#though the worst mission was one in brotherhood that had me about to eat a controller

[dark-elf-writes]

Every cool person whose fics I follow including you: "DESMOND DESMOND DESMOND" "Isu Tech" "angst time ehe" "ARABIC EAGLE MAN" "claaaaY" "Let's put Desmond into Situations. : ) " "LEO/EZIO" "ship Desmond with ALL the Ancestors!" "shawn is gonna freaking kill someone at this point"

Me, horrible at stealth games: "I have no idea what's going but but I love what you're up to!"

Oh I never said I was good at stealth games like I need to be incredibly clear I am so bad at stealth games. Any mandatory “don’t get caught” mission is at least for tries and a lot of me swearing. Any non mandatory “don’t get caught” mission is fully me saying I’m going to stealth it and ending up in a city wide brawl.

[lurking--shadows]

A/N: I keep seeing people like my old Jacob Frye x Reader post and now I'm low key simping for him again so I figured a lengthy drabble would suffice to get me back into this game. If you have any suggestions, even if for random characters don't hesitate to ask! I do apologize for not putting much interaction with the battle scenes. It's not my best area and rather go straight to their interactions outside of it.

Word Count: 1,374

Characters: 7,424

Prompt: "I think I'm in love with you."

"Not the best idea you ever had, but I'll happily take it."

Why did you have to join along with Jacob and his shenanigans? Why must you torture yourself? If it weren't for his dashingly good looks (don't ever tell him that, he already had a substantial ego as it is, no need to further enlarge it), you wouldn't be in this situation at all. 

He had pleaded for your assistance in taking out a Blighters hideout in the heart of Westminster. He explained that conquering the hideout would benefit in conquering all of Westminster. If it had been a random hideout you would've declined. However given how much of a hindrance they've been as of late, on top of Jacob giving puppy eyes (an adorable sight, you may add), it was impossible denying such a request; though you had claimed you were only doing it as part of your duty as an assassin. 

You had known the twins for quite a long time during your time in the British Brotherhood of Assassin's. You had trained alongside them up until the twins' father had passed. During that time you developed a long-term crush on the younger twin, which Evie had noticed. For years she would tease you about it. Well, she did, until you began teasing her about Henry once he came around. All of a sudden she would hush you with a red face. Anytime he needed help, you were right by his side. You didn't know if it was due to that crush of yours or if it was because you knew how reckless he was. 

Probably both.

It was no easy battle either, much to your displeasure. Jacob had decided going in with a bang would be the best bet. Note: it was not; a bad decision really, but it's from Jacob, what did you expect? It was harder for you to stealth your way in since they were alarmed and already heading your way. A lengthy battle filled with scattered dead bodies and a bountiful of curses towards Jacob, which he laughed at when able to. You did get the occasional hit, however, the worst damage you had gotten was a deep gash on your arm. You had focused entirely on the blight in front of you, giving the blight on your side to slash his knife on your raised arm. You had hissed in pain, the burning sensation worsening after handling the blight in front of you. Jacob noticed your hiss and took out the blight before he could do more damage. Luckily that had been the last blight needing to be taken down. A successful mission, excluding that hefty gash on you. 

While awaiting for rooks to come and establish themselves, Jacob began tending to your wound. Well, tried to at least. It was entertaining seeing him struggling to find clothes and water in the hideout. You weren't sure if it was due to fatigue or worry. Regardless, it somewhat resembled a headless chicken running about. While he was busy searching, you took a blight's shirt and tore a strip to wrap around your arm in order to stop the bleeding. You ended up searching for an aide kit as well since you figured you would have better luck finding it than Jacob, who was spewing curses. If you weren't so lightheaded you would have laughed. Minutes had passed and your search was uneventful, causing you to slightly panic. 

In the midst of your panic, Jacob came behind you and grabbed your shoulder. You jumped before turning around and grabbed his arm with your injured one, pain shooting up your arm. With a hiss, you released his arm to cradle your injured arm to your chest. 

"Now what was the point of doing that, knowing it was going to hurt?" Jacob scolded, his eyebrows furrowing while he squinted. 

"What's the point of grabbing me, knowing it was a bad idea?" You retorted, sarcasm oozing in your voice. A scowl formed on your face as you glared at him. Jacob could only roll his eyes, "Just sit down so I can tend to your wounds unless you wish to let it get infected." He warned. You glared at him once more before letting out a sigh and sitting on a nearby crate. There was no point in arguing with him, with him being as stubborn as a mule it was futile. It didn't help you get more light-headed by the minute either. So, you caved in and let him tend to your wounds with no remarks. 

It was silent as Jacob tended to your wounds while you alternated between looking at him and looking at your wound. For as reckless and thoughtless as he is, you were impressed by his skill in cleaning out your wound and bandaging it. You couldn't help but watch his skilled hands tending to you and let your thoughts wander.

"You're staring," Jacob mumbled, his eyes not once leaving your arm. Your eyes widened and looked away as you ignored the burning sensation on your face. 

"So? How else am I supposed to make sure you don't do more damage to me?" You raised an eyebrow, though a smile toyed with your lips.

"I'm wounded that you believe I'm incapable of catering to injuries. How do you think I can fight after every mission?" A frown took over his face, his eyes glancing up at you before dabbing your wound with antibiotics. You hissed in pain, getting a small apology from Jacob in the process. 

"I figured it was either Evie or a rook cleaning your wounds if it were dire enough."

“Continuing to wound me, I see? The least you could do is tell me what you’re thinking.” He let out a small chuckle, dropping the antibiotic rag and unwrapping the bandages.

You had grown silent, chewing on your lip. You were debating telling him, though you feared losing the relationship you have with Jacob. It wasn’t just your crush that lured you to him. No, it was his personality. With him, you felt so carefree and able to joke around (even going as far as pranking each other). He was really the only one you felt you could let your walls down besides Evie.

“Dove?”

“I think I’m in love with you.” You blurted out, looking up at him and watching his reaction. His eyes weren’t on you and instead focused on finishing up bandaging your arm. Though he had no real emotion on his face, he was quiet. Nerves began to eat at you. What if it wasn’t mutual? Did you ruin it? 

"Not the best idea you ever had, but I'll happily take it." He looked up at you with an eyebrow raised, a smirk on his lips. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “And joining you in this foolery was better than being in love with you?”

“A poor mistake, really.”

You let out a snort. You mulled over his words, butterflies flowing through you. ‘I’ll happily take it’. You paused, “Wait, so you’re fine with this?” Confusion was written all over your face. It wasn’t exactly a rejection, nor was it really an acceptance. What..?

Jacob stood up, and before you could react, he placed his hands on the side of your legs, effectively trapping you. Your breath hitched as he leaned closer to you. “As if my response weren’t any clearer, let me give you a more concrete answer.” He leaned closer until your lips connected. Your hand instinctively went to cupping his face as you reciprocated the kiss. Your lips felt as if they were perfect for his own. If you were able to, you would kiss him all day if he permitted. He pulled back, much to your displeasure. Slightly panting, you look down at his lips before staring into his ocean blue eyes that was staring into your own.

“Did that answer your question?” That cocky smirk was still on his face, causing you to scowl.

“Just shut up and keep kissing me.” You gripped his shirt and crashed your lips onto his. He let out a small laugh against your lips. He listened to your demand and deepened the kiss. After all, who was he to deny such a request from someone he’s been enchanted by?

[celestial-ringleader]

Gamquick Headcanons

Ok so I mostly blame my discord friends for this but I’ve just had a mighty need for more gamquick so have some random headcanons in these trying times. I’m going off my own canon here and only pulling some stuff from 616 in (as any comic fan does akjbdvkj)

Getting Together: (bc i have no impulse control this is gonna be a long section bc i dont wanna write it all out rn)

Before they were friends, they absolutely hated each other’s guts and only tolerated one another when they were put on a team together. Remy barely trusted Pietro since he worked with the Brotherhood for the longest time and Pietro had little to no respect for Remy because of how he carried himself (but also because he found him very obnoxious to be around and work with). Pietro only slightly tolerated him more when he helped him rescue his daughter, but aside from that he just wanted to go back to being with the Avengers over Mr. “Flirts with everything he sees and talks his ass off constantly”. Remy felt mostly relieved when Pietro went back to the Avengers because it meant he was gone and back to working with the resident assholes in New York.

This sort of bitter tension between the two of them lasted for a long time and thus led to there being an unspoken rule to never put the both of them on the same team because then they would argue with one another almost constantly and jeopardize the mission for the sake of being spiteful.

So when Pietro found out Remy was to be on the same team with him at Serval, he was seconds away from quitting on the spot. Lorna stopped him, of course, but he made sure to point out that she was probably mistaken in taking in a untrustworthy gambler to work for X-Factor, especially one that would willingly work with Apocalypse and Sinister. Remy responded badly, in hindsight, and snapped back saying Pietro has no room to talk down to him since it was his fault that everything fell apart thanks to House of M.

Yeaaaaaah things at Serval were not good for a little bit after that. Neither one of them want to leave but they also would rather be anywhere else than with each other. And whenever they were together, the room got so much more tense and they both looked seconds away from snapping if they were so much as ten feet apart from one another. Now everything the other did pissed the other off: Pietro hated that Remy’s cats keep getting into his shit and getting their damn fur everywhere, Remy hated that Pietro would eat all the fucking food and force Remy to have to order out constantly. Pietro hated how loud Remy would get all the time (during meetings when he would tap the desk constantly, during time-off when he would listen to music and sing at the top of his lungs, just ALL THE TIME), Remy hated how Pietro would mess up his hair whenever he ran past him, not like it took him a whole thirty minutes to do it or anything! Just everything about one another got on their nerves and they’re both holding back every urge to not punch their lights out.

But it was very complicated at the same time because of course it is. They hated one another sure, but for some reason they found each other hot regardless and would hook up mostly for the sake of letting off steam. Angry sex happened a lot and they hated that they thought the other was fucking fantastic in bed.

Things really didn’t start to get better for their relationship until one mission that resulted in them being captured and held in some mutant lab in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. Worst of all they were tied up together and locked in a small room so now they can’t even pretend to avoid one another.

Didn’t stop them from bickering though: Pietro: Well you’re awfully quiet for once, LeBeau Remy: Oh I’m sorry I thought ya wanted me to shut up an’ never talk again. Pietro: I did, but you also make it your life goal to piss me off as much as you physically can. Remy: Should be lucky we’re tied up or I would’a punched ya in the jaw by now. Pietro: I almost want to see you try, Cajun, would be hilarious to watch. Remy: I’ll show ya hilarious, Quickie.

But once they got their initial anger out of the way (which involved a lot of shoving and jabbing) and several days of no news from their team, things started looking a little dire. Normally Remy could figure out a way to escape, but thanks to the collars on their necks and how thoroughly restrained they were, it was almost impossible to see a way out that didn’t involve one another being hurt or worse in the process. And Pietro picked up on that. A week or so goes by and Pietro finally asks what’s wrong when he notices just how hopeless Remy was acting. Remy’s confused why he would bother asking since he hated his guts not that long ago, but after some gentle pressure he finally admits that he’s scared that no one’s coming for them. Pietro has the same fear as well, and he tells him that despite how much he wanted to keep it guarded.

Despite how much they dislike one another, they still try their best to be reassuring. They call a truce on being angry so they can at least get through this with as little headache as possible, might as well make the most of being captured for the rest of your life with someone right?

Another week goes by and they’re freed from their prison and brought back to Serval, both very briefly telling what they learned and what happened before going to lay down somewhere for a million years. But when they walk with one another back to their respective rooms, there’s a new kind of tension there. But this time it’s over the big elephant in the room; their supposed rivalry now being called into question now that they know one another better. Remy feels guilty for placing blame on Pietro for House of M, Pietro feels just as guilty over insinuating that Remy doesn’t care about his teams. But what are they supposed to say now?? “Sorry for saying the most hurtful things imaginable, no hard feelings right”???

But neither of them really act on it for a while, they just...ignore it as best as they can despite how much they wanna talk about it. They don’t argue anymore, but now they can’t be with one another without being reminded of their mixed feelings. That stalemate stays for another few weeks and doesn’t stop until Remy goes to Pietro’s room and asks that they talk.

Needless to say, emotions come out and by the end of their conversation, they apologize to one another. And at first Remy was half expecting Pietro to leave it at that, but then Pietro asks if they could try being friends instead. Surprisingly their relationship doesn’t change much, now they’re just not hostile towards one another anymore. They still bicker and argue, but it’s different than how they would before.

In fact over time they actually started to like each other more and more, sure they’re both essentially opposites but it seemed way more tolerable this time. Pietro even thinks to himself that he likes being around Remy. Maybe his loudness wasn’t such a pain as he thought, and maybe his cats weren’t so bad after all. Remy started feeling the same way over time, but he knew his heart would get in the way and have this all blow up in his face so he tried to keep the liking of Pietro as bare minimum as possible even though he really liked how he would ramble about his books, the way his face lit up as he smiled, his laugh too... But he doesn’t want to ruin what they have, just this is the best he’s had in a long time; someone who actually understands his pain and is fun to be around.

But the good times never last long. Eventually X-Factor disbands and the both of them go their separate ways as much as they hate it. They say they’ll keep in touch, but several years go by and neither of them really know what the other is doing. But one fateful day Pietro shows up at the mansion to visit and lo and behold, Remy is also there (looking a little worse for wear but thats not surprising). They catch up for lost time and not surprising, by the end of the conversation they’re confessing to one another and kissing each other like they need it to breathe.

Definitely feels weird calling one another their “boyfriend” but it feels so good at the same time. They try to take it slow but they’re too excited to be a couple, they can’t help it!

General Headcanons:

In terms of likes, they’re mostly on opposite ends of the spectrum: Remy likes the summer, Pietro likes winter/autumn; Pietro likes romance-focused books/shows, Remy likes more sci-fi/adventure/fantasy stuff. At first this made talking about their likes difficult, but over time they found a happy middle ground.

They take turns being the big spoon, depends on who needs it more or just wants an excuse to be held.

Pietro used to be reserved about showing affection in public, but being with Remy made it hard to not want to kiss/hug him constantly. Now they openly cuddle/kiss no matter what, especially at parties.

Remy really likes it when Pietro plays with his hair, sometimes after a hard day he’ll lay his head in Pietro’s lap and just let the other mess with his hair; it’s like an instant de-stressor for him.

Remy’s love language is touch and affection, in every way, but Pietro’s is mostly seen through keeping his loved ones safe and sound.

In terms of body heat, Pietro runs hot mostly due to how fast his heart beats (meaning his blood circulates through his body quicker) but Remy almost always feels slightly too cold. However this is worsened when he uses his powers since he’s losing energy, therefore losing body heat. So after long missions, the both of them hold one another as close as possible, of course for the sake of calming each other down but also making sure Remy doesn’t catch his death. [I put actual science behind a headcanon...we’re deep in it now, lads]

Remy cooks mostly, Pietro is basically banned from the kitchen unless he’s making tea. Although if it’s up to Pietro to get food, he just orders out.

After a few years of getting together, Remy gets a little tattoo in honor of Pietro right over his heart: a little blue/silver hummingbird. Pietro gets one in secret on his thigh: a small pink/red heart with a playing card with the text “love’s a gamble I’ll take” in cursive.

When the time comes when they want to propose, it ends up being on accident. Pietro fumbles over himself and basically drops a ring box right onto Remy right as they were about to have sex, meanwhile Remy starts tearing up before revealing that he...also got a ring for Pietro. Of course they end up proposing to one another formally at a dinner, but they both found it very fitting they would pop the question on accident.

Pietro makes a point of kissing Remy’s scars, reminding the other that he isn’t his pain and is still a beautiful man aside from them.

Remy loves carrying Pietro around, he knows it annoys him and will continue to do so even if Pietro pouts and shoves him. Pietro secretly likes it but he’s not gonna tell Remy that. Remy also likes being held, in fact Pietro’s strength is very deceiving and he’s shocked every time Pietro effortlessly picks him up and throws him on their bed/against a wall/etc.

Pietro learns to love the cats, now he’s an unofficial cat dad (cat step-dad??)

In terms of what they want out of a relationship, they’re mostly happy with just having it be the two of them and their pets but they briefly talked about having kids together once or twice. It’s definitely something Remy wants but Pietro is hesitant since he already has Luna, and having Luna resulted in the end of his previous relationship basically so...

Depending on the AU though, they definitely do end up having kids in one way or another.

[argylemnwrites]

He Knew

Pairing: Colt Kaneko x MC (Ellie Whitnall)

Book: Ride or Die (post book 1)

Word Count: ~4600

Rating: R (language, referenced sensual content, referenced violence)

Summary: The five times Ellie came back, and the one time she didn’t

Author’s Note: Written for @rodappreciationweek Day 2 - Colt Kaneko. This is my first time not only writing Colt, but also my first time writing for one of my Choices couples that don’t end up “happily ever after.” I adored the bittersweet endings we got in ROD, and I wanted to keep that vibe here. This is pretty different from my usual writing tone/genre, so be forewarned - this is not a happy tale, but the crumbling apart of a relationship. It think the warnings listed in the rating section cover the content here.

It wasn’t really goodbye. He knew she’d be back. There was no way she would be able to stay away, to just fall back into a world where her only thrills came from acing a test. That was too easy for her. She needed more, the push, the challenge, the adventure. He knew because he was just like her.

He wasn’t sure exactly when she’d be back, though. He was sure she’d be back in LA for Thanksgiving, but he didn’t expect her to come looking for him then. Besides, the shop was still in ruins. He wouldn’t be easy for her to find at this point. He rode past her dad’s place early on Thanksgiving morning and saw her blue Shokai Fourier sitting in the driveway. But he didn’t see her then.

Same thing about a month later, her car parked in the driveway when he drove by a few days before Christmas. But it didn’t surprise him that she wasn’t ready to come back to his world, not just yet. That first semester of college probably had enough novelty to keep her from getting too bored. New friends, new freedoms, new knowledge.

It’s not like he wasn’t busy, too. Hunting down the remnants of the Brotherhood while not attracting any unwanted attention was a new mission, one that required a new sort of careful calculation and anticipation. He wasn’t the type to sit around pining, moping, waiting on some girl, just like he was sure she wasn’t longing for him. They were alike in that way - they didn’t let their emotions define them.

It wasn’t until the anniversary of Pop’s death that he really felt it, deep down, that he… fuck it, that he missed her. Because no one else got him, not the way she did. No one else was quite like her. He was a few drinks in, sulking in the room he was renting from X’s old roommate when he did the thing he swore he would never do - he pulled out his new phone and searched “Ellie Whitnall” on Pictagram.

Her hair was darker, no longer highlighted, but still pulled back in that ponytail. And that damn sweatshirt was nowhere to be seen. Instead it was her in a crop top and a skin-tight pair of jeans in a line with six other girls, a smile on all of their faces as their arms wrapped around each other’s backs. Her lounging on the grass with one of the same girls, textbooks sprawled out around them as they both laughed. Her eating a slice of pizza in some tiny restaurant, a blond dude who looked like a preppy douchebag sitting in the booth next to her.

