#there’s no saving this rancid country | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

versipellesh · 25 days ago

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𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 // 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

summary: for a series of events has lead you half way across the country searching for a new place to call home, stumbling into Jerusalem's Lot a wolf has found its home

word count: 8305

warnings: Susan and Reader having a fruity interaction that's it guys,, also not beta read,, im not nervous to have one

an: so we begin this journey, this is more of just world building then it is anything. we will fully get into fully in the next chapter. i wanted to give some backstory to the reader but not a whole lot

Your boot tapped rapidly against the polished tile floors of the Greyhound station. Eyes flickering around the space as people went about their business. So many lives were passing by you as you stood in line, so many normal people. Your eyes traced people in seats, their scents all mingling in your nose as you shouldered up the duffle bag that was hanging off your shoulder. You kept your head low as your hands shaking held tightly onto the cash in them. Your palms were sweating and you weren't sure why. Why were you so nervous, this was meant to be a new start for you. Getting your feet under you after the accident but for some reason there was this deep pit in your stomach, something trying to claw its way out of you.

You took in a shaky breath and briefly shook out your hands. You leaned to the side to eye the line that was up to the counter before your eyes glanced at boarding signs.

Pocatello, ID to Portland, ME – 3 day trip

That seemed about right to you, it got you the hell out of town and far far away from this place. There was no going back home after what happened, no family left to go too. Not after what had happened and finding out what it had caused in you. They were safe this way.

You took a steady breath in as you repeated the words in your head. This we're going to be alright, you were going to be okay. The thought replayed over and over in your head as you shuffled forward with the line. Your family would eventually move on with time, they had thought you died anyways. It maybe made this transition all the bit easier didn't it? Still hurt like hell knowing they had returned home and you had stepped into a world you were still getting your footing in figuring how to navigate it.

The steady chatter of people echoed in your ears as you tilted your head down. You watched as your ribcage rose and fell with each breath. You were alive. It felt good to be alive after all of this. Your eyes flickered down to the white bandaging that peeked out from your jacket, your face twisting into a grimace, the sudden flood of phantom pains in your arm had you recoiling. You could feel the hot, rancid breath. The feeling of teeth sinking deep into supple flesh and the sound of bones cracking under the weight of teeth. The heavy rake of claws embedding themselves into your flesh as you and your attacker tried to almost become one. Your eyes squeezed close as you tried to flush out the memories and center yourself back into the current.

“You alright hun?”

The voice broke you out of your trance, eyes shooting open almost in a startled panic but you remembered where you were. The concerned glance of deep brown eyes looked at you. The soft wrinkled face between small circle framed glasses and the gentle smell that came with the stranger. The smell of flowers, honey and cinnamon flooded your nose as you felt your shoulders almost relax on instinct. The old woman, shy of probably her mid 60’s, the wrinkles on her face told a story of a life well lived. She gave you a feeling of comfort that you had been missing as of recently.

“Y-yeah, sorry I just zoned out.” You stuttered out to the woman.

You watch as a look of washed over the woman’s face. It was the look of a mother who had often known when her children had lied to save face. You felt like you were under a microscope as this woman seemed to have a read on you that you didn’t quite understand. You watched as she seemed to study you and before anything someone behind the lady cleared their throat. Your eyes met with the other person and the tilt of their head and your swiveling on your heels to see that the line had moved and you were next.

You scampered forward juggling your few belongings as you made your way up to the counter. The woman behind the desk was young like you, maybe a few years older than you but you couldn’t be sure. Her jaw moved in a methodical way as she chewed her gum, slightly disinterested eyes stared at you.

“Where too?” The attendant chirped in a fake cheery tone.

“Portland, Maine. One way.” You said as you placed your money down on the counter.

The attendant stared at you for a moment, you watched as her eyes glossed over you as if apriasing you before she loudly smacked her gum. She took the money off the counter counting it out before taking what was needed from you. You watched as the woman got your ticket, the heavy sound of the machines working before she was slipping the ticket on the counter with the extra change.

“That bus doesn’t leave until late tonight. There’s a diner across the street and we got a lounge.” The attendant said she made a half attempt at motion across the station towards the lounge.

You gave a half nod of your head and small muttered thanks as you collected your money and ticket before moving out of the way. You stepped out of the way, your fingers running over the ticket and the weight of something felt like it had lifted just a little bit. Your fingers ran over the ticket, slightly smearing some of the fresh ink before you looked about. There was still time to blow and the bus didn't leave until later. You could feel exhaustion creeping into your system and maybe it was best to sit down for now and maybe get some sleep. Your boots dragged against the checked tile floors as you made your way over to some of the benches that were posted up against the wall. You stuffed your cash into the pocket of your jacket before folding your ticket and tucking it in your breast pocket. Your duffel bag slipped from your shoulder as you sat down moving about before your arms wrapped around it and head leaned on it. You brought your legs up to your chest and buried your face into the fabric of the bag. You took in a deep breath and let your eyes flutter close as you sought out the sweet reprieve of sleep.

You didn’t wake up until a couple hours later from a restless sleep. It was always that kind of sleep that never felt fulfilling and empty in a way. It was starting to become normal for you at this point, to close your eyes and be filled with a dark, inky void only to wake up feeling just as tired or even more so. As you slowly lifted your head that familial scent from the woman clouded your senses as you sat up. You rubbed your eyes for a moment and yawned before slouching into the bench shifting your duffel bag lazily to sit in your lap.

“You’re new to this, ya?” Her voice asked.

You glanced to the side to see the woman who had sat next to you with her own bags. She had been busy reading next to you and that’s when you realized that she had placed one of her shawls over you when you had been sleeping. It took you a minute to process what she was saying to you through the sleepy fog.

“New to what?” You asked.

“You know. New to this, I can tell. I can smell it on you.” The old woman said as she gently closed her book.

She watched as your eyes narrowed for a second before that flicker of realization hit you like a train. She was one of them and she knew what you were. Your eyes went a bit wide and you remembered that you had to settle down for a moment. You gave a hesitant nod of your head to her answer and slowly pulled the shawl off of your shoulders as you nervously glanced away.

“That obvious?”

“No but I can smell it. The change in you.” She murmured as she looked at you.

Something in you felt like bristling when she said the words she had. You weren’t sure how she knew what had happened to you but it made you uneasy for a moment. No one else besides Lawrence seemed to know what you were and if anyone did they didn’t say anything to you.

“I’m so sorry honey. You don’t know much about this way of life do you?” She added as she looked at you.

The way the woman looked at you could only be described as maternal. It made you feel safe and protected for the first time in the last month. It was like someone was seeing you for the first time and wasn’t telling you to hit the ground running to hope for the best. You slowly nodded your head again in answer to her, you didn’t want to mutter the words out. It only made your situation more of reality having to confront it like that and you weren’t sure you were ready to confront the beast in the mirror just yet.

“You can call me Helena. I would say I’m like you but not exactly, we are just a bit different but ever the same family under the moon, ya?” She asked you with a gentle smile.

“Yeah.” You found yourself saying to her.

You gave Helena your name and told you what little you wanted to give to her about what had happened. You had watched the expression on her face shift as you told her your story and why you were leaving. She never looked at you with a look of pity or sadness when you told her. She didn’t seem to mourn for what you had been to what you had become but took it as it was. Like it was a simple matter of fact of what had happened. In exchange, Helena had told you that she was born with it, that this is how she had always known life. She told you about her husband and children, how they had grown up and left home as well. That she was on her way back to Maine from a trip to Idaho to see her eldest son and her grandchildren. That’s when you found out you both were going to the same place and when she offered to explain more to you. That she didn’t have all the answers for your particular predicament but she could share wisdom that anyone like you two should know to navigate a world that just laid beneath the surface of what people perceived.

The hours had waned on as you sat next to Helena and talked to past the time. You had gotten up at some point and gotten food for the both of you while you waited. The sun had come and set by the time the bus for you both had been called. You picked up your bag and one of hers, the two of you in tow as you wanted to join the line to board. Helena seemed to take the lead, you trailing after her like a puppy following its mother. The thought made a smile break out on your face, maybe that’s what it was after all. You both got loaded up into the bus taking seats towards the back. You helped her get baggage set up before the two of you got settled in for the long ride across the country.

You settled into your seat next to the window, eyes glancing out the glass as you looked up. The silver beams of the moon shone down and it set something down your spine. You couldn’t tell if it was terror or anticipation. There was war raging inside of you now, the constant of wanting to reject what you had become and others that wanted to embrace what you were. You felt your eyes slowly start to drift shut as your head leaned against the cool window.

