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justtwotired · 7 months

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Whispers of the night - Lloyd Garmadon x F!reader

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Tag list: @beachcombers-boyfriend @cipheress-to-k-pop @whore-of-many-hot-men @bodieohbo @anyth1ngfor0urmoony @luvizuku

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Part 1 - previous- next

Before we start, I want to make something clear to my dear readers.

My story is mostly based of the series and there are small things from the movies in here. So, quick explanation. Lloyd did get aged by the aging tea, but not only his body, his brain also aged, so no, he isn’t a child trapped in a teens body.

In this story, you are meeting Lloyds mother, and I mean his good mother aka Koko, we don’t mention that other thing in my household.

Lloyd and you are 18 in this story, I don’t know how that works in your country, but in mine it means legal adult.

That was about it, now enjoy the story, loves<3

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Christmas and new years was slowly nearing but that was not something I was really concerned about. Actually I think it’s somewhere on the bottom of the list at the moment.

I tried calling Lloyd for about the sixth time that hour and he finally picked up, making me let out a sigh of relief.

“Lloyd!” I said angrily. “What are you idiots doing? What happened?” I questioned him, and I heard him mumbling something on the other side of the phone. “Jezus Christ, I look at the news for ONCE in my life,” I groaned.

“Alright, love, I need you to calm down-” he tried and I interrupted him immediately.

“CALM DOWN- Lloyd you six are all over the news, you are currently one of the most wanted people in Ninjago- where are you? Are you safe?” I asked.

“You don’t believe the news then?” He asked and I let out a sarcastic laugh.

“You think I’m going to believe you broke into the museum and killed two security guards?” I asked and he let out a small chuckle.

“Yeah, it was a dumb question,” he admitted. “I’m fine, we are currently hiding on Borg’s rooftop, though I think they’re going to start using helicopters soon,” he said.

“I suppose with ‘they’ you mean the police?” I asked unamused and he let out a nervous chuckle again.

“Yeah,” he said. “Hey- Jay, don’t do that, you’ll die,” he sounded a bit further away when he said that. “Anyway, I am quite busy right now, love, so I think I’m hanging up,” he said.

“Indeed you are, and I am coming over there,” I said and stood up from my chair. “Borg’s tower you said, right?” I asked, grabbing my jacket.

“Y/n no, you are not coming here, absolutely not,” he sounded stern when he said it and I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, safety, bla bla, protection, bla bla, don’t be reckless, bla, bla, bla,” I closed the front door behind me. “I’ll be at Borg’s tower in ten- I suppose he knows you’re up there?” I asked.

“Uh, yes?” Lloyd said confused.

“Good, then I don’t have to climb all the way up there cause I had no idea how I was going to do that,” I announced. “Bye Lloyd,” I then hung up and ignored the two calls from him and later one from Cole.

When I arrived I walked into Borg’s tower and headed over to the front desk.

“Hello, is Cyrus Borg here?” I asked the lady, who gave me a confused look but nodded.

“Great, my name is Y/n L/n, I’ve been send by my father William L/n, he has an important message for Borg that I need to deliver,” I said and the lady looked surprised.

I had improvised, I was actually really surprised when I stood in Cyrus Borg’s office two minutes later.

“Y/n L/n, hm?” He smiled at me. “You look just like your father,” he said and I gave him a kind smile. “What is it you need to tell me, dear?” He asked and I nervously chuckled.

“Nothing, actually,” I said and he frowned. “I know that the ninja are on the roof and I need to talk to them,” I said and he gave me a bewildered look.

“Where did you hear that- that is nonsense,” he tried but I shook my head.

“I’m Lloyds girlfriend, he told me,” I said, it felt good saying I was Lloyd girlfriend, I liked it.

And just like that, I got access to the roof, leaving me alone there with six shocked ninja, all surprised I managed to get there.

“What happened?” I asked and they all exchanged looks.

“We’re keeping her, right?” Jay whispered to Cole who was next to him.

“She doesn’t have a choice at this point, she ain’t going anywhere,” Kai nodded and I groaned.

“Can anyone with sense- so Nya or Zane- explain to me what’s happening and how I can help?” I folded my arms and the other led out an offended noice.

“Yesterday night the museum was robbed, the camera footage showed people in gi like ours, and since the police can’t seem to think that maybe that could be other people, we are the main suspects,” Nya explained in a nutshell.

“That is not everything,” Zane continued. “The footage shows that multiple items have been stolen, all of which are items you use in battle, so we have reason to think that our clones are planning an attack, but we do not know when or where,” he filled in.

“Correct, and we know that they are dangerous, as two security guards passed in the robbery,” Lloyd started. “And we know that it wasn’t a robbery gone bad, as footage shows they took the guards out before they entered,”

I nodded along and thought for a moment. “Any ideas what or who they might be planning to attack?” I asked. “Some big events going on? Maybe a celebrity coming to the city?” I speculated.

“The only thing we could think off was an auction at the museum, but it just doesn’t make sense, seeing they just robbed the place,” Kai said and I shook my head.

“What- no that makes sense actually,” I said and they gave me weird looks. “The auction is tomorrow morning, meaning that today the dead sea necklace and the invictum sword arrive. Because of the break in and the severity of the situation, the auction won’t continue, meaning both the sword and the necklace will be in the museum for safe keeping,” I explained and they all just frowned at me making me sigh.

“Alright, let’s see it from another point of view,” I sighed. “We already established, the auction can’t continue, what did our thieves do? They stole weapons, Zane, were these weapons worth a lot?” I asked.

The nindroid nodded. “They stole three powerful, expensive weapons,” he said and I nodded.

“Alright, expensive, it means they can sell them, remember that,” I looked around the group. “At the auction, they will also show off the invictum sword,” I said and they nodded again.

“Now, tell me, looking at yesterday’s robbery, what do you think the thieves would steal at the auction tommorow?” I asked and the ninja exchanged looks.

“The invictum sword? It’s a sword that never loses after all… if you believe the tails,” Kai said, the others nodded along and I grinned.

“And that is exactly what the museum thinks aswel, so guess what, they focus on the sword, is it protected? How many guards are on duty? Do we trust everyone inside? All that kinds of stuff,” I waved my hand a bit.

“The only people watching the sword and other artifacts are either hired bodyguards, museum staff or museum guards, why? Because the police is to busy fussing over your location,” I pointed at them.

“While that happens, the Dead Sea necklace gets forgotten more and more,” I explained. “Meaning, that while the police is fussing over you guys and the museum is fussing over the sword, the thieves can almost take the necklace like it’s an all you can eat restaurant,” I said with a grin.

“The weapons they stole are worth a lot of money, but the invictum sword? Roughly 10.000 dollars, now that sounds like a lot, unless you compare it with the other weapons or the necklace, which is worth 25 million dollars, they aren’t interested in weapons, they just want you to think that, it’s really just money that they’re after,” I finally finished and took a deep breath.

“Also,” I started and they almost looked tired. “They used guns to take the guards out and the weapons they stole are for close combat, i think they aren’t even going to use those weapons,” I voiced and looked around the group.

“So we’re all clear on that? Sorry I’m not very good at explaining,” I said with a small chuckle.

“Definitely keeping her,” Cole said to Jay.

“Holy shit, you’re a genius!” Nya called out. “You’re right, they are after money, and if I think about it, I bet that they are the same criminals we’ve been after for a few months now, those same ones that pulled you off your skateboard and held you hostage!” She pointed at me.

“You two are right, both of them are after money, and looking at the way they handle things, we can almost be sure they are the same guys,” Lloyd said deep in thought.

“How did you even figure all that out?” Kai asked in disbelief. “We’ve been trying all afternoon,” he said with a pointed look at Zane.

“Oh, I’m interested in historical artifices,” I shrugged. “Plus my mom wanted to go to the auction tomorrow. And my true crime podcast binging might have some impact,” I grinned at the group.

“What do you think, Zane?” Lloyd looked at the nindroid who had the most sense out of all of them.

“Oh, I realised what Y/n meant after the first explanation, Pixal and I just searched around on street camera’s and I think I’ve found the place they are hiding out,” Zane said, making everyone start to grin.

“Guys, I think we can actually pull this off,” Jay said excitedly. “Now the only thing we need is a distraction!” He said before his smile dropped “Ehh, what will we use as distraction?”

“Decoy?” Kai asked and looked at me. “We can dress her up as one of us, distract the police while we head to- wherever their hideout is- Zane?” Kai turned to Zane.

“Closed warehouse on Bundystreet,” the nindroid answered.

“Yeah, absolutely not,” Lloyd jumped in. “First off, if they catch her, she can go to Jail or what, many things can happen if she gets caught, there are way to many risks for that, and also, there is no way the entire police force will follow one ninja,” he said.

“Oh! Oh! Can’t you just make one of your illusions?” Cole suggested and I shook my head.

“Not one big enough to distract the police,” I said a bit disappointed, while cracking my brains, suddenly, a grin appeared on my face. “I’ve got an idea,” I suddenly said.

“And that is?” Kai asked, everyone looking at me curiously.

“I can’t really explain, all I can say is that it will definitely work if I just throw in some illusions, hold on, I have to make a phone call,” I said and held up a finger.

“Before I call, the plan is, you go to the warehouse, surprise the criminals, arrest them, all those things, all I need to do is make sure the police isn’t on your heels?” I asked and they nodded.

“And you already have a plan on how you’ll enter the Warehouse?” I asked and they stopped for a second. “Yeah, do that while I make this call,” I suggested.

I entered my groupchat, also knows as ‘the abusement park’ and pressed call.

“What up?” Anthony was the first to join, and I saw his face next to Arthur’s.

“Excuse me? How dare you wake me up from my beauty sleep,” Flora also entered the call, an eye mask still on her forehead.

“Hun, aren’t you supposed to be working on your science project?” Luna who also joined the call asked her.

“We had a science project?” James joined the call aswel.

“You aren’t telling me I’m the only one that did that one, right?” Charlie asked, laying down on his bed.

“Guys, Guys,” I interrupted and they still bickered a bit. “I’m calling in a ‘don’t get me started,’ can I please say something?” It went immediately silent after that.

“I suppose you all still have the fireworks we got yesterday, right?” I asked, and they all nodded, not speaking.

“Is your plan clear?” I turned to the ninja after I finished my phone call.

“Yes, clear,” Lloyd said, making me grin slightly and look at my phone.

King Charles

I’m ready

Millie<3

Same here

Slowly the texts from everyone started to fill my screen, telling me they were ready.

“You guys get going, the distraction will start in a minute,” I grinned. Lloyd then pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead.

“Thank you, I’ll see you after, alright?” He asked and I nodded and then they quickly got going.

Lloyd POV:

We hadn’t even left the street yet and suddenly loud bangs came from Borg tower, making my heart sink, but when I turned around, they were… fireworks?

Then suddenly, fireworks came from all over the city, they where big and bright in the sky, coming from multiple different places and it didn’t take long for me to notice, they all reached away from Bundystreet.

She was confusing the police by letting all of her friends set off fireworks at the same time in different places, I realised.

The cops wouldn’t know what was happening and be confused, probably spreading to the spots to see what the hell was going on but by that time, the others would be gone and we where in the warehouse.

I had one smart ass girlfriend.

Your POV:

I met with the others at the video store and they all gave me unamused glances.

“Yeah, that was all our firework for the coming new year,” Anthony said, rather disappointed and I gave them a small pout.

“I’m sorry guys, but we still have my fireworks- and I can illusion some shit- I’ll buy some new things for you, I promise,” I begged and they all sighed and complied, sharing smiles here and there anyway.

“It really was awesome, though,” James said with a huge grin and I chuckled.

“See, that is a much better mindset,” I told him and he lightly shoved my shoulder.

“Alright, N/n,” Luna started and gave me a serious look. “I hope you realise we all want to know why we just had to do that,” she asked and I gave them all a wary look when they nodded along.

“What- no. I called in a don’t get me started,” I stated with a slight frown. “May I remind you that that means I can ask for a favour without having to explain why,” I said and they all groaned.

“Y/n, you literally just had us distract the cops to go looking all over the city while we used up all of our fireworks, come on,” Arthur whined. “Does it have something to do with the ninja robbing the museum?” He asked and I gave him an offended scowl.

“First off, that wasn’t them, you could literally see that it wasn’t them, on the footage their body language was wrong and everything, besides they would never rob the museum and definitely wouldn’t hurt an innocent person,” I started off.

“So this means that it does have something to do with them?” James asked and I let out a small sigh.

“They needed a distraction, alright, they couldn’t have the cops messing up their plan so I offered to help- after literally figuring out the whole thing by the way, I am taking those credits, but their fixing everything now and I think they’re almost done, it has certainly been a while,” I looked at the time on my phone.

