#we used to have slugs all over my front porch as a kid

[doctormage]

I love slugs!!!!! they are a happy omen a herald of fair fortune a symbol of good luck and a blessing. my bf just found one by our back door and it took a lil trip on his adidas slide

[queen-of-hellfire666]

Warnings: cussing, violence, fluff

Authors note: this is a little longer than I expected. I love the outsiders and made my own little world with them!!

Pairing: The outsiders X reader

There’s one thing I knew. Being a greaser was never easy. But with the gang, it came with a price.

There was a commotion from the living room. Two bit and pony were wrestling like kids. “Uncle! Say uncle!” Two bit squeezes him but not to hard. “UNCLE!” Ponyboy yells gasping as two bit lets him go.

“Keith.” I lean on the door frame everyone turning toward me. My voice soft. More of a coo, everyone knew what that meant. He jumped up as quick as he could. “Hey baby.” He kisses me. “I was gonna get boozed up and watch mickey.” He smirks.

“Fine. I will go with Pony to the movies then.” I grab my leather jacket. “Now hold on!” He grabs me. “Socs are likely to jump you.” He looks at me. “I’ll be okay. Come on Kiddo.” I put and arm around him and walk with him to the movies.

“What did you wanna see?” I look down at him. “Uhh. Can we watch something scary?” He asks softly. I smile. “Sure. Don’t tell your brothers on me though.” I tease. We sit down watching a lochness monster movie.

I could have swore it wasn’t a full movie but it was over. It was also dark out. It worries me. “Hey. Let’s go kid.” I put my arm around him as we walk. I feel the chilly air making me shiver. “Y’cold?” He asks. I shake my head. “I’m okay.”

I hear the tires.. I smell the smoke. I should have known. “Hey greasers!” I hear a over friendly voice. I hear them get out and see them surround me and pony. “Back up.” I look at them.

“Let’s teach this greaser bitch a lesson!” They try to grab pony but I step in front of him. “Leave him alone.” I grab my switch blade that two bit gave me but they grab me. 4 at once. “RUN PONY!” Ponyboy runs as they have me. I assume he’s gonna get help.

It burned. It was pain. Everything hurt. They kept kicking and smacking me. I get one good slug in on them. I cough up blood as they keep beating me while I’m down.

One gets on me and pulls a blade. “We’re gonna have some fun little greaser bitch.” I feel the knife slice my leg cutting my pants. I scream out for anyone. “KEITH!!!” They put their hands on my mouth. I whimper.

‘Please pony.’ I think. I can’t see very good due to the fact of them slugging me and kicking me. It hurts and I want it all to stop. I hear feet and yelling but can’t see straight.

I feel a warm hand on my face. “Two?” I whisper in a raspy voice and cough. “Hey. Let’s get you home. Ponyboy ran fast to come and get us.” I cough blood all over Two-Bit. “Oh gosh. I’m sorry Keith I-“ he stops me with a kiss and picks me up.

“You okay?” Pony running a rag over my head. “yeah. I’m alright. Thanks to you.” I hear SodaPop growling. “It’s okay if you didn’t catch ‘em.” I whisper. “No it’s not.” Dally chimes in. “Let’s get you home.” I couldn’t Cry. It’s not okay to cry. I’m okay. I’m alive.

I burry my face into Bits chest as I let out an aching sob. Everyone I coulda’ swore stopped to make sure I was okay. I was really. It was just the pain and the agony of being beat half to death.

Everyone at dinner that night was silent. I ate on the floor with Ponyboy and Johnny while watching some bugs bunny show.

I kept seeing pony throw looks up at me every mouthful of potatoes. Truth be told I’m terrified. “Can I give you a hug?” Pony whispers. I smile softly. “Sure.” He squeezes me tight and mumbling a quick ‘thank you.’ As he finishes his hug, two bit breaks out beer making me sigh.

I walk out on the front porch. I hear footsteps whom I assumed was Dallas. “Hey.. I uh.. I’m sorry.” He whispers. “About what?” I look at him. “Letting the socs go. It was an accident.” I shake my head scoffing. “I don’t care about them.”

“Why you out here then?” He asks. I sigh wiping blood off my lip. “Because I don’t see Keith get flat faced drunk. I’m tired of him drinking.”

“Well. Im headed back in. It’s getting cold. I wouldn’t stay out here too long.” He kisses my head softly. Dallas is always like an older brother. He’s always caring for me. We always hand out here anyway but he’s always taking care of me some how.

I hear Keith’s laugh as he stumbles out of the house to me. “Hi-“ I brush his hand off. “Your already drunk.” I growl. “I.. im sorry. It’s just a buzz.-“ I cut him off. “No go on. Drink yourself out. Just don’t expect me to be in bed with you tonight.” I take the last draw off my cig and throw it out.

“Ponyboy, bedtime kiddo. Johnny, you too don’t worry I already called all your moms and told them your staying here for the night.” Everyone claps smiling.

I put pony in bed and Johnny in bed as well. Ponyboy grabs my hand. “Y/n/n. Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep..” I smile.

“Course’ kid. SodaPop ain’t coming to bed soon I suppose.” He snorts. I lay next to him, he lays his head on my chest listening to my heartbeat. I hold him close. Ponyboy is like a little brother. I love him to pieces.

I care for him more than my own self. I don’t realize myself falling asleep but I feel someone picking me up from the bed. Assuming it’s probably Soda or Dallas. “Mmm.” I let out an audible groan.

I hear Dally’s laugh. “I’m taking you to bed chill. You were in soda’s spot.” He laughs again.

I assume I’m placed on the couch because the lights as off and all I feel is a tv light on my face. A blanket is placed over me. “Goodnight, y/n/n.”

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios University

Some of the blistering heatwave Arkhelios had been under was finally beginning to relent. It was still hot, but safe enough for the kids to run around the yard without wearing a bottle of sunscreen each. It had been days since his conversation with his uncle, and Roman was still happy to willfully ignore everything they’d discussed. Osbert’s daughter didn’t attend the same school as Theo anymore, and while Lucy lived in the same house as the girl, Lucy didn’t seem interested in conquering the Yoxall family along with the Rivales family. Roman wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do the next time he ran into Osbert, or how he could remain calm enough to accuse him of breaking up the Bellamy family. That was a conversation that would happen well into the future, if it happened at all. Roman was exceptionally good at running away from his problems.

The project for the afternoon was catching bugs and trying to identify them. Theo was working on a project for school and his sisters were assisting him as best they could. Their help usually ended with Roman’s front yard flowers being dug up, but he didn’t really have an attachment to them anyway. They had been an addition from Wanda’s reign over the household. The girls had insisted on Roman dressing up to help them dig for bugs, while Theo was keeping to himself for a suspicious amount of time.

Roman watched his son carefully. The project had only called for a few specimens to be caught and properly identified, but lately Roman had been noticing some strange behaviour in the local wildlife.

“Theod-Theo,” Roman called, catching himself before he used his son’s full name. The school had been insistent on keeping Theo’s name private and his parents were doing their best to comply. “I couldn’t help noticing that these beetles were moving in perfect synchronization.”

“What does that mean?” Theo asked, focused intently on an ant hill.

“It means that they’re moving together at the same time,” Roman explained, trying to sound authoritative. “Kind of like the squirrels yesterday who lay on the ground staring at each other all afternoon. They moved their paws together too and have been sitting on the same branch all day, just staring at each other.”