The next time you were waking up was when the bus was pulling into a stop to refuel and it was sometime in the afternoon at this point. The bus had mostly been vacant at this point as people took the hour or so to stretch their bodies and get some decent food. Your eyes were blurry from sleep and you stretched your legs out a bit as you shifted in your seat. You saw Helena standing outside smoking. You watched carefully for a moment as the woman stood out there before you were pushing yourself out of your seat and stumbling your way out of the bus. Your boots hit the asphalt as you stepped out. You stretched out a bit more as you took in the warmth of the sun on your skin for a moment. The heat seeped into your skin as you stood there before it seemed to be a bit too much and you shucked off your jacket. “Finally decided to greet the waking world with your presence?” Helena chirped with a raspy laugh.

You couldn’t help the small giggle that had left your throat as you nodded your head and wrapped your jacket over your arm as you had stalked closer to her. You came to stand at her side as you took in the fresh air of Colorado felt like it had opened your lungs up a bit and it was nice.

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve been sleeping a lot since this.” You told her as you made a motion to the arm that was bandaged up.

Helena looked over as she took a drag of her cigarette, you couldn’t help but find the smell of it intoxicating. It wasn’t like the cigarettes that your grandfather used to smoke, this had a sweet and narcotic aroma to it that you couldn’t help but make your mouth water almost. You were so distracted by the smell that you didn’t notice Helena take your arm in her hands, they were strong and sturdy still yet the skin on them had started to sag. She was covered in freckles and her hands shook slightly as she held your forearm. You didn’t even stop her when she unwrapped your arm and just watched as the bandages fell away. You didn’t freeze like you had before looking at it. You stared at it for a moment as she seemed to take it in before she turned away from it.

“It’s healed well. It’s passable as a dog attack. Here.” Helena said as she held out a cigarette for you to take from her.

“I don’t smoke.” You stated.

“Not your normal type of cigarette, honey. Just trust me on this.” She said as she motioned to it.

You took the hand rolled cigarette from Helena, your fingers gently holding it before you placed it between your lips. You watched as she pulled a lighter and lit the end of it on, you watched as the embers flickered awake. You took in a deep drag. It was a bit reminiscent of the times you had sat around with your friends from school passing a blunt around. You took a deep inhale and the sweet taste filled your mouth and lungs. You pulled the cigarette from your lips and exhaled the smoke as it bellowed from your mouth. You felt your body relax, it felt as if you had gotten a full night's rest and the ache in your body from the last change didn’t seem like it had ever been there to begin with.

“I feel better.” You told her as you took another drag of the cigarette feeling the sweet smoke fill your lungs before you relaxed.

“It’s wolfsbane. Despite what you’ve been told ‘bout stories about us. It doesn't hurt us. Some kind of pain reliever. Never got a thorough explanation on it but it’s good to think about when you are on your own.” Helena told you.

You sat there for a moment as your eyes trained on the cigarette between your lips. Wolfsbane. For some reason you felt like laughing about the circumstances, this kind of stuff should have been poisoning you but again then everything wasn’t as it seems was it. You made a small mental note of that when you got to where you were going. Grow wolfsbane, a pain reliever. Add it to the list of things that Helena had been giving you throughout the trip. She had been giving you more than Lawrence. He had definitely tried to give you what you could but he also didn’t want you around. You remembered his words when you woke up in his cabin.

‘Our kind doesn’t work well with others. We are better off as loners. Leave the pack thing to the wolves.’

You mulled over those words for a moment as you looked at Helena. She had told you there was a slight difference between you and her. She could go freely as what she was, no forced changes or uncontrollable urges at times. What she was came as natural as the wind and rain but you. You weren’t natural even by their standards, you were a slave to the silver moon. You worked on her time and learned to make your life around her different phases. But here with Helena in that moment you thought about the man who had saved you from the monster that changed you. For a moment you considered maybe he was right but the feeling in your chest told you otherwise. You were different but it didn’t mean you had to go alone in this matter either, no matter what you were going to be a pack animal, it was ingrained into your genetic code. Even with it being altered by a virus you could have never fought off but only embraced it.

“C’mon, the bus is getting ready to leave again.” Helena said as she finished up her cigarette before putting it out with her heels.

You gave a nod of your head and took another deep drag before doing the same and tailing after her. You didn’t feel like slipping on your jacket to hide what you were. The hours you had spent in the care of Helena you felt like we're finally getting your footing in things, finally understanding how you were supposed to do things maybe. You made your way back onto the bus as people slowly trickled back in and went to get settled in once again.

The trip was a long one trekking across fifteen states by bus alone. This was a first for you seeing so many places in one go. You and Helena had bonded over the close capacity and in that time you had run into others like you. The others you met were different from Helena, a family woman, these ones seemed a bit more free spirited. They carried a similar scent to Helena, something natural and light. They carried scents that felt natural to where Lawrence had something that felt almost strange and foreign the more you recalled it. These people formed a little group with you and Helena, they were headed to New York. It was something that had made you giggle a little bit. It was odd to think of your kind occupying the city but hey let them do you. It was the first taste of what it was like to have a pack, something you didn’t realize that soothed some part of your soul.

You watched as scenery had passed by your window as the trip had worn on. Your camera had finally found its way out of your bag and for the first time in a while everything felt like it had gone normal again. You had never seen so many people as you had on that Greyhound bus, how some came for a little bit and others for longer like you and Helena. They didn’t seem to mind when you took photos, capturing moments in time of travelers on their way to destinations that you didn’t know where. They were fleeting in your life but it gave you a sense of normalcy that you had once had before it all had happened.

You arrived in Portland, Maine four days after you had left Pocatello. The atmosphere here was different and so was just everything else. It was a bit of whiplash but the steady hand from Helena steadied you as you both had gotten off the bus. You waited with Helena for her husband to pick her up from the station. You felt something break just a little bit as you had walked her out to her husbands truck and helped get her baggage into the truck. It felt like you were saying goodbye to your mother, a part of you whined as you didn’t want to leave. Maybe she said that and that is why she had slipped you the house phone number and address, along with the kind words of my door is always open to you. As you had watched her leave in that truck you didn’t realize that you had started crying, using the sleeve of your jacket to wipe away salty tears before you had turned to stalk back inside.

Through blurry vision of remaining tears you had found yourself at the desk asking for a map. You had looked over the worn map, fingers drifting over the paper as you tried to figure where to go from here now. Your eyes wandered over the names of small towns until your fingers had stopped on one. You traced out the words ‘Jerusalem's Lot’ before you seemed to tap it as you seemed to decide that’s where you were going.

“Hey, can I get a ticket to here?” You asked the attendant over the desk

The middle aged woman on the other end looked from her magazine, one that you were pretty sure was some gossip type of thing. You could see the grays sprouting against her blonde locks that had recently had a perm done on it. You watched as her eyes narrowed behind cat eye glasses as she looked at where you had been pointing at the map. She looked a bit surprised as she looked at the map and then back at you.

“The bus doesn’t head out that far. You are gonna have your thumb your way there.” She told you. The way she said it was a bit odd, like she was judging you for something but you couldn’t be sure. It was probably the way you looked, you hadn’t properly slept in sometime and definitely could use a shower.

“Shit, really?” You asked back. There wasn’t much surprise that you would have to hitchhike the rest of the way.

“Yeah, small little place out that way. The bus isn’t going that far out.” She explained to you. You let out a bit of huff under your breath and nodded your head.

“I could take you halfway and then you’d have to get there the rest of the way.”

Her voice had gotten your attention when she had offered to take you at least half way. It did save you from having to climb into a car with some guy and she didn’t seem that vicious, not like you couldn’t have handled your own with her either.

“Hmm, yeah that would work. Thank you.” You said as you tapped the desk and nodded your head. You folded back up the map and placed it down. You heard her say something in acknowledgement before you had headed to go sit down for a bit before you would be heading out with her.

The lady had kept her promise and had gotten you half way out there before you had gotten out at a gas station. You had waited around for sometime at the place trying to pick up a ride as you milled about at the station. You finally picked up a ride with elderly couple in the back of their pickup as well. Your bag sat between your legs as you leaned back against the bed of the truck. Your hair whipped up in the air as the truck roared down the highway, the smell of summer racing by that made your shoulders drop a bit. The old couple had let you out on the road just outside of Jerusalem’s Lot. You had hopped out and hauled your bag over your shoulder as you started on your way into town.

You could help the small amused laugh as you had past the Welcome to Jerusalem’s Lot sign. The dark wood was slightly faded out in some places to the point the sign more read Salem’s Lot before seemed a bit better condition than one side. It almost felt fitting for you, what would be a town of Salem without something strange going on. It got a rise out of you as you carried on, occasionally snapping pictures as you headed your way in. Not a car had passed by you as you had gotten into town, boots getting off of decaying asphalt to sidewalk as you prowled into town.