She looked good, happy enough. It made him proud, but the worst parts of himself wished she was just a little miserable. Not just because he was mourning and miserable himself, and misery did fucking love company, but because she didn’t belong in a world that was bland and ordinary. She burned too bright for such pedestrian experiences. She would see that soon, and she would be back. Until then he just had to keep working on avenging his father’s death, making the Brotherhood pay for all the shit they’d done. And that’s what he did, not noticing as May and June passed by. But then July came.

He was working at the sideshow, trying to find out where Wallace had last been spotted when he saw her on the dance floor. She was wearing a little white tank top and a light blue skirt that was short enough it barely covered anything. It took all his willpower to listen to what the little punk was telling him and not just march over there and kiss her, welcome her back where she belonged. But business had to come first. Besides, she was only dancing with her brunette friend, Riya, and the guy who had worn the orange tux to prom.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away” he murmured into her ear when he finally, finally could join her. She tensed at first, as he came up behind her, snaking his hand around her waist, his fingers tracing along the thin strip of skin between her shirt and skirt, but she relaxed into him when she recognized his voice. She spun to face him, her arms reaching up to rest on his shoulders.

“Who says I’m here for you? Riya and Darius just wanted a taste of what I was up to last spring.”

Colt shook his head. “Nah, you wouldn’t have worn that if you weren’t here for me,” he said as his eyes traced over her gentle curves, settling back on her face, just as beautiful and determined as he’d remembered.

“It’s July in LA. Some of us actually dress for the heat.”

He chuckled lightly, leaned down, and kissed her. She tasted the same, her fingers felt the same as they crawled up his neck and clutched onto his hair. When he tugged her out of there and handed her his spare helmet, her arms felt the same as she wrapped them around his chest. And when they got to his new studio apartment in Broadway-Manchester and stumbled towards his mattress as they stripped as quickly as they could, she felt the same as he sunk into her, both of them moaning in relief.

After, they talked all night, lounging on his mattress, drinking cheap beer and eating the string cheese they found in his pathetically empty fridge. About her classes and seminars, her roommate from some tiny town in Nebraska who had never seen an escalator before coming to Langston, and her upcoming research project. About his plans to reopen the auto body shop next year, now that the heat was finally dying down and he could go back. About how Ximena was still around, ready to help out, but how Toby had made his way north to San Fran, working for some startup that was looking to get into the high-tech auto accessory game. About how Mona would be up for parole in a few months.

“When do you head back?” he finally asked as the sun started to peek through the window, his hand tracing along her spine as she curled up against his side, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Tomorrow,” she said, after a moment, “Dr. Frisch wants me to start on my research next week so that we can get a prototype built before the end of the fall semester.”

Colt swallowed before sliding his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up, looking straight into her brown eyes. “You happy?”

She nodded gently. “For now.”

“Not bored?”

“Not yet.”

“Just want to make sure they aren’t wasting your talents.”

“Colt…”

“Just remember, you shouldn’t settle for bland.”

“I know, Colt. I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Even though it had been over a year since he last saw her in person, he knew she would be back someday. She had his new number now, and every so often she would send him a little text or photo. They had no agreement, had made no promises to each other, still her messages were sometimes flirty, sometimes sexy. The blond idiot still hung around her Pictagram, but if she didn’t feel obligated to keep things between them… friendly or some shit, it wasn’t any of his business really.

The summer after her sophomore year at Langston, she stayed out east, hired on for some summer research program. But Colt was busy, too. The shop was open again. It wasn’t officially under Colt’s management, not until the statute of limitations ran out next year, but he had a couple of mechanics he’d hired on, keeping things on the up and up for the moment. Everyone knew Colt was running the show.

One day in October, he was at the shop, on a creeper under some rich asshole’s Porsche Cayman GTS when Ricky, his newest hire, called out for him.

“Hey, Kaneko. Some chick is here and says she needs to talk to you.”

He rolled his eyes as he pushed himself out. Ricky was talented, but he was far too much of a pushover. “I’m in the middle of this, Ricky.”

“I know, boss… but she kinda acted like you guys were… she seemed like she knew you personally.”

Wiping his hands on his pants, he strode over, ready to tell off whatever entitled little girl thought she could demand to see him, but then he caught sight of her. The sweatshirt was back, but her hair was even darker than it had been last summer. 

“Ellie? What are you doing here?” He was shocked by her appearance in his shop, in the middle of the semester, and every instinct to tease her about not being able to stay away went out the window when he saw the look on her face, so hollow and lost. He ushered her into his office, closing the door and hearing it all. How her dad was in the ICU at UCLA after he’d suffered a massive heart attack. How she’d had to go on a leave of absence for the rest of the semester.

“The doctors think he’s going to be okay, but I can’t… I can’t go back to the house alone. Not after everything,” she finished, perched on the end of his desk.

“You’re here by yourself?”

“Riya transferred to UC Oakland to be with Darius, so other than you… I don’t really know anyone here anymore.”

So the blond douche didn’t come with her. Either he was even more of a dickwad than Colt pictured, or he wasn’t that important to Ellie. Either way, it was all Colt needed to know. He tugged her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t tell her things would be alright, because unlike some people, he wasn’t stupid enough to try and lie to her. To make her promises he couldn’t keep.

So he did what he could. He took her back to his apartment, poured her shots of tequila, and fucked her senseless. There was nothing he could do to make things better. But he could make her forget, at least for a little bit. It’s what she would have done for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Ellie coming tonight?” Ximena asked as Ricky spread out the takeout on the table in the breakroom.

“Haven’t seen her around much lately,” Ricky said, opening the containers of fried chicken.

“She’ll be back,” Colt said with more confidence than he actually felt. It wasn’t that he doubted that she’d be back… eventually. But she was pissed at him. Really pissed. And he wasn’t sure how long it was going to take her to cool off.

It was absurd that she was angry with him when he was the only one who wasn’t handling her with kid gloves, instead treating her like the grown-ass woman she was. Her dad was recovering just fine, but Ellie kept putting off going back to Langstson. When she’d told him she’d pulled out for the spring semester, though, he’d told her exactly what he thought about that. That she was being stupid. That she was only sticking around out of guilt over her last few months of high school. That she was wasting herself.

“What happened to you telling me I would always have a spot on your crew?” she’d yelled at him, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“Not like this, with you just bumming around, aimless. Fucking around, not really doing anything. You’re better than that, Ellie.”

She’d stormed out of his apartment after their fight, and he hadn’t seen her in eight days. He assumed she was with her dad. It wasn’t worth dwelling on. She’d be back once she’d cooled off and realized he was right. But the days continued to tick by, with no sight of her around the apartment or the shop. After three weeks, he rode past her dad’s place, but the Shokai Fourier was still in the driveway, so he knew she was still in LA.

Finally, almost one month later she showed up at the shop, just as they were wrapping things up for the day. She walked straight into his office without so much as saying hello to anyone, so Colt took his time, finishing up with the spark plugs he was replacing before he joined her. She was sitting at his desk, scrolling through his spreadsheets, reviewing the shop’s finances. So damn presumptuous.

“I didn’t realize you were an accountant now,” he said, crossing his arms as he closed the door. 

She spun in his chair, glaring at him. “Just seeing if you can afford to hire a mechanical engineer.”

“By my math, you’re only half a mechanical engineer at this point. That has to earn me a bit of discount on your salary.”

“I’m here to negotiate. If I’m going back for two more years at Langston, I need to know it’s going to be worth it. So make me an offer.”

Colt couldn’t fully suppress a smirk as he quirked an eyebrow at her. “What, am I supposed to write a number on a sheet of paper and slide it over to you?”

“I’m being serious, Colt.”

He rolled his eyes. “The offer’s the same as it’s always been - equal partnership, you and me, running this place.”

“And that offer will still be on the table in two years?”

“It hasn’t changed in the past two and a half, has it?”

She stood up with a nod at that, crossing the small office to stand in front of him, staring up at him, somehow looking imposing from five foot two.

“Should we shake on it?” he asked, widening his eyes to tease her, just a bit.

“I think we can do better than that,” she said before she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him with all she had, shoving him back against the door in the process.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Colt glanced at his phone. 11:45 pm and no new notifications. She was supposed to be back from Riya and Darius’s wedding today, but as the minutes ticked by, he wasn’t sure if she was more upset than he’d anticipated.

Technically, they were both supposed to be back from the wedding today. But he’d gotten word about some… hot merchandise that was too good of a deal to pass up late on Friday, and so he’d shot Ellie a text to send Riya and Darius his congratulations before he turned his phone off. He’d figured she’d understand. She was as ambitious as him, after all.

But seeing as it had been radio silence all day Saturday and now Sunday, he was wondering what sort of Ellie was going to walk through that door. Either she was pissed, or something had happened to her, but he didn’t think she’d been in any danger in Napa.

His finger hovered over her name in his contact list. She hadn’t answered any of his calls earlier today, so he didn’t have much hope for this one. Just before he pressed down to foolishly call her yet again, headlights flashed through the front window of their apartment’s living room. She was home.

Less than a minute later, the deadbolt turned. There was Ellie, her little duffel bag in one hand, a garment bag in the other. She looked exhausted, and when she glanced up and saw him sitting at their little table, he noticed that her eyes were bloodshot. She didn’t say anything, just shook her head at him as she walked straight into their bedroom.

“Ellie, come on-” he started, chasing after her, but she slammed the door right in his face.

“I don’t even want to look at you right now,” she called through the door.

“It was three million worth of merchandise for only four hundred thousand. I couldn’t pass it up.”

The door flung back open, Ellie practically trembling with anger as she braced herself against the door frame.

“I was the fucking maid of honor, and my plus one didn’t show up!”

“None of them like me anyway.”

“Hmm, I wonder why,” she practically sneered at him as she shoved past him, stomping into the bathroom, slamming that door this time.

“You know we need to move more volume if we want to keep growing the shop. You’re the one who wants us to expand our territory into Vermont Knolls.”

“Fuck you!” echoed through the door.

“What do you want me to say? I made the call that I thought was best for our business.”

“How about ‘Sorry, Ellie. I was a total asshole’ as a starter?”

He winced at that. He probably should have led with an apology. He just didn’t think it would piss her off this much that he’d missed the wedding.

“Ellie, I am sorry. I just thought you would be fine with it since you told me to skip your cousin’s wedding last spring so we could close that deal-”

“-You didn’t even ask me this time.” she called out.

“I didn’t have time. And they are your friends. It’s not like I left you all alone with people you don’t know.”

The bathroom door swung open, but Ellie pivoted on her heel, sitting back down on the toilet seat.

“You say I’m your partner,” she said with a heavy sigh, “but you always make these decisions without me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, this was a no-brainer. The pure profit on-”

“I don’t mean business partners. I mean in our… personal life.”

He frowned at that, crossing his arms, “What the fuck are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

Ellie just shook her head. “I don’t know. Sometimes it just feels like… like no amount of growth at the shop will ever be good enough for you. Like you are never off the clock.”

“I’m not ever off the clock. That shop is Pop’s legacy, and with you, it’s grown bigger than he could have ever imagined. I don’t know why you’re acting like this was all me. We’ve built everything we have together. You’ve always been hungry to prove yourself in this world.”

“Look who’s talking! Don’t you ever think that maybe your father wouldn’t want you sinking into this world so single-mindedly after he tried to keep you away from it for so long?”

It was an old argument from her, one he hadn’t heard in years. “My pop made a lot of bad decisions. Underestimating what both of us were capable of was just one of them.”

Ellie’s phone chirped, and Colt felt lightheaded as he watched her stand up and pick up a pregnancy test off the counter next to the sink. “Well, I hope you do better than him,” she said, shoving the piece of plastic into his hand. “This decision’s all mine, and I’m keeping it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was his own fault she was staying with her father for a few nights. He’d been careless and just a little too reckless. The contact on the new stock of Tesla Model S’s had been a friend of Ricky’s friend. He should have vetted him better. He’d been too blinded by how good of a deal it was. But it was a mess from the start, and now they owed a crew in West Adams seven million in either cash or vehicles. At least he hadn’t gotten arrested. He’s pretty sure Ellie would have murdered him if that had been the case.

But he’d gotten them involved in a bad deal. It was 100% his fault. Not only was Ellie pissed at him for not being appropriately cautious with their business, but pregnancy had reduced her fuse significantly. She’d gone off on him when he’d returned from the drop with the terrible news. He didn’t blame her for wanting to take a few days away from him and the shop. He figured it would go a long way if he’d worked out a safe way to repay their debt by the time she came back, hence staying late in his office, trying to brainstorm the quickest way out of this mess.

At some point he must have nodded off in his chair at his desk, because suddenly he bolted awake, disoriented and panicked, grabbing for the handgun he kept in his top drawer before he recognized Ellie standing in his doorway. He let out a rough breath and moved to offer her his chair, but she just shook her head.

“It won’t be worth the effort it takes to stand up again,” she said, reading his intentions in a second. “I was waiting for you at home, but when it hit midnight and you weren’t back, I thought I might find you here.”

“I thought you were gonna stay with your dad for a few more days.”

“He was asking a lot of questions about us that I didn’t exactly want to answer. Besides, I figured you might need some help coming up with a plan.” Her hands rested on top of her stomach. She still had three weeks until her due date, and Colt had no idea how was going to stand up if she got any bigger. Not that he told her that.

“It's my mess, Ellie. I can take care of cleaning it up.”

She shook her head, rubbing her hands along her bump. “That’s the thing, Colt. Your messes impact all three of us. So even if it’s not my fault we’re seven million in the hole at that moment, I need to help you fix things. And the two of us working together has always gotten us better results than either of us working independently.

“But Colt, I need you to take a step back from this ‘high risk, high reward’ approach. It was one thing when it was just you and me, but we both need to be a bit more careful going forward. Our kid deserves parents that are alive and not incarcerated, alright?”

He sighed but nodded. “I just don’t want us to lose our edge. But I get it, Ellie. I do.”

She sighed as well before she said, “Come on. Pack up your stuff and meet me at home. We can work on solving this from the comfort of our bed, okay?”

“Sure thing. I’ll see you there.” 

She gave him a little smile, so forced and empty it nearly shattered him, before turning and walking out the door. He wished he knew how to earn her trust back. But she was like him. She had high standards. Fixing things with her was going to take ages.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Colt ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm his breathing. She had to come back. She had to. She had his daughter.

This fight had been bad, worse than any other than he could remember. When Ellie had seen the news coverage of Shaw’s shanking in prison, she’d turned to him, horror etched across her face. She hadn’t even needed to ask if it was him. She’d just known that he’d ordered it.

He tried to get her to understand, to see that he’d only done what he had to do. Shaw had his initial parole hearing coming up soon. If he so much as breathed a whiff of freedom, not only was their entire shop and crew in danger, but so were their lives and Margot’s. He was just taking a necessary precaution.

But she’d not wanted to hear any of it. She’d marched into Margot’s room, throwing her clothes and toys into a bag before hefting her out of bed and marching her out to her car, strapping her into her booster seat while she was still sound asleep. Ellie hadn’t so much as said a word to him as she drove off. Of course she’d ignored every call and text from him since that time.

He’d taken to riding past her father’s house daily. Her Shokai Fourier was always there, but he was never lucky enough to catch a glimpse of her or Margot in the yard. It had been nine days since he’d seen his kid, and he was getting desperate. He didn’t know what to do.

He sat along the edge of the cliff, watching the waves crash along. It wasn’t calming him tonight. Nothing was going to calm him. He didn't know how long he sat there, but eventually he heard a car engine approaching behind him. He would have known that paint job in his sleep. The engine quieted and he felt Ellie approaching him, sitting down next to him, almost close enough to reach out and touch. Almost.

“This is it, isn’t it?” he asked, staring out over the Pacific, inhaling the salt of the sea air.

“Colt… I can’t raise her in a home where killing someone is an acceptable solution to a problem. You had to know I wouldn’t be able to stand by you when you ordered that hit.”

Her words stung, burned his soul. Of course he’d known that. She’d always had her lines her morals didn’t allow her to cross. But how did she expect him to just sit there and let a threat to the safety of his family potentially walk free?

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked. He could hear the tears in her voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her, to see revulsion and disgust in the place of love and trust.

“What is there to say? Nothing I can do will make you come back.”

He heard her sigh before he felt her fingers, tiny and gentle against the back of his hand. He turned his hand over and threaded their fingers together more out of habit than anything. He knew her well enough to know that this wasn’t a gesture of love or hope.

“Colt, I’ll always love you, but…”

“I know, Ellie.”

“Are you even sorry?”

He paused, thinking over her question. He knew what she wanted to hear, but he’d always respected her too much to attempt to placate her with pretty sounding lies. “I don’t regret it at all,” he finally said, “I did it for both of you.”

She didn’t recoil from him at that. He hadn’t said anything she didn’t already know in her soul anyway. She’d always understood him in ways others just couldn’t. After all she was just like him. Just like him in so many ways.

They were only really different in one key way. She tried to pretend that there was a way to live the life they did and to be “good,” to keep to some sort of moral code. He knew that wasn’t the case. Or maybe she was just a better person than him. It was hard to tell right now, when he felt so hollow and drained.

“We’ll work out times for you to see Margot,” she said after a few minutes of silence. “I think we probably both want to keep lawyers out of this.”

Colt just grunted in acknowledgement. Ellie gave his hand a little squeeze before she tugged her hand free. She pushed herself up off the ground and walked back to her car. He couldn’t bring himself to watch her drive away, so he just stared ahead as he listened to her ignition start.

It was goodbye. He knew she’d never be back.

Permatag: @choicesficwriterscreations @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker​  @bebepac​ @ravenpuff02​ @oofchoices​ @octobereighth​ @drakewalker04​ @kimmiedoo5​  @mfackenthal​  @thequeenofcronuts​  

[scorpio-skies]

Bless me with your OTP!

I know everyone’s expecting Noranse, but I’m going to shake things up with Nara because why not! I love em just as much and they have an interesting dynamic! ;D

I was tagged by the amazing @slothssassin ! 

Tagging; @eluvisen, @mrninjapineapple, @beckiboos, @ariejul, @sociallyacceptablemadness, @lothrilzul, @val-rampage, @solesurvivorkat , @metalforhands, @mars-colony, @lookbluesoup , @tarberrymentats @marvilus73  and anybody else who’d like to do this! ♥

Do they fight often? If so, what is their dynamic like?

Nora and Nate often bicker over little things, though they’re usually harmless and end fairly quickly. However, when they have real fights, things can escalate and their home become a place of glacial silence and tension. The cause of these fights usually boils down to three things; Nate’s alcoholism, Nora’s rigid morals vs Nate’s social circle, and Nate’s perfectionism. 

They both have the bad habit of bottling things up and not talking to each other, silently stewing until they calm down. They try to never sleep on an argument however, and always tried discussing things before they fall asleep. 

The only exceptions were when Nate would get too riled up and do what he’s done throughout his life; run away and seek solace at the bottom of a bottle. When he goes sober, Nate walks their dog and has a few smokes to clear his head instead. 