“And?”

Roman sighed heavily. This wasn’t exactly how he imagined parenting would be.

“Theo, I want you to be honest with me,” he began. “Are you doing magic with the animals around here?”

Theo nodded excitedly, and held in his hands two slugs that were wrapped around each other tightly.

“Yeah,” he exclaimed proudly. “I’m practicing! I need to practice if I’m going to run your wedding. My teacher says humans are harder to join, and I don’t want to mess up in front of everyone. Look! These guys are in love now. They share a connection, like you and Dad will.”

Roman stared at the writhing mass of slugs before him and tried not react.

This is a positive step. My son is talented and needs to be encouraged. I will not end up mindlessly staring at Abe until we undoubtedly starve to death and the house burns down. My son is talented and needs to be encouraged.

“Good job,” Roman said weakly. “Maybe you shouldn’t bond everything you see though, buddy. What about some animals that mate for life? Or the fish? I don’t see the harm in bonding the fish in your tank.”

Theo’s eyes grew huge with excitement.

“I should!” he exclaimed, already starting to run inside when Roman caught him.

“Hey, let’s finish your other homework first and then we’ll see about the fish. Maybe your teacher has a better exercise to practice with. You can ask her on Monday. We should get you something to drink in a minute. We’ve been out here for a while now.”

To Roman’s surprise, his bug hunting group was about to have unexpected visitors.

“Abe? Your siblings are here,” he called out.

Abe poked his head curiously out the front door.

“Both of them? Something must be wrong.” He stepped on the porch cautiously and handed a cup of water to his son. “Here’s the water you wanted. You guys need to stay hydrated out here.”

“I didn’t ask for-” Theo began.

Lucy waved to Abe and Noelle copied her.

“Hey, Abe, I have some things to look over with you if you have time,” she said. Lucy threw an irritated glance at the brother beside her. “This asshole is here to get him out of my house. He keeps skulking around with Tennyson, getting up to god knows what. He’s supposed to be at university.”

“Hey Roman,” Nathan greeted, leaning towards his future brother in law flirtatiously. “Why don’t we leave the boring Chuns here and find somewhere private to talk? I mean, I’ve already been possessed by one demon, and I’m open to being possessed by another.”

“Oh my god Nathan, you’re the literal worst,” Lucy scolded her brother. “I know you’re pathetic, but Roman? Really?”

“Is your little brother hitting on me?” Roman whispered to his fiance. “Hitting on me by implying he slept with my grandfather...as a child?”

Abe gave his brother a nasty look, which Lucy seconded.

“I don’t know, Roman. My brother must be confused,” Abe stated coldly, staring his brother dead in the eye. “Clearly he takes after our father, and thinks that engaged or married people are fair game to flirt with. I don’t think he realizes that Gareth didn’t mean anything to me and that flirting with you will have...consequences he may not want.”

Abe’s words hung in the air, but Nathan refused to acknowledge them. Instead he blew Roman a kiss and laughed when Abe became so angry, his brother could almost see the steam coming out his ears. Lucy had been right, Abe was fun to pick on.

“Can we all stop pretending that Roman is desirable in anyway and get out of the sun? It’s making Noelle cranky.”

“She’s only cranky because you’ve started taking an interest in her,” Nathan muttered under his breath. “She was doing fine until you decided to try to be a mother.”

“Go to hell Nathan,” Lucy snapped. She hadn’t heard exactly what he’d said, but she could assume it was something awful about her from the look on his face. “If you’re so hot for demons, maybe you’ll like it better there.”

Roman started to protest that the dimension demons lived in wasn’t anything like a stereotypical hell, but changed his mind. The Helios-Chuns weren’t worth correcting when they all got like this.

“I’m always in hell, as long as you’re nearby,” Nathan shot back, earning a not so friendly punch on the arm from his older sister.

“Send him to Pleasantview. I’ll see him there in Pleasantview.”

“Abe?”

Roman rushed to his fiance’s side as he gripped his head tightly. This was the second return of Abe’s random mumbling about Pleasantview and neither of them knew what it meant.

“I’ll see him there. In Pleasantview. Send him there.”

“Uh, maybe you should go lie down again,” Lucy suggested, maneuvering him away from Roman’s worried grasp and into the house. “Were you out in the sun for too long?”

Lucy had shoved Noelle into her brother’s arms before escorting Abe away in search of a cold compress and left Roman standing awkwardly with his future brother in law.

“Finally, we’re alone,“ Nathan said in a voice that Roman assumed was trying to be seductive. Roman had seen Nathan potty train while visiting Abe as a teen. It was impossible for Roman to ever see the troubled Chun in a sexual way, whatever game Nathan was playing at.

“What do you possibly think is going to happen between us?” Roman asked curiously. “I’m marrying your brother. We’re having another kid together. I don’t remember a time when we’ve even spoken to each other back when we lived in the same house. What are you getting out of this? Did Nickolas dare you to hit on me or something?”

Nathan smiled coyly, his expression cryptic with his sunglasses obstructing his eyes. 

“I’m the Helios heir,” he replied. “I care deeply about the other families of Arkhelios and their happiness. Rumour has it that you’re about to take a giant step with my brother, and I just wanted to let you know that I’m here if you need me. For anything.”

Roman frowned. Lucy had probably talked about Roman’s impending wedding contract with her fiancee where Nathan could overhear her. He had apparently been spending a considerable amount of time at the Rivales house if Lucy’s complaints were any indicator. Roman’s marriage to Abe was public knowledge, but they had been careful not to mention Theo’s homework assignment in front of anyone who wasn’t Lucy. She had to be Nathan’s source. There was still something off about Nathan that put Roman on edge, but he couldn’t quite pin down what that was.

“Thanks,” Roman said, carefully watching Nathan’s reaction. “I’ll be sure to let you know if I need your help.”

Lucy, Roman knew. He could usually predict her reactions with some degree of accuracy, though no one could really be one hundred percent sure about what went through her devious mind. He once shared an unspoken connection with Abe, and their hearts and minds were nearly synchronized as they prepared to be connected again. Nathan was the truly unreadable Chun. In the chaos of his teen years, Roman had been too busy to notice the withdrawn little brother that Abe usually ignored. As the years passed, that little boy had grown into the hostile, bitter man who seemed to take joy in Roman’s discomfort. Whatever therapy Elaine had paid for all those years ago seemed to have no effect on her son. Nathan’s uneasy hostility was something Roman would have to keep an eye on going forward, especially if he knew about their planned wedding contract.

“Veni huc ad me!”

Lucy looked worriedly over her shoulder to see if Roman was anywhere nearby. Abe was mumbling even worse now and Roman would have him in the emergency room within ten minutes if he saw this. With everything Lucy had seen over the years of dealing with the Bellamy family, she had her doubts that a hospital could fix what was happening with her brother. It was never a good sign when ordinary people suddenly started babbling in latin.

“Can you try that again a little slower this time?” she asked. She had been taking latin for a while now for her job, but she still couldn’t easily pick it up when it wasn’t written down for her. It wasn’t exactly what her co-workers spoke around the office. One department was notorious for not even using the language; they just spent their paperwork through and hoped a higher department translated it for them.

Abe shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

“I saw it the other day. It was here, she had to have left it for me to find!”

“She?”

Abe bolted towards Roman’s office, which was still littered with Kamalani’s mediocre paintings. Lucy watched anxiously as her brother began sorting through them while still muttering to himself.

