lori, Glenn, and Dad were missing and we had just invaded their home and shot up a barn full of walkers. Andrea and Shane walked into the room as Patricia walked in with some vegetables.

“They shoulda been home by now.” Andrea said.

“Yeah, they just got holed up somewhere.” Shane said sitting down at the table, “We’ll head out first thing in the morning.” I grabbed Carl and dragged him down to the other end of the table.

Carol came in and set down a plate of rolls, “Thank you.” I smiled as I looked into her sad, ed tinged eyes.

“Carl, JoJo, I want you to hold your heads up okay. Your old man is a tough son of a…” Shane started and I leaned over and slapped my hands over Carl’s ears.

“No cussing in the house.” Patricia scowlded.

Carol walked to the door and called for everyone to come join us, “Lori, dinner!”

“Is Lori back?” I asked.

“Did she leave?” Dale asked as he walked in and sat down.

“She said she was going to go find Dad. Is she not back yet?” I asked.

“When’s the last time you two saw your mom?” Shane asked.

“This afternoon.” Carl answered.

“She was worried about Rick.” Andrea said.

“Daryl said that she came and talked to him about going into town. All he told me was they fought and he wanted to apologize.” I said.

“Nobody panic. She’s gotta be around here somewhere. JoJo, go see if you can get any more out of Daryl. Carl go with her. Everyone else, split up and search the house and grounds.” Shane commanded and we all stood up and left, leaving Jimmy and Patricia still sitting at the table.

I grabbed Carl and led him outside where I knew I would find Daryl. I saw a small fire burning by our camp and saw Daryl sitting in front of it while polishing his crossbow.

“Lori and the others aren’t back yet.” I said as I approached with Carl in tow.

“Yeah.” He said nonchalantly. “I already told her, I’m done being her errand boy.”

I knelt down next to him and Carl sat down a little ways away, but still in my line of sight, “Don’t do this. Please. We’ve lost too much.”

“That wasn’t my problem neither.” He said standing up and stalking away. I sighed and ran my hands over my face.

“What shouldn’t he do?” Carl asked.

“What?” I asked.

“You asked him not to do something. What was it?” He asked.

“I don’t want him to shut down. It’s grown up stuff.” I said waving it off.

We went over to the rest of the group and met up with everyone had gathered from searching for Lori and I heard Carl sniffle as we realized that no one had found Lori. Shane walked over to one of the cars and climbed in, turning the engine over and driving away.

“So that’s Hershel, Glenn, Shane, Lori, and Dad gone and Daryl has stalked off to God-knows-where.” I summarized.

Carl ran into the house and everyone started to meander back over to the farmhouse. I noticed that the fire was still burning unattended so I walked over to go put it out, but on the way I saw Daryl line tied between two trees for drying out meat. As I walked by it I saw the necklace of walker ears hanging on it and I stopped and stared at them.

“What are you doing?” Daryl’s voice asked as he grabbed my shoulder and turned me around.

On reflex, I punched him in the chest, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, asshole.” I scowled, putting a hand to my chest to calm my rapidly beating heart, “I came to put the fire out.” I said pointing over to the fire.

“Just go! I don’t want you here!” He yelled turning and walking away.

Every part of me was screaming to follow his command and go back to the house, but I took a deep breath and held my ground. He turned back to me with fire in his eyes when he realized that I wasn’t leaving, “You’re a real piece of work, girly. What, you gonna make this about yer daddy or some shit like that? You don’t know jack. And you ain’t my problem!” He got up in my face and screamed the last part. I didn’t realise I had been crying until his breath hit the water that was still on my face.

“There? Do you feel better now? Now that you’ve had your chance to scream and yell and pout like a little kid? I never asked to be your problem, you chose to care! Don’t turn your problems on me and make me feel like crap because you don’t know how to deal with everything!” I yelled back at him, standing on my toes to be level with his face.

He put his hand on the back of my head and drew me close to him, until our bodies were pressed together, we stayed there for a moment panting. I thought I must look ridiculous with tears in my eyes and on my cheeks and my hair a mess and my voice shot from yelling at him.