As you made your way in, you noted the way people had gone about their days. Some had glanced over at you and you could see the skepticism in their eyes. It was a small town and strangers coming in by foot wasn’t exactly normal. You brushed it off as you walked through the town. You passed a place called Dell’s tucking it away to come by when you had gotten settled into things and took in more as you passed through. You took in the hardwood store, a vacant building that was up for sale and just more things that had come to be known for a small town as well. Nothing seemed out of place and you weren’t sure what else to expect. This was a place placed out of time, people who had probably lived here for generations and never once left the Lot.

You kept on your way until your boots stopped in front of a place. You tilted your head to the side slightly as you read it. ‘Crockett’s Southern Maine Insurance and Realty’. That was definitely a good start. You shifted your bag over your shoulder a bit before you head inside. You pulled the door open and a little bell chimed that made your ears hurt as you slowly let your bag drop to the ground as you hesitantly headed inside. You got the smell of a fake flowery smell that made your nose cringe a bit and followed it a bit deeper into the building before you caught the culprit.

There sat a girl at the receptionist’s desk with a dirty blonde bob. She looked around your age and seemed a bit bored as she was engrossed in a book. You waited there for a moment before she rattled off what sounded like a bored yet overly practiced greeting for her job.

“Welcome to Crockett’s Southern Maine Insurance and Realty.” She said flatly as she flipped the page of her book.

“That sounds a bit forced.” You laughed softly as you looked around for a moment before you looked at her.

Her eyes were gray, one that you didn’t see often with people but they reminded you of the moon. The little streaks of dark colors in them are just like craters in the moon. You shook your head a moment and a small flush to your face as you realized that you had been staring a bit longer then you probably should have but she didn’t seem to notice, still reading that book of hers.

“You could say that. Hey you ain't from around here are you?” She said, the second part coming a bit more lively as she looked up and saw you.

“No, I’m not. Looking to move in.” You told her with a click of your tongue as you stood in the door frame.

“Move in?” She asked with a slightly raised eyebrow as she set her book down and rested her arms on the desk.

“Why is that surprising?” You retorted back to her with an easy smile. The way her eyes shifted down to those sharp canines of yours that glinted a bit before she looked away.

“I don’t know, aint people our age kind of looking to get out of these places?” She pointed it out to you. She definitely had a point about that, people like you and her were more often trying to get out of places like this than moving into them.

“I guess? I like the small town things, uh,” You stuttered out as you tried to figure out the best way to phrase it. Your small pause must have been taken by her as you were trying to get your name which she gave to you.

“Susan. Susan Norton, you can call me Susie.” She said she held out her hand to you.

Your eyes fell to her hand before you reached out to take her hand into yours. Yours was a bit rough then hers and nails a bit longer and definitely not coated in polish like hers. Yours spoke of a wildness that was not always associated with domesticity that seemed to come off of Susan in that moment. Your grip was strong as you shook her hand before you pulled it away as you heard the sound of a chair movie and the sound of dress shoes hitting the carpet. You shifted your weight to the man who was coming out of the office across the way from Susan’s desk.

It was a balding man with salt and gray peppered hair. He wore a dull colored suit, equally dull colored slacks, shirt and then bit too bright of a green tie. His eyes were dark and face wrinkled from the years of aging. There was the faint smell of what you knew as cheap cologne and cheap cigarettes that clung to the man. He gave off this air of what you could only describe as a rat and you weren’t sure as to why but you had to guess ever salesman just had that energy of a leech.

“Susie, I don’t pay you to ya- Oh hello there! I’m Lawrence Crockett and you are?” His voice made you want to recoil, it was baritone but it also felt so tacky. You weren't too pleased the way he had addressed Susan but the way he covered himself as he had addressed you.

“A client I would hope. Looking for a place to stay maybe on the south side of town?” You told him as you folded your arms and looked at the man.

The squirrelly character of a man seemed to share a look with Susan as they both looked at you for a moment. Your eyes met theirs and you could see that they were a bit surprised by the suggestion. There wasn’t a whole lot on that side of town but the woods and the low income side of the town.

“I like my quietness.” You told them firmly as you looked at both of them. You didn’t really care for the look, you wanted to be near the woods and if it came with an unsavory part of town or what they thought of it then so be it. You knew damn well looks were more than what they were.

“Uh, we come on in. Let me take a look at what I got available.” Lawrence cleared his throat and ushered you into his office.

You shared a look with Susan that was something like best of luck with the endeavor. It made you smile a little bit as you went into the small office. You took a seat in the cheap chair across from his desk that creaked under your weight. You watched the realtor shift around his space with eyes that seemed to probably make him a little bit more uneasy then he already was with you. Some people seemed to have that sense with you, something Helena had explained to you as a gift. They had a way of seeing over on the other side. Some had it a bit more clearer than others while some could just place it as there was something off or wrong about you. You had come to notice that was the case with some people. They would just be skittish around you, like some deep part in their head knew you weren’t entirely human anymore.

“Let me see, let me see.” He muttered to himself as he had sat down in his chair and was going over his desk to find the listings for the south side of town. You watched as he had shuffled around through files and you noticed one for a brief moment of an old Victorian house. You tilted your head to the side and read the words. ‘The Marsten House’. It mildly peaked your curiosity for the moment before your heard movement behind you. You watched as Susan had come into the room with the said listings that Mr. Crockett had been looking for it. She gave you a small smile as she set the files down on the desk in front of him and you watched as the man stopped his fruitless search when they had been placed.

“Here Mr. Crockett.” She said to him with a bit of a condescending chirp to her voice that had you stifling a laugh behind a bit of cough that she seemed to catch onto. You watched as Susan left the room before her boss even bothered to thank her for them.

“I’ve got three places out that way. They are all gonna need a little TLC but you seem like the capable type.” Mr. Crockett explained to you as he laid out the files of the house that were up for rent.

You shifted your chair forward closer to the desk so you could get a better look at your possible options that were being presented for you. The houses were all a bit different from each other and out of the three there were two that seemed in less move in condition then one. The one that seemed to be alright. It was in a second empire type structure with a black roof, white paneling and red brick foundation. It was surrounded by the woods and a small road led out to the main one from the brief pictures that were supplied. It was perfect for you, it would work good for what you needed and offered privacy that you wanted.

“I’ll take this one.” You said as you took the file out and placed it on the top of the others. Mr. Crockett looked at you with a look that held skepticism that you probably weren’t capable of handling a place like this yourself.

“Are you sure?” He asked like he was trying to give you a sense of doubt.

“Yup, how much is the down payment?” You told him back firmly. This was going to be the one and you weren’t going to let some realtor change your mind on things.

“Well about $108 on a monthly payment but I also need a security deposit which would be about double that. Should be $322 for the first payment.” He said as he cleared his throat and began to take out the necessary paperwork for you to fill. You had pushed out from your chair for a moment, the sudden action made the man jump a little bit as you had moved out of the room. You could feel Susan’s eye on you as you made your way to your bag and crouched down next to it. You pulled the zipper back and rustled through your clothes before you had pulled out a yellow envelope. You pulled out the stash of cash you had on you and counted out what you needed and what you were going to have left. You made a mental note of needing to get some form of job before your funds ran dry. You had stood back up and made your way back into the office.

“Here. I’ll take the key.” You said as you handed over the money in cash onto the man’s desk. He watched you for a moment as he took in how much you had just put down and that you were asking for the key. He cleared his throat before he motioned to the papers that needed your attention.

“I need you to sign a couple things and I’ll get Suze to take you over there.” He said as you grabbed a pen and went over the papers that he had put out. Some of it had gone over what you needed to do to get the electricity and heating up and going when you got over. You signed your name neatly on the little lines that had been asked of you. Once you were done you were handed two keys on a key ring. You felt the brass against your palm before you looked at the man.

“Isn’t that a bit of inconvenience to her?” You asked him as he rounded his desk and got to walking you out of his office.

“Nah she would be more than happy too. Won’t you Suze?” Mr. Crockett had said, snapping Susan out of her reading again.

“Happy to do what?” She had asked him with a bit of a confused look. You gave her a bit of an apologetic look and shifted uncomfortably for having someone pretty much give you a ride that one party didn’t even really seem to want to do.

“Take our new client to her new home?” Mr. Crockett said as he clapped you on the shoulders. You had to resist the urge to bristle or swivel to shove him off. Sometimes those little territorial traits could be the hardest to control. You took a steady breath as you heard Susan let out some annoyed noise and stood up from her chair, grabbing her purse and keys.

“Yeah, sure.” She said as she rounded her desk and headed for the door.