“Abe? Are you okay? Those are just dumb paintings, they don’t matter. Come lie down before Roman kills me for bringing them over in the first place. Please?”

If Abe hadn’t been desperate to find a painting he’d noticed from before, he would have been stunned to hear his sister actually say the word please and sound like she meant it. He would have to file that oddity away for later when his brain wasn’t being driven towards some kind of revelation.

“Abe? Come on, this isn’t funny anymore.”

Lucy unlocked her phone and scrolled through the list of saved numbers. Her finger hovered above a familiar number for what felt like an eternity, but she couldn’t bring herself to dial it. No, this was something she had to try to fix for herself first.

“Here! Here it is!”

Lucy tried to get a closer look at the painting Abe was triumphantly waving around. It didn’t look like anything special to her. It was hardly interesting enough to merit hanging on a wall. For a professional artist, Kamalani’s work was bland and dull.

“This isn’t anything, Abe,” she said gently. “It’s barely worth the materials it took to paint it.”

“Veni huc ad me,” Abe insisted, pointing to the title written in the corner of the painting. “This is important. I’ve seen this before.”

“Roman’s wearing that stupid hat, if that’s what you mean,” Lucy said skeptically. “That’s hardly shocking proof of some great conspiracy.”

“I’ve seen this shot before! I know I have! When you removed the bond between me and Roman, I saw...something. Weird things, things about the past! Kamalani was there watching me, thinking that I was Roman. She wants out of wherever she is and she wants Roman. What does this title mean, Lucy? I can hear it repeat over and over in my mind, but I have no idea what it means. Is it a threat?”

Lucy stared at the inscription, being careful not to show any emotion while translating it. The last thing she needed was for Abe to freak out and set Roman into a panic attack because she’d mistranslated a simple sentence.

“Do you know where this picture is set?” she asked cautiously. “It’s a desert in the painting, does that mean it’s in Arkhelios?”

Abe shook his head.

“It was in Strangetown,” he confirmed. “I saw Roman with some guy and then this woman just standing there. She has braids in the picture, just like Kamalani always wore. It was at the orphanage where Roman worked. In my vision she was watching him. This means something.”

“Uh, weird question, you two don’t happen to have a reason to visit there, right? No hidden kids, no secret affairs?”

“What do you think?” Abe snapped, and his sister shrugged.

“I had to ask,” she replied. “The title means ‘come here to me’, which is a little odd, considering that you think Kamalani of all people is asking you guys to meet her in a foreign orphanage.”

Abe sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. Judging from Roman’s earlier conversation with Hunter, he had an idea of why Kamalani wanted her son to travel to the orphanage that Keiki had been discovered in. Roman was going to have a breakdown when Abe told him that the mother he was terrified of was somehow influencing his fiance to meet her in the foreign country his supposed half-sister was from.

“I think I’m feeling okay now, can you take the kids for an hour or two?” he asked wearily. “Roman and I have to have a discussion and I think it’s probably for the best if they’re not here to interrupt us.”

“Only if you take me with you to Strangetown when you inevitably concoct some poorly thought out trip there,” she said. “This sounds like more demonic nonsense and the two of you can’t be trusted not to fall into some kind of trap without my help.”

“Consider it a deal if you also get rid of Nathan. I have no idea what’s up with him lately, only that he seems determined to get under Roman’s skin. The last thing I need is for him make this whole thing worse.”

[walkerwords]

“Hold On” Rick Grimes & Daughter!Reader

GIF CREDIT: http://gph.is/2yDy2U6

Request from @joelsheartache:  I'd like to request a Rick x daughter!reader. The reader it shot instead of Olivia, but instead of a head shot it's in her abdomen but the shot is still fatal. Rick tries to stop the blood flow and says things along the lines of "You're gonna be okay, baby girl! You just have to focus on me! No, no, y/n, keep your eyes open!" You can decide if she lives or not! This may not be the best request, but I really liked the idea!

Word Count: 3635

Warning: Major Angst

Song I Wrote To: “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet

Note: Oof this was a request that I was both excited and stressed to write. I hope you like it

------

When you discovered your brother was missing, you knew exactly where he had gone. 

You knew Carl wanted to kill Negan and you knew that he had been becoming more reckless since everything had happened at Terminus. Then, when Negan had killed Glenn and Abraham in front of him, Michonne had told you that something had shifted in your younger brother’s eyes.

You hadn’t been there when the Saviors had taken your people and killed your friends, but when they had returned and your father, Rick, came to find you, he hadn’t hesitated to take you in his arms and make sure that you were still there, that you were still alive. 

You were his eldest and whenever he wasn’t home, you were the one who wanted to look after your little sister. However, seeing how broken they all looked, a part of you wished you would have been there. Maybe you would have been able to stop Negan or at least stop him from taking Daryl. 

Living with Negan’s boot on your necks was horrible. Every day you woke up and you didn’t know what was going to happen. While you were used to that due to the new world, this was a new kind of danger and one your father was determined to keep you and your siblings from. 

That is until Carl decided to go all lone-wolf and test your patience.

The next time you saw your brother he was being led back through Alexandria by Negan himself. You were helping Gabriel in the pantry when they had arrived. Rage entered your chest as you saw the murderer walking alongside Carl, but when you saw where they were headed, that was when you nearly ran after them. However, Gabriel had grabbed your arm, shaking his head. 

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Remember what Rick said. Carl won’t let him hurt her and I don’t believe Negan would harm a child.” 

“He threatened to make my dad cut off his own son’s arm, Father,” you spat, staring after them. 

“But he didn’t and I don’t know what happened with Carl, but he is still alive and looks unharmed. We have to trust that he will be safe.” You pushed away from him.

“Nobody is safe anymore,” you had told him, “and if he touches a hair on Judith’s head, I’m going to kill him.” 

The rule that your dad had given you was simple: don’t let people know you were his daughter. At least, not his enemies’. You looked more like your grandparents than your parents and your Uncle Shane had once said that you could pass for Lori’s sister rather than her daughter which had come in handy at times.

Especially when Gareth hadn’t targeted you when he had attacked the church and so you were able to get a jump on him before your father had brought the machete down. 

You kept out of Negan’s way for as long as possible until the moment arrived when Spencer Monroe decided to make an appearance. You never liked Spencer, nobody in your family did. He was proud, arrogant, and he had been stuck in Alexandria for way too long. He was a child trying to be a man and you were done with his high and mighty attitude. 

When the moron had invited Negan to drink and play pool out in the street, that was when you had finally approached him and the others. Your brother was standing on the porch next to Olivia when you walked over. His eyes met yours and he shook his head, but you ignored him, planting yourself on the grass below him, crossing your arms. 

You watched as Spencer tried to convince Negan to work alongside him instead of your father and you had to keep reminding yourself to stay calm. Rick and Aaron were on their way back. It was only a matter of time before they came home. You knew that was what Negan was waiting for, the opportunity to rub it in your dad’s face that Carl had been returned safely. 

As you thought about all the ways you could potentially slit Negan’s throat, a cry of alarm brought you out of your thoughts. Looking up, you saw Spencer hunched over and in Negan’s hand was a blade dripping in blood. He was smiling as Spencer’s guts spilled from his abdomen. Monroe collapsed to the ground as his intestines slipped through his fingers.

Negan went to make some kind of speech when Rosita pulled a gun from the back of her pants. You barely had a second to stop her before she aimed and fired at Negan. You froze, waiting for his body to drop, but the bullet had hit his bat instead. 