Angry Nora prefers to cook out her rage, taking it out on the chopping board loudly enough that Nate instantly knows when she’s angry. The cooking is still delicious and edible, and they often talk out their frustrations over the food -- if Nora has calmed down. If she hasn’t, she’ll comfort eat all the sweets she made herself! 

Who is the most skeptical of the two?

This is a tough one -- neither of them are skeptics, really. Nate has more of a feel for people however, because he’s friends with all types. He knows there’s good and beauty in the world, but he’s also seen the worst of humanity, which really comes out in his PTSD following Anchorage. I’d say Nate’s the most skeptical, though post-war Nora definitely has a reality check and hardened up, although she still lucked out by meeting some of the good people in the sea of bad.

Who would be most likely to suggest a night of dancing?

Nate 1000% -- he’s the guy who knows everybody and can queue jump like a V.I.P! Nora’s a bit more shy and awkward (until she’s had a few drinks) and would only join Nate sometimes, though she’d head home fairly early. When out on his own however, Nate would be out until the morning rush hour, typically heading to bars long after their closing hours and hanging with the special regulars. He also loves to dance and sing so it was always a great time for him! 

If they’re alone or in a quiet venue however, Nora’s always up for a quiet slow dance between them.

What would they do if the other was injured in battle?

Nate would fall back on his military training, dealing with immediate threats before tending to Nora. He’d then prioritise her safety over the mission and work to cut them a path out of there. 

Pre-war Nora wouldn’t know what to do (in the battle, or first aid wise), but post-war with Brotherhood training, Nora would do the same, patching him best she knew how and retreating to the nearest medics ASAP. 

Unless innocents were endangered, they would stay by the others bedside until they were stable.

How do their fighting styles complement each other?

Nate and Nora adopted completely different styles -- Nate prefers combat armour and moving stealthy but fast. He’s great with assault rifles, though he’s always shone when it comes to CQC being a big guy. He moves a lot faster than most can guess and with lethal precision, though if he can drop enemies at a distance, he prefers it. 

Nora, on the other hand, was trained by Danse. She adores power armour and feels near unstoppable in it. Whereas Nate would rather slip in, Nora would rather kick the door down and bulldoze any in front of her, followed up by ashing with her rifle. 

In battle, the pair function rather poorly because Nate becomes obsessed with Nora’s safety to the detriment of both of them. They could work well together with Nora being the big, steely distraction allowing Nate an opening to flank enemies, but Nate’s fear clouds his judgement and all he sees is his wife in danger.

Do they want children? Does it frighten them? How many do they want?

They both want children and to have a family together. Nora would be happy with two children as being an only child she felt lonely. Nate would be happy with two, though he would love to have more as he has a very strong paternal instinct. 

Pre-war, Nate had a very strong fear that he would fail as a father due to his mother’s influence, and lack of a caring father in his own life. He’s also petrified that his mother would find out and want to come into his children’s lives, which he would not stand for. 

Nora worried about being a good parent too, but her fears weren’t so deeply rooted as Nate’s because she knew she had her family support network to fall back on. 

Post war, they’re both frightened at the thought of raising their children in such a dangerous world, but it also serves as a powerful drive for the pair of them to make it as secure for their children as possible, that they might enjoy a childhood in spite of the threats. Chances are they’d also adopt alongside having their own child if they met an orphan who needed them. 

What happened when they took them home to their families? If their families aren’t in the picture anymore, how do they feel about it?

Nate has complete no contact with his family. His situation is complicated to say the least. His mother fell pregnant out of wedlock and had a hasty wedding to a man who was clearly not Nate’s father -- and his mother played cruel games with that fact, preventing Nate’s (secretly step) father from ever bonding with him. As a result, he and his ‘father’ were more awkward housemates than family who were often pitted against each other. 

Nate’s younger half-brother made more of an effort, but as he was the ‘favoured child,’ Nate harboured a lot jealousy and bitterness towards him that poisoned their relationship. It grew worse when their mother had them competing, and suddenly began fawning over Nate when he joined the military.

His mother he hates like nothing else. Part of him still craves her love and validation, but he fears that she’ll poison his new family with her toxicity and knows her affection is born purely from what she stands to gain.

His mother comes from old money, and her family disowned her after her shock pregnancy and sudden marriage to a ‘lesser class.’ Initially they pretended ‘the bastard’ didn’t exist, but when he joined the military he suddenly ‘made them proud’ and his lack of a known father was suddenly a boon because his father might not be so common after all -- and the family wanted a male heir who would take their name and continue the lineage. Because of this, his mother saw Nate as her meal ticket back to the good life and the family bank account and suddenly cared about him again. 

She did meet Nora once, wheedling Nate’s latest home from one of his friends -- but it wasn’t for long. Nora was wary of her following what Nate had confided, and he came home partway through her visit. He exploded and chased her from the building, feeling furious and terrified. Shortly after, he and Nora moved to Sanctuary Hills, telling no one but Nora’s family where they had gone. 

Nora’s family loved Nate immediately. He’s a natural charmer, and as a patriotic soldier her parents warmed to him quickly -- it also helped that neither Nate or Nora mentioned he was couch surfing and had no address of his own at the time. 

Evangeline, Nora’s cousin and BFF, liked Nate but was also initially wary that he might be a player and she, as a police officer, was less than thrilled at his many murky contacts and friends. Seeing his genuine adoration and loyalty for Nora as well as his good heart, she was won over, which eased his welcome into the extended family. 

He now attends every family gathering and is honestly sometimes more enthusiastic about them than Nora.

Nate adores Nora’s family and feels honoured and touched that they accepted him and go out of their way to make him part of the unit. He finally feels like he has a real family with them.

How does each person show affection towards the other?

They’re both casually intimate with each other - little touches, embraces, kisses and snuggles. When out in public, they’ll walk close with their fingers entwined and when they sit they naturally lean into each other. There’s thoughtful gifts between them, and, especially on Nate’s part, big romantic gestures.

Who cries the most? Who is better at comforting?

Nate cries more than Nora -- he’s suffered a lot in his life, and is typically more open with his emotions. When Nora cries, she always tries to hide it while Nate struggles to. Nate comforts through hugs and gentle pep-talks, whilst Nora comforts much the same way, but with added comfort food. When the time’s right, they’ll attempt to distract whoever they’re comforting with something fun -- Nate’s likely to offer to talk over drinks, or go for a drive when he’s sober, while Nora will suggest movies and more food til they’re ready to talk or cheered up.

Who is the bigger flirt?

Nate. Nora’s quite shy about flirting and a hopeless romantic. Nate however is a casual flirt -- he’d never stray from Nora or cheat on her, but he’s naturally flirtatious and can’t help himself. He loves making people feel beautiful and confident, and sometimes it doesn’t quite register that he might have gone too far and led someone on. It’s definitely led to problems, and at times Nora’s gotten jealous and angry at him over it, though she’s come to the understanding that that’s just who he is - -and at the end of the day, it’s her he loves and comes home to, no one else. No one else. >:3

[klove0511]

The Angel With Nine Lives

Pairings: Sam/Castiel

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Summary: In the wake of Dean and Gadreel's departures, Sam and Cas return to the bunker to search for a way to track Metatron. When Castiel vanishes and a cat invites itself into the bunker to stay, however, Sam must figure out what has happened to his angel.

Fic on AO3

Art Masterpost (go give them some love!)

Huge thanks to my wonderful artist @dmsilvisart​ for their lovely art prompt and header! I had a ton of fun working on this project, and I have to say, I rather enjoy the story that came out of it. Also a big thank you to everyone that looked this over for me before posting--dmsilvisart, MTC5, and my ever-patient wife. It's definitely a better story thanks to your feedback. And thanks to @sastielbb​ for hosting this event!

If you like the art, go to the art masterpost and give dmsilvisart some love!

Fic under the cut

Dust flew as Sam opened another box in the storage room. Everything in here was unorganized, marginally controlled chaos. It seemed like the Men of Letters had received the two dozen boxes as a bulk shipment shortly before they were destroyed, and so no one had had the time to sort the new magical items. Everything had documentation somewhere, but whoever had packed the boxes clearly had his mind on other things because none of it was with its intended item.

Sam coughed and reached into the box. He hoped something in this room would be helpful in tracking angels, because he and Cas had scoured the rest of the bunker over the last week and come up with nothing useful.

Cas was upstairs retreading old ground in case they’d missed something, leaving Sam to sort and brood in peace.

He didn’t want to think about Dean or what Dean had done, but it was difficult to think of anything else. Instead of presenting Gadreel as an option, giving Sam the choice to choose to live, Dean had decided Sam couldn’t be trusted to make the “right” decision. Again. He honestly wasn’t sure if it was the mind rape or the lack of trust that hurt worst, but both had given him nightmare fuel for days, interspersed, of course, with memories of his own hands burning out Kevin’s eyes.

Sam pulled out several books on demons and set them aside, trying to divert his train of thought. It led down a dark path, one Castiel had already pulled him off once. ‘Nothing is worth losing you,’ he’d said. Sam couldn’t say he agreed, exactly, but he thought Cas had made the right call during the grace extraction. It was doubtful they would have had enough grace for the spell regardless, and then Sam would have died for nothing. The least he could do was make his death meaningful.

The box was empty, having contained only books. Several looked interesting and useful for hunting in general, but nothing appeared to be relevant to their current mission. He sighed and cracked open the next box, coughing and waving away the accompanying dust. Pausing before he dug into the contents, he took a moment to marvel at how remarkable it was that Castiel, angel of the Lord, could place such high value on the life of someone like Sam. He couldn’t have really meant what he’d said, right? Not literally. Then again, Cas was the most literal person Sam had ever met. The words ran through his mind again. ‘Nothing is worth losing you.’ It made Sam wonder, just a bit, if Cas could, if Cas did feel more for him than friendship, than brotherhood. If he might look at Sam the way Sam had seen him for years.

Sam pulled a statue of a veiled woman out of the box and frowned at it. The hair on his arms stood on end, and the air was heavy, like trying to breathe soup. The statue emanated power. The Men of Letters were usually good about properly packaging cursed objects—he’d found several curse boxes already and set them aside until he could find the documentation that went with them. Theoretically, that meant that whatever this thing was, it at least wasn’t cursed. He was placing it on the table beside the box when Castiel entered, and he turned to face the angel, statue still in hand.

“Did you find something?” Sam asked.

Castiel frowned at the stack of empty boxes in the corner and said, “Sam, when is the last time you ate?”

Sam shrugged. “This morning, I think. Why?”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “What day is it?”

Sam looked at the angel, perplexed. “Tuesday. Cas, what’s going on?”

Cas sighed and glared at Sam. “It’s Wednesday morning. I assume you’ve been down here all night?”

Sam looked around at the piles of boxes. He didn’t feel like he’d spent a whole day in here, but it was always possible. He’d certainly gotten a lot done.

Cas pressed his lips into a line. “I’m going to the store. What food we have left has gone bad. Should I bother suggesting you rest in the meantime?”

One side of Sam’s mouth tugged upward into a fond smile. “You’re right. I’ll go grab a nap and a shower, then something to eat. Deal?”

Cas nodded and stalked away. Sam huffed a laugh. He didn’t try to annoy the angel, not like Dean did, but Cas was pretty adorable when he was irritated—like a disgruntled cat. His mother hen impression was pretty cute too. In any case, Cas was right. Sam checked his phone and confirmed he’d been awake nearly thirty hours. Finally setting the statue down, he went and crashed in his room. He was asleep almost instantly.

Four hours later, Sam’s stomach angrily grumbling woke him from a nightmare where he was being chased by a Lammasu—a winged lion he’d read about in some textbook somewhere but he’d been lucky enough to never encounter in person. He shook off the remnants of the dream and grabbed some food from the kitchen—Cas had obviously made it back from his grocery run at some point—then stopped for a quick shower before making his way back to the storeroom to keep working. He hadn’t seen Cas, but the bunker was big and it was easy to spend hours alone when there were only the two of them around. As he got back to work in the storeroom, Sam set an alarm on his phone so he wouldn’t work through the night again.

Barely an hour later, he heard a banging that seemed to be coming from the front door. Curious and wary, he went to open it, pulling his gun as he went.

He opened the door, leveling the gun at…nobody? Confused, he looked around, then down as alarmed meowing started. Sitting in front of the door and looking extremely put out was a Siamese cat with cream fur except where it darkened to a rich chocolate on its legs, ears, face and tail. It blinked stunning blue eyes at him and grew quiet as he slowly lowered his gun.

Baffled, he moved to close the door and return to his work when the cat darted inside, nearly tripping him on its way. It started its chatter again as it descended the stairs, and Sam could swear there was intelligence in its eyes as it stopped and looked at him with a quizzical head tilt from the doorway leading to the bedrooms, then padded away down the hall.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. Apparently he had a cat now. Dean was going to be pissed when he finally decided to come home.

 Two days later, Sam stared at his phone, willing it to ring. Cas was missing and not answering his phone. After the third voicemail, Sam had made himself stop calling, busying himself with researching cats and purchasing supplies, but there were only so many catnip mice and string toys he could order before he remembered that his brother had betrayed and abandoned him and his best friend had vanished without a word. He’d noticed yesterday morning when the angel hadn’t appeared for his usual cup of coffee, but he honestly wasn’t sure how long the angel had been gone. He hadn’t seen Cas since he’d left for the grocery store. The fresh food meant he’d returned, but there was no sign of when he’d left again.

The cat had made itself at home in the meantime, mostly following Sam around and staring at him with its unsettling gaze or meowing loudly at him when he didn’t go to bed at a reasonable time. It was an affectionate thing, though, always purring at the slightest touch from Sam and pushing its head under his hand. In fact, it knocked Sam out of his reverie by jumping onto the seat next to him and head butting his arm. Sam idly reached down to scratch behind its ears as he decided to try Cas one more time.

Pressing the phone to his ear as he waited for it to connect, he absently stroked the soft fur next to him. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Cas’s phone ringing. Looking around for the source, he realized after a moment that the cat was ringing. Sam sat, frozen, glancing between the ringing cat and his phone. The cat rolled its eyes, then mashed a paw against Sam’s phone, ending the call. It just looked at him before giving him an exasperated meow.

“Cas?” Sam whispered.

The cat chirped and trilled, arching its back before slamming its head into Sam’s side.

Sam was bewildered. Of all the crazy things that had happened to them, this might be the weirdest. Even that time Dean had sort of turned into a dog he hadn’t literally turned into a dog. He knew Cas wasn’t going to be able to answer him, but he had to ask. “Cas, how did you get turned into a cat?”

 Cas could not figure out what had happened. He was certainly not a cat, but Sam persisted in his assertion that he was. Sam was not ill or hallucinating, as Castiel had checked—several times, in fact. The only other feasible explanation was that there was magic at work. But who would bespell an item to make one perceive others as felines?

His research into tracking Gadreel and Metatron was going to have to wait until he fixed whatever had happened to Sam, who was out searching for leads he was certainly not going to find. Cas sat at one of the library tables, surrounded by books on illusion magic, and he stared at his phone. Dean would want to know his brother was under the influence of a spell. He’d be angry if he found out something had happened to Sam, but he would be furious if he didn’t hear it from Castiel. Still, if Castiel could fix whatever was wrong before Dean found out, then he would never need to know. He was sure Sam would prefer that option, though Sam was still unaware that he was the one under the influence of magic.

The angel still hesitated, thumb hovering over Dean’s name. No. He would fix this. Dean would be angry if he found out, but Sam would never forgive him. Not now, when the human was already so vulnerable. As Sam had said, they got this.

Sighing, Cas pocketed his phone and pulled one of the books toward him. Sam would be unable to help research this, so Cas ought to get started. He tried not to think about how good Sam’s hand had felt ruffling his hair before he’d realized it was Cas he was petting.

 Sam was exhausted. He’d canvassed half of Lebanon trying to figure out what had happened to Cas. No one had seen anything suspicious, though several people remembered the “handsome man in a trench coat.” Two had inquired about whether Cas was single, and three had told him they hoped he found his boyfriend soon. Sam wasn’t sure what had given them that particular impression, but he didn’t question it. People thought he and Dean were a couple all the time.

His next step was searching news outlets for anything that sounded like witches or cursed objects, his two leading theories at the moment. If that yielded nothing, then it was time to hit the books again.

Three days and four failed spells later, even Sam could admit he was running himself into the ground. He could scarcely protest when Cas decided to lay across the books he was reading (rereading), effectively interrupting his research. The angel twitched his tail and released a low grumble when Sam attempted to dislodge him. Admitting defeat, Sam raised his hands in surrender and pushed back his chair.

“You’re right; I need a break. I’m going to go watch a movie or something in my room. You want to join me?” At least Castiel could still understand him, though he missed the sound of the angel’s voice.

Cas tilted his head in a manner so familiar, Sam almost laughed. Then he hopped off the table and trotted past Sam, briefly turning and waiting at the entrance to the library. Sam grinned and followed the cat to his room.

 Castiel was glad Sam had decided to spend the evening relaxing, but he was unclear on the social protocol of where he should sit now that Sam perceived him as feline. Normally, he would use the desk chair in Sam’s room, but for reasons he could not articulate he found himself reluctant to sit so far away. Perhaps it had something to do with how much Sam had begun touching him the last few days. Even now that he was aware that the “cat” was Castiel, Sam seemed to instinctively want to reach out and pet, running his hand through Castiel’s hair or down his back. At one point he had hoped that the spell would be unable to resolve the impossibilities that physically touching created—he was, after all, decidedly NOT covered in fur—but that hope had been dashed days ago. Still, he was enjoying the proximity to one of his favorite humans and wished for it to continue.

Sam ultimately settled the matter for him by patting the bed next to his leg, inviting the angel to join him. Castiel hesitated a moment longer, knowing that Sam was unaware of just how little space there would be on the bed with both of them there and wondering if indulging himself was strictly ethical in this case. Then, he decided that he ought to take the invitation at face value and settled himself shoulder to shoulder with Sam.

A few minutes into the movie (Castiel had not bothered to pay attention to the title. There were people doing illogical things and very few explosions) Sam began absently stroking Cas’s leg alarmingly near his groin. The angel whined in a most undignified way as arousal jolted through him, and he wondered what noise Sam had heard because he has immediately snatched his hand away as though burned.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “I don’t—I wasn’t thinking.” He held himself stiffly, staring at his hands in his lap and picking at one of his cuticles.

Cas’s inability to communicate with Sam had never been more frustrating. Worse was that he had no idea how the spell would interpret anything he said or did. Still, he had to try. Seeing Sam look so guilty was heartbreaking. He liked when Sam touched him. In theory, that ought to be simple enough to communicate. Gently, he lifted Sam’s hand and replaced it on his leg.

Sam stared at his hand for a moment, then began to stroke again. Castiel sighed in contentment. Sam looked surprised, then pleased.

 Sam looked at the purring cat draped across his lap. He may have no idea how to turn Cas back, but he would figure it out. In the meantime, he could let himself enjoy this. Words seemed to get in the way so often, and with Cas in this form, well, things seemed easier. He kept petting Cas on accident, which would have been a problem if the angel didn’t seem to like it so much. Sam, for his part, was enjoying the physical contact more than he wanted to admit. He hadn’t had much of that in the last couple years.