You shouldered your way out of Mr. Crockett’s grasp and after Susan. You had briefly glanced back at the man but said nothing as you had picked up your bag by the door and stepped outside after Susan. You followed her out to her car, a Chevrolet Vega, that seemed to be in pretty decent condition. You couldn’t help but marvel at it for a moment as you kicked yourself in gear as you quickly made your way across the street. You watched as the dirty blonde got into the driver’s seat and waited for you to climb on in. You didn’t hesitate to climb on to the passenger side and drop your bag on the floor.

The car roared to life as Susan started the engine up of the Vega. You could feel the rumble through your body as the car kicked into gear as Susan got you two on your way to your new home. You rubbed your fingers over the keys that you had been given by the realtor. You watched as the sleepy town rolled on by as Susan drove you through the Lot. You craned your neck as you watched the town dump roll by and the desolate graveyard up the hill just a reach off from the Martsen house that stood like a decrepit scarecrow that overlooked crops. Soon the brief image of the house was cut off as the woods crept their way into few as they had taken a turn towards the south side of town.

The town looked so peaceful in the summer, the hot breeze from outside filtered in through the cracked windows as you two rolled on by. You felt your eyes close for a moment for a moment as you took in a breath and let your head rest against the window. You could feel Susan’s gray eyes on you as she seemed to take you in. You didn’t seem to mind all that much as you felt things start to settle after months of the unknown yet there was this strange little pity that stayed there. A clawing and biting urge of that things weren’t going to stay this way for long but you pushed that off as you felt your eyes slowly close for a moment.

You were jolted awake as you felt Susan’s gentle hand met your shoulder. You startled her making her jump as well as you both nervously laughed off the small interaction as you both shifted in seats. You didn’t met Susan’s eyes for that moment as you tried to figure out the words to say to her as you sat there in her passenger seat. You grabbed a hold of the straps of your duffel bag for a moment.

“You didn’t have to take me. I could have walked it.” You shyly said to her as you brushed some of your hair out of your face as you stretched out from the small brief nap that you had fallen into in her car. You looked over at Susan who had looked over at you before she shifted her gaze away for a moment.

“It’s fine, I need the fresh air. Can’t believe that you picked that one?” Susan had said for a moment before she had looked back up at you. Your eyes met for a moment as you tried to process what she was asking her. She was wondering why you had picked this one and you didn’t want to give her the real reason as to why.

“Why?” You asked back. You watched as Susan seemed to fumble with some explanation to give you onto why she was asking her question. She seemed to realize that you weren’t from here and you weren’t aware of the town’s history.

“It’s got a direct view of the Martsen House. The people who had owned it prior said they could see stuff up there. The lady swore she saw someone staring at her from the window up there.” Susan explained to you as she watched your head work overtime to take in what she was telling you. You knew that small town’s had their stories, the legends that were carried on and passed out to children. Places that people whispered in hushed tones that had teenagers sneaking up to get a feel for the real thing.

“No way.” You muttered out as you met to pop open the car door of the Vega and stepped out. Susan seemed to watch you with a gaze that made you not uncomfortable in your skin but appreciated and made your face heat up.

“Yeah, I guess you got to learn about the Lot.” Susan joked as she watched you grab your bag from the floor of the Vega and hold it for a moment as you held the door ajar for a moment as you carried on the conversation.

“I do.” You told her as you shifted your weight for a moment.

“Here we are through. The Martsen House’s shadow.” Susan joked as she motioned to the house that was now going to be yours to look after. It looked like a shell of something that had lacked some life for awhile. You could make out plastic covering on some of the furniture that sat inside of the house. You couldn’t remember seeing anything about it being furnished but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“That’s ominous.” You laughed softly at Susan’s joke about the house that you are about to go into.

“Yeah but hey you don’t feel phased by ominous things.” Susan pointed out that you had nodded your head in agreement.

“Eh, it depends. Again thanks for bringing me here.” You told her for a moment as you brushed it off. You gaze turned back to the house and then to the clearing through the trees. She wasn’t really kidding when she had called it the Martsen House’s shadow. Through that clearing the old house stood on the hill, in direct line of the living room windows. You watched for a moment as you just stared at it and thought about what Susan had told you. You knew well enough now that the supernatural was not simply just stories that were to give someone a good scare or air caution, they always held some truth to them. You couldn’t totally discount that maybe the prior owners of your new home had seen something.

“Anytime. I hope that it suits you well.” Susan said as she broke you out of your thoughts and turned the car back on. You could feel the vibrations of the car through the frame and closed the door with a small thud. You were about to head in when Susan’s voice had stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, uh, maybe you would like to hang out this Friday. You are new and all, maybe you could use a friend.” Susan asked as she leaned a bit more to the passenger side of the car. You thought about her offer for a moment before you smiled softly at her.

“Need a new face to talk to that doesn’t do town gossip?” You joked.

“God yes please.” Susan laughed back as she nodded her head. You watched as her eyes had crinkled just a bit as she seemed to genuinely laugh but also genuinely happy to have the company of someone new. You couldn’t fault her for that, you felt it too.

“Okay, I’ll see you Friday, Susie.” You told her as you wrapped your knuckle against the frame of the door and backed off so she would have room to get out of the old driveway.

“See you then.” Susan said as she waved you goodbye.

You watched as Susan Norton pulled out of the driveway and down the way back to the main road. You waited until you heard the engine fade out and the sounds of the forest came to life. Something in you stirred, you felt a sudden jolt of energy go through your system as your legs carried you forward. Your boots crunched against dead leaves that had fallen from their place on the looming trees that surrounded the clearing of your new home. The old porch creaked under your weight as you went up it and juggled for the keys in your hand. You slid them into the rusty lock, it took a moment for the lock to shift before it finally gave way. The front door opened with a creak that had you closing your eyes.

“Oil for hinges at the top of the list.” You muttered out as you stepped into the house.

You looked around as you dropped your bag next to you as you kicked the door close with your foot. You looked around at the inside of the house, you could see the dust dance around in the light that shined through the windows. Mr. Crockett was not kidding when he said that it would need some TLC gifted to it. The house hadn’t seen a living person in almost over a year and it showed from all the dust and plastic covered furniture. You let out a sigh as you rested your hands on your hips for a moment as you took it all in before you let out a huff and shucked off your jacket to get started.

You had spent your afternoon getting the house in somewhat of a livable space. It had taken a couple of hours to understand how to get power to the house and accidentally shock yourself once. You had declared the basement the most horror movie thing you had seen and that with it having cellar doors it was probably a good place to make your spot for when the full moon came calling for you. The water heater was a completely different beast itself and you’d have to get someone out there to take care of it, suffering with cold showers was going to have to be managed until you could. Not that you could complain, the upper floor of the house was hotter than hell and that made the main floor and basement the only comfortable spots in the old house for you to be around. You had dragged one of the old mattresses from upstairs down into the living room and pulled the curtains a bit as you had set up.

By the time you had gotten the place into a somewhat livable space you sat out on the porch shirtless in a bra and your jeans. You had since ditched your boots to walk around barefoot for the moment. You sat on the porch steps as you took a drag of some of the wolfsbane cigarettes that Helena had given you and stared up at the sky. The pastel hues of the sky as the sun began to set painted the sky as your eye strained to see the one thing in the sky. There the moon hung, almost spilling over with silver as she stared back down at you, her moon lorne child. You let out a sigh and stretched out a bit before getting up and heading back inside as you could feel the familiar aches bloom in your body.

tags: @rhettmotel @lewmagoo @delopsia

#ch: ben mears.#ben mears x reader #salem's lot #salem's lot 2024 #lewis pullman x reader

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posttexasstressdisorder · 7 months ago

Text

GOP has gone rancid—and it isn't fair decent people have to keep cleaning up after them

D. Earl Stephens

April 23, 2024 5:27AM ET

People await the arrival of former U.S. President Donald Trump at a rally for Sen. Marco Rubio (R-FL) at the Miami-Dade Country Fair and Exposition on November 6, 2022 in Miami, Florida. (Photo by Joe Raedle/Getty Images)

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I’ve heard more than enough from people identifying as Republicans to last for whatever is left of my life.

By words and actions, Republicans have proven they are not serious people, and most definitely do not love or care for our country. We have learned without any doubt during the past decade that there is no line they won’t cross, rule they won’t break, or lie they won’t tell to further their dirty causes, which have absolutely nothing to do with making America great.

They are incapable of good governance, and have settled into mob rule. The Republican-led House of Representatives is a complete and nasty joke, where members literally elbow and hiss at each other, and that is both true and terribly, terribly sad.

With help from our inept Justice Department and a bought-off Conservative Supreme Court, Republicans are making a mockery of the notion that our nation is protected by the rule of law. They know better than anybody, that this simply is not true.

They have exploited a system they have learned to eagerly spit on by refusing to allow nominations for Supreme Court Justices in some cases, while rocketing other Conservative nominees through the Senate in record time.