“Shit! What the shit!” Negan bellowed as Rosita looked at him in utter shock. The next second, one of Negan’s lieutenants slammed Rosita into the pavement, holding her down by her throat. “Shit! You just‒ You tried to kill me!? You shot Lucille!” he screamed. Rosita sneered at him from the ground. 

“She got in the way,” she growled. Negan, fuming, turned Lucille to observe the slug that now marred her smooth surface.

“What is this? What is this? This little bad boy made from scratch? Look at those crimps. This was homemade. You may be stupid, darlin', but you showed some real ingenuity here,” Negan spat and then gestured to the woman that held your friend down. “Arat, move that knife up on that girl's face.” Rosita squirmed under Arat, but held her tongue. “Lucille's beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours?! Unless... Unless you tell me who made this.”

“It was me!” Rosita yelled from the ground. “I made it.”

“You see, now I just think you're lying. And you lying to me now? Such a shame. Arat's gonna have to cut up that pretty face,” Arat pressed the knife against Rosita’s cheek. “One more try.” Rosita remained silent.

“Oh! You are such a badass! Fine. Have it your way. Arat…, Negan paused as he lazily looked around the group that had gathered. “Kill somebody,” he finished and Rosita yelled, trying to shove Arat off of her. 

“No. It was me!” she tried again, but it was too late. In a single move, Arat spun on her knee, pulled her gun, and squeezed the trigger.

The next thing you heard wasn’t the gunshot, but the sound of your younger brother screaming as heat rushed into your abdomen.

-------

“No!” Carl screamed and Olivia watched in horror as you collapsed to the ground. 

Carl vaulted over the railing and slid to your side. “Oh god,” he said, trying to figure out where to put his hands, but there was already too much blood. You stared up at him, trying to figure why he looked so stressed, and when you looked down at yourself and saw the blood, the wound, terror entered your mind.

Not like this. 

From down the road came two people, running as fast as they could. Rick nearly dragged Aaron who looked to be beaten. When Rick had gotten to the group, both Tobin and Eugene tried to stop him.

“Rick, stop!” Gabriel said, trying to hide you from view. Rick pushed against the men that held him, handing Aaron over to Tara and Scott. When Gabriel tried to stop him again, Rick shoved him out of the way. 

And then, he saw you. 

It was like Lori all over again. He walked forward before his knees gave out and Tobin had to catch him again. Carl looked up at his father, tears already flowing from his left eye. “No!” Rick cried, agony soaking his voice. 

“Damn!” Negan said, “someone was popular.” 

“She’s Rick’s daughter!” Rosita snapped at Negan, getting her voice back as the cut on her face bled. Lucille went from his shoulder to down by his side in a single movement at her words and then Negan took a step back, his face full of shock. 

Rick nearly crawled to you, forcing himself to be by your side. His eyes widened as he took in your condition. You knew what he was seeing, there was too much blood. There wasn’t anything anyone could do. Rick was shaking as he knelt in the grass.  “No, no, no, dammit, please (Y/N), not like this, sweetheart,” Rick pleaded. 

“(Y/N),” Carl choked out, trying to get you to look at him. 

“No, I promised her,” Rick cried. “I promised Lori I would keep you safe! All three of you, I was supposed to protect all three of you…” Weak, you reached for your dad, sliding your hand up his face to feel the stubble that you loved so much. Blood smeared along his cheek as you tried to memorize the feel.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. 

“She’s only seventeen!” Gabriel hollered, turning his attention to Negan. You were only a year and a half older than Carl and while the two of you had grown up together, you had always felt responsible for him and now as you began to not feel the pain, all you could think of was how you didn’t want to leave him. 

“Dammit, Arat! What the fuck!” Negan yelled, approaching her. 

“You said to kill someone,” Arat argued, but Negan wasn’t hearing it. He grabbed her by her arm and hauled her up. 

“Not a fucking kid,” Negan snarled and then he threw her to his men. “Take her back to the Sanctuary. I’ll deal with her later.” As Saviors took care of their comrade, Negan turned back to you and your family.

Your father was leaning over you, brushing the hair from your face. Lifting your hand towards your brother, you ran it along the side of his face. Carl leaned into your touch, his best friend. You tried to wipe the tears that flowed down his cheek, but you could barely keep your arm up.

“You’re gonna be okay,” your dad said, pressing a firm kiss to the back of your hand, but you were shaking your head. 

“No, I’m not,” you said with a weak cough. “I’m so sorry dad,” you told him, tears falling from your own eyes. “I promised not... to go… near him.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Rick said. “Don’t apologize.” You began to cry more as the coldness seeped into your limbs. 

“Dad,” you whispered, “daddy, don’t let me...don’t let me turn.” Rick’s eyes closed as his sobs took over him. “Promise me,” you finished. 

“I promise, but you have to keep your eyes open for me. Don’t give up...” Rick pleaded and then you looked at your brother, your breathing labored as you mustered up the strength to look him in the eye. 

“Tell Judith...Carl, you need to tell her…” you tried to finish, but Carl was already nodding. 

“I will, (Y/N/N), I’ll tell her,” Carl promised.

“I love you both so much,” you said. “Michonne and Carol too and...Greene,” you said, not wanting to say Maggie’s name, not even then. “Tell them please.”

“We will,” Rick promised. “I love you so much.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” Carl cried. “I’m sorry I snuck out to go there.” You shook your head, silently begging him to not blame himself. “I love you.” You squeezed your eyes shut as you nodded quickly.

You didn’t try to stop the tears now as they came at full force. You had thought about dying since the beginning of the outbreak. It was hard not too. You had seen so much death already, but you never imagined this is how you would meet your end. 

With a deep breath, you turned your eyes to Negan, the only person who would be able to deliver your final message. Negan looked at you, bleeding and broken and he wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

“You,” you said hoarsely, “you need to tell Daryl that I meant it. Tell him I meant it. He’ll know,” you said and then with a cough, blood sprayed from your lips. As you stared up at the sky, your father turned his eyes to his enemy and they were as empty as he felt. 

Negan’s eyes went from your father’s face to the hatchet at Rick’s hip. His hand curled around the handle, red entering those bright blue eyes of his. Negan looked as if he wanted to say something, but seeing Grimes leaning over his dying child had shut him up immediately. 

Your father and brother held onto you as you lay in the grass of the front yard. There had been times that you thought you were going to die. The first time was when the farm was overrun, the second was when a Walker had nearly killed you while you were out on a run with Daryl at the prison, and the last time had been at Terminus. 

You thought you would be ready, but you weren’t. You didn’t want to die and you just knew that your father would stop at nothing to avenge your death and that was something that you dreaded, but you also knew nothing would stop him. Not Michonne, not Carl, and not even himself. 

Your grip loosened on your father and brother as you grew more tired. You didn’t know what would be on the other side. Perhaps there wasn’t anything anymore, but there was one person you were hoping to see and that was your mother. 

All you wanted was your mom. 

As darkness filled your vision, you imagined Lori reaching her hand toward you and with a small smile, you took your final breath. 

------

Tara was the first one to crumble. 

“(Y/N)!” she cried as Eugene caught hold of her, keeping her upright. Your best friend tried to get to you, but Porter made sure to keep her steady and in his arms. Rosita cried on the ground, guilt wracking her body as Gabriel stood by, saying a silent prayer for you. Carl stared down at you, your vacant eyes pointed at the heavens. He gently reached over and closed them, brushing his hand across your face. 