Closing his eyes, he listened to the movie drone on while he relished the warmth of the cat on his lap. The soft rumble of Cas’s purring stirred something Sam hadn’t felt in a long time. So long, in fact, that he had trouble identifying it, but he thought it might be happiness. As he ran his fingers over the soft fur, he wondered if Cas would also enjoy an evening like this in his usual form.

 Cas read the spell description for the fourth time. It had taken days, but he had finally found a document in that chaotic storeroom Sam had been unpacking that seemed to explain Sam’s affliction. It was a spell of true sight, designed to help one describe their feelings for another. A magical metaphor, as it were. A naïve young witch had cast the spell on a statue, a gift for her beloved, and it had bounced from owner to owner, wreaking havoc until the Men of Letters confiscated it. Castiel had found his answer. He just wasn’t sure he liked what it implied.

Many had denigrated his relationship with the Winchesters over the years. Mostly angels, but Crowley and others too. He’d even heard himself referred to as the Winchesters’ pet on occasion. He had simply never thought Sam thought of him that way. He’d certainly never expressed such a feeling in Castiel’s presence.

It was painful, realizing his affection for the younger Winchester was one-sided, but it didn’t change anything. He would figure out how to break the spell on Sam, then he would go find Gadreel and Metatron. Find a way to make them pay. He would take what affection he could get, even if it was just as a faithful pet.

 Sam stared down at the spell bowl in disbelief. That should have worked. He’d been sure this time. He’d finally found a spell claiming to dispel all transformation magic. It had been powerful but surprisingly simple. He hadn’t screwed it up. Which meant Cas was probably going to be stuck in this form forever.

He sank into his chair, resting his head in his hands. This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t losing the only friend he had left to a stupid spell. Not when ‘Nothing is worth losing you’ kept ringing through his head. Sam wasn’t so sure about himself, but nothing was worth losing Cas.

As if on cue, the cat angel hopped up on the table and headbutted him. Sam automatically began to pet him and scratch behind the ears. It was soothing, and so was Castiel’s quiet, rumbling purr. Unfortunately, it was also a reminder of Sam’s most recent failure. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t give up. That’s not what they did. That’s not what he did. There was an answer out there, somewhere. It just obviously wasn’t in the Men of Letters library. He tried not to think about how that significantly lengthened the odds of his finding a way to save Cas.

Running his hand down the length of the cat’s back, making Cas arch up into his touch, Sam pushed himself away from the table. “Come on. Time for bed.”

Settled in Sam’s room as they’d done every night for the last four days, with Cas pressed up against his leg and purring contentedly, Sam couldn’t help murmuring, “You really do make a fantastic cat, Cas.”

The purring stopped, and Cas lifted his head to look at Sam, wide blue eyes unblinking.

“I mean it,” Sam said. “I read that scientists think they domesticated themselves, just decided they liked people and moved in. And they’re all tiny badasses, stupidly brave even in the face of an overwhelming threat. I must’ve watched a dozen videos this week of cats chasing off bears, snakes, even an alligator once. They’re incredible, just like you.” Sam smiled fondly, then sighed, picking at an abused cuticle. “Look, I know this sucks, but I promise I’m not going to let you be stuck like this. Cats are awesome, and you are such a cat, but you are so, so much more than a house pet.”

Sam blinked, and suddenly his bed was much more crowded. Their bodies were pressed together in a long line from shoulder to knee, and Sam’s hand was resting remarkably high on Castiel’s thigh. Cas blinked up at him, a dopey, pleased smile on his face. Sam was proud of himself for not startling so badly that he fell off the bed.

“Cas? What the hell?”

Confusion flashed across the angel’s face, then his expression grew serious. “Sam? Can you see me?”

“I could always see you.”

Cas glared minutely. “But now you see me, not a cat. You can understand me.”

Sam nodded, still trying to figure out what had broken the spell—a delayed reaction from his spell, maybe?

Cas ended up explaining but made no move to leave Sam’s personal space. Sam, for his part, was still too stunned to trust his legs.

“So, you’ve been sleeping in my bed like this the whole time?” Sam said.

“You seemed to enjoy my presence.” Cas was matter-of-fact, unapologetic, and it made something flip-flop in Sam’s chest.

He grinned. “I did. I do, but, Cas, this bed isn’t really big enough for both of us.”

“Oh.” Cas frowned, doubt and insecurity playing over his face for the first time in the conversation. Awkwardly, he began to roll away until Sam snagged his wrist.

“Maybe tomorrow we can get me a bigger bed?” Sam said cautiously. He wasn’t sure Cas would understand what he was proposing, if it was even something an angel could want with someone like him, but he was feeling brave.

Confusion flicked across Cas’s face before understanding dawned. “Oh. I would like that very much.”

Sam smiled. “Right. Good.”

Cas shifted awkwardly again. “What, um, what would you like me to do tonight?”

Sam looked at their feet, how they barely fit side by side on the small bed. He imagined, for a moment, what it would be like without the warm line at his back that he’d been enjoying for days without really thinking about it. More comfortable, probably, but oh so lonely. “Stay. If you want. I’d—I’d like it if you stayed.” He hoped he hadn’t sounded too desperate.

Joy lit up his angel’s face as he replied, “I would like that very much, too.”

[believerindaydreams]

Oh no it's point lookout

Boone

Can't get used to the water.

Enough to drown the Mojave, the valley where I was born. Tobar's got a steam condenser hooked up to the engines, it's the first time since New Vegas we've felt free to drink all we want.

Carla sips it with dainty care, Arcade gulps it down and moves on. Christine has some with the salty chowder but doesn't seem to care much otherwise.

Couldn't say I like her, but might be she's what we need right now. Can't just stare at each other and fuck all the time in this cramped cabin: her stern Brotherhood presence makes us have to talk, stick to some pretense of civilisation.

We need to get used to that again. Don't want to set a bad example for my own daughter.

And she's patient. Arcade keeps losing words and getting angry about it, and she's the only one who can prompt him when it gets complicated. I don't know what mitochondria are and I don't care, but she does. And it gives her something to think about, too.

Carla...

we're so far past the way we were in Novac, her doting on me and me loving her. We can't go back to that but I don't know where we are now.

Where we are is the topside of a ship in the rain, with drops sweeping over us when the wind stirs, and she giggles and wraps her legs around my knees.

I suck gently at her breast, where she's sore and heavy; the milk's richer than Brahmin, tastes faintly like the fish we're eating. It'll be better for her when she has Daisy to nurse again.

"What if...what if we had another baby?"

It'll be a while before I can talk, she knows that. Enough trouble to do this without my teeth nipping her.

"I know, I haven't been there enough for Daisy. It's the worst possible timing. But I feel like...I never felt right after Flagstaff, you understand? I had something taken from me, and I wanted it back."

Her voice is sweet, low. There was a night we spent on the roof of a building in Freeside, Vegas neon on one side and wild desert on the other. Making love and talking all night.

"Manny led me home, but it wasn't enough. Tending Nacochtank wasn't enough. I never felt safe...it's different now. I fought my way through the Pitt's steelyards, through the Hole. I kept Arcade alive, same as Manny did for me. Nobody can take that away from me."

She has the scars to prove it, too. Not many people I know who haven't broken a few ribs, but I hoped she wouldn't have to. So much for hope.

"Point is- I know that now. I can move on. And what I want to move on to- Boone, let's go home. I want to set up my sewing machine again. Make hats. Know where we'll be staying day after day...I miss Manny. I miss my daughter."

I wipe my mouth. "Okay."

"Okay, you want another child, or you miss home too, or what?"

"All of it. Anything you want."

She pulls her blouse back on, rests softly against me. "Right now, going back to the cabin. It's cold out here."

"Okay."

"And I won't push you about the memory cure. If you don't want it."

"...Carla, I took that the night we left we left the Pitt. You wanted me to know, so now I know."

"Oh." It's too wet to know if she's crying. "So Bitter Springs- you remember all of that?"

"Yeah."

"...what do you think?"

"Maybe it explains our luck."

I mean that seriously; but her laugh is high and keening like a gull. It would make anyone feel better to hear it.

*****

Arcade

From a scientific point of view, it would be a terrific exercise to document their lapse and recovery. The trajectory from shock to ferality back to coherency will undoubtedly be of use to someone, somewhere.

From a personal point of view, he can't recall anything he wants to think about less. Christine has assured him that they didn't do anything too incriminating or embarrassing; but her mouth had twitched as she'd said it, and he can't help suspecting she was sparing his feelings.

Still. From the point of view of survival, the blood-sight has admittedly been a success, letting instinct take over until numbed higher faculties got back on the job. Not altogether unlike the capabilities of Super Mutants, now he's thinking of it.

Or what Doc Henry's research had originally been for; and he shivers, resists the impulse to test the strength of his skin with a pin.

FEV. Forced evolutionary virus. If the widespread dissimination in everything from Brahmin to ants has itself mutated, into a less disruptive form for its host...

It could be that in another generation, the whole of the NCR's armed forces will look like First Recon. Exactly the possibility that the Enclave has feared since the war.

Maybe he should warn them.

Maybe he should write this all off as shock brought on by one too many overwhelming missions and never speak of his suspicions again.

Arcade drops his fragmentary notes into the tiny cabin stove, and goes to join the others on deck.

*****

Carla

You can't believe you're doing this again.

Nacochtank had worked out because it had been piecemeal, one thing at a time- first the tent and the prickly pear, Arcade tending his new garden as though it was the last one on earth. Then selling a few waters to the caravans because it was worth so much for something easy to cultivate. People hearing about clean, easy water in the wasteland, and the Rivet City exiles who were kicked out for impurity, and Arcade setting up the Followers refugee tent that same day, daring them to cross the bridge and do something about it.

They hadn't. They wanted the clean water.

And then Shari, who'd wandered through the wastes for her whole life and found somewhere to stop at last; and Catherine, and the whole thing had grown...

but that was then, and this is now. And Point Outlook isn't welcoming.

The boardwalk where they disembark is guarded by people with assault rifles and combat armor, there's frag mines set either side of the path to stop anybody from wandering off the set path.

"Who the hell are you?" Christine asks, as undiplomatically as possible.

"Boardwalk guards. We don't let anyone in unless they swear they're giving up all faction allegiance. Are you prepared to make that pledge?"

"Whoa, whoa," Arcade says. "Jericho, it's us. Is Manny Vargas here?"

"...thought you were dead," Jericho says after a moment. "Uh, yeah, he's here. North by the baby garden. But we still won't let her in, we needed new rules and we stick by them-"

"Any allegiance I ever had to the Brotherhood of Steel," Christine says, her voice distant. "I hereby forswear utterly. Does that satisfy you?"

Your husband winces.

"Okay," Jericho says, leaning on his assault rifle. "I know better than to ask a pretty lady like you to give up your weapons, because you won't. But don't use 'em, okay?"

"I will-" Christine starts, before catching your eye. "Not."

This isn't the community you left.

It has a better chance of survival, perhaps; but it isn't what you wanted.

[hakbot]

I know you want it so Ace and Maxson but let me get a drink first

Aw jeez Im going to need a drink too jesussss

Okay okay okay lets do this thing

How did they they meet?

Ace joined the Brotherhood of Steel. And he rose ranks fast.

Who developed romantic feelings first?

Maxson for sure. Ace is pretty oblivious and as the resident psycho it’s probably for the best that he lets anyone with feelings for him approach first.

Who is their biggest “shipper?”

No one. Literally no one. Not a single person wants to see them together. They are likely to bring out the worst in each other.

When did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances?

I see it something like this:

The debriefing went on as normal. Ace went on to explain why a number of raiders had escaped his attack, but made sure to mention how he had made it harder for them to reinhabit the area. Elder Maxson though wasn’t paying nearly as much attention to the words as the way Ace moved his mouth.

With a wave of the hand Ace was dismissed. But he was stopped before he could leave. “Hold on a minute. Come back here.”

Ace made his was back over, but close enough and the distance was narrowed by Maxson. He reached out with one hand to seize Ace’s face and roughly tip it up. He placed a chaste kiss onto his lips before letting go.

“Good job out there, pup. Keep it up.”

Who confessed their feelings first?

Maxson and it goes completely over Ace’s head. Like you gotta be straight forward with this kid.

What was their first official date?

God I don’t see them as the dating type. They’d both get off on running missions together probs. Let’s murder and make out.

How do they feel about double dates/group dates?

It’s always a group date when you’re living in cramped quarters.

What do they do in their down time?

Sleep probably. Ace in his free time alone is usually spent working on his power armor mods or idk kicking a wall for a while because he wants to be let out to play.

What was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like?

No……

What was their first fight over and how did they get past it?

Honestly, once they are for sure dating, Ace probably oversteps his bounds by seeing them both as equals. Maxson is sure to put him back in his place. Its probably a very physical fight.

Which one is more easily made jealous?

Maxson for sure. I bet the fucker is super territorial.

What is their favourite thing to get to eat?

Ass

Idk i dont have a good answer for this one.

Who’s the cuddly one? What their favourite cuddling position?

Probably Ace. He is the big spoon just like u said earlier

Are they hand holders?

No way. No way. No.

How long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? What’s the circumstances?

I don’t think its long. Maxson makes a suggestion and Ace agrees to it. Simple for simple folk.

Who tops?

Maxson doms. Ace “tops”.

What’s the worst first they’ve ever gotten into?

I’m assuming this is meant to be fight? Soooo

Same as their first fight, Ace oversteps and Maxson gets him back into line. Ace probably likes to test out his boundaries every once in a while because he’s an idiot and likes attention, but he probably ends up very bruised and broken.

Who does the shopping and the cooking?

Other people………..

Which one is more organized and prone to tidiness?

Probably Maxson. He’s had a lot more time in the military style of life. Ace is organized but I don’t see him as super tidy.

Okay the marriage questions. I don’t see a marriage as actually happening but if it did……

Who proposes?

Maxson. It’s not a question. It’s an order.

Do they have joined Bachelor/Bacheloette parties or separate?

It would have to be joint or Ace would not get one because he has literally zero friends.

Who is the best man/maid of honour? Any other groomsmen or bridesmaids?

I don’t know. It would go by rank probs?

Big Ceremony or Small?

Big. Fucking huge. Let’s announce this shit to the world.

Do they have a honeymoon? If so, where? 

No I doubt they would have time for anything…

Do they have children? How many?

Please god no. No. Please.

[chestshot]

A Cautionary Tale of India Pale

Prepare for Trouble, B-Side: A Cautionary Tale of India Pale,

Dark Holes and Transformations, or My Love Affair with xoxo<3Ms. Hopps <3xoxo

 Little children were playing behind me. I was in space. Time was forgiving. Never get caught in a blackout. Some never find their way home. As the streetlights illuminate the path of the righteous, the guardians watch over as we sleep. The beetles and moths have gathered in a procession, to welcome the night. “So, where were you?”  “I was playing in the dark, and I got lost. I had some breadcrumbs, thankfully.”

“This is going to hurt me more than you.” I never understood that logic. “So why can’t I do it to you, like you did it to me?”  “I’m doing this because I love you. Your soul is in danger.” We used to kneel on the bare floor covered in rice.

What is obedience, and what happens when it is forced? Believe in unity. Value brotherhood. Seize any opportunity to join hands. Even as the big hands crush the small hands, like a fist full of lavender flowers. Don’t think so hard. The guardians have done all the thinking for us. Some things do not need an explanation. Guardians discourage the children from scrutinizing every detail. All we need is to believe. Can’t we all just come together as one? If I wanted to find everlasting life, why did I have to lay it down to begin with?

           The Knights of Columbus hosted Sunday breakfast every month. My mother would always hand me a folded dollar bill when the collection basket came by. It was a little secret between our Father and I (Mathew 6:1-4). I was planting a seed for his kingdom, and if we did not fork over the dough, let us just say there was hell to pay.

           The instructor told us that Jesus loved us, so he died on the cross for us. If we loved Jesus, too, we had to love each other. We colored the nativity scene and learned a few prayers. We were taught a theology approved by the Roman Catholic Church, and classes were $25 per child. Those must have been some expensive ass crayons. I was a good boy. Never an altar boy.

           I had refused to help in the family garden in the front yard one time. The bathroom floor was cold on my cheek. The sweat and tears running down my neck fell on the yellow linoleum. My arm, bent around my back. Wrists too tight. Cheeks got so hot that the salt water started to dry up and irritate my skin. Was it worth it? I know it was fucking hot outside. The neighbors can hear. I’ve been getting ass beatings since I was alive. From the guardians, then from bad decisions, and possibly society. Sometimes the floor can become comfortable, waiting for the blackouts to cast a final spell.

           “God helps those that help themselves”®…Is not in the bible!

           The Sunday breakfast consisted of yellow “just add water” scrambled eggs. I was too young for coffee. Pass me the milk. I ate next to a church girl with an intellectual disability. Did God make her like that? I did not know. All I knew was that we were all equally hungry. I felt like all the dark holes in the floor were so much smaller back then. If I stepped on a crack, I could always find my balance, or the guardian would help me till I recuperated.

“Hey guys. Where’s Jesus’s cloths? Yeah… haven’t been able to hit up hot topic since COVID-19.”

           Societies fascination for making atonement. Drink and drive? Dui. Tax evasion? Prison time (unless its some shit like a white-collar crime). $50 dollar fines for parking in front of a fire hydrant, that one time I moved out of my parents’ house and rented a room from some asshole named Evander. Not a child anymore. Learning from experience. If I only learned to come home on time. Nothing good happens after 2 a.m. The dark holes were still manageable. No claws yet. No transformation.  The delinquencies were not ripe. There was not enough blood.

           I helped myself to a glass of orange juice. High pulp. Tart. Almost as refreshing as the forgiveness of sins. Dixie paper cups. An old couple. They must have both been in their eighties. With not much time to live, they both enjoyed the pancakes with light butter. No syrup though. Diabetes. He pulled the chair out for her. He took off her sweater and placed it behind the chair. He wiped his head with a towel, then his mouth. He regained his balance. and shuffled to his own seat. Where had the time gone? Playing with little toy cars and dirt, in the streets of his home country, and now using dentures. There was such an age of trusting that the streetlights were guiding him all along. When he could hear his mother’s voice and know in his heart that the night was near, but only to visit. He led the prayer and they both sat down to share maybe their last breakfast. Listened to your guardians. You might live as long as them.

           One time, Father Manuel unofficially sponsored Mission Tortillas. “Como Dios Manda” literally means “How God Orders” or more precisely “What God Demands of us”. He was calling out the young women who decided club wear for a Sunday mass was appropriate. Father Manuel roasted them. “Esta bien que sea Qinceniera. Pero esta es la casa de Dios.” We were all sinners, but some of us did a better job at hiding it. We were all trying to avoid the transformation. We all needed to love. We just needed time to patch things up.