It was already dark out and I had to text my parents to tell them I wasn’t eating at home, I hadn’t even ate at all yet.

“You are just casually close friends with the ninja now?” Charlie asked, an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

“Kind off, yeah?” I shrugged. “I mean, I hang out with them some time…” I revealed a bit awkwardly.

They all gave me rather surprised and shocked looks as I told them this.

“And you think you can just nonchalantly say that now as if it’s normal?” Millie asked, raising her eyebrows. She looked around the group who where giving off the same energy as her. “Wait- do you like- know their identities?” She asked.

I silently nodded and I was immediately bombarded with questions.

“Hey, if you expect me to tell you their identities, just know I will not,” I immediately made clear. “Really, I love all of you, but I can’t betray their trust like that, I promised them I wouldn’t tell anyone,” I said and James pouted at me.

“Not even me?” He asked, innocently batting his eyelashes and I chuckled, patting his cheek.

“Not even you, Jamie,” I said and he pouted, making me flick his cheek instead. He quickly flinched away from me and laid a hand on his cheek while giving me an offended look.

“Hey, trouble!” I turned around to see Kai- or well, the red ninja, approaching us. I smiled at him and waved him over.

“Red! How did it go?” I asked him immediately when he was within ten feet.

“It went fine, we got them, called the police and soon enough there was enough evidence to let us go, so we’re fine,” he winked and I smiled, quickly giving him a hug.

“That’s great to hear,” I said and pulled away. “How’s greenie?” I asked, a slight bit worried.

“He’s fine, currently with the team. He and Ice are fixing some things while the others are probably goofing around, almost killing themselves, you know, the normal stuff,” he said making me chuckle.

“Oh, by the way,” I took a step to the side. “These are my friends, guys, this is red,” I said and they all said hi, looking at the tall ninja with slight fascination.

“Great to meet you all,” he said quickly and he seemed to be listening to something before putting his wrist holding his communication device to his mouth. “I’ll be there in a moment- yes, Pixal I know,” he said a bit annoyed.

“Seems like I need to get going,” he said right after and I nodded.

“It’s fine, I’ll text you guys later and you can let me know how it went, then I’ll see you all- Tuesday, was it?” I asked and he chuckled.

“Tuesday yeah,” he assured. “You’ll see me then, but I think Greenie will probably stop by later, maybe earth will come with him? I don’t know, he said something about the book you recommended him,” he shrugged.

“Oh, yeah that’s fine, just tell them to text me,” I nodded.

“Alright then,” Kai said and checked the street for a moment. “Trouble,” he nodded at me. “Troubles friends,” he nodded at them to before disappearing.

On the way to our favourite chilling rooftop, I was interrogated by my friends about the ninja and how I met them.

Most of the thing slightly had to lie but other thing I told them honestly.

We where hanging out on the roof for about an hour when two figures appeared. We all quickly recognised them as greenie and earth, making me jump up in excitement.

“You’re here! Ka- I mean red mentioned you’d stop by, you got my text then? You never responded,” I looked at Greenie and he nodded.

“Yeah, I got it, I was a bit busy, didn’t have time to respond,” he said and looked behind me at the others. “Hi guys,” he said, making them all wave.

“Oh, earth, these are my friends, say hi guys,” I said and they all chuckled and said hello.

Cole was frozen for a moment looking, before he blinked and put up a hand. “Hi, nice to meet you,” he said, kindly.

“Alright- N/n, I read the book, and honest thoughts- it was amazing and the plot twist? I really didn’t see it coming!” He said and I jumped up and down.

“I knew you’d say that! I didn’t mention it so you wouldn’t crack it trough the story!” I said and he laughed as I pointed at him.

“No but really, I went trough it quickly again and when you know it’s going to happen, you can see it, honestly I think it’s a new favourite,” he admitted and I grinned widely.

“Hold on a second,” I put my finger up and turned around slightly. “Lu! Come here!” I called and she came over.

“What is it?” She asked, shooting a quick smile at the two ninja. “Am I going to be arrested again?” She asked with a chuckle.

“Not that I know of,” I answered, giving her a fake suspicious look, making her put a finger to her mouth with a grin. “Earth here just finished our favourite book,” I said and stars appeared in her eyes.

“Really? How was it? What do you think of the plot twist? Do you also think those flowers where the cause of the main characters sickness?” She shot questions at him and he chuckled.

Soon enough they where in a deep conversation and I smiled triumphantly at Lloyd, who shook his head at me.

“Thats one way to get my attention to yourself,” he teased and I scoffed.

“I actually did it so I could give all my attention to you!” I pointed at him and he laughed.

“I know, I know, I’m just teasing you, doll,” he said and I huffed, rolling my eyes at him. “Hey, don’t you act like that, or I might not invite you to join me and earth on our way to the monastery,” he said and stars twinkled in my eyes.

“Really?” I asked excitement lacing my voice, making him chuckle. “Really,” he said and I flung my arms around him.

“Wait- does that mean I am meeting your mother?” I asked and he paused for a second before nodding.

“Uh, yeah, is that a problem?” He asked and I contemplated before hesitantly shaking my head. He chuckled and put an arm around me.

“Don’t worry, Princess, she’ll love you,” he said and I let out a small breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Yeah, alright, fine- I just need James to cover for me saying I’m at his house, I don’t know how my parents would react if I said I was at the monastery,” I said making Lloyd chuckle.

I quickly made my way over to the others and tapped James in the shoulder, he turned to me with a big smile.

“Jamie, can you cover for me and let me tell my parents I’m at your house for some part in the evening?” I asked and he nodded.

“Hm, you going to your boyfriends house or something? I’m doing it, of course, always for you,” he bumped into me slightly.

“Oh, no, I’m going with Earth and greenie,” I admitted and he slowly nodded.

“Alright, yeah sure, I’m just going to act like that’s completely normal, have fun at their secret hide out,” he joked and I rolled my eyes, but thanked him anyway.

“That’s all set,” I told Greenie and his eyes shined with happiness, making a chuckle escape my throat.

“What’s all set?” Earth asked, coming to stand besides Greenie again. Luna stood next to me, leaning her head on my shoulder.

“Oh, N/n’s coming with us to the monastery, are you done with your talk? Because then we can go,” he explained and Cole nodded.

“Yeah, all finished,” he answered. “Are we taking the dragons? He questioned, Greenie nodded and my eyes went wide.

“You want me to sit on the back of one of those dragons?” I asked and Lloyd gave me a look.

“Yes, and later in life we’ll teach you how to make one of those yourself, for now you’ll ride with me,” he said, making me swallow thickly but comply anyway.

“Lu, are you awake enough for me to walk away or do I need to personally carry you to the others?” I asked and she looked up at me, slowly blinking.

“What?” She asked making me shake my head with a small chuckle.

“Arty!” I called to the others and he looked up at me. “Come collect Lu, and please take her home she needs sleep,” I said and he got up.

He took over Luna for me, holding her and she fell asleep, right there, standing up, making him look at her in disbelief as he let out a sigh and the others laughed.

“Ready?” Lloyd asked me and I nodded, saying goodbye to the others. “Come on,” he took me to the side of the building and held my hand as we stood on the edge.

“Are we jumping?” I asked terrified and he grinned before grabbing me by my waist and jumping down the high building.

We were falling for a moment but then seemed to land on something. I held my eyes closed and still felt his arms around my waist.

“Open your eyes, we’re fine,” he chuckled and when I opened them, we where sitting on a green dragon who actually gave off green light.

“Holy shit!” I laughed, I looked down at the city beneath us, we where actually flying on a dragon! I was sat in the front, and Lloyd, who had just taken of his mask, sat behind me, holding the reins with his arms around my waist.

“Still scary?” He asked and I laughed and shook my head.

“I love it!” I said, looking around me, the city still rather busy for this time. I looked to my right to see Cole, also having his mask off now.

“Hey, Cole!” I called and he looked over. “What’d you think of Luna?” I asked and I saw his cheeks tint red before looking forward again.

“Yeah, she was uh- nice,” he said and Lloyd laughed at him while I just frowned slightly.

“What’s going on? What did I miss?” I asked and Lloyd just laughed in my ear before answering.

“Cole as a crush on Luna, we see her every now and then, never talk to her, but he admires from afar.” Lloyd reveals and I looked at Cole in disbelief.

“You like her?” I asked and he glared at Lloyd.

“Wow, thanks man!” He said and the both of us laughed while he just looked embarrassed.

“I can set you up with her if you want! She’ll like you, I think the two of you would be good together,” I said and I gave me a hopeful look.

“You think so?” He asked and I nodded with a small smile. The moment was over when Lloyd laughed again, making Cold glare at him and me chuckle.

“Don’t mind Lloyd, I really think you two could hit it off, but we’ll talk about that later when this moron isn’t around,” I said, elbowing Lloyd slightly.

Cole was about to say something but fell silent and seemed to listen to something.

“Don’t mind that, probably someone who’s talking over the coms,” Lloyd told me and I nodded.

“Yes, I’ll go now, but this better don’t take long, I am tired as hell,” I heard Cole say before looking at us.

“I need to head out, new mission, I’ll see you two later,” he waved at us before redirecting his dragon.

“Hmm, alone time,” Lloyd whispered in my ear before resting his head in my neck making me chuckle.

I sucked in a sharp breath when his lips suddenly attached to my neck, he trailed kissed down and up my neck, making goosebumps run up my skin.

“Lloyd, shouldn’t you be looking where we’re going?” I asked and he chuckled against my skin.

“What, you don’t like it?” He whispered in my ear, making my stomach turn upside down. God what was he doing to me.

“I didn’t say that,” I told him. “But I think you might want to do this later somewhere else and not on a dragon,” I said and he chuckled.

“I’ll remember that,” he said, making my cheeks turn hot.

#lloyd garmadon x reader #ninjago x reader #ninjago lloyd #ninjago lloyd x reader #lloyd garmadon #Ninjago #lego ninjago #lego ninjago x reader

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allthebrazilianpolitics · 12 days

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‘Can’t live without it’: alarm at Musk’s Starlink dominance in Brazil’s Amazon

Satellite internet service’s antennas are everywhere, from illegal mining sites to isolated Indigenous villages

The helicopter swooped into one of the most inaccessible corners of the Amazon rainforest. Brazilian special forces commandos leaped from its metal skids into the caiman-inhabited waters below.

Their target, lurking in the woodland along Brazil’s Bóia River, was a hulking steelmining dredge, caught red-handed as it drilled into the riverbed, pulverising it in search of gold.

Onboard, troops from the national environmental agency, Ibama, and the federal highway police found tools typical of this illegal industry: three bottles of mercury, 10g of gold and an enormous drill bit used to pulp the riverbed below.

But a more modern contraption also caught their eye: a sleek white receiver made by Elon Musk’s satellite internet firm Starlink, which is at the centre of an intensifying showdown between Brazilian authorities and the US billionaire that last week resulted in his social network X being blocked in South America’s biggest country.

“It’s a satellite internet antenna that provides communications to this whole criminal network,” said a special forces combatant as he showed off the device his unit had seized – one of scores taken from such criminals this year.

“We find it everywhere now. Every mining dredge has at least one of them,” the police officer added of the antenna that was being used to connect the barge and its security cameras with an absentee owner in a city hundreds of miles away.

As recently as two years ago, few in the backlands of the Amazon – where high-speed internet has long been an unthinkable luxury – had heard of Starlink or SpaceX, the rocket company that is Starlink’s parent and has sent more than 6,000 low-orbit satellites into space to beam down signals to secluded spots such as this.

Today, Starlink’s antennas are everywhere: at illegal mining operations, but also in isolated Indigenous villages, jungle lodges and ranches, and even military bases scattered across a vast rainforest region larger than the EU.

#brazil #brazilian politics #politics #environmental justice #twitter #elon musk #starlink #amazon rainforest #indigenous rights #mining #image description in alt #mod nise da silveira

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ukrfeminism · 8 months

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Witnesses have described a "horrific" scene after a mother and her two girls were doused in their car with a "corrosive substance" in south London.

The family, three responding police officers and two others who tried to help were taken to hospital after the attack in Clapham on Wednesday.

One witness told the BBC the mother cried: "I can't see, I can't see" as he tried to help. "It was quite horrific," he added.

Police are searching for the suspect.

The Metropolitan Police said emergency services were called to Lessar Avenue, near Clapham Common, at 19:25 GMT on Wednesday evening after reports of an attack with a suspected "corrosive substance".

Tests were ongoing to determine the substance involved, the force added.

As the sun rose over Clapham Common, a white car was wrenched onto a van and removed from the street.

Earlier in the night, police forensic teams in protective gear examined the vehicle, which had stopped diagonally across the tree-lined street.

A couple who live on Lessar Avenue said they ran into the street after hearing a cry for help and then the sound of a car crashing.