“Rick,” Negan tried, but Grimes was frozen in shock. Instead, Carl was the one to answer the killer before him. Carl stood and slowly faced Negan, creating a barrier between you and the enemy. 

“You killed my sister,” Carl said, tilting his head that was very much his father. Negan tried to speak, but Carl shook his head.  “Get out, Negan,” Carl said between his teeth, his hand reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, “before I do kill you and trust me I’ll do it with my bare hands.”

The look on the teen’s face told him everything he needed to know, but before Negan could react, Michonne came running down the street, her katana swinging behind her back. 

Everyone stepped aside as she ran towards you and her family. When she saw your body, Michonne’s eyes widened and then she ran to your side. “Oh, my girl,” Michonne said, gently, laying her shaking hand over your heart tears springing up behind her dark eyes.

Rick didn’t say anything as he reached over and took Michonne’s other hand, something he never did in front of outsiders. Michonne turned to the man she loved and pressed a kiss to his head as he leaned into her. 

Then, because he knew that there wasn’t an infinite amount of time, Rick drew his knife, turning it over in his hand. Michonne lowered the blade, not wanting him to do it. He didn’t need to be the one to do it. Instead, Aaron staggered forward and opened his palm, ready to take the burden from the Grimes’ family just as they would do for him. 

Michonne passed the knife to their friend as he kneeled down and turned your head to the side. Michonne buried her head into Rick’s shoulder as Aaron severed your brainstem and shoved the blade into your skull, placing you at rest for a final time. 

Carl continued to act as a barrier between you and the Saviors, allowing your father and the woman who had become like a mother to you, say goodbye. Carl, who was still crying, never wavered. 

“We’re leaving,” Negan announced and slowly the Saviors turned on their heels and walked back down the road, but not before Negan plunged his knife into Spencer’s skull, finishing him as he had begun moving once again. 

Scott, Tobin, and a grief-stricken Tara followed the Saviors out of Alexandria, slamming the gate behind them. In the distance, Tara could hear the wails of Rick, Carl, and Michonne as they cried for their daughter and sister who was stolen from them.

-----

It was well into the evening when you and Spencer were buried. 

It was agreed that Spencer would be buried next to Deanna and you, next to the flower bed. A part of Rick wished he could have taken your body to Hilltop to bury you with Glenn, but he knew he had to keep Maggie safe and not draw attention to the other community. 

Rosita had taken a car with Eugene to inform Maggie, Sasha, and Jesus of what had happened to you. Rick knew how much Maggie loved you and he dreaded to know how she reacted to the news. 

In the light of the moon, Carl, Michonne, and Rick knelt at your grave. Judith sat nearby, unaware that her sister was now gone forever. In her small hands was a bracelet that you had always worn, one she liked to play with. Carl had given it to her just before Gabriel had helped lower you into the ground. 

It was silent before commotion drew the Grimes’ family out of their thoughts. From behind a house, Tara appeared, out of breath with wide eyes.

“What is it?” Michonne asked, but Tara was just shaking her head. Rick and Michonne glanced at each other before getting to their feet and following Tara who was gesturing them to follow her. 

Carl stayed with Judith while Rick and Michonne made their way to the gate. What they saw, or rather, who, had Rick running at top speed. Leaning against Eric, bloody and beaten, but alive, was Daryl.

Rick ran to him, halting right before he plowed into the archer. Daryl squeezed Eric’s arm and promised him that he was good. Eric nodded and then left the brothers alone. “Daryl?” Rick asked, completely in shock. 

“Son of a bitch let me go,” Daryl explained, shaking his dirty hair out of his face. “Just walked into my cell, dragged me out, threw me in a truck, and dropped me a half mile that way,” he said, pointing over his shoulder.

Rick was trying to understand Negan’s reasoning, but all he could think about was the fact that Daryl was home and no longer in his enemies clutches. “He lyin’ about (Y/N)?” Daryl asked and Rick shook his head. 

Daryl didn’t hesitate any longer. He walked forward and took his brother into his arms. Rick collapsed against him, careful of his injuries. He clutched at Daryl’s back as the latter shook from emotion as well.

Daryl remembered when he had first met you. You were strong for a kid who had just seen the world burn and he liked you immediately. Then, you had met Beth on the farm and the two of you had been inseparable. He remembered how broken you were after her death and how you worked to overcome it, getting closer to Tara and your brother. 

He couldn’t even begin to imagine you lying in the ground, still and cold. Michonne approached Daryl next and kissed him on the cheek as he held her, feeling her grief as well. The three warriors leaned on each other as they felt your loss and then, eventually, Daryl needed to see you.

-----

Michonne and Carl gave Daryl and Rick a moment by your grave. There was a simple marker and the necklace you always wore, a gift from Shane, was looped around the top of the cross for now. Rick was planning on giving it to Judith when she was older. 

“What did she mean?” Rick said, breaking the silence. “(Y/N), she told Negan to tell you that ‘she meant it’. What did she mean?” Daryl sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. 

“She once told me that she wanted me to fight,” Daryl explained. “It was after Beth and I told her about my old man.” Rick nodded, knowing the story of Will Dixon and what the bastard had done to Daryl as well as Merle. “I was doubtin’ myself, I didn’t think I could protect anyone again after I lost her. She believed I was a better man than my dad. I guess she really meant it.” 

Daryl chewed on his thumb as he looked at the grave, willing himself not to cry. “She was about to be eighteen,” Rick said. 

“Born in the winter, right?” Daryl remembered and Rick nodded. “Yeah, Lori mentioned that once.” 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Rick said after a moment, his eyes on the night sky. 

“No more waitin’, man,” Daryl said. “We gotta fight and we gotta fight for her just as she was willin’ to fight for Glenn, Abraham, Beth, and every other damn person we’ve lost.”

Rick nodded and then Daryl offered his hand to his best friend. Rick gripped it tight. He made a silent promise to you then just as he had to Lori as she died, he wasn’t going to let them win and he wasn’t going to let the world take any more of his family. 

“We kill them all,” said Rick, “and Negan is mine.” 

TAGS:  @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner  @felicisimor @amaroho

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin To Yon Rah (Part 39)

This part was typed mostly on mobile. Sorry for any typos.

She remembers the first time she had seen snow. The feeling...it was bizarre. If she were to be completely honest, she would best compare it to the sensation of her worst days--the days when her mind is slipping and everything feels off and nothing feels real. But instead of fear, she feels awe. Instead of dread, she feels an almost childlike sense of delight.

And perhaps, in some sense, she is a child again; she has something new to discover. Something curious and strange.

"Hajime,look." She points out the window. "It's everywhere." And perhaps it is a silly thing to ask but she inquires anyhow, "how do we walk through it?"

"Like you walk anywhere else?" He quirks a brow.

"But in the Water Tribes...I've heard that there is special equipment used to navigate the snow."

He laughs, "the snow isn't that deep here!" He opens the door and gestures for her to exit.

"It's cold." She complains. Even under her winter wools, she finds herself shivering. And here Atsu goes, dashing out into the winter with no coat at all.

"Git back in here!" Hajime calls. "I tol' you last year 'bout going outside without a coat!"

Atsu comes to a halt, the magic of the morning coming to an abrupt pause with him. " But dad!"