           Mother Theresa believed that suffering was how you got closer to God. She refused to let some children receive treatment, so naturally, they would die. Bandage them up and throw them in the dirt. Suffering is the polished rock for sharp claws and feasting vultures. This psychic in San Francisco told me that I would be responsible for what I touch and what I know. I did not let him read my palm. I was swimming in ignorance, and the spirit would guide me.

Their little Calcutta souls belonged with the Lord. For a while, I started to believe that I was suffering, and therefore, there was no God. Those little Calcutta souls were all fucked. I think we suffer because we think we must. We like to convince ourselves that it’s all part of some divine plan. We suffer because we all have things we conveniently forget about. We should know better.

It’s not normal to stay up all night. It’s not normal to operate a vehicle under the influence of anything. It’s not normal to lie to the person you are with. It’s not normal to wake up at 3 pm every fucking day. It’s not normal to put things up your nose. It’s not normal to get in the car with a complete stranger. It’s not normal to think that you can live with people for free. It’s not normal to pass out at the bar. It’s not normal to constantly burn bridges. It’s not normal to forget what you did the night before. The blackouts swallowed me alive, over and over and over. I couldn’t see the streetlights. There was no one left to pay for my sins.

Last week, and then the week before, and before that. I lost a part of me. I’ve lost a few parts of me. Like a lot. Who was I? I had checked into the catacomb of wasted ambitions. The creatures of the dark had left. I looked in the mirror and could not accept what I had become. What big claws and teeth. The beer was gone. It was a scared man. No. A big bad wolf. My tail was between my legs. I was pitiful. My drinking career choked on it’s vomit. My guardian told me there was going to be hell to pay.

           I had a dream I was filling up one cup with another cup, like an endless water mill. I’m not sure why I always felt this way. An endless repetition that never ends, like new ideas filling old ones, but never quite arriving at a solution, or like fish eating fish eating fish… Like a two gallon hourglass, constantly being flipped on it’s other end, ass up, face down, full of itself. The air bubbles, trying to escape. The lump in the throat of my life, always sinking into my stomach. The transformation was complete. I was living in a blackout.

           The beta, or Siamese fighting fish, is native to Thailand and Cambodia. You can pick them up at your local swap meet. I used to love going to the Broadacre swap meet after Sunday mass. I got my hands on everything an eight-year-old should never get their hands on: laser pointers, chained wallets, pocket knifes, fart bombs, shock pens, pet’s I wasn’t able to take care of. I’m not sure what the fish were so angry about. Probably from being confined to a tiny ass sandwich bag.

I got my ass kicked in a bar fight once, in 2018. Three against one. I do not remember. I was asking for something that was not on the menu. I was being annoying. Swings broke out like a Florida coastline and faster than you can say Tallahassee’s televised turnout tremendously terrified pterodactyls. Too small. Smack. Too slow. Smack. I fell to the floor, head between my knees. My jeans ripped. All I see is stars. I raised a barstool over my head and threw it against the bar, not sure if it landed on anyone. Always bust out the bar stool when you know you are going to get rocked. I ran out through the front entrance and I called 911. I left my bicycle behind. The cops were nice enough to drive it down to me. They told me that the security guard told them I was trying to buy drugs. I told them it was a hate crime. They told me to go home. I told them I would never go back to that bar again.

           Pigs in a blanket. I think there was bacon. Bacon or sausage. No. I think there were both. I woke up at 6am to eat this at 10am. 10:15 if there was a line. Couldn’t everyone break bread the way we did? Always have to start a fight during a meal. If you’re a man of culture who would prefer to drink their meals, our fists made toasts to live long and pasta. The indigestion was the worst. I could not eat breakfast too early because my stomach lining was sensitive from the binge before. This did not stop me from killing a whole order of carne asada fries at night. I felt the weight of a bowling ball in my diaphragm when I woke up the next morning. Drinking water felt like swallowing marbles. This wasn’t normal. Nap. Bagel. Throw up.

SpaghettiOs. That’s not pasta. That’s an impasta.

           My older sister became an usher at church. She showed everyone to their seats. She wore a sash that said “Orden” or literally “Order”. She asked people if they could scoot over. She made room where people were resting their purses or when someone decided that they needed to sit with their legs wide open. Me and my younger sister always got pinches during service if we were joking around or being distracting. How did the people really bring their kids to church like that? We were so rambunctious!

The dark holes just seem like the better option sometimes.  If the blackout won’t take me now, then maybe tomorrow.

I had never wanted to grow up. I was so afraid that I would grow up to be a man with a wife and a house. I sounded like one of those kids who shits all over “the nuclear family” and the “white picket fence”. I had even said “I don’t want to have kids. I don’t want to bring more suffering into the world.” Then I would roll my eyes, take a puff of my cigarette and be proud of how postmodern I was.

The truth is, I was 26 years old, holding a fucking sign on the corner of Flamingo and Pecos at some Piano Lounge. Nobody wanted to marry me. I was living at my mothers house. I didn’t have a car or a drivers license. I hated everything I didn’t have. I still had my Lagunitas though. 7.1% a bottle meant I got nice and toasty after a six pack.

The Jack and Coke was just a nice butter and marmalade on top. Can’t have a nice toast without some warm butter and tangerine marmalade, raspberry jam. Ex-Pentecostal Holly Roller. I was so mad about that God Shit. I broke bread with my damaged complexion. I was a messy eater, leaving crumbs everywhere. Licking my claws like that racoon from Pocahontas. Like that, but still a big bad wolf…

           I was on my way to the "party bridge" on the Las Vegas strip. I had just got off the bus, after a 6-8 hour shift holding a sign on the corner of Flamingo and Pecos. The job was shit, but it didn’t require much interaction with people. God, I used to hate people.

When I got there, the police were harassing a group of street performers. I like to get faded, and I like to do it on the street. I buy some street performers some beers, ask if I can play a couple of songs on their acoustic guitar, and we get smashed. The police were pissing on my parade and I was not going to let that happen.

I went to the CVS and bought a case of PBR. When I got back to the bridge, I started handing out some cans to the street kids being interrogated. The police told me to stop, and I did not listen. I got arrested for obstructing an officer and resisting arrest. This was probably one of the most punk rock things I ever did in my life. Resisting authority was my raspberry jam. I liked that it made me feel bad to the bone. I felt like even more of a bad ass when I offered the holy spirit into my life, on the rocks with a pickle back shot.

           The police officer put me in handcuffs and took me to the cop car, outside of the Aria. I thought that I was standing up for the street performers. Really, I was just sticking my nose where it did not belong. When I got to the detention center downtown, the nurse asked me some questions. “Do you have a history of cocaine use in your family?” “Tu Madre!” I said. What the fuck did that have to do with anything? Faster than you can say “Pharmaceutical petty punks pretentiously pandered pedestrians” Five correction officers pin me to the wall. One of them had my arm bent behind my back and they were waiting for any reason to snap off my ring finger.

           I stretched out my ear lobes. The holes were wide enough to stick a sharpy permanent marker through. One of the guards whispered in my ear “I like to rip out gauges.” My body went limp. I was going to get ripped apart like a fucking lasagna. “Please don’t do that.” One of the other guards brought in a retainment seat, on wheels. Think of an elementary school chair with straps. The blue ones, or orange, sometimes. Class was in session.

I was wheeled to a retaining room with another inmate who had acted out. He had asked to use the restroom, so he was granted the privilege to defecate. They wheeled him away. I pissed myself. One of the guards came in to get me and realized what I had done. “Son of a bitch.” He said under his breath, realizing that he still had to maintain professionalism. The female officer following him said “Mark.” With disapproval. Fuck authority. I’m still a big bad wolf. Its society that has to change. Do you know who I think I am? I’m no impasta.

           The secret to having a good time is to show up to the bar with a few ounces of hard liquor already in your system. You save money and time. The bartender can never cut you off because they don’t even know what you act like when you’re sober. They’re not aware of the transformation. Pretty soon, I’m the big bad wolf with a bad haircut and jeans my mother bought for me at Ross. I say “LAGUNITAS” and the bartender takes my five. A cautionary tale of India pale: this shit will turn your brain to shit. Shit toast. From a shithole tavern, or Albertsons if I was emo and wanted to drink alone at the park.

           I always went to the bar by myself. I would try and make conversations if I was feeling sociable. The best way to do this was to smoke a cigarette, and let the acquaintances come rolling in. “I’ll tell you a joke for a cigarette” was always a good conversation starter. I would have also accepted “hey man, can I give you a dollar for a cigarette? I left mine at home.” I didn’t always have spare cash, but when I did, I liked to drink around strangers and not feel the isolation covering me, like stars just beyond my reach. Like aircrafts. Black night sky. The tar in community college lungs. Little Red Riding Hood didn’t show up. Probably cause her sisters were talking shit about me. It’s ok. I’m still big and bad.

Drink some water. Jesus fishes. Say a prayer. Missing pieces. Dying wish. Deep dish pizza.

Cheap not-the-real-Bel-Air hotel. Right on the corner of Ellis and Jones. Junkies were chasing dragons in high definition on the sidewalk. God checked out. No housekeeping. Ash tray on the nightstand, some beer cans, and $6.14 in cash. What a splash. Making out with Hopps. She gives my stomach purple ulcer butterflies. Sedates my lungs a car crash plum. Mind calming lavender razorblades cut gently. Her love is a condor. She picks at my liver like silver bullets diving into passion fruit scum.

[bellaahgony]

Another Long Night

Wrath: This was one of the worst parts of my job. The part where I had to break the most difficult news. I was going to have to tell Ehlena that after all the work that she had done to save the injured that had come back from the mission, we had not been able to bring Rehv home to her alive. It wasn’t just Ehlena, either. At the moment, there were about six of these meetings I was going to have to have, more if we lost anyone else during the next few days.

These meetings were soul crushing, even for the most hardened of warriors. That was one of the reasons we did it together. We stood as a unit. We were the Brotherhood, the warriors and protectors of our race. The symbology of the group was that one failure belonged to us, as a whole. However, we all knew the failure was mine. I was the one that sent those males and females out to their deathbed. I was the one that received the tip and decided we didn’t have enough time to double and triple-check our sources. We had to move fast, or the one possibility of rescuing Lyric was going to slip through our fingers and we had never been so close before.

The Brothers had arrived at my office, some in pairs, others by themselves. It would be a long night for us. I had asked Selena to collect Ehlena for me, once she was finished in the PT suite, and Selena was to coordinate with Mary to gather Bella and Z. The phone had rung not three minutes ago to let me know that Ehlena was just finishing up. It wouldn’t be long now. @Banded_Warrior

Zsadist: It had been hours since I got back from the mission and every fiber of my body was bone ass tired, but Bella had been unable to sleep, and therefore I had forced myself to stay awake. She had tried throughout the day, I think more for my sake than her own, but she had not been able to claim a state of slumber. Every time I thought she might have dozed off, sobs would come and rack her body, and I would just pull her in tight, once more.

The clock had no sooner stuck 4pm when there had been a knock on the door. Rolling away from Bella, I got up to answer it. As I swung open the door, I saw Mary standing just outside, worry plastered across her face. “How’s she doing?” She whispered.

I shook my head in response, “Not good.” I knew she was being polite but, stupid, fucking question!

“Wrath would like to see you and Bella in his office.”

I closed my eyes and begged for this not to be happening now. I wasn’t in the mood for this pomp and circumstance shit. But, this was a part of the gig. I simply nodded at Mary, “Give me a sec.” She nodded back and I shut the door before returning to my mated bed.

Taking a seat on the bed next to Bella, I softly laid a hand on her hip. “Nalla, my love. The King requests our presence in his office.” @BellaAhgony

Bella: *My eyes were swollen from all the crying as I turned my head to try to focus on my hellren’s face. As I opened them I looked into his beautiful citron eyes that I haven’t seen in a long while. He really must be worried about me to switch black from his normal obsidian as of late. In the last few years, I noticed that I rarely saw his twin’s eye color unless they were directly focused on me or Nalla. So I knew he was concerned about my well being. How could he not? We only just lost Phury. Though it has been almost a century ... it still felt like it was recent, so he knew exactly how I felt. These were the moments where living for centuries is a drawback.

As I realized his words, Wrath summoned us?*

Has something happened? *I asked quietly … afraid to know the answer. We’ve been hidden in our mated chambers since Z delivered the news. I haven’t been able to sleep, in my mind I saw all the memories I had with mine brother. Eating Frosted Flakes, watching cartoons … he always watched over me. Well into transition, when he bought me my cottage that was next to Mary’s. The memories like a movie playing in my mind of my life wherever and whenever Rehv was present.

I rose from the bed and moved to the walk in closet to change my clothes to make myself more presentable and Z and I made our way down the hall of statues towards Wrath’s office.* @EternalEhlena

Ehlena: [It had been one of the longest nights in a very long time, not just for the PT Suite but surgery as well. So many were hurt, but I had yet to head about any that had not made it back alive. Earlier in the eve after the group had taken off to go bring Lyric back home worry had bloomed inside me as it always had. I was confident though that they would succeed and everyone would be whole again. I hadn’t originally wanted to let Rehv go, but I knew he was going to once he decided. I knew he could help them and he had promised to come back to me, and our young. We all needed him, and I was not able to stay at home waiting. Thankfully I was asked to come help prepare things for their return and all who would be returning injured.

My thoughts were all over the place, those moments in time seemed like they were days ago instead of a few short hours. My heart had been aching and I knew it was because I was worrying so much. The race had already lost so many good males in our battles but now we were facing the possibility of losing more. To save a female who had been gone for far too long. I was confident that she was going to be brought home to us. Everything had become a madhouse once the injured started to arrive. Assessing who was more urgent than the rest. When I was pulled to go help in surgery I didn’t object, I was needed and I knew that I could help them. It would also help to keep me from feeling the odd pain that was in my chest that I could not shake.

There was a moment that I managed to get when everything seemed to calm down, I was standing outside the suite looking at the others who were still here. I could see that they had been receiving care but they would be here for at least another night. My head turned as I heard footsteps and saw that Selena was coming towards me. No I thought to myself she had to be coming to see the injured herself. It did not stop the pounding of my heart though which only became worse the closer she got to where I stood. She’s come to get me, Rehv must not have the energy to do such. I smiled softly to myself my male always having my best at heart. But it dropped when she had spoken. “Wrath needs to see you, in his office.” I shook my head only once as I replied, fear blooming as my mind wandered to what it could mean.] No. [It was the only thing I could say, I was still needed here and at the moment I couldn't leave them short staffed.] @PurebredMthrFkr

Wrath: Time ticked by so slow, I felt like I was waiting for a response from the government on something, when in fact, it had only been mere minutes before Z and Bella arrived at the door. The quiet chatter that had taken up the room only moments before, had suddenly come to an abrupt stop. Even Whiskey seemed to notice a shift in the room as I felt his head nudge at my hand in my lap. I reached over and scratched behind his ear before getting to my feet. Waving my hand at what was supposed to be two empty chairs in front of my desk, “Bella, please come in and have a seat. We are waiting on one more person.”

Knowing that Bella already knew about her brother’s passing and was probably in no mood for this right now, only made me hope to get it all underway as quickly as possible, but we needed to wait for Ehlena. This was only the first of many of these meetings for me, but I felt enormous amounts of sympathy for those that would sit across from me tonight. @Banded_Warrior

Zsadist: At Bella’s question, I simply shook my head. “No, Nalla. This is all just part of the official bullshit.” I put my hand on the small of her back and led her down the hallway to Wrath’s office. As we got to the doorway, I stopped for a moment looking in, silently begging to anyone listening that I didn’t have to go in. I hated these things when I was just one of the many faces in the room. I did not want to watch my Shellan have to be the one sitting in that fucking hot seat. Over the years, during this war, I had seen too many break down in that seat and I had watched Bella go through enough already tonight. Her eyes were already beet red from sobbing all night, there were bags under them, and I knew she didn’t want to have to go through it all again, especially not in front of the whole family. However, this was the way of our world. Everything was ritual.

Wrath broke the silence and called us in… well, Bella to be precise. I took a deep breath, and after a gentle nudge to her low back, followed her into the room. @BellaAhgony

Bella: My eyes felt heavy and dry, my arms were around my body holding on to myself to keep from falling apart. The warmth of my hellren’s hand kept me from falling to the ground into a fetal position. I knew this must be the official gathering of the Brotherhood for Ehlena. I’m only guessing that they are congregated here rather than going to her was so that the many conversations that Wrath had to deliver would be kept privately for those loved ones. Made sense. I’m sure he would have wanted it for me but there was no way Zsadist would be able to keep it from me through all the chaos of the medical bay the previous night.

I barely noticed that we had arrived at Wrath’s office and being nudged into the room, but as Z gave me a tight hug and set me down gently in a chair and kissed my forehead it awoke me from my haze as I held onto his hand as stood sentry behind me. Lending me his undying support and love through the small connection. I will be forever grateful that Zsadist was my rock.* @EternalEhlena

Ehelna: [I sighed as Selena did not leave, insisting even more that Wrath had requested my presence and he would not want to wait. Any other day I would agree our King when summoning someone that was answered as soon as they heard it. I looked over my shoulder, back to the suite. Where we were short staffed and every hand was needed here to help each patient. Something told me that it would not be the end should I go back inside to help and not go with the Chosen. Sighing softly I nodded once.] Give me a moment to let them know that I need to leave

[I cleaned up the best I could before moving back to where I had left her waiting, moving past her I continued to walk. My mind now beginning to go into overdrive. Our King had not gone out, should not have any injuries. My heart was in my throat as I climbed the stairs afraid now as I stood before the hallway that lead to the office. I dared not move I couldn't bring myself to do it. Selena had gone since she had technically done what was asked of her. I was here, but suddenly not so brave anymore. Those long buried feelings of being lost surfacing from back when my father had passed. Then I had Rehv there with me to help through it all. I wanted him here and that's all I knew at this moment. I glanced about the hall hoping that maybe he was just inside the office and that was why I was called here. To take him home after the battle they had just had.

I could hear soft crying on the other side of the door and my heart leapt into my throat. Oh no don't tell me Bella…..Z…… I forgot to knock and just burst right into the room my eyes and then my form going straight to her not clicking for a moment that she was not alone as I wrapped my arms around her.] Bella, no… @PurebredMthrFkr

Wrath: I could feel the walls closing in on me as the whole room was laced in tension. Not one person was speaking, and the only sound being the quiet stifle of tears coming from Bella. It was so quiet, I could hear the slow approach of Ehlena’s footsteps as she climbed the stairs to the office. Fuck! Swallow. The dryness of my throat caused everything to stick, as the lump just sat there, unmoving. My eyes drifted shut behind my wraparounds, waiting for Ehlena’s unsure pace to reach the door. Dearest Scribe, these nights were always easier when I had Beth to lie my head next to at the end of them.

Suddenly, Ehlena’s gait sped up and the door burst open. I could hear a small commotion as Ehlena rushed to Bella’s side. At her words, I cursed anyone she may have come in contact with that might have broken the news to her earlier. She didn’t need that kind of strain on her while she was trying to take care of patients. That was precisely why I had called for her to come here as soon as things were dwindling down for the night in the PT suite. It was also ritual. It was up to me and the Brothers to break the news. Show her that we all stood beside her, she wasn’t alone and all that shit. She was family, and that made this meeting so much more difficult.