Daryl began to lean in when the sound on an approaching car cut us off, I saw that it was the car Shane had taken and I walked towards the farmhouse to get Carl, brushing away my tears as I did.

“Carl!” I yelled out as I walked into the house. I saw him sitting at the kitchen table with his arms crossed and his head in his hands, “Hey, buddy, Shane just got back, let’s go see if he found Mom or Dad.” I said crouching down and putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me with watery eyes and nodded.

I lead him out of the farmhouse and just about halfway down the porch steps when we heard Lori’s voice cut through the air, “You lying asshole!”

“I think Shane found Mom.” Carl said.

“Yeah, I think Shane lied to her too.” I agreed as we started walking again. Lori saw us approaching and rushed forward to hug Carl, dropping down on her knees and kissing his forehead before she stood back up.

“I’m going back out there.” She said to Sahne.

“No, you’re not. Look, I gotta look out for you...I gotta look out for you and the baby.” Shane said then froze. Now it was out in the open.

“You're having a baby?” Carl asked with a twinge of hurt in his voice, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We haven’t told everyone yet.” I lied, I figured he knew this but he seemed to accept it for the moment.

Dale and Andrea both grabbed Lori, who I now saw had blood on her face and bruises on her arms, “Come on, let’s get you checked out.” Dale said. Carl trailed behind and I looked over at Maggie who had just come outside and wondered who was with Beth.

“Hey, why don’t I go sit with Beth for a bit, give you a break?” I suggested and she shook her head, “Okay. At least let me come sit with you.” I said as I grabbed her elbow and led her back to the house and her sister’s room.

Beth was still in the same condition she had been all day, frozen, unmoving, barely breathing in her bed. I sat down in the chair while Maggie sat on the bed and held her sisters head.

Lori knocked on the door and poked her head into the room, “Georgia, can I talk to you and Carl for a moment?” She asked. I looked over at Beth and nodded. The three of us went and sat down in the livingroom with me and Lori on either ends of the couch.

“I think we need to talk about this baby.” Lori said after a minute.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Carl asked.

“Well, we won’t know until it’s born.” Lori explained.

“Can I feel it?” Carl asked leaning over and placing his hand on Lori’s belly making me smile.

“Not for a while.” Lori answered.

“You sure have a lot of questions.” I noticed.

Lori’s eyes went wide and she looked up at me, “We never had the talk.” She realised.

I threw my hands up and pushed myself as far as I could against the arm of the couch, shaking my head and Lori chuckled.

“If the baby’s a girl can we name her Sophia?” Carl suddenly asked. I looked at him in shock.

Shane walked into the room then, “Hey, bud, I’m sorry. I thought you knew, Carl.” he apologized.

Carl sat up taller and straightened the sheriff's hat on his head, “Big brother Carl. pretty cool, huh?” He smiled.

“I’d say it’s very cool.” he chuckled, I looked over at Lori and saw how uncomfortable she looked and I wanted him out of there as soon as possible, “Do you two mind if I talk to your mom alone for a second?”

“How about later, after she’s had some rest?” I posed the command as a question.

“Lori, I had to get you back here. You wouldn’t have come home otherwise.” He came over and put his hands on the back of the chair and we all hung our heads and looked uncomfortable, “Now, how about you hear me out?”

“Georgia, why don’t you go back with aggie and Beth, take your brother with you.” She said practically pushing us off the couch. I spared one last glance at her over my shoulder as I left her alone with the crazy man who aimed a gun at my dad and who thought the baby was his.

……….

I woke up the next morning with a crick in my neck from sleeping in the chair in Beth’s room. I saw Maggie sleeping on the bed next to her sister and Carl nowhere in sight, I assume Lori grabbed him at some point.

Patricia came in a few minutes after I woke up with a plate of fruit for Maggie and I before shaking the other woman’s shoulders and checking on Beth.

Andrea stopped in the doorway a moment later, “How is she?”

“She’s dehydrated. I’ll set up an IV. Best I can do without Hershel here.” Patricia said before looking down at Beth sadly and walking out of the room.