"You need to help Rikka get dressed, she never had to wear a winter clothes before."

This seems to allure the boy and with a wide and gleeful grin he darts back into the house. "Hurry up and put your coat and gloves on, Rikka! We have to build snow people and throw balls of snow at each other and…" he chucks a coat and a pair of gloves at her--Hajime's she assumes based upon the size of them.

Azula stuffs her fingers into the gloves. Only one layer doesn't seem sufficient but another layer or two seems to aggravatingly restrict her finger movements and if she is going to destroy Hajime and Atsu at this snowball war, she is going to need a full range of movement from her fingers.

She steps out into the snow, she hears it sift beneath her weight. So far everything is going accordingly, there is no ice to land her on the ground.she deduces that, in most places, the snow only reaches up to her ankles which is, though an inconvenience, manageable enough. But she can't imagine that running from enemy fire will be as easy. She supposes that if she needs a speedy getaway she can just melt some of the snow and listen to Atsu screech about her cheating. Perhaps she would feel more guilty over it if Atsu weren't a merciless little brute. He does not wait for her to assemble her protective mound of snow before bombarding her with an onslaught of tightly packed snow.

"Gotcha!" He whoops with each hit that she fails to evade. It would seem that while she was assessing her surroundings he hand been stockpiling an extensive artillery.

"Geez, Atsu, show mercy, this is her first snowball fight." Hajime chuckles from his spot on the porch.

It is a nice thought but Atsu, the feral beast, knows nothing of mercy. He tosses snowball after snowball. She manages to create only one but before she can throw it, Atsu fires another shot. And this one sails directly down the front of her shirt. She feels it slide from her chest to her belly leaving her with a full body shudder as itself away. She had dropped her snowball. Never in her life has she felt anything quite like it; uncomfortable and somewhat biting but I'm a way that wasn't exactly painful.

She tosses a pathetically pleading glance to Hajime who throws his head back in a howling laugh. "Alright, alright." He gets to his feet and steps out into the battlefield.

"Uh oh…" Atsu mumbles, he is now we'll aware that he should have built himself a snow fortress. Azula gives him a smug smile as she lifts a new snowball.

"Uh oh." He repeats as her very second snowball sails right into his face.

Maybe she should feel guilty over it but he isn't crying and he brushes it right off. And besides, she is certain that he was aiming for her face the whole time anyways, he simply didn't have the arm strength to land any hits higher than chest level.

And by the end of the hour she is almost embarrassed by how satisfied she feels to have beaten a child at a children's game. Any tickles of shame are washed away by Atsus delightful giggles. His enthusiastic, "wait until Caihong and Kim get here! We'll kick yer butts until you don't have butts no more!"

People have bestowed upon her many threats. But none have been quite like that.

That day she learns that Atsu is very much a little shit and that, likely, she will never truly shake her competitive nature.

.oOo.

She has been to plenty of awkward dinners but the silence of this one is so thick that it is dizzying. She can’t help but notice the way that Sokka twiddles his thumbs and looks in every direction but his father’s and Katara’s. It occurs to her that he is ashamed of her. Is embarrassed to be seen with her. She supposes that it is a good thing that the snow storm has picked up too strongly to go for a stroll through the village. She can only imagine what sort of looks she will get from everyone else. A firebender...the princess among people who the Fire Nation has displaced and nearly destroyed. She is everything that they detest and she supposes that Sokka has every right to be embarrassed by that. Embarrassed in the same way that she had been to parade him around the Fire Nation at first.

“Aren’t you going to say anything, dad?”

The man gives something between a hum and a sigh, “I’m trying to figure out what to say.” Hakoda looks at her. His face isn’t as steely with stubbornness as Katara’s.

Azula stares at her palms. She should take her mittens off. But any little motion will draw too much attention. Not that Katara's resentful gaze has left her since she got to the table. She wants to have a taste of her seaweed stew but she is already mildly nauseous with nervousness and the scent of the stew doesn't exactly kindle her appetite.

"Just talk to her for a bit, dad, you'll like her." Sokka promises.

The flutters in her tummy intensify that much more. She wishes that he wouldn't make promises that even he isn't certain of.

"She likes history and strategizing just like you do and…"

"And she used it to foil our invasion and get him sent to the Boiling Rock." Katara folds her arms across her chest.

Azula cringes to herself, truth be told, she had forgotten about that. Comparatively speaking, it seemed much less profound than some of her other misdeeds.

"Yeah well she's done a lot of changing since then." Sokka insists. “See, she even has the redemption haircut!”

“The what?” Azula finally speaks up.

“Yeah, Zuko said he cut his hair before joining us and now look at him, he’s happy--but in a grumpy old man sort of way, he’s a good friend, and he’s got long flowing tresses.”

Azula rolls her eyes. She isn’t sure if she wants to slug the man to death right in front of his father and sister or if she finds his recant amusing. She supposes that it would ruin her chances to make amends of she murdered Sokka now. “It wasn’t a redemption haircut I had matted hair and, maybe, lice.” Ji-Zhang had only mentioned it being matted. She supposes if she had lice that they would have shaved…

“Azula.” Sokka manages to cut through her comfort musings. Granted her musings weren’t at all pleasant but her inner monologue very much beats the external alternative.

She realizes that Hakoda has extended his hand. It is far less formal than a bow but she will take what she can get. He gives her hand a shake. “I’m Hakoda.”

“Sokka told me that, already. And he has already told you my name.”

Sokka flushes, “you’re supposed to introduce yourselves to each other.” And then he turns to his father, “she’s still working on the whole having a normal conversation thing. It runs in the family.”

“I can have a normal conversation just fine.” She folds her arms and holds her head high.

“Well it’s...interesting to formally meet you, Azula.”

“Dad!” Katara says sharply. “She’s not a part of this family. I don’t care how much Sokka likes her.”

“Come on Katara.”

“Don’t ‘come on Katara’ me! You’re the one trying to welcome her into the Water Tribe.”

“I get it, this is for the whole Jet thing isn’t it.”

This time Katara blushes.

“Who is Jet?” Azula furrows her brows.

“Yes, who is Jet?” Hakoda agrees.

“You don’t know about Jet?” Sokka asks at the same time as Katara says, “you weren’t supposed to tell him about Jet!”

“Jet’s just some jerk that flooded a whole village full of kids. To drive out some Fire Nation soldiers.”

“Gaipan?”

“Yeah.” Sokka nods. “You know about that.”

Azula returns the nod. “We lost a few soldiers there. There were noble men and women.” She pauses. “Stubborn too. They might have been alright if they fled with the rest of the village but…”

“Firebenders and their pride.” Hakoda clicks his tongue.

She wants to call the man on his generalization but frankly she hasn’t met a firebender yet who didn’t value pride. And maybe that is why it is so hard for her to apologize to Katara and Hakoda. Though she isn’t certain that she particularly needs to apologize to Hakoda--he had led an invasion to defeat her father. He had encroached on her land. It was her duty to see those plans foiled. Though pointing that out probably won’t serve her too well.

“Can you give her a chance, Katara? I gave Jet a chance.”

“No you didn’t. You were protesting and whining the whole time.”

“And I ended up being right.”

“So will I.” With those three words, she storms out into the snow.

“That went flawlessly.” Azula grumbles.

“Just give her some time, she’ll come around when she realizes that you’re actually kind of a really sweet person.”