I gently cleared my throat to get her attention. “Ehlena, please have a seat.” Waving at the other empty chair in front of my desk. @Banded_Warrior

Zsadist: Gripping Bella’s hand as if my life depended on it, I stood stoically behind her. Tonight, my place was not with my Brothers. It was by my shellan’s side. It was holding her up, when her heart felt like it was going to crumble up and die. Nothing could tear me away from her, not tonight. I don’t think she’s ever needed me more that she did this very night. Her sobs broke me, and as we sat waiting for Ehlena, every second just got worse. It was as if she were standing in line for the slaughter, and she knew it. She knew exactly what was coming and it killed me to know she would rather be anywhere but here. The finality of having the King declare Rehv dead was going to destroy her. All I could do was wait to be there to catch her.

The door flying open stole me from my transe, as Ehlena ran to Bella’s side. I let Bella’s hand slip from my own in greeting of Ehelna, and gently relocated it on her shoulder, instead. @BellaAhgony

Bella: *As I finally glanced up at Wrath, he had a frown and although I could not see his eye behind his wraparounds … he radiated sympathy and compassion. It was then that I felt the presence of all the males and females behind me. It was the Brotherhood. It was tradition that they come forward when someone went into the Fade. They had done once before for me. Almost a century ago … when Rehv had faked his death. Scribe, it was déjà vu. Almost. This time Zsadist had not waited to tell me with the others and I wasn’t alone in our mated chambers when I heard the knock.

He knew what this would do to me. The love of my life knew that I hearing this family tragedy, a second time … would break me. So, the male he is, came to me first so he could be there when I fell … to catch me. The tears started to fall again as I looked at all the faces around me. Viscous, Rhage, Payne … so many others have joined the noble ranks of the Brotherhood as many of the originals had joined the Fade. Phury, Qhuinn, Butch … Dearest Scribe … I hadn’t even contemplated if there were others that may have died tonight, in all of my selfishness.

But before I could ask Wrath … Elena burst into the room to give me a hug. A hug so tight I could hold her to me as well … knowing she was the reason I got to have my brother for the last century. He lived for her and her alone. She gave him back to so that my children could know their uncle. I could never repay her for that. I needed to be strong for her. We needed to be strong for Rehv. I could even hear his voice gently scolding me for crying and not being his “big girl”.* @EternalEhlena

Ehlena: [I held onto Bella ignoring all in the room, her grief and sadness surrounded me making me hold onto her tighter than before. I found myself whispering I'm sorry over and over again. It made sense to me now as to why they wanted me here. She didn't need to go through this by herself and I would not let her.

Hearing Wrath’s words I raised my head to turn and look at him. I had forgotten that there was to be the 'official’ thing to do. I pulled back from Bella a hand taking the one closest to the chair in mine as I rose to move to it. It was then that I caught sight of the Brotherhood behind her their faces said it all. They didn't want to be here any more than the ones who were getting the news, but it had to be done. My heart hurt for the female who had so quickly become my family all because of her brother. His interesting ways of courtship had won me over easily enough. Those days may have been long past but still he had continued to find ways to have me fall in love with him more and more.

Sitting barely on the chair my focus not even being on anything else I wondered why he was not here, or as I finally realized there was a male very close to Bella… It did not take a genius to know that it was Z standing there giving all the support he had left to his mate as she still continued to have tears falling.] Dear Scribe no. [I wasn't sure if I had spoken aloud or just to myself as each little piece fit together. The odd feeling I had in my chest before all the wounded started pilling in, my being called here, and Bella with Z having already seated in this study. My mind refused to believe and mine own body went stiff. Bringing my attention back to Wrath I shook my head once.] Don't. Don't you dare

[I would not be able to bear the thought of him speaking my Hellren’s name telling me he went down in this battle. Automatically I put myself back to when his club was destroyed, him faking his own death and going to the colony. The speed in which my own heartbeat picked up and pounding in my ears. This couldn't be happening not again not this time. No Scribe my male had to be here and alive waiting for me.] @PurebredMthrFkr

Wrath: I felt the reprimand in Ehlena’s voice, and the guilt of sending Rehv to his death slammed into my chest. I had done this. If it weren’t for my decisions, no one would have gone out tonight, no one would have died tonight, and I wouldn’t be standing here, in my office, getting ready to tell over a half a dozen families that their loved ones weren’t coming home tonight. That was my own demon to face though, and now was not the time. This night was about these families.

Clearing my throat one more time, I raised my head. Please Beth, stand beside me tonight. I need your strength. “Bella, Ehlena, it is with great sadness that I have to tell you that your brother, and hellren, Rehvenge, King of the Sympaths, has passed unto the Fade. It has been a privilege to have him fight alongside us, to have him as a friend, and as a part of our family. He will be forever honored as a part of the Brotherhood’s history, and as each one of us stand here today,” I waved my hand around the room to point out the Brotherhood, “know that you do not stand alone in his loss and your grief.” I stopped for a moment hating that this whole thing seemed so official. I was never one that enjoyed the ceremonial part of my job. I raised my wraparounds and rubbed my eyes for a second, before returning them to their place. “On a side note, Rehv was loved by us all. We will all be eternally grateful for his sacrifice, and I’m so sorry.” I heard a small gasp come from a few of the newer Brothers. The King was never supposed to say he was sorry. But, this was family, and I was sorry. My voice quieted, “I’m going to miss him.” At that I stopped. I wasn’t sure what else to say. Yeah, Rehv and I had had our differences, but at the end of the day, the male was family, and I was never good at doing this when it came to family. @Banded_Warrior

Zsadist: The look on Ehlena’s face as she noticed me standing behind Bella, said everything. She thought she was here for moral support for Bella. She thought I had not made it back from tonight’s mission and that she had been called in to stand beside Bella as she was given the news. It only took her a split second of confusion when she looked at me, before I saw the understanding of reality wash across her face. A lot of people would say I had no heart to speak of, but I did, and it was days like this that I wished they were right. As Ehlena’s gaze moved to Wrath’s, my jaw clenched and I stoically moved my own gaze to stare at some distant spot on the wall, over Wrath’s shoulder.

My hands still rested on Bella’s shoulders, I listened impassively as Wrath went through his spiel. I could feel Bella’s shoulders tense at times, and as they did, I squeezed slightly to let her know I was right behind her. My attention may not have been on every word coming out of Wrath’s mouth, but I felt every shift in Bella’s body. @BellaAhgony

Bella: *It took a few minutes before I realized that Ehlena misunderstood the situation. When she looked around the room and her eyes landed on Zsadist and all her coloring drained from her face … I knew. She had thought that it was Zsadist who had gone to the Fade. Not my dear brother.

As her arms loosened from the reality of the situation, I instead put my arms around her and leaned into her chair as she began to break down. Her body was trembling that I don’t even know if she even noticed. She sat silently as Wrath gave his speech. He words were heavy with heartfelt compassion, regret and even a tinge of guilt. It was no more his fault than my own. We all knew the dangers that had befallen Caldwell with this new enemy.

I rubbed my hand down Ehlena’s back to try to comfort her the best I could … I knew though that it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. I had been here before with Rehv and knowing as his shellan her heart was breaking even more than mine. Yes, I may have known Rehv longer, but she had his heart and soul.* @EternalEhlena

Ehlena: [The moment he used Rehv’s full name I lost it even more, shoulders shaking as my own cries blocked out everything else. How was I supposed to focus when the hole in my heart grew by leaps and bounds. My male, my love we had talked and made plans on where we would be going from here after he had come home. In his mind he knew that this would have been successful there was no other option for him.

The word sorry broke through as I had fought for a breath, my world was spinning and I knew that Wrath meant it. You could hear everything in that one word. I tried to not be, but I was angry at him. At Rehv, and every fighter who was supposed to be there. Even the female they went after. Because of them all I was going to have to raise my young alone. At this moment it mattered little to me that they all were aware of the risks. This was my Hellren we were having this show over.

The silence was deafening and slowly I managed to raise my head. Looking to our King through blurry reddened eyes I had a question, one I knew he would understand more than Bella.] How, how do you manage to keep going on? [I knew I needed to, for my young but right now I just could not figure out how.] @PurebredMthrFkr

Wrath: Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I didn’t have much of an answer for Ehlena. “Honestly, I don’t have a very good answer for that. I haven’t done much of a bang up job in that department.” I thought back to the conversation I had with Bitty a few hours earlier. “Moment by moment?” It was definitely a question, not a statement. Day by day never seemed to work for me, at least not in the beginning. It always seemed way too fucking long of a wait to get to the end of them.

The other thing that wasn’t lost on me was the ever-so-slight sharpness to her tone. Her anger was seeping through with the nearly inaudible inflection to her voice. Not that I blamed her for it. Shit! She had every right. That was what, step one of grief, or maybe it was two? Mary told them all to me once, but I can never remember their order. Not to mention the fact that, hello? Big fucking bonehead over here was the one that sent her hellren straight to his death. No wonder at all that she’s feeling a little twitchy toward me.

Fuck! I hated these things. I did send him to his death. I closed my eyes behind my dark wraparounds and took a deep breath. How was I going to move forward? Continue sending all these warriors off to die? How many had we lost already? How many more did we need to lose before something gave? How many more times was I going to send someone to their death before this whole war was going to turn around for us? Would it turn around for us? What other option did I have? It wasn’t like we could run. Where would we go? And what exactly would that accomplish, anyway? At least now we had Lyric. The Omega couldn’t continue to build up his army without her. So, there was that.

But, I was getting off on a tangent inside my own mind. This meeting wasn’t about me and my own shortcomings. I would have to deal with those later. This was about Ehlena and Bella. “All I can tell you is we,” once again motioning to the Brotherhood, “will be here for whatever you need, and I don’t care if it’s 2 in the afternoon and you need someone to beat the shit out of, we will be there.” Clearing my throat, I jumped back into the technicalities of the meeting, “As for any legal issues that you should need handled, Nalla, Saxton, and I will take care of them for you. We will also cover any and all costs of the Fade ceremony. Moving forward, Ehlena, Bella, you are family. Anything you need, please, come to me.” @BellaAhgony

Bella: *I nodded and hugged Ehlena tighter.* All of us have lost someone this past century. We all feel the loss as if they were our own, Ehlena. We can only pray that they are happier and connected with other lost members in The Fade. Rehv would have wanted us to be strong and not drown in sadness and guilt. He loved you so much and wouldn’t want you to dwell in the “what if”.

*Though I heard myself speak the words, I wondered if I believed them. All I could feel was my grief and heartache. But I needed to be strong for Ehlena, as a hellren is the heart of all shellans.* Do you need Z and I to help you break the news to the kids? We can be there with you every step of the way. Whatever you need. Nalla already knows as she was with me earlier.

*I took the tissues that Zsadist handed me and gave them to Ehlena and waiting patiently as she composed herself. She looked so lost … very much how I felt but I knew we would get through this. I put my hand over Z’s on my shoulder and squeezed his hand and he reassuringly squeezed back.* @EternalEhlena

Ehlena: [There were no more tears left to fall, it didn’t matter if I was wanting to cry again. I knew that Wrath was trying and I could feel the fact that he was struggling with this as well. I did not want to be in his shoes as he had to go through telling anyone else left the same news I had just received. Bringing a hand up to wipe what water that was left on my face, knowing it did nothing to help me as it was. Moment by moment. That might be something easily enough to do. For now I had to focus on my young, they were expecting to see their father here soon before the night ended.

I took the offered tissues, using them to help clean what a mess I must have looked like. Taking a breath I shook my head, wanting to clear all the negative thoughts that were floating around inside of it. Rehv was gone, he knew the risks. While the end result was the worst for his family, he went out in a way that was kind of fitting for him. Fighting, for what he felt was right and helping a Chosen that was needing to be brought back. I felt bad for not yet asking about her, I hoped she was at least now back where she was supposed to be.]

Wrath, you have done all that was asked of you, my Hellen knew what he was getting into when he agreed to go on this mission. He did keep his word of returning, even if I have to prepare a Fade Ceremony for him. I do appreciate the offer of help and will be needing it I think. [Pausing I took another breath and looked to Bella.] I think it is best that I be the one to tell them, but please stay around in case I may need you. [This was not going to be easy, and it was now just the beginning of where my family would be going from here.]

[jewishsnickets]

a ghost story

another fic! Ellington Feint pov.

I'm sitting in a booth in a nice restaurant and I feel the back of the plush divider shaking, that is how much my seat neighbor is crying. A breakup, maybe? Bad news? I peek around, he’s alone and his head is buried in his hands. He looks up for a moment and for a moment the tomato I’m chewing turns sour and I can feel my face go pale. 

It’s the eyes, and the way the man’s mouth takes a moment before deciding to turn into a sad smile, and something in the way he tilts his head. The way a boy I knew long ago moved. My first love, my worst enemy.

He can’t be. He can’t be he can’t- this is impossible, Lemony’s dead, first of all, he’s been dead for years, and second even if he weren’t he would definitely rather be dead than seen crying and this man was just, tears dripping down his chin in a busy area, a far cry from a quiet sniff and grabbing anything nearby to cover his face even at the worst news. It’s your own fears, I told myself. You see him in your nightmares and now you’re seeing him in every face.

“Sorry.” he says, swinging round. “I love this place, the food is delicious, but the atmosphere just brings on a feeling of melancholy, which here means lonely and sad and truthfully a bit jealous, which makes me even lonelier and sadder. I’m all alone in a place where everyone seems to have a date or a family, and I had both, once, but now I’m alone, and I miss her so much.” He sniffs again at the last word, and I tell myself the voice is all wrong- deeper than I remember, and quieter. 

“That’s all right,” I tell him. Which Here Means, I’m not all right, and I’m shaking. I need to ask or I’ll never have peace again. I need to know.

“I’m alone, too, tonight. Let’s eat together. What’s your name?”

A slight pause. I slide in across from him. He’s wearing socks, which either means “hiding a tattoo” or “a normal thing to wear, especially when it’s chilly out”.

“Monty Kensicle. You’re looking at me strangely.”

“Your looks remind me of someone strange. Do you know the Snicket family?”

“The Kensicles are distantly related. Do I look like one of them?”

“Like Lemony. For a moment, I thought you were him. But that’s silly, because he’s dead, isn’t he?”

I needed to hear it. I needed to believe it.

“I was at the funeral myself,” he said, with a faint smile. “It was a beautiful service. Someone donated these delicious chocolate chip cookies and they just about made up for the loss. I stuck around through the whole thing and told his grave how much I enjoyed his theater columns and I wish he’d gotten the chance to write about his marriage, instead of dying.”

That explains it! That explains the familiarity, it’s the family genes. I try not to look to excited but I can feel my whole body relax, he’s dead, where he should be, either rotting in the ground or in an afterlife, hopefully having to look Armstrong Feint in the eye, and that would be his hell, or both at once. That’s fine with me.

“I must have seen you there,” I said. 

“And what’s your name?”, he asked me. A waitress came by just then, asked if we’d like anything, he ordered an ice cream dessert even though he’d barely started in on his large, complicated looking salad. I said I was fine for now, and the fish was delicious.

“I’m Ellen Armstrong.” It’s my most recent alias, anyway.

He squinted at me a bit. 

“You’re new at this. It’s your first time eating here.”

“How could you tell?”

“There’s no way you’re here alone if you’re not expecting a message, but they only give them out in the dessert plates.”

Suspicions starting up again. Even if he wasn’t, and can’t be, and isn’t, Ellington, don’t be asinine! that person, he’s still someone on a mission, and that mission may just be to intercept my information.

 “I recommend the ice cream, they make it fresh.” he was saying. “I may even order more on my way out, take it home, make it into a root beer float tomorrow while I’m working.”

I definitely grip the table a bit at the words “root beer float”. I’m stupid, I’m on edge, my head’s spinning, I need to take a deep breath. He waves to another waiter and motions to me with a smile and I’m so embarassed that he has the upper hand, he’s humoring me even though he knows he’s won, he may as well be Lemony Snicket I hate Monty so much. I order an apple pie just to spite him and his ice cream. I miss what he’s saying, and he puts a hand on mine (another time, long ago, a hand on mine and a naive yet cruel declaration of love mixed with suspicion) and I jerk away.

“No, listen to me- don’t get mad, we must be here for different things.”

I raise an eyebrow. 

“I’m interested in finding out about a few children.”

That’s what it is. That’s what it is! The powerfully bad feeling, “which here means”, the resemblance to Lemony- a VFD member. The OFD, the Mystery Brotherhood, none of the other big secret organizations would wait around for the whereabouts of some children. I was witnessing it right now, the beginning of someone ‘volunteering’, as they said.

“Don’t you dare.”, I said. “I will make sure you don’t get that information, that you’ll never rip them from their homes and families and turn them into monsters like you, and your people.”

“It’s too late.” he sighed, deflated. “Their parents are dead. Their home is destroyed. They’ve bounced from firestarter to volunteer and back again, and been hurt unbelievably badly. I’ve given up on dreams of finding them, saving them- I just need to know if they’re alive, and I’m begging you not to intercept my message.”

Was he going to cry again? He looked like he was going to cry again. In any case, he was probably after something different than whatever my message was that I’d been instructed to pass on without reading and I was definitely going to read.

We got our desserts. It was really good pie. Monty offered me a bite of his ice cream before he started on it but I shook my head, he grunted in kind of a ‘well, your loss’ way before starting in on it. I watched him slide out a secret compartment at the bottom of the plate, and did the same. I slid my message into my bag. He opened his immediately.

“Oh- they’re alive. They’re still alive, thank goodness-”

The tears, back again.

We finish up and pay, and walk out into the cool night air. He offers to walk me to the bus stop, and I say why not, because I’m nervous enough that anything’ll make me jump so I may as well not be alone. The bus lights are shining out a few blocks away.

“ ‘Prufrock Preparatory school suspicious literature teacher, remove immediately-’ oh, dear, good to know, I’ll warn her at once.”

I whip around and he’s reading my note. I let my guard down for a moment and this is what happens. 

He winces. 

“Sorry! You did things like this all the time, though, back in the day, didn’t you?”

I grab it back. 

“We’ve never met before.” I snap, and back away.

His eyes go wide and dart around for a moment before he walks too close to me. He’s very tall. I can’t move, I’m terrified, looking into his face.

“I’d say ‘Monty Kensicle’ and ‘Filene N. Gotlin’ have a lot in common, actually.”

I haven’t used that name since- except for with-

It’s Lemony Snicket. He’s dead but he’s here and your father wasn’t enough and he’s back for you and he’ll push you in the right direction into the oncoming traffic and-

“I know you believe in mythical beasts, but do you believe in ghosts, Ellington Feint?”

And then before I can make myself move and punch him the bus is here and he’s gone, as if evaporated by its harsh lights.