Andrea came and sat down on the bed, “Can I get you anything?”

“No. I just wish my dad as here.” Maggie sighed and I nodded in agreement, wishing that her dad and my dad were here.

“She’ll be okay. You just need to be strong for here.” Andrea smiled.

“I was just thinking about...nevermind.” She said.

I perked up when I heard the smile in her voice, “What is it?” I asked.

“I want to hear this.” Andrea said sitting up and I moved the chair closer to the bed.

Maggie giggled, “My dad would die if he heard this. My first summer back from college, I drove home, dumped my stuff off, went straight out to the stable for a ride. My family comes back from church and Beth grabs my things and starts unpacking my stuff upstairs. Until this one starts hearing something rattling in my backpack. She finds this little plastic container with these pink and green candies inside. She didn’t even know I was on the pill. She was so freaked out by the idea of me, boys, and sex that she runs outside and chucks it in the duck pond. And as I ride up, I see this, and I’m screaming and she starts crying so Shawn runs out thinking one of us in drown. As soon as he figures out what’s happening the jerk burst out laughing so loud that my horse rears up and gets mud all over all three of us. My dad comes out, ‘what the heck is going on out here?’ and she turns around, bats her eyelids and says, ‘we’re just swimming, Daddy.’ In her Sunday dress all covered in snot and mud.” She giggled and I broke out laughing.

“Rick and Glenn will get your dad back.” Andrea whispered.

“Glenn’s a good guy.” Maggie nodded.

“Yeah, he is.” I agreed.

……….

Carl came sprinting into the room that Beth, Maggie, and I were in and grabbed my arm.

“Dad’s back with Hershel and Glenn!” He exclaimed. I looked over to Maggie who looked like she was ready to run out of the room until she looked down at Beth.

“I’ll stay with here. You go see them.” I said gesturing her out of the room.

Not five minutes later Hershel came upstairs with patricia in tow and they started working on Beth. I stood up and quietly excused myself from the room before heading downstairs where everyone was gathered around the kitchen table. My dad stood from his chair and wrapped me in a hug the moment he saw me.

“Hey, Peaches. Why don’t you take a seat? We were just about to discuss some important business.” He said. I looked around the table and saw an open spot between Daryl and Glenn and figured I had better chances standing. Dad began to explain about the teenage boy they had kidnapped, who had a pole go through his leg that they pulled him off of, and who we were now holding hostage so his group couldn’t find us.

“We couldn’t just leave him there. He would’ve bled out, if he lived that long.” Dad explained.

“It’s gotten bad in town.” Glenn said looking over at Maggie who was leaning against the wall with me.

“What do we do with him?” Andrea asked as Hershel walked into the diningroom

“I repaired his calf muscle as best I can, but he’ll probably have never damage. Won’t be on his feet for at least a week.” He said then looked between me and Daryl, “Speaking of being off your feet how are my patience doing?” He asked, I looked down at the ground and shrugged and Daryl didn’t answer.

“When Randle gets back on his feet, we give him a canteen, take him out to the main road and send him on his way.” Dad said.

“Isn’t that the same as leaving him for the walkers?” Andrea asked.

“He’ll have a fighting chance.” Dad said.

“Just gonna let him go? He knows where we are.” Shane pointed out.

“He was blindfolded the whole way here. He’s not a threat.” Dad assured him.

“Not a threat. How many of them were there?” Shane demanded.”You killed three of their men, took one of them hostage, but they ain’t gonna come looking.”

“They left him for dead. No one is looking!” Dad promised.

“We should still post a guard just in case.” T-Dog said.

“He’s out cold right now, will be for hours.” Hershel said

“You know what, I’m gonna go get him some candies and flowers. We back in fantasyland.” Shane sneered before standing up and walking out of the room.

“You know, we haven’t even dealt with what you did at my barn yet. We need to make this very clear right here and now, this is my farm and I want you gone.” Hershel said to Shane, ‘Now Rick talked me out of it and I’m not saying I’m happy about it. But do us both a favor and keep your mouth shut.”