READ: Breaking our democracy is all part of the GOP plan

They call violent terrorists who attack our country hostages, and expect the press to keep swallowing it whole, because that’s what they do.

Cheating and underhandedness is in their DNA.

They are long past the point of no return, and will either pay for their felonious behavior, or will somehow be rewarded for it at the polls this November, in which case we are done with our Democratic experiment after 248 years.

It is now up to Democrats to once again save this nation from the sick arsonists eagerly trying to burn it to the ground, and that is helluva lot to ask, and isn’t remotely fair.

Here’s a damn truth we don’t hear near enough about: If the Democratic candidate for president was facing 91 felony counts, had been convicted of fraud, was a serial abuser of women, told a documented 30,573 lies in four years, spread a big, toxic lie about an election he lost, and praised dictators, the party and the people who support it, would drop him/her like a rock.

He or she wouldn’t stand a chance. They’d be banished to the nearest dumpster. No decent person would want to be associated with such obvious scum.

The people who vote on the Left and the Right in this country are not remotely the same, and I am way past sick and tired of hearing that they are.

Something as despicable and odious as Donald J. Trump could NEVER happen in the Democratic Party. We simply would not allow it.

That right there is an ironclad fact.

Democrats and left-leaning people are not perfect, because no person is, but we still believe in truth, decency and manners. ALL children are important in our world, which is why we believe feeding them and getting them the healthcare and the childcare they need is vital, and far more important than paying the taxes of filthy-rich, bloated billionaires. We still believe that how the United States projects itself to rest of the world and our children means something.

We love our country, warts and all.

We still believe that when we’ve made mistakes, or said stupid, hurtful things we should apologize for them, not recklessly double down like ill-bred maniacs.

We have not, and will not, surrender to the lowest form of life like Trump. It is simply not in us.

As of this writing, I am officially DONE listening to the unmitigated gall that “both sides do it” or “both parties are the same” because that’s a complete load of bullshit. It is brutally insulting to the tens of millions of people in this country who play by the rules, believe all people are created equal, and still know a damn lie, or attack on our country when they hear it and see it.

The people who populate the Left and Right in our country are wired differently, and it’s time this was said out loud, and repeatedly. It is also long past time our media reported this. Especially because they know it to be true.

In the newsrooms where I used to work, if something so obviously bad and as evil as Trump and his enablers had burst on the scene, we would have been sounding alarms and reporting on it 24/7. The man means us and our country harm. We know this because he is SHOWING US AND TELLING US THIS.

There is seldom a day that goes by without him saying or doing something revolting and egregious. The media doesn’t even bother asking his Republican followers in Congress to account for his larceny anymore. They just accept it as somehow normal when it most certainly is not and never can be.

There are two sides to the story that should be told in America right now. One is called, good, the other is called, evil.

The only reason our national press does not report on this legitimately and accurately is simply because they are pathetic cowards, plain and simple. They know they are failing, but are carrying on despicably, anyway.

I’ll always have ammo to burn addressing their egregious behavior these days, but for now, I want to continue unwinding this thread of how the Left and Right are completely different and how unfair it is that we have to deal with the never-ending recklessness on the Right.

Back in 2015, when Trump laughably announced he’d be seeking the Republican nomination for president, many prominent Republicans rightfully scoffed at the possibility. You’ll get no better example than Lindsey Graham’s evergreen tweet: “If we nominate Trump we will get destroyed.......and we will deserve it.” Graham went on to call Trump, “a jackass.”

The Bushes, Rubios, and other red-blooded Republicans all saw Trump for what he was: completely disgusting and ridiculous. That was before the big-mouth, lifetime loser started blasting them off the debate stage by imitating a slobbering, belligerent drunk at the end of the bar.

Instead of bouncing him from the party, they allowed him to play to the delight of the silent minority in America, who had watched him bravely fire people on his TV show, and lick his toilet seat by degrading President Obama with his putrid, racist, noxious birther blather.

These were the fine people whose tongues bled from self-censoring the bile that flowed from their broken brains, into their big, fat mouths, and had taken centuries to finally go out of taste in this country. It killed them that there were actually awful, hurtful things they could not say out loud anymore.

Now they were free to be themselves again, and let the sludge flow freely from their chapped lips.

Their freedoms had nothing to do with breaking free from any chains, or breaking glass ceilings. No, their freedoms meant having the permission from the very top to be just as disgusting and appalling as they wanted to be. It meant belittling the disabled, and dragging women into the gutter. It meant coddling Nazis and calling cities that terrified them with their sophistication, “s--t holes.”

Before we knew it Nazis and white suprematists were coming out of their caves everywhere and lighting their tiki torches. They were finally on the march to the point of no return, where their disgusting leader was waiting to tell them that he loved them.

Once you have coddled a racist, a traitor, a two-timer, a friend of our enemies, an environmental terrorist, a serial liar, and a sociopath, you are completely lost and broken. Done.

Now the mob rules the Republican Party, which makes it fitting they are represented by this two-bit thug, who is currently sitting in a court room for hiding campaign money he paid to an adult movie star he slept with named Stormy, while his wife was at home caring for a newborn.

Yeah, that’s good and wholesome and normal right there.

A few have broken free of the madman’s grip in the Republican Party, while others have tried, and have crumpled into a heap and back into the mud and slime.

In February, Trump’s very own attorney general, the morally corrupt, Bill Barr, stumbled into bravery and truth when he said that voting for Trump would be “playing Russian roulette with the country.”

By this past Wednesday he had once again devolved and said, but “I’ll support the Republican ticket” if Trump leads it.

Also in February, New Hampshire Republican Governor Chris Sununu said of Trump: “A--holes come and go. But America is here to stay.”

On Sunday, he admitted he had changed his tune and said: “Look, nobody should be shocked that the Republican governor is supporting the Republican president.”

That’s exactly right, governor: A--holes come and go, and apparently you will do everything you can to hang around for a while. You are a revolting person, sport.

Nobody should be surprised by these things anymore, because the Republican Party is irredeemable and incapable of surprises. They can ALWAYS go lower, and prove it literally every day.

This is what happens when you are morally busted and are not bound by any rules or self-control that guides the rest of us.

This is what happens when you surrender to depravity.

This is what happens when you rubber stamp abuse of women, lies, insurrection and support for dictators as anything in the vicinity of normal.

So what happens when standing by the truth and playing by the rules gets you nowhere as a political party and as a country? What happens when millions discover there is no justice and a depraved mad man once again has the keys to the kingdom?

Thanks to the Barrs and the Sununus, and the tens of millions of below-average, broken-down Republicans littering our country, we are terrifyingly close to finding out.

It is up to the Left to take out the garbage once again in America, because the Right has lost its damn mind, as well as its sense of taste and smell.

At what point can all this FINALLY be delivered as fact and shouted on Page 1?

At what point can we quit pretending that both sides are even remotely the same?

NOW READ: What most assuredly happens when Trump sits down with the New York Times

D. Earl Stephens is the author of “Toxic Tales: A Caustic Collection of Donald J. Trump’s Very Important Letters” and finished up a 30-year career in journalism as the Managing Editor of Stars and Stripes. Follow @EarlofEnough and on his website.

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kyumisyumi · 6 months ago

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König never dreamed

A/N: A König practice writing I did while experimenting with one interpretation of his character. No plot just König.

CW: bad parenting, verbal abuse, verbal child abuse

König never exactly dreamed of things. Another rancid bi-product of his upbringing; the parts where any dreams shared in the presence of his father was immediately put down with a scoff followed by curses and slurs. Unkind words regarding his intelligence, specifically the supposed lack thereof. His mother, oh so encouraging in private, had learned not to defend her son in the presence of her husband; it only brought more trouble when she tried. And König understood, really he did, but his mother's whispered praises could never settle in his young brain the way his father's angry ravings did. Burrowing and festering within the delicate walls of his self confidence. HIs father, offended by the very prospect that his unwanted son would have the gall to dream of being anything better than him. So König had learned to hide his dreams and eventually they just stopped appearing altogether, taking his ability to hope and plan for a future with it. Nothing but the blacks and whites of static in that unused part of his brain. Mushed grey matter, thoroughly beaten by his father into putrid sludge that filled his skull. Night after night he'd listen to it slush around in his head as he tossed and turn in his bed. The sound his only lullaby.