"We came outside and saw this guy and he took a girl out of the car and he slammed her to the ground twice," a man, who did not want to give his name, said.

"I chased him half way down the road, but I was in slippers so didn't get very far.

"As I came back, that's when I saw the woman who had been attacked ... so I ran inside to get some water and just sprayed her down with water."

He described seeing what looked to be serious burns to her face.

The witness's partner said she suffered burns to her face, arm and lips after caring for one of the children involved, and was taken to hospital but later discharged.

She was one of eight people taken to hospital - five to a major trauma centre, and three to a local hospital.

A ninth person was discharged at the scene, the London Ambulance Service said.

The Met said three officers suffered what are believed to be minor injuries. The extent of the victims' injuries have not been confirmed by police.

Labour MP for Streatham Bell Ribeiro-Addy told BBC Radio London the incident was "a huge shock to those living around the area".

"We are asking people to come forward if they have any information," she said.

As the search for the attacker began, residents said they heard the whir of helicopters through the night.

The nature of the attack has left residents distressed. "How can people do this sort of thing?" one neighbour asked.

London Fire Brigade confirmed two crews from Clapham and Battersea fire stations attended the scene to help provide emergency care to the mother and two children.

"Crews also used specialist equipment to detect a corrosive substance that is believed to have been used in the incident," it said.

#Articles #MVAWG

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odinsblog · 11 months

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8-year-old boy, pregnant mom held at gunpoint by California police over “mistaken” identity

Sacramento police said they thought the third-grader was a suspect. The 8-year-old boy and his pregnant mother were pulled over at gunpoint by multiple Sacramento police officers on their way to football practice.

Shanice Stewart, who is nine months pregnant, and her son Brandon were stopped by police Oct. 17 on the highway, after the officers mistook Brandon for a juvenile with two felony warrants, including one for gun possession, according to Sacramento police.

“I noticed that they had guns drawn and they had instructions for me to then toss my keys out of the window,” Stewart told ABC News. “And open the door with my left hand, proceed to get out and put my hands in the air and then walk towards them. I immediately broke down because I didn't know or understand what was going on.”

Brandon got out of the vehicle afraid that his mother would be arrested or worse, according to Stewart. He screamed and pleaded for her to come back to the car. The 8-year-old, not realizing the officers thought he was the suspect, approached them frantically explaining that his mother was just taking him to football practice and hadn't done anything wrong. It was at that point that Stewart believes the officers realized that Brandon wasn't the suspect.

“I was scared of him getting shot,” Stewart said. “You don't know what to expect, especially when it's multiple officers with their guns drawn towards the car. You just you don't know. But I was definitely in fear of getting shot, me or my son. Just by one of them feeling like they were in danger or they did not feel comfortable.”

The officers released Stewart and Brandon shortly after, according to Stewart. Police told ABC News they first misidentified Brandon through helicopter surveillance, as he and his mother were leaving their home to go to football practice. Brandon matched the description of a suspect because of his hair style and clothing, according to police.

The next day a captain with the Sacramento police told Stewart the suspect they are looking for is a teenager, according to Stewart. Brandon, a third grader, is about 3’10”, 56 pounds.

(continue reading)

#politics #police #blacklivesmatter #shanice stewart #racial profiling #brandon stewart #racial stereotypes #defund the police

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ashleyy-brown · 7 months

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The Four Daughters of Darkness

ASHLEY

The first thing Ashley notices is that she feels nothing. It all feels numb and she can’t think or feel. The helicopter is silent and she can’t help but notice there are only three people in it. All she does is stare at the ground, unable to move, unable to feel.

She almost had hope that maybe some of the others had somehow made it out, but that fantasy was long gone now.

When they get to the police station, there are a few parents waiting anxiously. Ashley knows that they are waiting for people who are dead and who are never coming back home. Still, she feels nothing.

She feels nothing when Mike’s dad comes in demanding to see his son, only for him to get taken into a private room.

She feels nothing when Jess is ushered into the station covered in so much blood and for the first time that night, Ashley watches as Emily Davis cries.

She feels a pang of something when Mrs Hartley runs in and speaks to an officer, begging to see her son. Still, all she can do is stare when she turns to face her, horror written on the mother's face.

And suddenly, watching Chris’ mum collapse onto the floor, unable to hold herself up as she cries, Ashley feels everything.

It’s all too real and she suddenly can’t stop crying. She barely registers that someone is hugging her tightly because she can’t see anything. Still, Sam’s arms hold her tightly.

On the way home, Ashley feels nothing and everything and it's all so confusing and she still can’t stop crying. Her mum says nothing, unable to look at her broken daughter, knowing that these scars will never fade.

Sam comes over a lot, although most of the time they don’t talk. They just heal, together, slowly.

The funerals are horrible - all closed casket of course. Some didn’t even have bodies to bring home.

Everything that Ashley used to once love is ruined, scarred by the night she just wishes she could forget.

She tries to read a novel she was halfway through before she left - some period piece. But then one of the characters gets decapitated and she throws up.

She doesn’t read for a long time after that.

Ashley may have survived - but her soul, her heart, was still on that mountain. And she has a horrible feeling it is never coming back.

SAM

To put it simply, Sam is angry. So fucking angry.

Angry at Josh, for causing this whole horrible, nightmarish weekend to happen.

Angry at Mike, for sacrificing his life to save hers.

Hell, she’s even pissed off at Ashley and Emily, because how come they are here when Hannah and Beth aren’t?

But as soon as she looks at her only two surviving friends, and how broken they are, her anger at them immediately disappears. Because how could she be angry at two girls who look so lost, who have lost just as much as she has?

Because really, she isn’t angry at any of them. She’s only angry at herself.

Because maybe if she had paid more attention to Josh when he needed it he would have come to her for help instead of inviting everyone here.

And if she hadn’t moved, then Mike would still be here, in the helicopter with them.

Sam gets so frustrated during her interview because of course, no one believes her. She is so sick of the pitiful glances and sad smiles they give her as Sam tries to explain what killed all her friends.

“Poor girl.” she overhears them say. “She’s been through so much, of course she’s making things up. It’s a coping thing.”

She wants to scream.

Sam’s breath catches in her throat as she watches Jessica enter the room, barely conscious, barely alive, almost not believing what she is seeing.

And she holds Ashley so tight when she finally breaks down, as if she could protect her from everything that she’s seen

“It’s okay. We’re safe now.”

The whole night, Sam has felt like the leader. It feels as though she's aged ten years in one night.

But when Sam’s parents run in, looking for their daughter, Sam feels like a child again. And it’s Sam’s turn to cry because it’s really over and she can go home.

Home.

And she stays at home for weeks after that, never wanting to leave again.

But Sam tries to celebrate her small victories. Having a shower. Cooking herself a meal. Walking to the shop on the corner shop by herself. Going to the gym again.

Little by little, she tries to go back to the closest thing to normal that she can.

She starts to visit Ashley a lot, because at least she understands. They have both looked death in the eye, both watched the life drain from someone. They’ve both lost their best friend and the one they love now.

All they have now is each other.

JESSICA

Jessica is cold, and hurt, and so so confused.

She has no idea what’s happening when a helicopter comes and picks her up from where she’s barely standing.

But she doesn't want to sit down because it's snowing and she's only in her underwear and she's so cold.

She doesn’t say anything the whole ride back, only one thing keeps repeating in her head.

Mike, Mike, Mike, Mike.

She still remembers his broken screams as he chased after her, how he chased after her without a second thought.

She’s so tired she doesn’t even notice that there are only three people at the police station instead of 8.

They ask her questions at the station, things she can’t understand.

“Where is he? Did he make it?”

The glances the police give each other tell her everything she needs to know.

And suddenly she can't breathe or see anything.

She feels herself getting dragged out of the room before she passes out completely.

When she wakes back up, she’s in a hospital, with drips coming out of her arms.

And she sees at the end of her bed her dad holding her mom who is silently crying and… Emily?

She tries to speak but the only sound that comes out is a hoarse cough.

And the sudden feeling of Emily Davis actually giving her a hug is the first time that Jess allows herself to feel safe.

The first thing Jess does when she gets home is cry. Just full, guttural sobs that hurt so much because so much of her is broken.

Because she’s only just looked at herself in the mirror and all she can see is scars

And suddenly her future, her dreams are crumbling in front of her.

It takes her almost a year to uncover her mirrors again.

Jess never fully learns to love, or hell, even like her body again, but in the end she feels a sense of pride surrounding it.

It shows her that she survived, and if she can survive that, then she is fairly sure she could survive anything.

EMILY

Emily refuses to believe what she has just witnessed.

She refuses to believe that Ashley really saw Chris die, because how could that stupid, sweet oaf die right in front of her?

She refuses to believe that Mike, who pointed a gun right at her head only hours before, was left in that pile of ash that was once that haunted lodge.

How dare he die before she got to slap his stupid, perfect little face for trying to kill her?

She, stupidly, had hope that if anyone would have gotten out, it would be Matt.

Matt, who died somewhere in those horrifying caves, died trying to save her.

Stupid, brave Matt. A debt that she will never be able to repay.

Jessica being alive, however, was something she had not even let herself consider.

Mike was so certain that she was dead and Emily hadn’t even given herself a chance to mourn her best friend before she saw being dragged into the station, barely moving.

Watching her in the hospital, with so many tubes coming out of her body, Emily isn’t even sure why she was so mad at Jess to begin with.

How could she have let something as stupid as boys get in between their friendship?

Emily knew more than ever before that life was too short and cruel to hold a grudge. Not with Jess.

The first thing Emily does when she gets home is burn her suitcase. She wants no reminders of the hell she went through.

The clothes she was once so proud to own and flaunt are a pile of ash in her backyard. She can’t bring herself to give a single fuck.

She kicks some dirt in the disintegrated pile before she thinks of Mike, who faced a similar fate.

She’s not sure if she wants to kick it even more or somehow put it all back together.

She blocks Ashley on almost everything she can think of. She is quite happy if she never has to see her face ever again.

It takes Sam gently explaining how Ashley is healing before Emily lets herself forgive her. She was just a girl as well, after all.

No time for grudges. Not with the ones who suddenly understand her more than anyone.

No one expects Emily to be the one to reach out to all of them at the same time, least of all her.

They were in this together, whether they liked it or not. The four daughters of darkness.

#playthroughs of only the girls surviving hurt sm #those queens could never die tho #until dawn #the four daughters of darkness #ud ashley #ashley brown #sam ud #sam giddings #jess ud #jessica riley #jess riley #emily ud #emily davis

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beardedmrbean · 2 months

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Aug. 5 (UPI) -- Bangladesh's embattled prime minister, Sheikh Hasina, resigned Monday and fled the country after protesters stormed her official residence in the capital amid a growing revolt that began over quotas for government jobs in which hundreds of mostly protesters have died.

The announcement from the head of the army, Gen. Waker-uz-Zaman, came after security forces were overwhelmed by thousands of people incensed by a violent government crackdown descending on the Sher-e-Bangla Nagar area of Dhaka, setting cars and offices ablaze.

Footage circulating online shows protesters celebrating inside Hasina's residence, removing furniture and elsewhere in the city trying to tear down a statue of her father, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, former prime minister and leader of the country's independence movement, who was assassinated in 1975.

Promising the formation of an interim government, Zaman pleaded with demonstrators to call off their protests.

"Whatever demands you have, we will fulfil and bring back peace to the nation, please help us in this, stay away from violence," said Zaman who promised the military would also back off.

"The military will not fire at anyone, the police will not fire at anyone, I have given orders."

Hasina arrived by helicopter in India at a military airbase 17 miles east of Delhi on Monday evening with the BBC reporting that she may be en route to London, citing unconfirmed reports.

A spokesman for British Prime Minister Keir Starmer said Monday that he wanted to see urgent action to "ensure democracy" won out -- but made no mention of Hasina coming to Britain or any discussions regarding where she might go into exile.

"The right to peaceful protest must be protected and never subjected to violence, and we call on the authorities to release all peaceful protesters and ensure due process is followed for those charged and prosecuted," he added.

"I hope that swift action is taken to ensure that democracy prevails and accelerate the process towards peace and security to people in Bangladesh."

Hasina's son, Sajeeb Wazed Joy, said she had been considering resigning for the past 24 hours and had left the country for her own safety at the insistence of her family.

He rejected the accusations leveled at the 76-year-old of outstaying her welcome after four terms totaling more than two decades during which she gradually morphed from the democratic icon catapulted into office in a people power uprising into an authoritarian leader amid crackdowns on dissent and allegations of graft.

"She has turned Bangladesh around. When she took over power it was considered a failing state. It was a poor country. Until today it was considered one of the rising tigers of Asia. She's very disappointed."