“I will set everything you love on fire…”

“You just like to pretend that you aren’t.” And to Hakoda he mutters, “It’s part of the firebender pride thing. You can’t let anyone know that you’re nice.” He slings an arm over her shoulder and pulls her in closer.

Azula sighs, it is going to be a long, long vacation or whatever in the spirits’ name she could call this.

[merakiaes]

A Nice Night In The Middle Of July - William Miller

Pairing: William Miller x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: Not proofread so sorry in advance for any possible mistakes. First time I’m writing for Will so sorry if it’s a bit OOC, leave a comment and let me know what you think xx

Wordcount: 3377

Summary: Having a barbecue with Will and the boys on a nice summer night. 

“This is why I can’t have nice things, you know.” You mumbled against Will’s shoulder, looking down at his hands as he struggled to fix the broken chain of your golden bracelet.  

Will only grumbled under his breath, using a small pair of pliers to bend open the small golden rings.

“I’m fixing it, don’t worry your pretty little head.” He insisted, like he had been for the past ten minutes.

But you knew that his patience was wearing thin, pressing a light kiss to his shirt-clad shoulder and gently rubbing his bicep with your hand. 

“Will, I love you and you know that.” You said, pressing another kiss to his shoulder. “You’re a good man and a good soldier, but you’re not handy. Not in the slightest.”

He stopped fiddling with the chain, turning his head around to look at you with his eyebrows raised in a playful manner. “What do you mean I’m not handy?” He asked. “I fixed the broken sink, didn’t I?”

“That’s not quite how I remember it.” You chuckled.

“No? How do you remember it?” He put the pliers down, turning his body towards you.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling as he took you into his arms. “You made it worse and Benny was forced to come over in the middle of the night to clean up your mess so that we wouldn’t flood and permanently damage the house. That’s how I remember it.”

He turned quiet for a moment, his fingers that had previously been rubbing small, comforting circles on your waist where his hand had found its place, coming to a halt.

“What is it with you and nitpicking, hm?” He asked after another moment of silence, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s not nitpicking if your brother saved us from going bankrupt all because you were too stubborn to admit you needed help, honey.” You pointed out, chuckling.

He started chuckling too. “Yeah, yeah.” He agreed, before leaning in closer to your face. “You know you love me.”

Smirking, you raised your arms to wrap them around his neck, fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Whatever makes you sleep at night.” You mumbled, and began leaning in to close the space between you.

Your eyes fluttered close and your lips were just about to brush against each other’s, when the door to the living room flung open with a loud bang, causing the two of you to jump apart in shock.

Your eyes instantly found Ben as he walked outside into the backyard where you were sitting, his arms thrown out and his hips moving around in a ridiculous dance.

“Who’s ready to get their party on? Woo-woo!” He sang and while Will annoyedly rolled his eyes beside you, you laughed at his childish antics, bringing a hand up to your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

“Jesus, Benny!” You exclaimed. “You scared the crap out of me.”

Benny laughed loudly at you, jumping down the steps of the back-porch and heading your way. “Well, I am naturally terrifying.” He answered playfully and you chuckled.

Before any of you could say anything else, Tom appeared, walking out through the same door as Ben had just seconds before.

“I think we’re too old to party.” He commented simply with a small smile playing on his lips as he headed down the steps and in your direction, referring to the first words Ben had spoken when coming outside.

Ben, however, didn’t listen, giving his friend a disappointed look. “Oh, come on, man. You’re never too old for a good ole’ bender.”

Tom raised his eyebrows at his choice of wording and beside you, Will chuckled, pointing a finger to one of the chairs across from you.

“Sit your ass down, Ben.” He said, and his brother flashed him a cheeky grin, doing as told just as Pope appeared on the porch.

The second you turned your heads to look at him, he raised both of his hands into the air to put the four six-packs he was holding on display. “I brought the beer.” He said, stating the obvious and flashing you his pearly whites.

“And I brought the meat.” Tom joined in, coming up to the table and dumping the paper bag he had brought with him onto the wooden table, bringing said meat out and slapping the pieces onto the bag “This is the real deal, I’m telling you.”

Just the sight of the raw meat got you excited and you couldn’t wait until it was all cooked and ready to eat, not having eaten since lunch time.

Before any of you could comment on the good-quality meat, however, Catfish was jogging down the steps of the porch too, waving his hands around.

“And I brought my good company. Thank you, Frankie!” He cheered himself on, causing you to chuckle at the sarcastic tone in his voice.

“Thank you, Frankie.” You told him sincerely, your smile widening as he came up to your side and planted a friendly kiss on your cheek.

Once him and Pope had sat down next to Ben, they wasted no time in digging into the carton packages of beer.

Pope snapped the metal cap off a bottle and stretched it out for you to take and you accepted it without looking at him, keeping your gaze on Tom as he moved to the grill standing off to the side. “We got the grill all warmed up for you, Tom.”

Tom simply nodded his head, flipping the lid open and grabbing the metal kitchen utensils laying on the wooden bord next to the grill to stir the coals around.

While he busied himself with the grill, too engrossed in the task at hand to even spare you another glance, Ben leaned forward in his seat, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

“What have you got there, brother dearest?” He asked, and you moved your gaze to Will, seeing that he was now giving fixing the bracelet another attempt.

You hadn’t even noticed him going back to it, but now that he had, you could only roll your eyes. “My bracelet. He broke it.”

“On accident.” Will quickly filled in, without looking up from the golden piece of jewelry.

“How did you manage that?” Ben chuckled and, again, you rolled your eyes.

“He was fiddling with it, even though I told him not too, and as usual, he was too rough.”

A mischievous grin crept up the youngest Miller’s as he watched you, his hand slowly raising the bottle of bear to his lips. “Really?” He asked when he lowered it again after taking a sip, raising his eyebrows. “Because Will here tells me you like it rough.”

Pope and Catfish both choked on their beers at his words and Tom was obviously trying to cover his laughter up with coughs over by the grill.

Your eyes opened wide for a moment, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but then it turned into a glare, your head whipping around to face your boyfriend and your hand shooting out to slap his chest. “Will!”

Will’s glare was already set on his younger brother when you turned to look at him, his foot kicking him underneath the table, causing his younger brother to quickly raise his hands in surrender. 

“Kidding, kidding.” He said, but your glare didn’t leave Will, your arms crossing over your chest and a questioning eyebrow shooting up.

Before anyone could say anything else on the matter, however, Ben reached his hand out for the bracelet and the pliers in his older brother’s hands, nodding his head. “Let me have a look.”

Will turned to look at him, shaking his head. “I got it.” He insisted and you snorted, putting your hand on his.

“No, you don’t. Time to swallow your pride.” You said, trying to pry the pliers out of his fingers. “Give it to him, baby.”

He sighed, but did as told, handing the pliers and the bracelet to his brother, who wasted no time in starting to look it over.

While he busied himself with that, Will wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your arm. “Come here, you.” He said, and you did as told, moving into his side and settling comfortably under his arm.

“So, how’s your day been, guys?” You asked then, looking between all of them.

All of them shrugged, and Frankie leaned back into his seat, blowing a raspberry and raising his eyebrows. “Well, no one died.” He replied in a causal manner, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“Those are your standards?” You asked, but when only getting an amused smirk in return, you shook your head in a chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at this point.”

They hummed in agreement and you turned to Tom, raising your bottle of beer to your lips and taking a sip before asking. “How’s Tess, Tom?”