[awed-frog]

Somewhere between Heaven and Hell/I Love You More

Okay, so - I don’t really know what to make of this episode. We know Davy Perez is all about brotherhood and family dynamics, and it looks like he forced quite a few things to be able to tell the story he wanted to tell. Which was, overall, good. I mean, I’m less than thrilled that he had to rewrite so many plot points and queercode every single villain to get there, but it was an interesting episode. What it also was - all about Sam and Dean, and whatever the hell is happening now between them, so it turns out the title had less to do with Crowley and Cas than I’d assumed (which is worrying, becase ‘between Heaven and Hell’ - that’s literally where Sam and Dean were in season 4, and boy, those were fun times).

Just to get it out of the way, a short list of OOC things:

Dean is absolutely not the kind of person who’d wear the same underwear for four days and walk around - or, Jesus Christ, sit down in his stupidly beloved car - covered in entrails if he had any other choice. Which he clearly had, because Sam looked freshly showered, so.

Ghouls, wraiths and sirens don’t live together, so either Dean went without a shower for two weeks, or, what? They found an underground poker den full of magical creatures? That was weird.

Also, sirens do interesting things to their victims - show, you lose several points for using one on an offscreen case.

I thought Sam was done assuming Dean is an idiot? Apparently not, though. And is Dean playing along, or just badly written? Still on the fence on that one.

Crowley is so fickle. Or, at least, written that way. He can’t be angry and bad-tempered one second, and flirting with Dean the next. That’s not how it works - or, it shouldn’t be.

And - he’s got a soul, now? Is this canon? Because if it is, it’s Big News. Of course, it’s possible Lucifer was just grandstanding and dicking around, but if so, one line of dialogue would have made that clear (“I’ll eat your soul. Not that you have one - figure of speech.”), and instead - what?

Cas is in some town where they kill angels (and, remember, we’ve got two Princes of Hell on the loose, one of them, we know, is taking an active interest in Kelly) and Dean’s like, Okay, sounds like fun, bye? I’m just - okay, then.

Master of secrecy Sam Winchester waited weeks to make his case to Dean about the BMoL, and then just chose to blurt it all out at the worst possible moment because Mick was calling him? Uh.

See, I know I say this every other week, but you can’t just pick and mix. If you write for a show with twelve season of canon behind it, you need to be more careful about balancing that canon with what you need to happen in a specific episode. 

Then again, apparently the target audience here is this mythological ‘casual viewer’ who wouldn’t notice any of those things, so, whatever.

I’m not bitter.

Moose and Not Moose

I was slightly uneasy about their relationship before, and now I’m downright worried. Because Sam and Dean were clearly paralleled with Gwen and Marcus, and what the hell was up with that? 

I mean - Gwen is this brilliant young thing going off to university, while Marcus, sweet and goofy, stays behind. He’s happy for her to go because it’s a great opportunity, but, of course, will miss her like crazy and hopes they can keep having the same kind of relationship even when Gwen’s away. Meanwhile, Gwen knows she’ll dump him the second she gets to college and move on to bigger and better things.

(Seriously - how much more obvious can they get?)

Also, Gwen has to stay and watch while Marcus is torn apart by Hellhounds.

(Okay, I take that back.)

Now, this is neither nefarious nor unusual. Sam and Dean get mirrored with random characters every week - that’s how shows work. And it doesn’t even mean anything subtextually, because, come on, they’re brothers, okay, so it’s a different kind of love, and of course they would know about each other’s underwear - they’ve basically been sharing a room for thirty years. It’s not weird.

What is weird, on the other hand, is what Gwen said: I liked Marcus. He was sweet and kind. And he loved me. More than I ever loved him. 

What are we supposed to take away from this?

I don’t think this is to be read at face value, ie that Dean loves Sam more than Sam loves Dean. I think that what we see here is the same thing we keep seeing about their relationship - what we’ve seen for years and years: that there’s an unbalance there, because they do not behave like brothers, but like parent and child - which is what they are. Dean raised Sam, after all. I mentioned two weeks ago this little detail of Sam being completely unprepared to take off Dean’s clothes and look for symptoms of a lethal curse, and here it is again: the parent/child coding. Sam can be fine without Dean, because that’s what children do. They wander off on their own, generally don’t call, and never, ever realize how much their parents are hurt by this, and how much they worry about them, their wellbeing and their happiness. And it’s no use complaining, because, after all, they're supposed to make you miserable, as Bobby angrily reminded Dean, right before comparing the relationship John had with Sam with the choices Dean was making. Because, again, subtext, or whatever. In any case - things may be slightly different now, because Sam’s weird and dented (although, we’re still not focusing on that, and aaaaargh), but before - when they were Gwen and Marcus’ age - yeah, that’s exactly what happened. Sam went away to his renowned university, and he was fine and happy and had a whale of a time, and meanwhile Dean was - we don’t know. Hunting on his own, experimenting with drugs, left behind by his father, getting his heart broken by Cassie after a two-weeks relationship he took too damn seriously because he had nothing else.

Getting torn apart by a Hellhound is certainly a quicker way to die, though the jury’s still out on the levels of pain.

And the thing is, Gwen did her penance - Marcus died because of her (well, not because of her, exactly, but of course she’d feel that way - and why did the Hellhound go after him in the first place, anyway?) and she’ll carry that guilt for the rest of her life. If I'd just told him, she says, If I - Why couldn't I just tell him the truth? And maybe Sam hears her, because narratively this is what anticipates his bumbling confession at the end of the episode.

And Dean, again, accepts this half-assed thing without question, just like he accepted Mary’s not-apology last week. At this point, I have to wonder if Dean is so terrified of losing his family he’ll say anything to keep them around, or if they’re planning to go somewhere with this.

Or maybe I just don’t understand his character as well as I thought I did.

Heaven and Hell

If Sam and Dean seem stuck between Heaven and Hell in their own way, Cas and Crowley aren’t faring much better. What this episode proved, if anything, is how little Crowley and Cas need to be happy, and how little it would take for the whole band to work together on a permanent basis instead of this circus of heartache they’ve got going on every week.

Like, Crowley’s clearly hurting. Not only they basically killed his son last week, but apparently neither Sam nor Dean bothered to thank him for saving Cas’ life, since they both do so (with some resentment, may I add) in this episode, which takes place months after Ramiel’s death. Well done? I mean - seriously, I love them, but they’re such dicks. Crowley had no interest whatsoever in destroying one of the most powerful weapons in the universe on the off-chance it could save a depressed seraph who, wait for it, probably still wants to kill him and he’s got a list of reasons to do so tucked away in his trench coat’s pockets - and yet he did. And they did’t even buy him a beer? Jesus. 

I still have a Crowley meta to finish and two questions in my inbox about him, so I’ll keep this short and get into more detail elsewhere. Let me just add that when Marcus/Dean said he’d hoped things would get weird, Gwen/Sam answered they wouldn’t; and Crowley - Crowley said, “It can always get weirder”. Take from that what you want - a reminder of their summer of love, the fact Crowley always accepts Dean exactly as he is, without judging, or maybe the foreshadowing of some kind of choice - Dean and his monster friends against Sam and the Mission Impossible psychos - we don’t know what that means yet. It’s just unsettling, you know, that out of Sam and the literal King of Hell, Sam was the one keeping secrets and manipulating Dean to get what he wants, while Crowley is just - he wants to flirt and walk around in the dark and have a conversation with someone he likes for a change, instead of those minions who hate him and make his life boring boring boring and good riddance, well done for setting that trap and leaving them to die, nothing more than they both deserved.

As for Cas, again - a little more appreciation could go a long way here. Look at what happened this week: Cas is off on his own to search for Kelly, because, you know, she’s carrying a thing that could end the world and she’s under the protection of a Prince of Hell, but sure, that’s not important enough for the Winchesters to focus on. Plus, he’s in some town where two angels have been killed, and all Dean can do is a half-assed phone call (which Cas initiated, from the look of things) and a whatever Alright, let us know, bye? 

Jesus.

Meanwhile, Heaven can do a bit better. They can offer Cas forgiveness, absolution, love, a family. And a home. That’s, like, everything Cas wants, right? And now one of his brothers has figured out that insulting the Winchesters and offering Cas a choice isn’t the way to go - that maybe it’s a matter of being a bit more diplomatic with the weird soldier who’s been out in the field too long - well - I’m not surprised Cas took it, and I’m not surprised he didn’t tell Dean. After all, Dean spared about two seconds wondering if Cas sounded weird in any way before refocusing on his (real) family - his kid brother and whatever’s going on with him.

There’s a lot more to say (about technology, for instance, and about this Frodo thing, and about Dean’s obsession with Hello Kitty merch and koalas, and also I decided to be weird about Marcus’ jacket just because), but I want to end with something else: Ramsey.

According to Crowley, Right after God said, ‘Let there be light’, he - he made a whole bunch of things - posies, koalas, hellhounds. He wanted the Creator's best friend, but the hounds were too vicious. So he planned on having them all put down, until along came our favorite fallen angel. He rescued one of the hounds - a pregnant bitch named Ramsey.

Leaving aside that this is a fascinating addition to the show’s mythology and what it says about God’s effective power and interest in the world, even at the very beginning, and leaving aside Lucifer’s motives for saving Ramsey - I sometimes wish this show took things a bit more seriously. Like, they do sometimes - only this week they had Lucifer’s wings, and the scene was shot with the suitable level of awe you’d expect for such a thing, but as for the Winchesters - even Sam, the pious librarian - they have no sense of sacred anymore, if the ever did. Here they are, putting down a creature that was created by God himself at the dawn of everything, and they feel - nothing.

Personally, I like my magic realism with a higher does of self-awareness, and I - I know Supernatural’s not like that, and I’m generally okay with it, just - I don’t know. I’ve been a bit blue lately, so I jumped back into my childhood’s books, and there it was - in David Eddings’ world, for instance, there is both - the quest and the banter and the offhand ‘the only question is, how can I kill it’ attitude, but also - also those moments of quiet and sadness and realization that yes, so the monster is dead and that’s good, because you lived, but - the monster is dead, and there will never be another one like it. It was made by the gods, it lived thousands of years, and now it is no more.

Humans are too short-lived to understand most things, but they could try and respect them, if nothing else.

[thisiswhatwereupagainst]

Random Things You Should Know About the Brotherhood in the Comics

Fun fact, there’s been more than one Brotherhood of Mutants, and not all of them were led by Magneto. He wasn't even in all of them! There's a lengthy list of members, some more widely-known than others, these are just some fun facts about a few of the more well-known members.

- Toad has one of the worst backgrounds in the Brotherhood. He was abandoned as a baby by his parents, probably due to his appearance, and grew up in an orphanage where he was bullied and tormented by the other children for the same reason. Toad is actually very intelligent in the comics (he's an expert with machinery!) but due to his shyness and learning disabilities as a child, he was considered to be mentally disabled. I'm not sure what specific learning disabilities he's stated to have had though. I'd really like to know though, so tell me if you do! Between this and the bullying, he dropped out of school at an early age.

He was later recruited by Magneto, and they developed an abusive relationship. Not romantic, mind you, but besides that the dynamics were the same. Toad believed that Magneto cared for him and became dependent on him, while Magneto physically battered him and verbally belittled him. Read more about it HERE

I like Magneto, but people who think Magneto is a good man aside from his villainy need to take a good look at how he treats his followers. He abuses all of them, including Wanda and Pietro, but Toad got it the absolute worst and actually has a form of Battered Spousal Syndrome as a result.

- Pyro and Avalanche are super duper best bro-friends in the comics and I love it so much. Also, while they may or may not actually be lovers, depending on how you want to interpret it (I generally see them as friends), they were used to metaphorically represent gay lovers in THIS issue.

- Pyro is not an aggressive fire-obsessed nutjob like in Evolution or the movies. He's not angry, he's not insane, he's not a pyromaniac. He's a very nice, normal dude who just also happens to be a fire-controlling super-villain. Besides terrorism, he's also an author who writes Gothic romance novels. I'm not making this up, it's canon and it's terrific and I love it so much.

- Pyro's first name in the comics is St. John, not just John like the movies. It's pronounced Sinjin, I think. He's Australian, maybe it's a more normal name there? Also, speaking of him being Australian, his buddy Avalanche is an immigrant from the Greek island of Crete, and Toad is from England, specifically York.

- Pyro once saved a group of children from a T-rex

- Daredevil once tricked the Blob into getting jealous that Pyro always got the girls on their Freedom Force missions so that the two of them would fight with each other, suggesting Pyro is probably a ladies man ;D

- Once, when Pyro thought he was going to die, he held Mystique's hand and said "Worse ways to go, than with friends" ;A;

- But Pyro did NOT in fact die then. His death would come later. He contracted the Legacy Virus, and his last act alive was saving the life of Senator Kelly, a man he'd once tried to assassinate. The strain of this good deed was too much on Pyro's weakened body, and he passed away with a plea to Senator Kelly to change things for the better. Kelly promised that he would, and he kept his word, changing his anti-mutant stance and working towards improving mutant/human relations instead. Sadly, this led to Kelly being assassinated by a human who felt he'd turned traitor.

- Just as Pyro was made American in the movies, Avalanche and Toad were made American in the cartoons.

- Toad's real name is Mortimer Toynbee in the comics, and Avalanche is Dominikos Ioannis Petrakis. In X-Men: Evolution, they were re-named Todd Tolansky and Lance Alvers, probably to make them easier for children to pronounce. Alias that the comics Avalanche has used include Dominic Janos Petros, Jon Bloom, Dominic Szilard, and Nick.

- Avalanche enjoys gardening and establishes a bar under the name "Nick" to get away from his life of crime.

- One of the Red Skull's S-Men claims to be Avalanche's daughter. Her name is Dancing Water and she's basically a woman made of water who has squid tentacles for legs. She can reshape her body at all, spray blasts of water from her hands, control any nearby water, and teleport via water. As far as I know, it's unknown if her claims of being his daughter are true, who her mother is, what her history is, and why she wants to help the Red Skull destroy mutants.

- Fred "Blob" Dukes is fat because of his mutation, and the X-Men make fun of his weight ALL THE TIME. Making fun of someone for being fat is pretty bad, but there are some X-Men for whom I can still see it as in-character, they're not all the nicest people. But making fun of someone for how their physical mutation effects them? I'd think they'd ALL know better than that. If it's not okay to do to Nightcrawler, it's not ok to do to Blob!

- Blob eating a lot is frequently a gag too and haha I get it, fat people are gluttons, real nice Marvel. Besides that being a cruel stereotype in a series supposed to be a statement AGAINST bigotry, let's go back to the fact that THIS IS BLOB'S MUTATION. He is going to be this size no matter what. And a bigger person or animal needs MORE CALORIES. That's why a bear eats more than a chihuahua! He is eating a lot because guess what, he would probably DIE if he did not, it's basic biology, but it's made into a joke at his expense by the narrative itself. It's so messed up.

- Blob has a super duper best friendship with Unus the Untouchable, they are mega bros and it is so sweet and it is made even sweeter by the fact that Blob is frankly a HUGE JERK (no pun intended) to everyone else. But Unus is his BFF!! Read more about their Brotp HERE!

- Lesser known female Brotherhood members: Lorelei, Phantazia, Mastermind (Martinique Jason), and Astra. When Magneto abandoned his second Brotherhood and they became the Resistants instead, a woman named Mist Mistress joined them, and Spiral joined Mystique's Brotherhood when they became Freedom Force. The more well-known female Brotherhood members are, of course, Mystique, Destiny, Rogue, and the Scarlet Witch. See a post on Lorelei HERE and on Phantazia’s tag HERE for more about these ladies!

- While Mystique has consistently been portrayed as Magneto's subordinate in the movies, this has NEVER been the case in the comics. In fact, they have never even worked together until VERY recently. In the comics, they both led different Brotherhoods, and Mystique was the LEADER of hers, not anyone's second-in-command. In fact, up until recently, she and Magneto barely even crossed paths; the only time I'm aware of them even meeting was in the 1980s when she arrested him at a Holocaust memorial (this was when she and her Brotherhood were working for the government as "Freedom Force" in return for being pardoned for their crimes) So, needless to say, they do NOT have the same relationship depicted in the movies! Currently, they're both X-men and serving on the same team. Yeah, weird.

-Sabretooth is on the same X-Men team that Mystique and Magneto are, but contrary to the first X-Men film, I don't think he's ever been a Brotherhood member. I could be wrong though. But considering Sabes led the massacre of the Morlocks, I have a hunch not...by the way, Riptide was part of that too, he's sure as hell not a Brotherhood guy in the comics. Magneto HATES the Marauders!

- Ah, ok, I checked TV tropes on Sabes: "Something of an associate to Mystique's Brotherhood, as he was never affiliated with the team's present-day incarnation, but was shown in a flashback as joining up with an earlier iteration, even declaring himself their leader before being betrayed and handed over to the authorities by Mystique the next morning. He also worked for Exodus's Brotherhood, and is usually affiliated with the Brotherhood in adaptations."

-As mentioned, Mystique was NEVER  subordinate to Magneto, she led her own independent Brotherhood as LEADER...and at her side was Destiny, aka Irene Adler. Implied to be the woman who inspired the Sherlock Holmes character of the same name (with the equal implication Mystique inspired Sherlock himself...hey, she's Raven DarkHOLME) Destiny was a blind mutant who could see visions of the future. She was also Mystique's lover. Yup. They could not be explicitly referred to as such during the 1980s due to the Comics Code, but Claremont did everything he could to convey to the readers they were couple. They lived together, were affectionate with each other, and even raised a child together...none other than Rogue of the X-Men! In fact, his original plan was that Destiny would be Nightcrawler's mother and Mystique would be his FATHER, having impregnated Destiny in male form, but of course Marvel wouldn't let him get away with that. He also managed to sneakily slide in characters referring to Destiny as "Mystique's leman"---an antiquated word for "lover" obscure enough to slip by editors.

It used to be a common trope in media to use same-sex desires and relationships for villains as a way to emphasize their wickedness. For instance, a movie would never allow a hero to do such a thing, but it could be suggested with villains because it cast homosexuality in a negative light, as something bad people do to show how bad they are, like showing them kicking puppies. Claremont, however, went the opposite route. He used Mystique's tenderness with Destiny to humanize her instead, using their relationship to show a capacity for goodness in Mystique rather than play up how evil she was. They were depicted as loving and normal together, not depraved and decadent and bizarre. They were downright domestic.

While Claremont did have a notable fascination with lesbians, as shown by his use of sexy evil women who would pursue young heroines with a thinly-veiled subtext of sexual creepiness, he didn't fetishize Mystique and Destiny at all. He could have made Destiny a hot leather-clad young dominatrix like Selene or Emma Frost, but she's actually an elderly woman. Neither she nor her relationship with Mystique are ever sexualized. There are some f/f scenes in the X-Men series where you can imagine Claremont wrote it with one hand, but there's never anything like that between these two. Speaking of Destiny being old, she and Mystique were together FOR LIFE. They met during the 1800s when Destiny was much younger, and while they do seem to have had sexual relationships with men during their time together (as evident by both of them having children and grandchildren) their true loves were always each other. Destiny aged slower than an average person, but she did get old, and yet Mystique still stayed with her even though she remained young and I just love them so much. Destiny eventually met her end not by old age, but at the hands of Legion, Xavier's son.