In Dhaka, demonstrators ignored an evening curfew as unrest and looting continued into the night with demonstrators breaching the gates and damaging the residence of Home Minister Asaduzzaman Khan in the Dhanmondi area of the capital where smoke was seen coming from the building.

Protesters torched the city's Mujibur museum.

Northeast of Dhaka, 150 miles away in Sylhet, the offices of the deputy commissioner and superintendent of police and the homes of several councilors were attacked.

Hasina's resignation came a day after more than 90 people were killed Sunday during clashes between anti-government protesters and police -- 13 of whom were among those killed after thousands of people attacked a police station in the northwestern district of Sirajganj.

Sunday's casualties brought the death toll to 280 since early July when student protests over the partial reinstatement by the courts of civil service recruitment quotas -- where sought-after government jobs were reserved for supporters of Hasina's ruling Awami League -- erupted into wider, and violent, anti-government unrest.

Government crackdown efforts escalated from tear gas and rubber bullets to live fire, curfews and Internet blackouts bringing hundreds of thousands more people onto the streets demanding change and ultimately Hasina's resignation.

Student organizers had called Sunday for a national non-cooperation government boycott under which people would refuse to pay taxes and utility bills.

#nunyas news

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lilithism1848 · 1 year

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Atrocities US committed against NATIVE AMERICANS

In 2016, the US army corp of engineers approved a Energy Transfer Partners’ proposal to build an oil pipeline near the Standing Rock Indian Reservation, sparking the Dakota Access Pipeline Protests, evoking a brutal response from North Dakota police aided by the National Guard, private security firms, and other law enforcement agencies from surrounding states. The Standing Rock Sioux tribe believes that the pipeline would put the Missouri River, the water source for the reservation, at risk, pointing out two recent spills, a 2010 pipeline spill into the Kalamazoo River in Michigan, which cost over billion to clean up with significant contamination remaining, and a 2015 Bakken crude oil spill into the Yellowstone River in Montana. Police repression has included dogs attacking protesters, spraying water cannons on protesters in sub-freezing temperatures, >700 arrests of Native Americans and ~200 injuries, a highly militarized police force using armored personnel carriers, concussion grenades, mace, Tasers, batons, rubber bullets, and tear gas. In November 2017, the keystone XL pipeline burst, spilling 210,000 gallons of oil in Amherst, South Dakota.

In 1975, FBI agents attacked AIM activists on the Pine Ridge Reservation, in the ‘Pine Ridge Shootout’. Two FBI agents, and an AIM activist were killed. In two separate trials, the U.S. prosecuted participants in the firefight for the deaths of the agents. AIM members Robert Robideau and Dino Butler were acquitted after asserting that they had acted in self–defense. Leonard Peltier was extradited from Canada and tried separately because of the delay. He was convicted on two counts of first–degree murder for the deaths of the FBI agents and sentenced to two consecutive terms of life in prison, after a trial which is still contentious. He remains in prison.

In 1973, 200 Oglala Lakota and AIM activists occupied the town of Wounded Knee, South Dakota, on the Pine Ridge Reservation, called the Wounded knee incident. They were protesting the reservation’s corrupt US-backed tribal chairman, Dick Wilson, who controlled a private militia, called Guardians of the Oglala Nation (GOONs), funded by the government. FBI, US marshals, and other law enforcement cordoned off the area and attacked the activists with armored vehicles, automatic rifles, machine guns, grenade launchers, and gas shells, resulting in two killed and 13 wounded. Ray Robinson, a civil rights activist who joined the protesters, disappeared during the events and is believed to have been murdered. As food supplies became short, three planes dropped 1,200 pounds of food, but as people scrambled to gather it up, a government helicopter appeared overhead and fired down on them while groundfire came from all sides. After the siege ended in a truce, 120 occupiers were arrested. Wilson stayed in office and in 1974 was re-elected amid charges of intimidation, voter fraud, and other abuses. The rate of violence climbed on the reservation as conflict opened between political factions in the following three years; residents accused Wilson’s private militia of much of it.

In Nov. 1969, a group of 89 Native Americans occupied Alcatraz Island for 15 months, to gauge the US’s commitment to the Treaty of Fort Laramie (1868), which stated that all abandoned federal land must be returned to native people. Eventually the government cut off all electrical power and all telephone service to the island. In June, a fire of disputed origin destroyed numerous buildings on the island. Left without power, fresh water, and in the face of diminishing public support and sympathy, the number of occupiers began to dwindle. On June 11, 1971, a large force of government officers removed the remaining 15 people from the island.

From its creation in 1968, The American Indian Movement (AIM) has been a target of repression from law enforcement agencies, and surveillance as one of the FBI’s COINTELPRO targets. This includes the wounded knee incident and the pine ridge shootout.

In 1942 the federal government took privately held Pine Ridge Indian Reservation land owned by tribal members in order to establish the Badlands Bombing Range of 341,725 acres, evicting 125 families. Among the families evicted was that of Pat Cuny, an Oglala Sioux. He fought in World War II in the Battle of the Bulge after surviving torpedoing of his transport in the English Channel. Dewey Beard, a Miniconjou Sioux survivor of the Wounded Knee Massacre, who supported himself by raising horses on his 908-acre allotment received in 1907 was also evicted. The small federal payments were insufficient to enable such persons to buy new properties. In 1955 the 97-year-old Beard testified of earlier mistreatment at Congressional hearings about this project. He said, for “fifty years I have been kicked around. Today there is a hard winter coming. …I might starve to death.”

In 1890, US soldiers killed 150-300 people (including 65 women and 24 children) at Wounded Knee (19-26 people, including two women and eleven children.) on the Lakota Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in the U.S. state of South Dakota. Twenty-five soldiers also died, and 39 were wounded (6 of the wounded later died). At least twenty soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor. The event was driven by local racism towards the practice of Ghost Dancing, which whites found distasteful, and the Native Americans arming up in response to repeated broken treaties, stolen land, and their bison-herds being hunted to near extinction by the whites.

In 1887, the Dawes Act, and Curtis Act, resulted in the loss of 90 million acres of native-alloted land, and the abolition of many native governments. During the ensuing decades, the Five Civilized Tribes lost 90 million acres of former communal lands, which were sold to non-Natives. In addition, many individuals, unfamiliar with land ownership, became the target of speculators and criminals, were stuck with allotments that were too small for profitable farming, and lost their household lands. Tribe members also suffered from the breakdown of the social structure of the tribes.

Starting in the 1870s, The US army, aided by settlers and private hunters, began a widespread policy of slaughtering bufallo and bison, in order to destroy many tribe’s primary food source, and to starve Native Americans into submission. By 1900, they succeeded; the bufallo population dropped from more than 30 million, to a few hundred. The country’s highest generals, politicians, and presidents including Ulysses S. Grant, saw the destruction of buffalo as solution to the country’s “Indian Problem.” By destroying the food supply of the plains natives, they could more easily move them onto reservations.

Starting in 1830-50, The Trail of Tears was a series of forced removals of Native American nations, including Chickasaw, Choctaw, Creek, Seminole, Cherokee people and the African freedmen and slaves who lived among them, from their ancestral homelands in the Southeastern United States to an area west of the Mississippi River that had been designated as Native Territory. The forced relocations were carried out by various government authorities following the passage of the Indian Removal Act in 1830. “Marshaled by guards, hustled by agents, harried by contractors,they were being herded on the way to an unknown and unwelcome destination like a flock of sick sheep.” They went on ox wagons, on horses, on foot, then to be ferried across the MississippiRiver. The army was supposed to organize their trek, but it turned over its job to private contractors who charged the government as much as possible, gave the Indians as little as possible. The Cherokee removal in 1838 (the last forced removal east of the Mississippi) was brought on by the discovery of gold near Dahlonega, Georgia in 1828, resulting in the Georgia Gold Rush. Approximately 2,000-6,000 of the 16,543 relocated Cherokee perished along the way.

In 1848, the California Genocide is a term used to describe the drastic decrease in Native American population in California. The population decreased from ~300,000 in 1769, to 16,000 in 1900.

The Second Seminole War, also known as the Florida War, was a conflict from 1835 to 1842 in Florida between various groups of Native Americans collectively known as Seminoles and the United States, part of a series of conflicts called the Seminole Wars. The Second Seminole War, often referred to as the Seminole War, is regarded as “the longest and most costly of the Indian conflicts of the United States.” ~3000 seminoles were killed, and 4000 were deported to Indian territory elsewhere.

In 1832, the Black Hawk War, was a brief 1832 conflict between the United States and Native Americans led by Black Hawk, a Sauk leader, in Illinois. The war gave impetus to the US policy of Indian removal, in which Native American tribes were pressured to sell their lands and move west of the Mississippi River and stay there. Over 500 Native Americans were killed in the conflict.

In 1832, the Chickasaw Indians were forced by the US to sell their country in 1832 and move to Indian Territory (Oklahoma) during the era of Indian Removal in the 1830s.

In 1813, the Creek War, was a war between the US, lead by the then notorious indian-hunter Andrew Jackson, and the Creek nation, residing primarily in Alabama. Over 1,500 creeks were killed. The war effectively ended with the Treaty of Fort Jackson, where General Andrew Jackson insisted that the Creek confederacy cede more than 21 million acres of land from southern Georgia and central Alabama. These lands were taken from allied Creek as well as Red Sticks. In 1814, Andrew Jackson became famous for his role in the Battle of Horseshoe Bend, where his side killed more than 800 Creeks. Under Jackson, and the man he chose to succeed him, Martin Van Buren, 70,000 Indians east of the Mississippi were forced westward.

The Red Sticks, a faction of Muscogee Creek people in the American Southeast, led a resistance movement against European-American encroachment and assimilation; tensions culminated in the outbreak of the Creek War in 1813.

From 1785-96, the Northwest Indian War was a war between the US and a confederation of numerous Native American tribes, with support from the British, for control of the Northwest Territory. President George Washington directed the United States Army to enforce U.S. sovereignty over the territory. Over 1,000 Native Americans were killed in the bloody conflict.

In the 1800s, Indian removal was a policy of the United States government whereby Native Americans were forcibly removed from their ancestral homelands in the eastern United States to lands west of the Mississippi River, thereafter known as Indian Territory. That policy has been characterized by some scholars as part of a long-term genocide of Native Americans.

The Texan-Indian Wars were a series of 19th-century conflicts between settlers in Texas and the Southern Plains Indians. Its hard to approximate the number of deaths from the conflicts, but the Indian population in Texas decreased from 20,000 to 8,000 by 1875.

The Indian Wars is a name given to the collection of over 40 conflicts and wars between Native Americans and US settlers. The US census bureau reports that they have cost the lives of about 19,000 white men, women and children, including those killed in individual combats, and the lives of about 30,000 Indians. The actual number of killed and wounded Indians must be very much higher than the number given… Fifty percent additional would be a safe estimate.

From 1500-1900s, European and later US colonists and authorities displaced and committed genocide on the Native American Population. Ward Churchill characterizes the reduction of the North American Indian population from an estimated 12 million in 1500 to barely 237,000 in 1900 as a “vast genocide.. the most sustained on record.

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quanticowrites · 11 months

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This is a fine mess we're in Pt. 2 (Henry Standing Bear x Reader)

•• I hope there's at least one person out there enjoying this story! Find Part one here! Thanks! ••

He turned off all the lights in the bar, except for a rotating Rainier Beer sign, leaving the place just lit enough for the three of you to see. If you tried looking in through the windows though…you’d have no luck. Henry installed Rain Glass windows to keep the atmosphere of the bar quiet. Especially if a brawl broke out outside. That way it wasn’t his problem. When the sun hit the windows just right it made such a beautiful pattern across the dining area.

“Justin, come out with your hands up.” Walt’s voice boomed. The Absaroka County Sheriff didn’t get to use that MegaPhone of his much. You supposed that was a good thing. “If you come out right now I can talk with the DA about taking the death penalty off the table.” The phone started to ring. “That’s me. Pick it up and we’ll talk.”

“Sheriff Longmire,” Justin put the receiver to his ear. “A pleasure. Let me tell you how this is going to work.” He pulled up a bar stool and made himself comfortable. “First, you’re gonna get me an ambulance to the hospital. No replacing EMTs with any police officers. After that, you get me a helicopter to fly out of there, and maybe I won’t kill these two.” He chuckled. “Unlike that security guard at the bank. You know he got a round-off on me?” He took a deep breath. “Hurts like you wouldn’t believe.” Walt could believe it. He’d been shot before, more than once. “You go ahead and work on that then.” He put the phone down. “Let’s see if he makes me kill you two or not.”