He never truly related when his colleagues spoke of their dreams to serve the country, dreams to move up the ranks, to obtain status and power. To become someone their parents would show off when they got home. To become someone. To become. To be. Understood; yes, but he could not relate. Maybe that was the secret, the needed puzzle piece they'd lost in their hours spent dreaming and planning and kissing the heels of their superiors. König didn't dream but he worked. God, did he work. So afraid of failure that any mission given to him was the most important task in his lifetime. Any order followed like the command from a master to his hound. Fetch. Hide. Bite. And what good master doesn't reward a loyal dog? Praise here a slab of meat there. And he'd eat it up with vigor- the pathetic, desperate mutt he was. He didn't care what he got as long as a reward was given, anything to satiate the need for validation from those set above him. König hardly noticed that the rewards got better each time, only that he got them. Meat, a shiny medal, a promotion. It was all the same to him.

König never exactly dreamed of things. All this to say he never dreamed of what he would become. Never hoped of being anything more than a man who could kill and lead and plan. Never, for a moment developed an image for his future self. Never needed to be a hero nor savior. Would...

And this is where I forgot where I was going with all this. I believe I was going to write about the time he saved a group of civilians and how he reacted to their fear of him... but I lost the plot. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#kyumiwrites #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig fic #konig never dreamed

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hareofhrair · 6 months ago

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Please tell me if you're a zionist or not. Because the notes on that post of yours are absolutely rancid regarding Palestinian people and I need to know before I submit your url to the zionist block list

No, I am not a zionist. Israel, like any ethnostate, should not exist and what they are doing to the Palestinians is unquestionably genocide. I fully support Palestine and their right to resist in the face of annihilation.

I am also not anti semetic, for the record, and stand with the many Jewish people who support Palestinian liberation.

I also recognize that while Biden or any president is unlikely to ever stop supporting Israel as it’s too critical to colonial and capitalist action in that area, Trump has voiced support for Israel straight up nuking Gaza.

There is unfortunately very little we can meaningfully do with this particular election for the Palestinian people. Continuing to pressure the democrats may mitigate the damage to a degree, but I’m aware how thin a comfort that is to a country currently being massacred.

But we cannot help ANYONE if our democracy is actively overthrown, as Trump has made extremely, unambiguously clear he intends to do. He has every intention of making himself a Putin style dictator, with the full support of Putin himself, who knows he can use Trump as a puppet, in a manner so like the way we’ve overthrown democratic countries and installed puppet dictators in the past that the dramatic irony would be heavy handed were it fictional. We almost deserve it.

But we are a country full of innocent people the same as any other, who don’t deserve to suffer and die to punish the idea of western imperialism, which the vast majority of have zero control over.

The one tiny bit of control we DO have is through voting.

This is not a situation I’m happy with, but this isn’t a situation of trading Palestinian lives for American ones. This is a situation where saving Palestinian lives isn’t even on the table, and refusing to acknowledge that is only going to make the situation worse. We can either save American lives and hope it doesn’t make the situation in Palestine actively worse. Or we can refuse to do anything like petulant children and watch everyone die.

Vote, and then get back to organizing your community, participating in protests and direct action, volunteering and donating to relief and evacuation funds, and voting in local elections so that we can maybe end up with some better options next time!

And if yall ever get the violent revolution off the ground, I’ll be right behind you! But if you tell me you’re not voting because the only moral action is firebombing a Walmart, you’d better firebomb the goddamn Walmart.

And to the assholes in the notes of that post and talking shit in my asks, for the record, I’m a disabled trans lesbian living in goddamn Louisiana, living on less than $1000 a month. Aside from my friends in Florida, no one is getting the ass end of this garbage government more than us. And for the record, yeah, I’m boycotting McDonald’s, and anything else I can. I’d boycott Starbucks too if there was one within 50 miles. I vote in every local election. I organize as much as I can in rural Louisiana. I take direct action whenever I get the chance, which isn’t often given my lack of mobility and remote location, but I’m willing to bet I’ve done more than most of the assholes in the notes.

Let me put it very plainly, TLDR: if you refuse to vote because you think it doesn’t make a difference or you think it’ll make you complicit in this country’s crimes, you are actively putting your personal comfort and moral purity above the lives of the Palestinian people, as well as above every vulnerable person in this country on top of it. If you want to save Palestine, start by not letting our god damn democracy go up in flames.

#us politics

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fumblingmusings · 1 year ago

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give us some Francex Spain headcanons please

This is so long and unorganised, apologies. TL;DR - Francis is lucky Antonio is so placid, because the moments he bites back genuinely frighten him, but the status quo of him sitting neatly on top of Spain always seems to swing back around. Again, Francis is lucky Toni's life ambition is to own a cafe...

For proper context - I imagine Antonio as Castille first, then comes to represent Spain as a whole, though I imagine there will be representations of Galicia, Catalonia/Aragon etc. just like there's the regions of Japan or Picardy for France or indeed how Arthur represents the UK internationally, but of course his brothers are still very much around. So, just for why I think Francis and Antonio have a relationship which goes way back.

Francis and Antonio I imagine as a sin/cos curve... like when Francis is up high, above Toni, things are 'correct' and in their natural place. They're friendly as Antonio is such a mild mannered friendly kid he's quite content to sit and listen to Francis crow about his amazing Kings and fancy court and so on. Francis loves to brag about how it's him that's the true heir to Rome, not the Germans. Spain nods, thinking about other more important things back home.

France used Spain very much as a bulwark against the al-Andalus parts of the Iberian Peninsula - as Francis at the time of Charlemagne and thereafter loved to see himself as the saviour of Europe, so as time goes by and we zip by the occasional Castille/France team up versus England/Portugal you start to get an increasingly influential Spain by the late 15th century, and the trouble is... Toni wants the same thing as Francis. And oddly enough, he's better at getting what he wants, despite seemingly not really trying. Maybe because he is honest to goodness just a little bit less... smug? But sometimes reading Spanish history in the 1500s is going like: Oh. Well that was convenient. It's not the reality of course, but it must have been very frustrating.

Antonio also dislikes the same things as Francis. So it's interesting. When they're fighting my God do they go at it. When they're on the same side their a pretty solid duo. But I love the idea of Antonio just pissing Francis off at times, and like... sometimes just by vibing. The man's vibes are zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. And Francis - depending on his ego that day - finds it rancid. I know a lot of people don't like the way Antonio is characterised, but I love him as he is so shh. He's so disconnected at times from the reality going on around him. Only his immediate circle matters. He doesn't seem to really understand his Civil War. I think compared to Francis, who is much more in tune with his people... it gets messy.

The trouble comes because Francis is jealous, and likes his standing as number one in Europe. No-one can challenge that. But Antonio does, for a good century or even two, and maybe Antonio doesn't necessarily mean to, but his King and Queens do, or maybe Antonio finds that ambition suits him. The 15th through to mid 17th century gives him the ability to out class Francis. Maybe it's not intentional at first, but once Antonio finally grasps what he may be about to lose during the Thirty Years War and then the failing of his line of the Habsburgs... the ugliness comes out full force.

But... Like to show the overlap once Spain starts to really assert themselves in the late 15th Century, and how truly infuriated Francis must have been at points. They both have a vested interest in Italy - Antonio wins that one. Francis has a stake in Barcelona - Antonio wins that one. They both want the Low Countries. Antonio wins that one. Antonio gets Holy Roman Empire. And the actual creme de la creme... Antonio has divided the world in two with that blooming Treaty of Tordesillas. And the Pope was the one to approve that one. The Pope! The guy who says France is the most important nation for Christianity in Europe (save HRE but... oh look Spain is now Holy Roman Emperor too Jesus Christ).

Needless to say, Francis feels the universe is conspiring against him. God's not still mad about that Avignon Pope... is he?

So Francis is forever looking for ways to kick Antonio in the shins - to go back to him being the main guy in Europe, the guy who wants it and works for it and you know Francis more than anything wants to admired. Antonio... oh. Not sure what he wants more than anything really. A peaceful life. Which he did not get to have for most of his existence really. Arthur and Sadık are handy for Francis to use from time to time to deal a smack to Antonio, but otherwise it's him looking at this guy who - let's be generous - is not the most ambitious man going, who seems to just grow more and more powerful, more and more influential and it eaaaaaaaaats at Francis.

But you know. Habsburgs. Religion. War. Antonio finally understands what he stands to loose, and ah. There's the ambition and drive. But he still looses, and now there's a Bourbon in charge and he is unable to ever fully get back up to that the ascent that the Trastámaras started. Pacte de Famille pops up again and again in the 18th Century, and I like the idea of it being characterised as Francis using Antonio's love of the Italies, and the fact that Arthur is increasingly a pain in the fucking arse for the both of them. Again, both Francis and Antonio love the same things. They also hate the same things. Sometimes that thing is a god awful English dude and sometimes love and hate are indistinguishable.

Like, Francis can loathe Arthur at points, but at least Arthur works to be a pain in the arse. Toni... wants to own a cafe. And he isn't even that good at it.