Shane sighed and walked out of the room, “I think we all need to cool off.” I said and everyone nodded and split up to talk to each other. I sat down on the kitchen table and I felt eyes on me. Looking over my shoulder I saw that Daryl saw still sitting, staring at me.

“I’m done with this Daryl. I’m done with the extreme hots and colds, I’m done with the fighting matches that turn into you trying to take care of me. I don’t know if you’re purposely messing with my feelings, if you don’t know any better, or if you’re scared, and frankly I don’t care. But I will not let you continue to drag me around like this.” I said to the wall, I heard Daryl push his chair out and suddenly he was in front of me with a soft expression on his face, “When we aren’t fighting, I really like being around you, but I can’t take you keeping everything bottled up and then throwing all your emotions at me. It’s not fair to me or you” I said. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek before jumping off the table and walking away.

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[kidsviral-blog]

Here's Why It's OK To Turn Up On MLK Day

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/heres-why-its-ok-to-turn-up-on-mlk-day/

Here's Why It's OK To Turn Up On MLK Day

I get the outrage over flyers that use King’s image to get people into the club. But that anger is misplaced.

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getyourpeople.tumblr.com

Around a week before Martin Luther King Jr. Day, the internet inevitably becomes inundated with flyers advertising local freedom-themed turn-up functions, pulled from sites with lecturing names like Hot Ghetto Mess, No Way Girl, and Get Your People. The response is also predictable: We tweet and retweet and like and reblog and shake our heads and suck our teeth and say things that our parents and grandparents have no doubt said at some point in their lives. Martin Luther King didn’t die for this. He’s probably turning over in his grave. All these kids running around with the nerve to be in the club poppin’ it and droppin’ it and doing it for the Vine on the King’s day!

Let’s discuss why this shit is not okay. MLK did not die so you can put him on your party flyers.

— curlyheadRED (@Nessa.)

In my opinion putting MLK’s picture on any club/party flyer is hell of disrespectful! …

— JrVsDc (@Cuffing Season Coach)

@BET Uh um yeah… #Twerking for #MLK is a negative #justsayin

— Kels_Spicy58_ (@Pretty Pink)

But so what if a few people want to get drunk and sexy on MLK Day?

Sure, Martin Luther King Jr. didn’t explicitly say he had a dream that one day your cousin Mooney could get crunk in any establishment regardless of color in his famous speech, but that’s still a part of being free. As black people, we’re still in the margins, but our collective quality of life is a lot better, thanks in part to the work of Dr. King. Why not put on those red bottoms you worked so hard to get and drop it low in the name of progress?

The argument against dropping it low in the name of progress is that these clubgoers are just using the day as another excuse to party, and the use of MLK’s name and image becomes a sacrilege and the entire idea of celebrating becomes an offense. Well, consider this: The same thing is done with other non-black holidays and nobody seems to care as much. Memorial Day club party flyers contain all manner of half-dressed women posing next to eagles and American flags and baseball-filled apple pies. And let’s not even talk about what they do to the poor Easter bunny. Where is the collective outrage there?

It makes sense that black folks, in general, may be hypersensitive about the way society (read: white people) sees us and the way our history is handled. When your can lose your life over how you look in a hoodie or because your car crashed and you went looking for help or you were holding a toy gun in a Walmart, every day becomes a solicitation to be treated fairly and taken seriously. All our energy is poured into being “respectable,” prim and proper and perfect enough to maybe not be gunned down in the street by police officers at a higher rate than whites.

“How can we expect them to respect us if we don’t respect ourselves?” asks everyone from your great-grandma Hattie Mae to Bill Cosby to Kendrick Lamar. There is no downtime, no day off. It’s a burden, one that we put on ourselves because we apparently don’t have a heavy enough load to carry.

Laughing wherever we want and being our full selves in a public setting, online or offline, is a luxury that many of us don’t even know we don’t have. In 2008, I started a satirical blog called Little Known Black History Facts. It’s a collection of made-up facts celebrating lesser-known black heroes, like the first person to wish a motherfucker would and the first person to refer to diabetes as “the sugar.” The point of the blog, as I explained after some considerable backlash, is not to lampoon or trivialize black history, but to attack the idea that one month of reheated black history facts about the same 10 people is an adequate treatment of black history. I also wanted to challenge the notion that we’re allowed to laugh at jokes like these only amongst ourselves.