Justin smirked before looking over. His eyes met yours and you felt a pit in your stomach. You found yourself leaning into Henry’s side more. “How about we have a little fun, sweetheart? I won’t be as rough as usual.” He rounded the bar and Henry jumped up, stepping forward and putting himself between you and Justin.

“You touch her, you will die where you stand.” Justin blinked, surprised by Henry’s outburst. Then he smiled again.

“Ah, she must be your honey, huh? Well, you’ll find it, Mister, that I do what I want.” He went to brush past Henry, but Henry wasn’t going to let that happen. He gave him a sucker punch right to his bullet wound. The noise that came from him didn’t sound human as he stepped back but managed to stay on his feet. The gun dropped from his hand. Henry went for another punch and was able to force him back against a table, sending chairs you’d put up earlier to the ground at their feet. Justin tripped backward on a chair and landed hard on his shoulder. Your eyes went for the gun and back to Justin. He started to try and stand while you found yourself rising to your feet and heading for the gun. He saw what you were doing and dove for the gun too, both your hands wrapping around either end of it. You didn’t know what to do as you and he started to fight for it, hands going over hands, not paying attention to where it was pointed, or if anyone’s finger was on the trigger-

BAM!

It was like lightning had struck your hand as you screamed, dropping the gun and pulling your hand back from where it had been around the barrel. You hissed at the pain before reeling back.

“(Y/n)!” Henry sounded like he was almost a mile away with how fast your blood was roaring through your ears. “(Y/n)!” You jump as you get turned around. Henry looked you up and down. “Were you shot? Does it hurt anywhere?” You tried to take a deep breath so you could answer him, but your lungs wouldn’t cooperate. They felt heavy and it was as if they’d sunk deeper into your chest. You brought up your hand and he sighed, leaning back on his knees. He looked behind you and you went to turn before he grabbed your wrist and kept your gaze forward. “He is dead. You do not need to see that.”

“I’ve got some burn cream back at the station if you and (Y/n) are up for a ride.” You jumped again. When had Walt gotten in here? Was it when you were fighting for the gun? Henry looked back at you.

“Are you up for that?” You flexed your hand and hissed before attempting another deep breath. This time, your body cooperated.

“Yeah.” You stated, and you could see Henry’s shoulders physically relax.

He stood up and offered you his hand. He smiled and you felt the blush return to your face.

“This is a fine mess we are in.” There was no doubt about that.

Tag list:

(Want to be added or removed? Just ask!)

@stanathanxoox , @nikkiwierden , @malindacath , @havlindzk , @countrygal17a , @memyselfandmaddox , @octobersmog , @mizzezm , @diaryofafan17 , @emmitheacefangirl , @a-sad-excuse-of-everything , @marennnx

#henry standing bear #Henry standing bear x reader #Longmire

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actualadvocacybruh · 24 days

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The Ukrainians continue to be funny in the midst of a war ….

During their special military operation into the Kursk Oblast they are using local stores and gas stations for topping up on supplies and then leaving ONLINE REVIEWS

So you got some Ukrainian tankers buying gas, food and then leaving a positive review on yelp for your shop

We are also seeing them maintain discipline and not abusing civilians or targeting civilian structures so contrary to Russian and Israeli belief you can actually fight a war without doing a genocide against local populations (who knew that was an option)

Plenty of third party footage of relief supplies being sent out to locals in need

Thousands of conscripts have been captured abandoned by their officers with orders to “fight to the last man” allegedly … proving that the fascists don’t even care about their own soldiers enough to evac them with the officers and police forces

We have confirmed capture of at least TWO T90 tanks as well as shoot downs of even more helicopters

Haven’t seen this level of incompetence since the first days of the war

#anarchist #ukrainian offensive #ukraine is winning #ukraine war #ukraine #war #russia loses lol #lol #Russia fail #russia

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theknightmarket · 2 years

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"What can I say? I'm a badass.”

In which Yancy and a new prisoner find each other behind locked doors.

TW: swearing, angst, crime, childhood trauma, drug mentions

Pages: 26 - Words: 10,500

[Requests: OPEN]

Yancy had only ever been in solitary a handful of times. Six to be exact, but the most recent had landed him in hot water with the Warden, so security was bumped up to the max in Happy Trails Penitentiary. They reached a new record with two police dogs and ten guards on patrol at any one time – which, to many other prisons, didn’t seem much, but it was a big deal for this lot. Hell, it had been a while since they had gotten any new prisoners, save for that infamous pair who actually wanted to leave, and they had succeeded. Or people assumed they did because nobody ever heard from them again after their second night. There was a rumor that one managed to escape through the sewer system, while the other just plain disappeared, though neither was ever proven, and the gossip trailed off into the change in routine or exercise equipment.

While most prisoners forgot about the pair, Yancy never quite did. There was always something in the back of his mind that reminded him of them, to the point that it got kinda weird. He would hear a helicopter overhead and think of them, and then the kid shuffling down the hallway definitely said their name, and that glowing box they brought in with them was sitting in the Warden’s office as if he had never taken it out. It was getting on his nerves, and, when he swaggered into the mess hall on a bright, sunny morning, it all got too much.

Yancy made his way over to his usual table, upon which Bam-Bam, Tiny and Sparkless McGee were sprinkled around the plastic benches. Somebody’s meal tray was in the centre, but it was quickly tugged away to make room for him to sit down.

“Mornin’, Yance,” another prisoner called out, but the guy wasn’t in the mood to respond more than a nod in their vague direction. The others immediately picked up on it – living in the same buildings for ten years would do that to you – and pounced to comfort him. Yancy appreciated his friends, he really did, but it wasn’t what he needed now.

There were questions as to his health, the condition of his cell, whether his mood was soured by the bright light. All of these were wrong, but it wasn’t until Sparkles stepped up to the plate that he opened up.

“Visitation day, innit?” Like a sledgehammer to a glass window, Yancy broke the second the ‘v’ came out of his mouth. He wasn’t crying, though! He’d learned that it got him nowhere quick. But he couldn’t help the way his lips shivered, and water pooled in his eyes. That didn’t mean anything, it was just allergies in the barren, completely clear of debris, prison.

“You wanna talk ‘bout it?” And then Yancy started bawling.

“I-I just dunno what I did wrong,” he whispered, trying and failing to keep it together.

The group each chimed in with their ideas, “Maybe they got intimidated by you.” - “Maybe they never got out.” - “Maybe they’re still running from the cops!” but none of them helped him. Yancy loved his clique, they were the closest thing to family he had in the bricks, but he hadn’t told them what really happened to the runaways. None of them even knew they made it past the sewer grate. He wasn’t sure what stopped him from telling them, but something did, and it wasn’t anything he could overcome with some false ideas or promises to visit. They might’ve thought he was crazy, waiting for someone they’d never seen to arrive at the phone, but it was nice they supported him regardless.

“Ay, ay, whatever it is,” Sparkles slapped a hand onto Yancy’s back, a confusing but strangely effective way of calming him down, “ya did nothing wrong. If they don’ wanna see ya, then it’s their loss.”

Yancy nodded to himself slowly, then again with more vigor. Sparkles was right; he had a good life on the inside, just not good enough to keep someone new with him. Who cared? Not him, that’s for sure, and he would rest easy knowing that he had everything he needed right there.

The topic shifted onto something else, and the visitation day was forgotten easily. While, from time to time, Yancy still thought about the escapees, they were generally shoved to the back of his mind, and he focused, instead, on the echo of the bell throughout the prison. After breakfast was an hour of exercise so the inhabitants moved in a messy clump to the backdoor.

In the midst of prisoners and guards, Yancy felt a tap on one of his shoulders. He had never been good at his left and right, but, when he looked in the direction of that tap, nothing was there. Then, a poke on his… other shoulder, but nobody was there either. His eyebrows tightened and he bristled; he didn’t like being tricked, and there he was, looking like an idiot who didn’t know his left and rights. Never mind the fact that he didn’t, somebody was making fun of him, and he was going to give them a piece of his mind.

Yet, however mad he might have been getting, it all disappeared at the sight of Sparkles dashing off through the backdoors, a mischievous grin plastered on his face in a look towards Yancy. A smile appeared on his own face as he chased after his friend, grabbing Tiny’s elbow on the way. A chase Sparkles wanted, and a chase he would get. The two followed in between elbows and batons, avoided the edges of tables, and maneuvered more than a few stationary prisoners. Despite the heightened security, the guards couldn’t care less about their little game; if it kept them out of trouble, who were they to stop it?

So, for the majority of the exercise block, Yancy, Sparkless McGee, Tiny, and whomever they could bring along with them, played a raucous game of tag. Yancy would clamber over dumbbells to get at Bam-Bam, Bam-Bam would sprint through the long-jump sand to catch Tiny, and so on and so forth. He was pretty sure even an officer jumped in to help out Sparkles when he was chasing after another inmate.

Skidding to a stop at the chain-link fence, Yancy looked around. This was the life, huh? Nobody angry, nobody sad, nobody telling him to do stuff that he didn’t wanna do. Sure, he couldn’t leave the walls of the prison, but he had never wanted to. There was nothing that the outside could give him that he didn’t already have within Happy Trails, and, with his hands firm on his hips, he thought that it would provide less. Could you imagine Yancy with a 9-5 job, buying groceries every three days, and picking the kids up after school? He couldn’t, and he didn’t care to try.

He could do without the enraged yelling of the Warden from the backdoors, though.

In quick succession, everyone turned to look at the approaching man, who stampeded against the dirt path like a bull. An ominous hush fell over the yard, but nobody moved a muscle to break it. Instead, they watched intently as the Warden stomped directly to Yancy.

Now, in public, Mr. Murder-Slaughter might not have looked all that intimidating. He was on the shorter side, balding but well-groomed, and easily imagined with a kind smile. However, if you were to meet the guy inside Happy Trails Penitentiary, you would know he could be the meanest son-of-a-bitch you’d ever encounter. He commanded the prison with an iron fist and used them effectively to scare the inmates into submission. He was only made worse by how quickly he could switch from caring to, as his name would imply, murderous. It was a wonder how he hadn’t been incarcerated himself yet.

The prisoners counted their lucky stars when he passed by them and wished all the best for Yancy when the Warden’s glare landed on him.

“Boy, do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Yancy snapped out of his paralyzing fear to lower his eyebrows slightly; he didn’t have any idea, and he wasn’t being given a lot to go off of. So, after risking a glance over his shoulder to Sparkles, he shrugged and replied, “Nuh-no, Warden.”

That response only seemed to push his buttons further, leading to him grasping Yancy’s shoulders as if he would run away if he didn’t hold him there. He was pretty sure he’d be leaving marks in the dirt when he moved again.

“Well, then, lemme show ya—” The Warden pulled the boy ahead of him and shoved him in the direction of the cafeteria again. It was hard for Yancy to hide his disappointment, he always had been terrible at covering up emotion, but it didn’t take much for the other inmates to worry for him, before they were cut off by a yell of, “—and get back to your regularly scheduled exercise!”

That sent them into a frenzy, people grasping for handles and throwing each other into the air to seem like they were working out. Yancy didn’t take notice of any of it, too worried about what he was being brought to the Warden’s office for. While he had never spent too long in a school setting, likening it to the principal’s office was the best he could do, and he didn’t like either scenario.

“Go on, sit,” Mr. Murder-Slaughter ordered, faking serenity in the face of pure wrath. He landed himself in his own chair, pulled it close to the desk and held his fingertips together overtop the mat. Altogether, he was scary.

Yancy gulped as he followed suit in the seat opposite.

“Why d’ya think you’re here, boy?” The stinging kindness was cracking by the second, especially with the venom unleashed at the end.

Yancy spluttered for a second. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong recently, but it was anyone’s guess as to what would set the Warden off if he’d had a bad day. Weakly, he muttered, “I dunno.”

“Well, I’ll let ya what ya did!” he exploded, slamming a fist onto the wood of the desk. There was an audible crack as one of the legs dented the stones underneath, and, for the first time in a while, Yancy found himself actually fearing the Warden. It brought up some all-too-familiar experiences, memories that he’d rather keep buried.

His eyes looked down, his hands clasped together, his lips quivered. He didn’t like this at all, but he couldn’t just leave. That’d get him in even bigger trouble.

The Warden either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because he continued just as strict as he was before, “Not only did you let two high-class prisoners escape, but you also helped them!” He shot up from his seat, the back of it slamming against the wall and shaking the furniture. Bringing a hand to his forehead, he sighed, “We needed them to stay here, but you just had to get them out. Do you want that, too?”

“No, Warden—”

“Do you want to leave, too, huh? ‘Cause we can make that happen, just say the word.”

Yancy was on the verge of shaking, and he could feel the tremors starting to make their way through his spine. He kept his cool, though, bit his lip, and shook his head. “No, Warden, I don’t wanna leave.”