#this is so unorganised and i didn't talk about anything post 1800 but you get the point #early modern french-spanish relations is a yo yo and i love it #hetalia #hws spain #hws france #headcanon #op #q&a #historical hetalia

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ruthlesslistener · 1 year ago

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24 on the choose violence ask game for HK or Destiny, your choice

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

-I'm choosing Destiny 2 because I've already covered this for HK I think. But really anything that involves the story pacing of Lightfall, O14, or Eramis tends to get on my fucking nerves. Lightfall was paced exactly how it needed to be for the vibe that we were dealing with (NO WE ARE NOT GOING TO GET ANSWERS RIGHT AWAY IF WE DID A MAD RUSH TO SAVE A RECENTLY-DISCOVERED CIVILIZATION ALREADY UNDER ATTACK THAT HAS A KEY THAT COULD HELP US THAT WE ONLY JUST LEARNED ABOUT), Saint and Osiris were always gay and referring to each other as 'brothers' doesn't negate that because it is an extremely fucking common address of comradery in every country apart from America, and ERAMIS IS NOT A FUCKING DISCIPLE NOR DID SHE KNOW WHAT SHE WAS GETTING INTO WITH THE WITNESS. SHE'S A PAWN SHE'S A SLAVE SHE HATES WHAT SHE DID. Nobody seems to understand the concept of nuanced morally grey characters but her NOT wanting to side with House Light bc it places the Eliksni in a vulnerable position to the humans is VERY reasonable and we outright see in canon MULTIPLE times that she entered a deal with the devil before she saw the contract. Also the Witness is abusive as fuck so she is not part of a fucking 'darkness found family' she is in deep shit watching her friends and loved ones being raised from the dead specifically to torture her and she wants to die because of it oh my goddddddd

#destiny 2 #vivifrage #ask game #ask meme #d2 players are the most lore illiterate ive come across somehow #pick up a fucking book and you'll see that hte story pacing makes sense

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whump-me · 1 year ago

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Conquest, Chapter 1: The Coward

Chapter 1 of Conquest, a novel-length fantasy whump story about a timid royal clerk captured by the disgraced prince who needs their help to rule their newly conquered country. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: fantasy setting, nonbinary whumpee, fearful whumpee, war, suicide

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Miranelis

On an ordinary day, the spare pantry at the very back of the palace kitchens smelled like subtle spices and gentle herbs. Each one was mild on its own, but transformed into a cacophony of scent when all stored in the same close space. The spice jars, packed together on the shelves along with blocks of salt and bags of dried beans, were sealed but not airtight, and the dried herbs that hung from the ceiling sent a constant stream of fragrance into the air.

When Miranelis and Havedrial had first run in here and barricaded the door with the heaviest sacks of grain they could find, Miranelis’s entire face had ached for hours with the effort of holding back a sneeze. Only the knowledge of what would happen if anyone heard them had made it possible.

Now, after days in the darkness—or maybe only hours, but it felt like days—Miranelis thought back with nostalgia on that pungent mix of odors. Now the pantry smelled of sweat and urine. And whenever they got too close to the door, they caught the faintest whiff of blood. The blood had smelled fresh at first. Now it was rancid, and the reek made Miranelis’s stomach flop like a gasping fish.

Which was for the best, because it kept hunger at bay. Miranelis knew they should have been hungry, but whether because of the smell or the knowledge of what was waiting outside the door, they had no appetite whatsoever. Havedrial must have been in a similar state, because they hadn’t said one word about their appetite, even though they had a habit of being forthright about such things to the point of impropriety. It was just as well, because nothing in here was edible in its current state. If they stayed in here much longer, they would both die of starvation surrounded by food.

As deaths went, it sounded more pleasant than their other options.

Miranelis was wedged into the far corner, their back against a hard jutting wooden shelf, their knees pulled up to their chest. Their muscles ached with the effort of holding the same position for so long, but they couldn’t move. They felt like a rabbit frozen under the gaze of a hawk—a Wolf, rather—although there was a solid door between them and the horrors outside, and even the most rabid Wolf couldn’t see through walls.

They hadn’t slept. Little tremors kept running through their hands, and they couldn’t tell whether it was terror or exhaustion. A little of both, most likely. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a feeling that was compatible with sleep, no matter how drained they felt.

Next to Miranelis, the palace’s head clerk Havedrial lay flat on their back, a bag of beans under their head serving as a makeshift pillow. They had taken off their outer shawl and draped it over their thin, wrinkled body as a blanket. Their eyes were closed, their breathing slow and rhythmic. They certainly looked comfortable.

That made one of them.

Jealous though Miranelis might have been at Havedrial’s preternatural ability to sleep, they didn’t begrudge their teacher the small moment of respite. If not for Havedrial, they would have frozen at the first panicked shouts when the Wolves breached the gate, and stood there blinking until a sword took their head off. Havedrial knew how to think fast under pressure. It had saved them—and the queen—in many a tense negotiation. And it had saved their life and Miranelis’s when they had sprinted down the back hallways to the kitchens and Miranelis had found just enough presence of mind to follow.

The rest of the clerks had planned to stay and fight. Havedrial had called them idiots, and praised Miranelis for being quick enough to see that running was the only way to survive. Yes, praised—Havedrial always has been agonizingly lavish with praise. Just one more way they cared nothing for propriety. And in this case, the praise hadn’t even been true. Havedrial had run because they were clever. Miranelis had followed because they were a coward.

The fighting had reached the kitchens soon enough, as Miranelis and Havedrial listened from behind the pantry door. It had been impossible to tell which of the dying screams belonged to people they knew. Their fellow clerks. The guards. The ambassadors who hadn’t fled in time. That hadn’t stopped Miranelis from worrying at the thought like a dog with a bone, trying to match voices to names, picturing familiar faces with dead staring eyes mere feet away on the other side of the door.

Of course the royal family would be dead by now. Of that, there was no question, although doubtless they had died far from the palace kitchens. Miranelis kept trying not to picture their bodies. But their mind was trained to stay active even when their body was exhausted to the point of collapse. And they had nothing else to keep their mind occupied here in the darkness.

Miranelis had liked the queen. They hadn’t ever seen much of the child prince, but they remembered his smile. He had approached them in the palace courtyard a few weeks ago and shyly handed them a bracelet woven from blades of grass.

While the queen and the prince and everyone else had died, Miranelis had huddled in the dark pantry, shivering and crying, snot dripping down their face. Even Havedrial hadn’t lost control so thoroughly and shamefully. They had sat cross-legged on the floor, looking as calm and wise as an old sage in a tapestry, as if this were nothing more than an exceptionally tricky diplomatic negotiation.

It was quiet now. There was no one left on the other side of the door to scream. The only sounds were the rhythmic rumble of Havedrial’s breathing, and Miranelis’s own ragged gasps.

Come to think of it, Havedrial’s breathing was a little too slow and even. Miranelis leaned down to peer into their face. A glint of reflected light under their eyelashes confirmed what Miranelis had already thought: Havedrial wasn’t really sleeping.

Havedrial let out a soft sigh, as if they knew Miranelis had found them out. They pushed themselves to a sitting position with a quiet groan. “This floor is too hard for my tastes,” they said, as if they were lecturing the maker of their bed. “I’ve always preferred a soft place to sleep.”

Miranelis couldn’t imagine ever being able to sleep again. “How long do you think we should wait?” they asked, with a nervous glance toward the door.

Havedrial, of course, answered with a raised eyebrow and a, “How long do you think we should wait?”

Echoes made the best teachers, after all—or at least that had always seemed to be Havedrial’s philosophy. Although it hardly seemed fair to stick to that philosophy when this had nothing to do with Havedrial’s training as a royal clerk—training that had ended years ago. Not to mention the fact that both their lives hung on the answer. Still, Miranelis took a deep breath and thought before answering, as Havedrial had taught them. Havedrial’s face creased in a smile.

Miranelis looked away out of reflex. Just because Havedrial didn’t care about propriety, that didn’t mean it didn’t fill Miranelis with hot, crawling discomfort to see childish emotion displayed so clearly on another’s face. “I don’t think it matters,” they answered, their voice steady but their thoughts miserable.

“And why is that?” asked Havedrial.

“Because they’re still here,” said Miranelis. “If the Naskori didn’t want to keep the palace for themselves, they would have burned it behind them, and we would already be dead. The fighting is over, and I know our side didn’t win. We had no chance. But the palace didn’t burn around us. That means they’ve claimed it for themselves. They’re not leaving.”

“You have a question, I believe,” Havedrial prompted.

Miranelis took another breath before answering, because they needed to be sure their voice didn’t break. Doomed or not, they would not let themselves act like a mewling child who hadn’t even mastered the basics of self-control. Their tears in those first hours had been humiliating enough.

“Why did you run here, if you knew you would die either way, whether they burned the palace or claimed it?” Miranelis asked.