Some said the problem with the blog and its popularity was that there weren’t any other websites that were serious celebrations of black history, which isn’t true at all. Rappers even weighed in on the conversation, with Bun B of UGK (one of my favorite rap groups, by the way) taking a shot at the memes on his Instagram page. In the caption, he wrote that old battle cry of respectability warriors, “If we don’t respect ourselves we can’t get mad when others disrespect us!”

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instagram.com

Hearing that will never cease to tickle me. Like there’s a racist somewhere looking for a black person to push down into the mud who passes over one because his pants aren’t sagging. “Curses, this one has too much self-respect! You’re one of the good ones, sir, god bless you.”

Item number 383 on the list of Inconvenient Things About Being Black (right after not being able to find a decent nude lipstick) is having to be ever poised and perfect because you never know when other people may be watching, looking for reasons to justify their racism. This idea holds that we teach people how to treat us, that we have to earn the right to be treated humanely rather than being treated with respect by virtue of being human alone.

We’re never allowed to not have our shit together, and having our shit together means following a subjective list of dos and don’ts handed down from a faceless kufi-clad person in the sky. Don’t twerk. Don’t have kids with more than one person. Do pull your pants up because the lower they sag, the closer to doom the race becomes.

So since we have to make sure that white people aren’t awful to a single black person on Earth, we can’t say the n-word and we can’t eat fried chicken or bananas in mixed company (I seriously know people who refuse to do this) and we’re also not allowed to drop it like its hot for King’s birthday. All of that is bullshit. We shouldn’t have to dictate our lives based on what white people will think of us and we shouldn’t make ourselves responsible for others’ racist thoughts and actions. We should be allowed to be our full, round, complicated individual selves.

It’s not that I don’t understand the outrage about all the MLK Day flyers. A lot of them are tacky and ridiculous, and using King’s image to sell tickets and bottle service is pretty despicable. This, in my opinion, is far more tasteful than this. Yet people seem more outraged about associating King with “low-class” affectations like drinking, clubbing, and gold chains than they are about clubs profiting off of King’s image.

getyourpeople.tumblr.com

getyourpeople.tumblr.com

  In 2014, King’s daughter, Dr. Bernice King, told Atlanta’s FOX 5 News that she felt like “we failed to reach these groups” — “these groups” being the people responsible for creating MLK party flyers. She called the imagery used — often pictures of King wearing Biggie Smalls’ crown or rope chains with big gold pendants — “appalling” and “almost embarrassing.” She also said that her father, were he still with us, would have worked with the promoters “to elevate them, to connect with them, to bring them into the movement.”

This assumes that these folks are lowly enough to need to be “elevated” and that they’re not already a part of “the movement” (presumably the movement to make a better life for blacks in America).

And this is the problem with respectability politics. Who gets to set the parameters for what is respectful and what isn’t? Too often, the idea of “respectable” forced on black people is influenced and defined by a standard of white American morality and normalcy that suffocates and erases us as individuals. We demand perfection of ourselves that white folks couldn’t possibly meet either. And I get it; conforming is easier than challenging a system that refuses to see you to open its eyes. These flyers are basically an orgy of the things that black people fear reinforce pre-existing racial stereotypes — rap, drinking, and provocative dancing. These parties never stood a chance.

So, will I be going to any of these drop-it-low-for-freedom parties come MLK Day? No. But it’s not because I think they’re blasphemous or am worried that a scornful white (or black) person might catch me in line. I’m just broke and I have bad knees and I’d be beyond embarrassed if I dropped down to get my eagle on and had to have help getting back up. That would be disrespectful.

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getyourpeople.tumblr.com

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Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. reacts in St. Augustine, Fla., after learning that the senate passed the civil rights bill, June 19, 1964. Associated Press

Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/tracyclayton/let-freedom-turn-up