This seemed to calm him down, as his voice dropped to an acceptable volume. Still, he leaned in close over the desk and stared intently into Yancy’s eyes. Really, it was creepy, but he didn’t know what else to do than to stare right back. If he was trying to tell if he was lying, or he just liked putting his inmates on edge, Yancy would never find out; the Warden withdrew as if nothing had happened, and he collapsed again into his chair.

“Look, kid, I get it.” He didn’t believe him. “You see a fresh face, here, and they actually wanna get out so ya help them, ‘cause they’re interesting and new. But that can’t happen no more, or we’ll lose our budget and we’ll, eh, we’ll have to let some of ya go.”

The suggestive look on the Warden’s face scared Yancy. His eyes widened involuntarily, and he, regrettably, started to think once more about life on the outside. What a horrible fate! He’d sooner get transferred than be integrated back into normal society.

“So,” he coughed, “we’re gonna have to give you a punishment. Nothing too serious, but it won’t be fun for ya.”

Yancy understood that he did a bad thing and he needed to have some repercussions for his actions. Personally, he would’ve considered being abandoned by those people he helped to get out punishment enough, but the Warden didn’t need to know about that; if they ever did come, he didn’t want them to get re-arrested just for his spite.

“Now, we’ve had some time to think over a suitable punishment for ya, and we’re all pretty certain this will work out perfectly. It’s light, but you better learn your lesson from it.”

Hey, he would’ve assumed the worst had it not been for his comforting tone, but it seemed like Yancy was getting off relatively scot-free.

“Two weeks in solitary!”

Damn it.

Not ten minutes later, Yancy was stuffed in a barren cell, cold as the grave and the smell of one, too. If he looked hard enough, he would probably interrupt the funeral service for plenty of insects and vermin, but he did little more than take a deep breath, regret it, and flop down on the makeshift slab of a bed. The concrete provided no comfort, and minimal streams of light that trickled in from the small window just teased him. Was it a mistake to help those two escape? Was it worth it?

Any thoughts of doubt were wiped as he recalled the hopeful look on one of their faces and the warm, glow-y feeling that filled up his stomach. Yancy didn’t have many opportunities to do good in the penitentiary, but the times that he made the better choice were ones he cherished.

He focused on those memories for a while, trying to keep out the silence and ignoring the steady fall of the sun and rise of the moon. It wasn’t like he could do anything else to keep busy; solitary wasn’t a physical punishment, but it worked wonders because it was mental. Everything was boring after just a few minutes, and the people who came out the other side were more forgiving, more docile than the ones who had gone in. It acted like a factory machine that pressed inmates into the same shape, just for them to be dumped into an incinerator at the end of it all.

Not Yancy, though – he prided himself on being one of the only prisoners to get out just the same as ever. That’s why he was able to go in six times without cracking. Overtime, he just built up a tolerance to it, like a disease or the chef’s bad cooking. Never once did his happy-go-lucky aura dim.

As the times before this had gone, Yancy was humming to himself by the first half hour. It wasn’t like anyone could tell him to shut it – it was solitary, after all, he was alone – and the quiet was the hardest thing to get along with in the cells. It was some little tune he had heard over the guard’s radio, sweet and slow and easy. He hadn’t much time to practice, but he thought he was pretty good so far. Instruments had been banned after one of the kids smashed a guitar over an officer’s head, and thus whistling lessons had been introduced, and were quickly discontinued when they realized the prisoners were terrible at it. He hadn’t heard anyone whistle for months since then, meaning he was his personal jukebox for the time being.

“You’re actually pretty good.”

Yancy nearly screamed.

He scrambled like a cat doused in water to the other side of his cell, falling off the concrete slab and pressing himself next to the tiny desk. He wasn’t alone, after all, but that thought played second to the panicked thoughts that rushed through his mind unnoticed and unpicked upon. Breaths came in and out of his lungs at much the same speed, until he coughed and stood tall. It was instinct, and he felt stupid enough to sit back down when he fully realized he was trying to size up against the brick wall.

Finally catching his breath, Yancy asked shakily, “Wh- who’re youse?”

Figuring that this guy would be your only company in this dingy cell, you gladly gave him your name. He repeated it in an accent you weren’t overly familiar with.

“Who are you?” you asked in turn when silence had settled once more.

His tone was overly defensive. “Who wants ta know?”

You looked with a confused glare at the brick wall his voice was coming from. He looked back.

“Yancy,” he eventually answered.

Immediately, a wave of realization overcame you; as you were being transported to Happy Trails Penitentiary, your drivers had been holding a very spirited conversation about this one lad. Hyperactive, the ringleader of these prisoners, but pure in a weird sort of way. He knew how to fight, sure, but show him an R-rated movie and you’d want to shove your hands over his ears at the first curse word. There wasn’t much more information than that, but it was enough to get the gist of what the guy was like. The only thing that interested you more was the mention of his name and his place of origin – Yancy, either from Ohio or Brooklyn, and the stark combination was apparently possible given who they were talking about. Now that you were actually hearing it, although it was muffled slightly by the walls, you understood.

“You don’t say…” You chuckled to yourself, unheard by Yancy.

You left the introductions at that. You weren’t sure how you’d pass the time yet, so you focused on your surroundings. It wasn’t much, but you’d seen worse solitaries before. Briefly, you wondered if this could even be considered solitary confinement, considering that it wasn’t, y’know, solitary, but you learned a long time ago to never look a gift horse in the mouth, so you brushed off the thought and kept looking around. The slab you currently sat on was no different to the floor, down to the conspicuous stains splashed around the place. It was a vast change to the weirdly welcoming exterior of the prison.

With how quickly you had succumbed to the quiet, you almost flinched when Yancy began to speak again. It was notably more collected than before, but not aggressive. “So, what’re youse in for?”

Your head tilted involuntarily at his choice of words, but you answered him nonetheless, “Well, I’ve committed arson, assault and property damage, but I got done in for trespassing on this old guy’s farm.”

The laughter came quick and hard, like a tidal wave crashing over a beach, and it almost made you forget that you were in prison at all. Yancy’s voice was sweet, and it extended to the chortled that weaved through the cracks in the brick. You soon joined him with a few chuckles of your own, and, when you had both calmed down, finished with, “What can I say? I’m a badass.”

That got another giggle out of him, but he went silent for the next seconds. What you couldn’t see was Yancy rearranging himself to sit comfortably back on his slab, back against the wall between you and his legs crossed in front of him. It was better than the ground, and he was filled with a strange sense of comradery; he’d never had someone else with him in solitary, so it was a nice change of pace to have someone new to talk to.

“What about you?” you asked, mindlessly gazing out of the window.

“I killed my mum.”

Despite you not being that much better, the sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a sigh, coming out as a strangled ‘euf’. Most prisoners you’d come across were guarded about that kind of stuff, especially if it was someone they were related to, but you supposed it was different around here. You’d have to get used to that if you were planning to stay your sentence this time.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips momentarily parted. “Did she deserve it?”

Again, silence flooded back in. Someone lifted the trap, let water pool around your legs, and then Yancy slammed it shut as he replied, “Nah, but it had ta’ be done.”

You could accept that, and he wasn’t going to talk more about it, so you had no other choice. Besides, it wasn’t your place to comment on the morality of his actions, especially when you had no idea why it ‘had ta’ be done’.

Yancy didn’t seem affected by his admission, though, and he continued to speak. “Been here most of my life, so it didn’t really matter that I got caught so fast.”

“How’d you get by?”

“Ah, well, I had my friends, ‘course. They really helped me out in the tighter spots, y’know? Like, when Sparkles landed here and helped me fight off these thugs. Only eighteen, too, so we kinda stuck together after that.”

You unknowingly shuffled forward on your bed, easily enticed by Yancy’s stories with nothing else to do in the cell. His voice was pleasant to listen to, you’d admit that, and the childish joy that painted it was a lifeline in the bleakness.

“He’s the guy with the jangly stuff, right?”

“Yeah! Sparkles McGee‘s his full name. I dunno if he’s Irish or not, he don’t have an accent, but he can be as intimidating as one when someone gets on his bad side.”

There was a menagerie of characters in Happy Trails, meaning that the ones who stood out were either widely outrageous or completely normal; Sparkles was one of the former, and you had remembered hearing clinking from the hallway you were being tugged down before a brunet man emerged from around the corner. You were surprised that he was allowed to keep the things on him, but you weren’t one to waste a perfect opportunity when the guard was yelling at him to slow down.

No point in dwelling on that, now, and you prompted Yancy, “Who else are you close with?”

“There’s Jimmy the Pickle, and Shithole Hank – Bam-Bam, and Tiny, and, yeah, Sparkles McGee…” Technically, Yancy could a majority of the prisoners, and even some guards. He’d been in there long enough to have made a rag-tag family for himself, gotten close to the people living out life-sentences and wished the shorter ones on their merry way.

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of sway in this place,” you commented, not mischievous but more surprised that the officers let him get so much power.

“Well, I wouldn’t call it sway, but… yeah, I guess I do.”

And then you asked the dreaded question. It had been on your mind since you’d first heard him whistling, but you kept it under wraps for the sake of conversation. Now, with a lull and suitable point, you couldn’t help but ask, “So, how’d you end up in solitary?”

The water level rose to the point that it felt like you were drowning, your mind fuzzing over with concern when Yancy dropped into utter stillness. Hell, you might’ve thought he’d keeled over dead with how quiet he was being, but you heard him rise off of his slab and walk around his cell. He was searching for an answer to your question, not that you could see, that wouldn’t bring him to tears. Without his group to help him through it, he didn’t want to break down, and in front of a newbie, no less.

Regret fogging your thoughts, you jumped to say, “Y-ya don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

The pacing stopped and those chains that held up his bed clinked against the wall. “Nah, it’s fine—” You feared he was lying, and, by the crack in his voice, you were probably correct, “—I, uh, helped some people escape, and the Warden found out ‘bout it, chucked me in here and probl’y threw away the key.” He tried to joke about it, to bring back the light atmosphere, but it didn’t work. The corners of your mouth deepened, and you instinctively pushed your back against the wall, as if being closer would give him some kind of comfort.

Yancy only felt the frigid embrace of the stone, though. The happiness leaked out of his voice, leaving only the numbed, plain words to give you context. “It was these two newbies, got caught trynna hijack a helicopter after stealing some box. Never found out what it was all about, but I took it from the Warden’s office and helped ‘em get out through the sewer.” He could feel the tears building up in his throat. “They said they’d visit me, but they haven’t yet.” Bringing his legs to his chest and wrapping his arms around them to keep it tight, he tried to block out the sting in his chest from the first visitation day that had rolled around. When he had woken up bright and early, made himself all neat for them to come through the doors, but, well, he remembered how it went.

“Damn,” was all that you muttered. You weren’t equipped to deal with this kind of situation, especially since all that you were able to offer were kind words and a soft tone. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“Hey, ain’t that just life, though?” he muttered. Trying to convince himself of that fact was harder than saying it but pretending like he truly believed it was easiest. Ignoring the problem came second, so Yancy whispered something about getting a good night’s rest and rolled onto his side on his slab. It wasn’t comfortable, and he quickly began to miss the comforting stiffness of his cot.

You, however, would remain awake for the next hour or so, contemplating how you had gotten to this point. You wouldn’t call it rock-bottom, but it was definitely deeper than you were comfortable with. The agency you worked for gave you five strikes in the slammer before they left you to rot, and this was lucky number six for you. Spite tapped at your mind; those suits in upper management hadn’t seen a hard day’s work in their life, and they had the gall to blame you for your imprisonment after a job they ordered you do! Grinding your teeth together, you imagined their faces, prime and ready for a beating, when you got out – in ten to twelve years.

They should have been hoping you’d mellow out over time. Not likely, given your history, but it was their fault for keeping you there.

Although vastly unsupported by the prison’s psychologist, you and Yancy both fell asleep with troubled thoughts.

Unsurprisingly, you woke up with an aching back and growling stomach. Getting processed early in the day was a bad move, since it meant you’d miss both of the meals offered in the prison. You regretted getting caught at all, but fate could have been a bit kinder with the times. It was a good thing, then, that only half an hour or so after you’d regained thought, a tray of bland-looking food was shoved underneath your door. The metal slat closed behind it, leaving you the mismatched leftovers of the other prisoners’ breakfast.

The apple had rolled onto the stained floor and the dent containing what might have been porridge did not have any utensils. The milk looked alright, though, so you juggled it into your hands and leaned back on the wall. It reminded you of those movies you’d watched as a kid, the middle-school ones that you’d only ever seen a carton of milk in. You would have laughed at your first encounter being in a prison, but you were interrupted by Yancy.