Also, sorry to turn this into a personal soapbox but I have to here: Tumblr is all about "uwu LGBT representation uwuuu" but don't actually give a fuck about an actual canon woman/woman couple, even though tumblr's X-fandom collectively threw a fucking SHITFIT over Cherik not being made canon in DOFP and each of them having a girlfriend/wife and it being the worst most homophobic thing ever and the women in question getting bashed despite them being involved with these same women in canon...but Azazel gets to totally replace Destiny, who is nowhere to be seen in the movies, and fandom doesn't make a PEEP. Fandom is cool with that. In fact, they love Azazel and love drawing him in a happy heteronormative family with Mystique. Tumblr likes to be “uwu support LGBT representation uwuuu” but they give absolutely no fucks about Mystique's bisexuality and Destiny's very existence being erased. I've seen so much fucking Azazel/Mystique/Kurt fanart, but I don't even see much of Destiny even in COMICS fanart.

I get that it's an AU, it's not the comics, but it just leaves such a bad taste of hypocrisy in my mouth considering how tumblr X-fandom AS A WHOLE flipped out about Erik and Charles having relationships with Magda and Moira instead of each other in DOFP , even though they had relationships with those women in canon and, despite all subtext, have never been confirmed as a canon same-sex couple like Mystique and Destiny have. But people were ready to go to WAR for them. But two women who are a CONFIRMED CANON QUEER COUPLE? Who cares, right? Seriously, if it's not hot young cis white men, NO ONE CARES, even when it's a case of a REAL CONFIRMED CANON queer character (two, in fact!) being erased in the films. They had a lifelong relationship together, they raised a child together, they have all these affectionate moments...there is so much Mystique and Destiny stuff in canon, and Claremont WANTED to put in more and wasn't allowed.

And now that we're in a time period where that could be allowed, I think it's a fucking TRAVESTY that this wasn't put in the movies to make up for what wasn't let into the comics, to finally let them be “out” while Destiny was still alive. But it's even bigger travesty to me that tumblr not only ignores this, it endorses the heterosexual ship that replaces it, and then pats itself on the back for being “progressive” when it comes to shipping two DUDES (especially if they can shit on women in the process---there was a LOT of bashing Moira and Magda both in fandom when DOFP came out). Seriously, I swear the reason some people are into slash is just because there's not any EW GROSS GIRLS in it.

Sorry I had to get salty but this really bothers me. Mystique's bisexual and had a lifelong relationship with another woman in which they raised a child together and the movies not only erase that, movie fandom just accepts it while patting themselves on the back about being progressive because they have fanon m/m ships.

[ohsoqualmless-blog]

I’m currently writing this post in an airy chain boulangerie called Eric Kayser, a short walk from where I’m staying in PARIS, FRANCE. I left Cairo less than a week ago, and I’m only just getting a chance to process the experience I had and all the things I learned here in my next destination (Where better to tackle bread from the culinary perspective than Paree, dahling?) Cairo was a whirlwind, and my first few days in Paris have been equally eventful (but in a different way, of course) but now, as the workweek begins and I’ve settled in to my flat, I’d like to go back to Egypt before any of the memories begin to escape me.

Cairo is a wonderful place, and I’m so grateful to all of the people I met during my too-short stay. Amira, Hany, Farah, Nesma, Jana, Prof. Abdel Aziz; I’m so grateful to you all for guiding me through your city, letting me learn from you, and making everything so easy for me.

Like the foolish westerner I am, I pulled up to Cairo not knowing a word of Arabic, and Cairo really could have played me! It is not the Western world, and although a historically international/cosmopolitan city, the African nation’s strong ties to the Arab world are unmistakable, and you will struggle, and/or be tourist-trapped, if you don’t speak Arabic. Finding “point people” on the ground for my stay was essential to making my experience as fulfilling as it was. This post isn’t actually about bread-stuff though; for that, check out @chisgetsthisbread on IG!

Do ya’ll mind if I pen a quick love letter to Cairo? Cairo deserves a love letter, and I’m in Paris and feeling a bit romantic.

Off the bat, Cairo appears to be a city of convergence, and therefore a city ridden with inherent conflicts.

The powerhouse of Northern Africa, nestled between the shores of Western Europe and the edges of the Middle East, Egypt has entertained “foreign” influences and occupation for as long as it has existed, while somehow managing to preserve its uniqueness, thus forcing the cultures and aesthetics from different times and regions to mesh together to form something rather disjointed, yet fascinating. And, of course, unmistakably beautiful.

Although officially under British influence under 1922, the French, in classic French-imperial style, have left their mark on Cairo as well. It was Napoleon’s discovery of the Rosetta Stone during his conquest of Egypt in 1799 that is credited with launching the field of “Egyptology”, and although his efforts were likely a cover for his political intentions, the French endeavored to create scholarship on many parts of Egyptian life, a trend that continued for decades (strengthened by consistent allyship between the two nations against the British in later years, and Egyptian scholastic “missions” to Paris, and). Parts of Downtown Cairo were designed by French architects in the mid-late 1800s, and the style is hard to miss:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I like this photo so it gets to be blown up full size!

Look at the right side of the shot in particular; the quintessential french balconies were found all over the place! This is close to the Khan El Khalil Market. I also like this picture because you have the “French” balconies, the “Arab” dome, and the tall gate next to the half finished/half destroyed building on the right side reminds me of Nigeria (that sounds unfortunate but hey).

The convergence and conflict continue past imperialism and architecture. The mostly-Islamic country has tangoed with the Muslim Brotherhood in the last several years; yet the Holy Family themselves allegedly passed through the Coptic Christian section of Old Cairo, and approximately twenty percent of Egyptians are Christian (and this number could be even greater).

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

“New Cairo”, where I stayed, is about twenty minutes away from downtown on a day with no traffic, and reminds me of Dubai with its smooth, new roads, the apparent opulence, and the proliferation of “Western” brands in the area. Yet on the way there, you might catch a horse drawn cart on the outermost lane of the highway, or swerve to avoid some crushed melon that surely fell off the back of one of these same carts.

It’s a mish-mash of a city in all the best and worst ways; cultures from all over the world come together, as do religions, but there is wealth and poverty within inches of one another, and slums next to billboards for luxury apartments. On my drives from New Cairo to Downtown, I often thought about how the country became what it is today. Egypt is historic in the way many places aren’t, yet I still know so little about the country. I’m looking to change that, and have made some strides in the last few weeks-

Here are some things I can tell you I know for sure though:

The aftershocks of uprisings/ revolutions in 2011 and 2013 are still being felt today. The words to describe the events change depending on who you’re talking to, and talking about the President, the government, and even bread in relation to the government subsidy can be a bit controversial. This mural created during the 2011 protests is on the side of the old campus of the American University in Cairo, and was considered graffiti by the government-

In other Arab countries, bread is called “khabaz” which is pronounced sort of like “Hobbes”, but in Egypt bread is called Aish; which translates to life or “livelihood”

The University continues to paid to keep it from being erased, preserving it for visitors and passerby to see and remember the uprising, and who it was for, and what it’s aims were. This boy is eating Tameya (falafel made from fava beans) which is served inside the ever-recognizable aish baladi bread (traditional Egyptian bread).

If you’re black with braids, or kinky type 4 hair, you’ll be presumed to be from Sudan; they’re neighbors, were once ruled over together, and the revolution in Sudan has left many refugees. But when the woman in the market founds out you’re Nigerian, she’ll still call you her sister anyway (Call it progress, or Cup of Nations fraternity, but the Pan-Africanism I experienced in Egypt was real. Fellow Africans were charged less at many tourist destinations).

Traffic lines are suggestions in Cairo, as are seatbelts, and the car horn acts as a turn signal,  a greeting, a thank you and a curse. The crescendo created by an Egyptian traffic jam was unlike anything I had heard before; until I was introduced to a celebratory car horn crescendo after Egypt won a Cup of Nations match.

Koshary was meant to be eaten with friends; and if you weren’t friends before a meal, you’ll be friends after.

There’s more to Cairo than a day trip to the pyramids and photo-ops at a mosque; if you skip downtown you haven’t seen the city, and you’ve definitely missed my favorite part: a small island called Zamelek, where you can catch hipster vibes and a boat ride on the nile for 50 LP per person if you speak Arabic and get a bit lucky (that’s about $3).

And on that boat ride, as your trip comes to an end, you’ll plug a phone in and play someone’s favorite song. You’ll look out into the water illuminated with the neon lights of your boat and others, reflect a bit, breath in the fresh air peppered with bits of that kerosene/gasoline scent you just can’t escape in Africa …

And you’ll look at it and you’ll know “it is good”.

Very good, in fact.

Grateful to God and all those who have enabled this trip to be what it has been for me so far.

As always, Peace and Blessings!

MissChis

P.S.: So there’s someone who I GUESS deserves a shout-out in this post as well: I’d like to thank my younger brother Toby for coming along on this segment of the trip. Despite some bickering and me dragging you up and down the city, thanks for being a good sport and cheers to sibling bonding! Cairo is quite a safe city in my estimation, but it does help to have a 6ft male by your side who has thankfully outgrown his Kids-Next-Door phase:

Kids Next Door Phase: The point in time (typically around ages 12-16) where one’s head, hands, and feet are actively out of proportion with a long/lanky body, and particularly skinny ankles.

            A Love Letter to Cairo I’m currently writing this post in an airy chain boulangerie called Eric Kayser, a short walk from where I’m staying in PARIS, FRANCE.

[chestshot]

Creature in the dark love to scare the little children. The grownups say a prayer, and the demons are forced to return to the shadow realm. Never get caught in a blackout. Some never find their way home. Come in as soon as the streetlights illuminate the path of the righteous. The beetles and moths have gathered in a procession, to welcome the night. “Where were you?”  “I don’t know” was never the right answer. It is never going to be the right answer. “Stop crying. I’ll give you something to cry about.”

In this house, the belt and extension cords keep the disobedient in line. Sticks leave bruises. No Bueno. Back straight. “This is going to hurt me more than you.” I never understood that logic. “So why can’t I do it to you, like you did it to me?”  “Porque yo soy la puta que te pario (because I am the bitch that birthed you). I’m doing this because I love you. Your soul is in danger.” We used to kneel on the bare floor covered in rice. We were made to carry these bags above our head for twenty minute and think about how we were not supposed to fight. She went easy on us this time. “Now kiss your sister and tell her you love her and you’re sorry.”

What is obedience, and what happens when it is forced? Believe in unity. Value brotherhood. Seize any opportunity to join hands. Even as the big hands crush the small hands, like a fist full of lavender flowers. Don’t think so hard. The guardians have done all the thinking for us. Some things do not need an explanation. Guardians discourage the children from scrutinizing every detail. All we need is to believe. Can’t we all just come together as one? If I wanted to find everlasting life, why did I have to lay it down to begin with?

           The Knights of Columbus hosted Sunday breakfast every month. It was a fundraiser. As if the crusades did not provide enough funding. As if the parish had not given enough during the second collection. My mother would always hand me a folded dollar bill when the collection basket came by. It was a little secret between our Father and I (Mathew 6:1-4). I was planting a seed for his kingdom, and if we did not fork over the dough, let’s just say there was hell to pay.

           I went to Sunday school. I had to. Otherwise I could not get baptized or have my first communion. The instructor told us that Jesus loved us, so he died on the cross for us. If we loved Jesus, too, we had to love each other. We colored the nativity scene and learned a few prayers. We were taught a theology approved by the Roman Catholic Church, and classes were $25 per child. At the baptism, donations were formally encouraged. Those must have been some expensive ass crayons. I was a good boy, but never good enough to be an altar boy.

           I had refused to help in the family garden in the front yard one time. The bathroom floor was cold on my cheek. The sweat and tears running down my neck fell on the yellow linoleum. Now a grip on the arm, bent around my back. Too tight on the wrists. Cheeks got so hot that the salt water started to dry up and irritate my skin. Was it worth it? I know it was fucking hot outside, but couldn’t I have just done a shitty job or at least bullshit? Close the door. The neighbors can hear. Plus, the ac is on. I’ve been getting ass beatings since I was alive. If not from the guardians, then from bad decisions. I want to make them happen, but I always keep getting in my own way. Sometimes the floor can become comfortable. Just waiting for the blackouts to swallow me whole.

           God helps those that help themselves…. Wait.. That’s not in the bible!

                The Sunday breakfast consisted of yellow “just add water” scrambled eggs. I was too young to get hooked on coffee. Pass me the milk. I ate next to a church girl with an intellectual disability. Did God make her like that? I did not know. All I knew was that we were all equally as hungry after service. I felt like all the dark holes in the floor were so much smaller back then. If I stepped on a crack, I could always find my balance, or the guardian would help me till I recuperated.

“Hey guys. Where’s Jesus’s cloths. This is not funny. Oh… you guys hung him like this? Why? He was giving everyone free healthcare and food and shit. He doesn’t deserve this shit! Bring him down! Now!”

                Societies fascination for making atonement. Drink and drive? Dui. Tax evasion? Prison time (unless its some shit like a white collar crime). $50 dollar fines for parking in front of a fire hydrant, that one time I moved out of my parents’ house and rented a room from some asshole named Evander. I was not a child anymore. I was learning from experience. If I only learned to come home on time. They say “Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.” I could have only imagined why, but the dark holes were still manageable. No claws yet. No transformation.  The delinquencies of adolescence were not yet ripe. There was not enough blood.

           I helped myself to a glass of orange juice. High pulp. Tart. Almost as refreshing as the forgiveness of sins. Dixie paper cups. An old couple. They must have both been in their eighties. With not much time to live, they both enjoyed the pancakes with light butter. No syrup though. Diabetes, you know. He pulled the chair out for her. He took off her sweater and placed it behind the chair. He wiped his head with a towel, then his mouth. He regained his balance. and shuffled to his own seat. He led the prayer and they both sat down to share (maybe their last) Breakfast. Listened to your guardians and maybe you can live as long as them.

           One time, Father Manuel unofficially sponsored Mission Tortillas. “Como Dios Manda” literally means “How God Orders” or more precisely “What God Demands of us”. He was calling out the young women who decided club wear for a Sunday mass was appropriate. Father Manuel roasted them. “Esta bien que sea Qinceniera. (it would be cool if this was a Quincenera) Pero esta es la casa de Dios (but this is the house of God).” We were all sinners, but some of us did a better job at hiding it. We were all trying to avoid the transformation. We all needed to love. We just needed time to patch things up.

           Mother Theresa believed that suffering was how you got closer to God. She refused to let some children receive treatment, so naturally, they would die. Their souls belonged with the Lord. For a while, I started to believe that I was suffering, and therefore, there was no God. I think we suffer because we think we must, like it’s all part of the greater picture. I also think we suffer because we all have things we conveniently forget about. We should know better.

It’s not normal to stay up all night. It’s not normal to operate a vehicle under the influence of anything. It’s not normal to lie to the person you are with. It’s not normal to wake up at 3 pm every fucking day. It’s not normal to put things up your nose. It’s not normal to get in the car with a complete stranger. It’s not normal to think that you can live with people for free. It’s not normal to pass out at the bar. It’s not normal to constantly burn bridges. It’s not normal to forget what you did the night before. The blackouts swallowed me alive, over and over and over. I couldn’t see the streetlights. There was no one left to pay for my sins.

August 15thth, 2020, 2:30 A.M.-ish

I said I was going to work on it las week, and then the week before. I had checked into the catacomb of wasted ambitions. The creatures of the dark had left. I looked in the mirror and could not accept what I had become. What big claws and teeth.

                I had a dream I was filling up one cup with another cup, like an endless water mill. I’m not sure why I always felt this way. An endless repetition that never ends, like new ideas filling old ones, but never quite arriving at a solution, or like fish eating fish eating fish… Like a two gallon hourglass, constantly being flipped on it’s other end, ass up, face down, full of itself. The air bubbles, trying to escape. The lump in the throat of my life, always sinking into my stomach. The transformation was complete. I was living in a blackout.

           The beta, or Siamese fighting fish, is native to Thailand and Cambodia. You can pick them up at your local swap meet. I used to love going to the Broadacre swap meet after Sunday mass. I got my hands on everything an eight-year-old should never get their hands on: laser pointers, chained wallets, pocket knifes, fart bombs, shock pens, pet’s I wasn’t able to take care of. I’m not sure what the fish were so angry about. Probably from being confined to a tiny ass sandwich bag.

I got my ass kicked in a bar fight once, in 2018. Three against one. I do not remember. I was asking for something that was not on the menu. I was being annoying. Swings broke out like a Florida coastline and faster than you can say Tallahassee’s televised turnout tremendously terrified pterodactyls. Too small. Smack. Too slow. Smack. I fell to the floor, head between my knees. My jeans ripped. All I could see was stars at that point. I raised a barstool over my head and threw it against the bar, not sure if it landed on anyone. Always bust out the bar stool when you know you are going to get rocked. I ran out through the front entrance and I called 911. I left my bicycle behind. The cops were nice enough to drive it down to me. They told me that the security guard told them I was trying to buy drugs. I told them it was a hate crime. They told me to go home. I told them I would never go back to that bar again.

           Pigs in a blanket. I think there was bacon. Bacon or sausage. No. I think there were both. I woke up at 6am to eat this at 10am. 10:15 if you consider waiting in line. Why couldn’t everyone break bread the way we did? People always have to start a fight during a meal, or beer, if you’re a man of culture who would prefer to drink their meals. The indigestion was the worst. I could not eat breakfast too early because my stomach lining was still sensitive from the binge the night before. This did not stop me from killing a whole order of carne asada fries at night. I felt the weight of a bowling ball in my diaphragm when I woke up the next morning. Drinking water felt like swallowing marbles. This wasn’t normal. I’m not going to lie.

Well that’s great news, kind sir, because I can not condone dishonesty. Now please leave the patrons alone or get out of the bar.

           My older sister became an usher at church. She showed everyone to their seats. She wore a sash that said “Orden” or literally “Order”. She asked people if they could scoot over. She made room where people were resting their purses or when someone decided that they needed to sit with their legs wide open. Me and my younger sister always got pinches during service if we were joking around or being distracting. How did the people really bring their kids to church like that? We were so rambunctious!

The endless cycle of Life: that our guardians had to beat the shit out of us. So that maybe we could learn. Or so we would avoid the transformation. In the end, we resent their efforts and only make it worse for ourselves. I try to push myself up, but my left arm is too mangled to lift any weight. The dark holes just seem like the better option sometimes.  If the blackout won’t take me now, then maybe tomorrow.

The holes are patched up today. I found my way through the dark. My guardians were there all along.  I just needed some space. My mind is clear. I can focus again. I can have breakfast again. The nights can be long and dark, but I know the demons have left. My house is in order. My mind is clear. I finally have a clean conscience. I want to go back to the time when I was a child. Back to a time of trusting that the streetlights were guiding me all along. When I could hear my mother’s voice and know in my heart that the night was near, but only to visit.

Drink some water. Jesus fishes. Say a prayer. Missing pieces. Dying wish is - God’s my witness – you just know** * the nighttime* ** only** came to** visit**.