“Because every other option led to immediate and certain death,” Havedrial answered. “Fleeing the palace would have run me directly onto their swords. Staying to fight would have ended the same way in short order. I chose uncertainty, because uncertainty was the best of all possible options.” And then came the echo: “Why did you run, when you were clever enough to have seen where it would lead?”

In that moment, Miranelis hadn’t seen much of anything. Just the blind panic at the feeling of a predator’s claws and teeth about to grab them. “Because I’m a coward,” they answered.

“Maybe,” said Havedrial placidly. “Maybe not. In my opinion, a coward is simply one who hasn’t found the right opportunity for bravery.”

Miranelis had had an opportunity, and the rest of the clerks had taken it. Miranelis had run instead. But they both knew that, and saying it wouldn’t change what they had done, so they stayed silent.

“If they’ve decided to claim the palace,” they said instead, after a moment, “they’ll probably search in here eventually. They’re known for being thorough. They don’t like to leave any potential enemies alive.”

“Yes,” Havedrial agreed, “that’s very likely. The only surprise is that they haven’t done it before now.”

Miranelis didn’t understand how they could be so calm about this. They had both heard the same stories of Vorhullin the Unmaker and his army of Wolves from the north. They both knew the brutal things they had done to their enemies as the countries to the south of the Unmaker’s barren mountainous lands fell one by one. They had sat in on the same meetings, and dutifully transcribed the same tense conversations between diplomats. They had seen the creases on the queen’s face, even though she had always thought she had less to worry about than her neighbors. Danelor was supposed to have been too small for the Unmaker to bother with, not worth crossing the mountains that had always kept them protected in the past. The most they had to worry about, the queen had assured them all, was that their major trade partners would fall. That would have been a catastrophe in itself, but it would not have meant death. At least, probably not.

They were supposed to have been safe.

But they should have taken into account that their mountains were nothing more than hills compared to Kyollen Naskor, where the Wolves came from.

And now they weren’t safe after all. The enemy had swept in with less than a day’s advance warning. Everyone Miranelis and Havedrial had known was likely dead; they had heard it happen. So how could Havedrial seem so unbothered?

At a faint, rhythmic sound, Miranelis tensed. Maybe their panic-soaked mind was playing tricks on them. But they could have sworn they heard footsteps.

Miranelis studied Havedrial’s placid face in the darkness. They weren’t simply good at keeping control of themselves, Miranelis knew; they barely even cared about control. They were perfectly fine with acting like an immature child when it suited them, laughing uproariously at a murmured joke or shedding unrestrained tears at a wedding. Was the facade for Miranelis’s benefit, then? Or was Havedrial really so at ease?

The rhythmic sound came again, closer this time.

“They’re out there,” Miranelis said in a whisper.

“Yes, I believe you’re right.”

Miranelis shook their head. “Don’t you care?” Despite their efforts, a hint of emotion came through in their own voice.

“It’s all right,” they said. “I have a plan.”

“Then why didn’t you say something before?”

As Havedrial sighed, the facade slipped away, and their eyes creased with sorrow. But their voice was as steady as ever. “Because I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

“You can’t be planning to fight them. We don’t have weapons.” Miranelis felt their pockets, as if a knife could have slipped in there without them noticing, and came up only with a quill pen. They pictured trying to jam it into the throat of an enemy warrior a head taller than them and twice as broad. Then they imagined dangling in the Wolf’s grip as the Wolf closed a meaty hand around their neck. They gulped in a breath.

“We don’t have to. Every pantry has a knife or two lying around.” Havedrial reached behind him without looking and came up with a short, squat knife. It looked much too short for battle, like something the cook’s assistant might have used for opening a stubbornly sealed lid. Either Havedrial had eyes in the back of their head, or they had already gone looking and spotted it hours ago.

“You can’t be thinking we’ll fight off an army with that.”

Havedrial shook their head. “We can’t fight them off. We both know that. But we don’t have to.”

“Then what…” Miranelis’s voice trailed off at the hollow look in Havedrial’s eyes.

“I may not be able to save your life, Miranelis,” said Havedrial, “but I can ensure that your life does not end alone and in fear.” They patted the space next to them. “Come. I’ll make it as quick and painless as I can. We’ll go together. It won’t be so bad.” Their face was creased with the same affection Miranelis had seen when they had first begun their training, when Havedrial had told them—making Miranelis blush, aghast at the brazen breach of etiquette—that they were the best student that had ever seen. “I promise.”

Miranelis’s mouth dropped open in horror before they could think of controlling themselves.

“It’s a better fate than whatever the Wolves have in store for us.” Havedrial voice was gentle. “You know it as well as I. You were there in all the meetings. You’ve heard the stories.”

They were right, Miranelis knew they were right… but… Miranelis’s eyes landed on the blade, then skittered away. They imagined the blade parting flesh, and felt the sharp, fiery bite of pain as if it were already happening. They saw blood—their own blood—spilling out on the pantry floor. Their stomach flopped.

Miranelis shook their head. “I can’t.”

“We have no way out. I hoped circumstances would shift, that some other path would appear, but luck was not on our side this time.” They tilted their chin upward, where footsteps—unmistakable now—creaked above their heads. “We don’t have much time.”

Miranelis swallowed hard at the sound of the footsteps. But then they looked at the knife again, and almost vomited right there on the floor. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

“Let me save you in the only way I can.” The naked pain in Havedrial’s soft voice brought a blush to Miranelis’s face, even now. “Please”

“Maybe they won’t find us,” said Miranelis, even as the floor creaked again. “Maybe they won’t think to check in here.”

Harsh shouts reached Miranelis’s ears, faint in the distance but coming closer. They spoke in the harsh language of the Naskori. Miranelis was unpracticed enough with the language that the distortion created by the walls between them made it impossible to decipher the sounds into meaningful speech.

“Are you sure?” Havedrial asked, with a quiet plea in their voice. “This may be your only chance.”

Miranelis knew it was the best option. But they couldn’t move any closer to Havedrial, not knowing it would mean that knife biting into their flesh, and their blood spilling out over their skin. They had run because they were a coward, and they were a coward still.

“I’m sure.” Miranelis couldn’t stop their voice from shaking.

“Then I won’t force you.” Havedrial let out a long sigh. “You were always my favorite of my students,” said Havedrial, “and you have grown into my equal in both skill and knowledge, even if you don’t believe it yourself. If circumstances had been different, I’m certain you would have taken my place someday.”

Miranelis had far more important things to worry about than Havedrial’s insistence on talking to Miranelis as one child to another, praise naked and uncouched, affection plain in their voice. Even so, Miranelis’s face flamed scarlet, and they dropped their gaze to their feet.

“I’m sorry you have to see this,” said Havedrial. In their peripheral vision, Miranelis saw the knife flash down in the darkness.

Miranelis squeezed their eyes shut just in time. But there was nothing they could do to block out the small groan of pain as the knife pierced Havedrial’s flesh. The hiss of Havedrial’s labored breathing. The sharp tang of their blood on the air.

Miranelis tried to keep their eyes shut, because if they saw this horror, it would be with them for the rest of their life—however short that life might be. But huddling in the corner, eyes closed, was as good as leaving Havedrial to die, and Miranelis couldn’t do that. They forced their eyes open.

Blood poured from the deep slashes in Havedrial’s wrists. It bubbled up to spread through their layers of clothing, matting the fabric together like the time when Miranelis had spilled an entire jar of honey on themselves as a child. It spread onto the floor in a dark pool as Havedrial sagged against the shelves, eyes half-open.

Even now, Havedrial’s face was calm. If there was any time when it would be reasonable to show one’s feelings, it would be now.

Miranelis wanted nothing more than to look away from the parted skin that stretched wider and wider to let more blood escape, and the creases of pain on Havedrial’s wrinkled face. They wanted to wedge themselves as far into the corner as they could in the hope that the blood wouldn’t touch them. Instead, they forced themselves closer to Havedrial, grimacing as the hot blood soaked through their shawl and into their tunic. They pressed their body tightly against Havedrial and wrapped an arm around their shoulder.

Even Havedrial, who could be barely more than a child when it came to showing their feelings, was not so indecorous as to touch someone outside their family. In all the years they had known each other, they had never so much as brushed fingers. But Havedrial didn’t pull away. They let out a soft sigh as their head drifted heavily down onto Miranelis’s shoulder.

Miranelis didn’t try to hold back their sobs. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and onto Havedrial’s head as Havedrial’s breathing gradually slowed along with the flow of blood, then stopped entirely. Miranelis cradled their teacher’s limp body in their arms as they sat soaked in rapidly cooling blood, shivering and alone.

They were still shaking when the door flew open and a shout of triumph echoed through the blood-soaked kitchen beyond.

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