“Morning.” He sounded almost unsure, as if he were afraid of getting nothing but silence back. Momentarily, he was proven correct when you were stunned by the ineffectual bout of morning voice the guy had. All of your limbs ceased movement, your eyes went wide, and you had to take a second to come to your senses. Suddenly, you were thankful for the wall separating the two of you.

Coughing lightly, you called back, “Morning to you, too.”

A grimace overcame your mouth when you realized that the carton was now completely dry, and you threw it to a corner of your cell. It landed with a muted thump into a pit of mold growing there. Your grimace deepened.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked. You assumed not great, but the silence was worse than an awkward conversation.

Yancy grunted, barely audible through the bricks, and then spoke, “’Bout as good as I do normally in here.”

“You’ve been in solitary before?”

“Ya sound surprised.” The small chuckle was appreciated, and you found yourself smiling alongside him.

“Yeah, I guess,” you responded, “you just give off this golden-retriever persona.”

Yancy was almost shocked. He hadn’t thought about how he came off to strangers, but that was mainly because he hadn’t interacted with one for years. Well, except…

He shook his head, manually removing the thoughts from his brain like cleaning out a junk drawer. “Is that a compliment?” It didn’t work, and, although he continued the conversation, his mind was far from it.

“I don’t know, I haven’t been here long enough to gauge the people here. Hence, asking you about your friends.”

That made sense, and you could have moved onto a different topic entirely, but Yancy kept being dragged back to the escapees. Despite only having known of you for a day, he liked talking to you. It kept his mind off of being in solitary, and he wanted to get one more thing off of his chest to rest his weary heart.

“D’ya wanna leave?”

It came out faster and clumsily blunter than he would’ve wanted, but it got the point across. If you said that you did, then he could just cut all contact and go quiet; he didn’t want to get attached to someone he was going to lose, though the worry that he already had definitely tapped at the edge of his mind.

You leaned back against the wall, further into the bricks as if you were able to phase through them with enough focus. You remained in the cell, where Yancy was still waiting for an answer. Did you want to leave? Well, of course, you did, there wasn’t anything better here than there was on the outside, and escaping wasn’t that hard of a feat given the shamefully low security.

But, then again, was there anything waiting for you back home? Prison meant keeping you trapped in one place, but the agency you worked for already did that. You were stuck in this city until they signed sixty forms to send you somewhere else, upon which you’d commit a crime, probably get arrested again, and then shoved in another cell again! It was a worse loss for them than it was for you, and, here, you had been having some nice conversation. Nice enough to stay for a little while, anyway, and, who knows, maybe you’ll be convinced to wait out your sentence for once.

Sighing, somewhat relieved that you had made the decision to stay, you replied, “Nah.”

And if you were relieved, Yancy was ecstatic. He resisted getting up and doing some kind of frenzied tap-dance out of excitement, and, instead, stayed rooted to his slab. He didn’t know exactly why he was so happy, but he was, and he was fine with that. He would deal with those unknown feelings later, when he had Sparkles and Bam-Bam and Tiny to help him through. Maybe you’d join them, and he could introduce you to everyone and—

He was getting ahead of himself. In the confines in his room, it didn’t matter that he blushed a deep crimson or that he had to bite his lip to keep his grin from spreading any further. He busied himself with scrambling to the floor and dragging his finger along the soot-covered bricks.

“You alright there, Yancy?”

You received no answer, save for the scraping and tapping that had made you curious in the first place. You watched where the sounds were coming from until they focused on one place in particular. Tap, tap, tap. They slowly became more forceful, a few seconds worth of securing one point on a brick, and then the thing was punched out altogether. The chipped rectangle tumbled into the wall opposite, revealing a tanned hand in its place.

It waved.

A laugh broke out of you, to the point where you nearly fell off your bed altogether. “How’d you figure that out?” you asked, in awe of the guy.

“One of the first times I was in here, I brought contraband with me, so I needed a place ta’ keep it while they did searches,” Yancy answered, “Nobody was ever in youse’s cell, so I shoved all my stuff in there.”

“Smart.”

He practically started glowing at that compliment, as if a switch had been flipped in his head. His smile slightly dipped, though, when he saw your abandoned tray on the ground in front of the hole.

“Ya not eating?”

You shrugged. “Not too into stuff that can’t decide whether it’s a solid or liquid. Plus, I’m not gonna use my hands to eat gruel.”

“Oh, the guards do that to newbies – somein’ like hazing, but it ain’t good for youse’s health.”

“So, frat hazing?”

Your comment went unanswered as Yancy slid back on his stomach to prop himself upright. It was only a couple seconds before another object came rolling through the gap. It bumped against the wall, knocking off some dust, but looked fine, otherwise. You picked it up.

“You sure?” you questioned tentatively, inspecting the rose-red apple.

“Youse gots to eat something, right?”

This time, it was you who blushed as deep as a sea trench. You weren’t sure whether it was his nature, or you were a special case, or you were just the only option, but Yancy was being nice to you. Genuinely sweet, and it was a weird experience for you. You barely knew anything about him, held one conversation with him, and yet you thought he was the best part of this prison. It wasn’t a high bar, but it was something, and you could feel yourself growing more and more fond of him as the seconds ticked on.

But that didn’t mean you would go without clarification.

Now resting on the floor, which didn’t feel as bad as you had presumed, you guided your tray into Yancy’s cell. There was a pleasant gasp exchanged for it, while you pointed out, “We just met.”

Another more confused noise was sent your way.

“Why are you being so nice to me? Talking to me, telling me about you, all that stuff. Why?”

Yancy knew this could go one of two ways; he could lie and say that he just liked your attitude, maybe that he didn’t want this awkward silence between you – or he could tell you the truth. The cold, hard, honest truth.

His shoulders dropped and the lights in his eyes dimmed as he realized that his fears were not mistaken.

“Guess I just got attached.”

You stopped short of responding for the better half of the next minute. While that may have seemed infinitesimal in the grand scheme of things, it mattered to you, and it mattered to Yancy. You were given some time to consider the facts, apply the idea to his actions, while Yancy got scared. His fears surrounded him in the cold cell, and he wondered if he had blown his chances barely a day into knowing you. He tried to assure himself that it wouldn’t matter if you went completely silent, but both that and the bigger part of him knew that was a lie.

Going quiet when given a fact was a bad habit of yours, something that the prison boy would have to get used to if you were to stay talking. It happened a lot and normally didn’t mean anything bad at all, so he was able to breathe a sigh of relief when you answered back, “That makes sense.”

This time, Yancy was only confused. “Whad’ya mean?”

“Well—” you shuffled back against the wall again. You noticed it was a very cramped room, “—you told me about those people you helped escape. You must’ve cared about them if you risked getting solitary for them, and they haven’t come back. That’s gotta be rough on you.”

You weren’t a therapist by any means, but you’d sat in a psychology lecture back when you were in college. That, and it was pretty obvious what was going on.

“Yancy, you have abandonment issues.”

His head hit the bricks. His one visit with the prison’s psychologist had told him that much, but he’d never taken it to heart. Everyone had something wrong with them! His was just… more intense than other people’s. Or, he used to think that, but getting so attached to someone he had just met made it only more clear to him.

Not hearing a response, and unable to hear the thoughts slowly settling in Yancy’s mind, you prompted, “We can talk about it, if you want?”

“Yeah- yeah, I’d like that.”

The hours passed slowly, but they were full to the brim of venting, comforting and a few jokes sprinkled in here and there. It was a period of no holds barred, and everything was let out like opening a dam. The water swept up whatever was there already, the preconceived notions, the awkwardness, the discontentment – and it left behind warmth. Arguments were avoided and topic were reassessed. By the end of the second day in solitary, Yancy could confidently say that a lot of his issues were worked thoroughly. He would only phrase it like that because that was what you likened it to: if you don’t work dough, the bread that comes out will be floppy and weak, but if you knead it all equally, it’ll be able to hold its shape on its own.

He liked that analogy, he liked most of what you said, but a particularly touchy subject came up while you both talked over your dinner.

Yancy was almost knocked off of his feet when the words left your mouth, and he had to take a second to centre himself. After all, he wasn’t feeling overly emotional, and this certain thing only came out when he was overwhelmed. Whether it was anger or sadness, he was exclusive to the bad times.

“We don’t have to talk about him right now, but parents are normally behind a lot of issues,” you offered, facing the hole in the wall. Your tray of food had been discarded when you realized you still didn’t have any utensils. Of course, Yancy was kind enough to trade with you again, leaving you with three apple cores in the corner of your room.

He hadn’t taken a bite of anything.

“So, it’s normal, then?” His vision was downcast, a stark change in tone showing hope and doubt.

You shrugged slightly. “Normally doesn’t end with murder, but yeah.”

Yancy sighed, breathed in, and continued to exchange breaths until he felt he was ready. When he had fully quietened, he whispered just barely loud enough to hear, “I’m ready.”

“Then start from the beginning.”

Yancy’s upbringing could be described, as many others could, as rough. The only problem with that would be it wouldn’t do it justice on its own. Add in depressing, dramatic and downright traumatic, and you would get a better picture. To CPS, this was not what they saw; an employee once ended up at their front door, and what they saw was something entirely different. Baked cookies cooling on the table, washed clothes hanging on the line outside and smiling faces everywhere you looked. It was a front designed perfectly for that person to not report anything but joy back to the top.

But on days when visits were not scheduled, it was a nightmare. Yancy was born an only child, but to scrape up extra cash, his parents gathered a gaggle of children to babysit on weekdays. Tom was his favorite, Jane was adorable, and a pair of twins who lived a block down were trouble. It was all fine, except none of them got more attention than a pleading smile from Yancy’s mother, and a venomous, snide look from the man of the house.

His father hated kids. God knows why he had one of his own in the first place, and not even he knew why he stuck around. They would have been better off without him, Yancy would have been better off without him. He wouldn’t have been spending his early mornings biking down alleyways and trading bricks for cash. It was no secret that Yancy’s father was the town’s dealer, half of them were too scared to report him and the other half were his clients. The time he should have been spending learning the Pythagoras theorem or what a noun was, he was busy evading the cops’ daily routes and dishing out little, transparent baggies. His grammar never got better, that’s for sure, and, on one sunny Thursday afternoon, he ended up a couple streets away from Brooklyn.

And when he returned home with a new accent and interesting dialect, home-life went from a nightmare to pure hell.

He could remember that day like it was yesterday, as clear in his mind as the last shower he took. Shame it wasn’t as warm, or as comforting or homely. It was the complete opposite, in fact, because that was the day that everything twisted.

Freshly sixteen at the time, Yancy wandered through the overgrown grass, followed the stone path like the back of his hand. The rocks were cracked in two from being picked up and thrown, and dirt was visible around each piece. The front door creaked when he pushed against it, not even fully closer, and paint chips rained down on his shoes. It wasn’t a nice house, but it was one of the bigger ones that could fit as many people as they wanted it to. He couldn’t say it was in good condition, though.

Jane was quick to race up to him the second he stepped inside. He was flooded with cold, but her little smile sure made up for it. She was so excited to show him her schoolwork. The crayon drawing surely a picture for the fridge – he wondered how she ended up here.

There was some yelling from upstairs, but he ignored it in favor of heading to the kitchen. He knew his father would be in there, counting bills or sorting out pills. He had been such a scumbag, doing the same thing no matter who was around.

Keeping as quiet as possible, Yancy tried to be subtle in opening the cupboard. A cough from his left. It hadn’t worked, and even though he was sure the man despised every breath he took, he liked keeping tabs on the people around him.

“Did everything go well today?”

Really, he should’ve just said yes, and left it at that. He should’ve been in and out of the room like a flash. He should’ve been quiet.

But he was tired of being quiet. This guy that lived in the same house as him had no power over him. He had his bike, he could leave whenever he wanted, and his mother? Those times together, when it was just the two of them, were times he would treasure until the end of his life, but they were too few and too far between. His father shadowed every little interaction, as if a single word misplaced would mean the gallows. The one important thing that his father taught him was that consequences only mattered if you had a plan to get far.

So, he opened his mouth and replied, “Nah, dad, and I’d think youse’d know that.”

A strange accent, especially coming from someone you barely conversed with, should not have been that hard-hitting, but it set something off in the man. The bag of whatever-the-hell drug he was pushing now slammed to the table and bootsteps replaced the distant hum of a faulty boiler.

“What’d you say to me, boy?”

Yancy wasn’t a tall 16-year-old, but he made up for it with confidence, real or not. He broadened his shoulders and stuck out his chin.

“Youse heard me.”

“Youse? Where’d that come from?”

His tone was annoyingly plain, his words not worth staining with anything but deadpan. Yancy wasn’t worth it, apparently, and it only worked to fuel his anger.

“Don’t talk like that,” he ordered, “We’re from Ohio.”

In a fit of something more than rage, Yancy pushed against his chest and sent himself stumbling backwards. “Youse is from Ohio! We ain’t a family!”

“Don’t raise your voice to me.”

This would have been a good time to calm down, but he was on a roll with no sign of stopping. “I’ll do whatever I want! You don’t got nothin’ over me.”

Yancy twisted on his heel, ready to storm out to his bike and never come back into that hellhole, but a rough hand on his shoulder rooted his feet into the ground.

“Look,” he huffed, “I didn’t send you to school for you to end up speaking like this—”

If Yancy’s blood wasn’t boiling by now, then that surely did it. “Youse didn’t send me to school at all!” he yelled, tears billowing into his eyes, “I ain’t been to school in years, and youse’d know if you paid any goddamn attention to your kid, but youse don’t, so I ain’t gonna pay any attention to youse.”

The man’s tone shifted from enraged to a chilling calmness. He spoke as if he were explaining the alphabet to a child, “And why do you think I don’t pay any attention to you?”

He spluttered for an answer, eventually landing on a shaky, “Th-this ain’t a therapy session, youse just don’t like me.”

Now, he seemed almost shocked, and Yancy was almost going to punch him in the gut. “And why would you think I didn’t like you?”

“’Cause you—” His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He was trying to find an answer to this question, but even though it had years of evidence building up, nothing concrete came to mind, “— ‘cause you don’t! Don’t try to trick me, I know what you’re doing!”

“See,” a smile broke out onto his face, “there you go, back to normal.”

And, with that cheerful proclamation, he began to stalk back to his seat, where mismatched pills and baggies lay. Yancy felt his own feet move before he had the conscious thought to.

“Not back to normal!” he shouted back, a painful voice crack diminishing his confidence.

It was then that his mother peaked her head through the doorway, toting a frowning Tom behind her. Her clothes were torn in places, and a subtle, red splatter marred the bottom of her skirt. Yancy would have been concerned about this new feature if his mind weren’t clouded by anger towards the guy who made it happen.

Nevertheless, she asked meekly, “Is everything alright in here?”

His father was fast to answer, “Yes, everything is fine.”

Yancy wasn’t having it and, instead, jumped to cover up, “No, it’s not, dad—”

Like a sibling reprimanding the tattletale, the fully-grown man rolled his eyes and hissed, “Oh, be quiet for once in your life, Yancy.”

The lady was on the verge of saying his name, just a small word to get him to calm down, but he saw right through her and snapped, “Back off, woman.”

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that!”

In the corner of his eye, Yancy saw Tom slowly creep back to the staircase. His mother was too shocked to stop him, and his father, oh, his father tilted his head to look back to his only son. The careless smirk he once sported dropped into a vile scowl.

“So, you’re the man of the house, now, eh?” he mocked.

His skin turned cold, and shivers threatened to move him like an earthquake. Still, he replied, “Damn right I am, youse ain’t good enough.”

“Don’t speak to your father like that,” came another reprimand. Thinking back on it, he wasn’t sure if it was his dad or mum, but he was sure that it happened, and it pissed him off.

“Youse ain’t—”

Two hands secured tightly on his shoulders held him in place. Any thoughts of running or even taking a step back were banished from his mind. Out of fear of inability, he wasn’t sure, but he was forced to listen as his father ordered, “Either you stop that dumbass dialect of yours, or you can get out.”

His face got so close that he could see the wrinkles and off-set tan lines that ran laps around his eyes. The malicious glint the brown contained, the worst-kept secret of his family. His father was the devil himself, and he was sure that if he wanted to do anything to help them, he’d have to figure out what God did to get him out of heaven.

“So, what’s it gonna be, huh, son?”

Just six hours later, Yancy got out alright – it just wasn’t in the way his father had expected.

Blood on his hands, dripping a candy-trail for the four other children towards the police van, Yancy was barely conscious of him sitting down inside. He didn’t notice the revving of the engine, the moving of the scenery, the pat-down, the induction, any of it. It all passed in a blur, but he knew one thing for sure.

He didn’t want to be free – ever again.

You sat wide-eyed against the wall. You had expected a simple fight, teenage rebellion, and a bad attitude to the law. Yancy’s story was not that, in fact, but it, surprisingly, made more sense. Yancy was kind and generous and he understood the value of good relationships. That normally only happened after something bad.

And that was definitely something bad.

A sigh escaped your lungs as you processed the new information. It didn’t hurt any pre-conceived notions, it added to the ones you had been working on, actually. The whole abandonment thing, the protective golden retriever persona, it all made sense even with this new development.

A few moments after his final words, you nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Now that everything had settled, you were fine with it. It wasn’t surprising, considering where you were – the solitary wing of a penitentiary – and you actually commended Yancy for getting busted for something he believed in. It was a lot better than you; you were just doing your job for some capitalist pig.

Yancy was more shocked than you were. You had accepted this side of him faster than anyone had before. Maybe that was just your personality – or maybe you were in denial. Right now, though, he didn’t care, and that was a great feeling.

“So, do you want to start with the kids?” you asked, stretching out your back after so long lost in his story.

Confusion struck him faster than his consciousness could keep up with. Why would you want to talk about them? Then, of course, he remembered why he had told you about his whole deal in the first place, and a blush crept like a snake up his neck.

He laughed awkwardly, “Yeah.” And he was more than happy to talk about his little group of troublemakers.

Speaking of which, his current group of troublemakers had been rioting outside of the warden’s office for the past two days. They still adhered to their schedule, going to their cells before lights out and eating when told to, but you best believe that every other minute was spent blocking Mr. Murder-Slaughter’s door. That was, in total, an hour and six minutes per day, but that was enough to get on his nerves.

Coming back to the prison after a night out with his family, he was both amazed and annoyed to find Yancy’s clique sitting with make-shift signs, blocking his way back to his room. He pinched the bridge of his nose, heaved the largest huff he could muster and gathered all of the officers in the penitentiary.

When everyone was all in one place, he called out, “Does anyone know what is going on with our prisoners?”

Nobody answered for a second, but soon, a young newbie was shoved into the pit in front of the Warden.

“W-well, they’re protesting… sir.”

“Protesting what?”

“That guy, their friend, they don’t like that he’s in solitary.”

He had expected them to be mad, but he didn’t think it’d get to this point – but, that begged the question, why were they still there!?

“And why is no one doing anything about it?”

More silence, until the first guy took it upon himself to just be the spokesperson in general. Lightly, he coughed into his hand and answered, “They’re not doing anything wrong. They have a right to be there.”

The Warden looked dumbly at the kid. He was barely over 20, it was a wonder as to how he landed this job, but he had, and he also had the unfortunate job of breaking any news to the boss there. Murder-Slaughter pitied him.

“You’re guards, for Christ’s sake, you have weapons!”

“Y-yeah, but it’s… it’s illegal, sir.” He was getting more confidence the more they talked, and he was even beginning to be backed up by his colleagues. A few prisoners looked around the corner and went to tell Yancy’s group of the events.

“Who cares?”

“The law, and we do, too, sir.”

He spluttered, spit out some half-assed remark about their power – the kid retaliated with morality, he hissed another order, he battled it back, and this whole circle went on for another ten minutes before the Warden had reached his limit.

“I don’t care what you do, just get them away from my door!”

He stormed away, to who knows where because his office was inaccessible, but that left the officers with all the power to do whatever they wanted.

And, surprisingly, that fully aligned with the rules, because rhythmic steps broke through the faint chatter of solitary. A distant drip of water had the newbie grimacing, but he made his way down the hallway, nonetheless, swinging a chain of keys all the while. It was only when he came to an occupied cell did he stop.

“Hey?” he called out awkwardly.

Equally as awkward, Yancy yelled back, “Hey…?”

“Your friends have, um, mutinied, I guess?”

If you were able to see each other, you and Yancy would have shared a confused but entertained look.

“So?” Yancy asked.

“You’re free to leave.”

The metal door swung into the brick wall, luckily covering up the hole, and prompting the prisoner to stand up. His back cracked from how long he had spent on the floor, and, although this clearly meant he was able to go back to the comfort of his own cell, it was overshadowed by a guilty, sad feeling. Had he gotten used to the confinement? It’d barely been a week, and he hadn’t succumbed to it that easily before, so it was unlikely. Then, it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, he had gotten used to you. The person who got him through a lot of his problems and comforted him, even though they had seen little more than a tattooed hand. His cell mate.

A near attempt to call out to you was shut down by a pair of cold, calculated cuffs snapping against his wrists. He had nearly forgotten this was a prison, and he was considered dangerous. Your reaction had made that strange reality to him.

Back through the rooms, back through the corridors, back through, back, back, back – further away from you. He began to feel guilty, disappointed; he missed you already, and he noticed that his attachment issues hadn’t been solved just quite yet. He frowned.

His cell wasn’t as comforting as when he had left it. The bed was comfortable, it flattened under his weight, and yet, the material was mocking him. He drew his legs to his chest and stared at the wall across from him. It was concrete. It was sturdy and complete.

His eyes and heart fell.

It took Yancy a week to feel better. His friends, when he had approached them that evening for dinner, were welcoming and helpful. They cheered and talked and joked just as they had before he had gone into solitary. Sparkles threw mashed potatoes at Tiny, Bam-Bam fought back with churned milk – but nothing was the same for Yancy. It didn’t bring him the same joy to see his friends as it had before. He couldn’t resist the thought that something was missing, and he knew exactly what that something was. He was almost ashamed to admit that he missed you after barely a day of talking to you, but he reminded himself of what you’d said to him. He didn’t have to be ashamed, so he wasn’t. It was his decision.

That didn’t stop him from missing you in the first place, though.

And all throughout the next seven days, going through the schedule, he thought about what he’d show to you when you got out. Maybe the exercise equipment, or the food that you’d actually get utensils with, or his cell! You’d probably appreciate a good place to sleep for a while, you weren’t exactly likely to get much sleep on a concrete slab.

With those ideas in mind, he started to get excited for your release. Sitting on the table with his friends, he glanced around. They had been given the general idea of who you were, but your physical appearance was something he couldn’t pinpoint, and he kept some of the topics of conversation close to the chest. He’d blush furiously when they talked about it, and even more so when it turned into teasing. Stuff about his getting a crush, like a schoolboy, made him grow redder and redder, to the point he wasn’t sure if his blood was on the inside or out.

All of that was nothing compared to when you emerged, handcuffed, and dressed in the prison garb, from the solitary wing.

He might’ve passed out had he not been sitting on the table, but he couldn’t help his eyes swimming along your figure. He had expected gorgeousness but Jesus… Now, for completely new reasons, his feet moved quicker than his brain, and Yancy gripped your hand – rough, calloused, amazing – and tugged you into any random hallway. Lucky for him, the guards seemed to understand what was happening and didn’t follow.

He found it difficult to communicate his feelings at first. His mouth widened and shut, his eyes squinted and then dilated again. He was confused and shocked and excited all at once.

Finally, he sighed and whispered, “Hey.”

You smiled back. “Hey.”

He was so giddy, like a kid on Christmas morning. He had half the mind to pick you up and twirl you around – it was such an unfamiliar feeling that he actually got as far as securing his hands on your waist before he realized what he was doing. However, they stayed planted when you wrapped your own around his back.

“Hey, Yancy,” you muttered.

He was freaking out. He hadn’t learned what to do in this kind of situation, let alone talking face to face with you! If you could even call what you were doing ‘talking’, it was like you were doing tap dance around acting normally. Did he hate it or love it, he had no clue, but he knew that it was happening.

And, at that rate, only one thing could stop it.

Yancy had always been bad with relationships, dating and any kind of personal rapport, so you can only imagine how bad he is with kissing.

Fireworks overloaded his mind, clearing out fog and replacing it with bright lights and flashing bulbs and his own heartbeat in his ears. Your lips felt exactly how they looked, tasted like the apple you had probably just eaten for dinner. He wondered, briefly, if they had given you utensils this time, but it was overcome by you pushing further into his lips. Your hands darted against his spine, and he squeezed his own out of instinct.

The air you breathed mingled in one space when you leaned back just an inch. It was far enough that you could speak, but you weren’t given the chance to as Yancy connected your lips once more. After spending practically all of his life without this kind of thing, there was no way in hell that he would let you go so easily.

“Yancy, chill out,” you chuckled, securing him further away. It wasn’t even a full ten inches, but it worked to get him to pay attention to you.

“Sorry,” he whispered, slowly edging forward, “youse just too sweet.”

Your smile widened.

“Well, you’re gonna have to wait a bit, you’ve gotta introduce me to your friends, first.”

A determined look fell over Yancy’s face, a curtain drawing to a close the romantic gestures, and bringing you by the hand towards his table.

Now, looking out over Happy Trails Penitentiary, you were certain that, fuck those suits, you never wanted to be free.

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