Without looking away from the grill, where he had now put the first round of meat onto the metal grid, he answered. “She’s good. Very good, actually. She won the spelling bee yesterday.”

“You should’ve seen her. It was impressive.” Benny wasted no time in pitching in from across you, causing you all to turn to him.

You raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of your beer and snuggling further into Will’s side. “What were you doing at Tom’s daughter’s spelling bee competition?” You asked, and Frankie chuckled, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” He asked, amusement evident in his voice. “He’s trying to nail her English teacher.”

“And I’m succeeding.” Ben instantly answered, pointing the pliers at his friend. “And not only with her. Teachers are just crazy for me, man. I think they’ve got a thing for soldiers or something. Or maybe it’s just because I’m smoother than the cream cheese on a bagel.”

Tom scoffed from where he stood, and you did the same, shaking your head. “Please, you’ve got about as much charm as a dead slug.”

At the sound of your words, he turned towards you, pointing the pliers at you instead. “Watch it, or maybe I’ll keep the bracelet for myself.”

You leaned forward at that, eyes wide with expectation. “Did you fix it?”

Placing his hand over his heart, he gave you a feign hurt look. “You doubted me? I’m wounded.” He said and you rolled your eyes, holding your hand out.

Chuckling, he dropped the bracelet in your hand and you smiled to see that the chain was now whole again. “That was quick.” You pointed out, ignoring the way Will scoffed from beside you and smiling at his brother. “Thank you, Benny.”

“Don’t mention it.” He raised his beer to you and smiled, before bringing the bottle to his lips.

You turned to Will, looking up at him and holding the bracelet up. “Help me put it back on?” You asked and he grumbled under his breath, but nonetheless took it from you and undid the clasp.

You held your wrist up for him and he put the bracelet on without any trouble whatsoever. You moved to bring your hand back down but he caught your wrist, holding your eyes as he moved your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

A smile instantly rose to your face but before either of you could say anything, the egg clock went off inside the house, causing all of you to stop what you were doing to look at the porch door.

You smacked your lips. “Looks like the potatoes are done in the oven.” You told them, and went to stand up.

But Pope quickly got to his feet, holding a hand out to stop you and flashing you a soft smile. “I’ll get them, you sit down.” He said, and you returned the smile, nodding your head and sinking back down next to Will.

Next to stand up was Ben, pushing his chair back and putting his now empty bottle down on the table. 

“I’m gonna go raid your liquor cabinet.” He said, and beside him, Frankie put out a cigarette that you had barely even noticed him light in the first place, standing up too.

“I could go for some whiskey.” He agreed, the three of them heading toward the porch.

You looked after them until they had all disappeared into the living room, heaving a sigh when you could no longer see them. “Oh, well… I guess it’s just us three th- Where are you going?” You cut yourself off when you turned to look at Tom, seeing that he was now also moving to leave.

“You didn’t bring the limes.” He told you simply, wiping his hands on a towel to rid them of the marinade that the meat was covered in.

“Oh, shoot.” You groaned, giving him an apologetic look. “I totally forgot. They’re in the fridge.”

He smiled at you, throwing the towel at the table and nodding.  “Got it, be right back.” He said, stopping only to point a finger at you, giving you a pointed look. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You opened your mouth to reply but before you could get a word out, you felt a sharp pinch at your butt, a surprised yelp leaving your lips instead.

“No promises.” Will said from beside you, causing you to turn around to look at him, catching him trying to hide his pleased smirk behind his beer.

You rolled your eyes at his cheeky antics and Tom only chuckled, before heading for the porch and leaving the two of you alone.

You watched the side of Will’s face closely as he took another sip of his beer, a hum leaving his lips before he leaned forward to put the bottle on the table in order to give you his full, undivided attention.

When he turned to face you with a small smirk playing on his lips, your face instantly lit up in a big smile, said smile widening even further when he leaned his face into your neck, his beard tickling your skin.

He started planting feather-light kisses along your neck, out on your jaw all the way to your chin. 

“Hey, there.” He mumbled when his face was right in front of yours, and you smiled, looking down at his lips.

“Hi, yourself.” You mumbled, bringing your hands up to his neck, stroking the back of his head slowly.

He analyzed your face, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

“You’ve got...” He trailed off, and you followed his every move with your eyes as he brought a hand up to your face, the rough pads of his fingers brushing over your skin. “An eyelash.” He finished, bringing his thumb up in front of you, a single, black eyelash now resting on the pad. 

You chuckled, blowing the lash off, before reaching up with your free hand to take his in yours.  “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied, taking you back under his arm and smirking playfully at you. “So, you come here often?”

You snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. “Well, considering that I live here, yeah.” You replied, and this time it was his turn to snort.

“Cute.” He said, and kissed you.

You hummed into the kiss, using your hand at his neck to pull him closer. “Thanks.” You mumbled against his lips. “I murdered a care bear and ate its heart to get this adorable.”

At the sound of your words, Will had to pull away from you with a laugh. “Wow.” He drawled lowly, raising his eyebrows.  “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was the care bear.” You gave him a feign evil look, before breaking into a wide grin.

He chuckled at your antics, shaking his head. “You’re evil.”

“You love it.” You mumbled, letting go of his hand to bring it to his neck where your other one was already at, pulling him in for another kiss.

“That I do.” He mumbled against your lips, and you simply smiled, pulling him closer.

The sweet moment of passion was cut short, however, when the sound of a can opening reached your ears, the two of you opening your eyes and slowly turning your faces around to the side, your lips only coming apart when you spotted Benny standing at the end of the porch with a grin on his face.

You brought your hand up to wipe your lips, narrowing your eyes at your boyfriend’s brother. “We were having a moment.” You said, eyes only narrowing further when he loudly slurped the can.

“And I’m having a beer.” He deadpanned, still grinning like an idiot as he walked to where you were sitting at the table.

“I thought you were going to go get the whiskey.” You raised your eyebrow, and he wasted no time in raising the bottle you hadn’t noticed until then.

“I did, but that’s for later.” He replied, sinking down into his old chair just as the others returned outside, talking loudly.

While Pope and Frankie sat back down, Tom busied himself with cutting up the limes at a cutting board he had brought with him outside, all while the six of you engaged in conversation about everything between heaven and earth, reminiscing in old memories.

The food was served close to an hour later and it was even better than you’d imagined it would be, tasting like heaven when you hadn’t eaten anything else for so many hours.

The clock was well past midnight by the time you finished, but the conversations never stopped, drunken laughter filling your entire backyard.

The topic at hand was currently about the time Ben had stolen his neighbor and crush’s underwear in high school and thrown them up in the highest tree in the neighborhood for all to see, something he was still to this day very proud of, when you suddenly felt Will’s face nuzzling into the crook between your neck and shoulder.

His nose grazed over your neck, moving the hair out of the way, so that he could press a kiss to the skin.

“I love you.” His gruff voice came right by your ear a second later, and you smiled, closing your eyes as he hugged you closer.

“I love you too, baby.” You mumbled, your smiled widening when he pressed another kiss to your skin, this time right at the corner of your lips.

“Hey, no more of that! You can bone each other later, preferably when we’re not here!” Ben’s voice yelled out, and before you got the time to react, you were hit in the face with a piece of lime peel.

You jumped, turning to glare at Ben who was smiling drunkenly at you, looking awfully pleased with himself.

“You’re the worst.” You told him, and he only stuck his tongue out at you, causing all of the others to fall into a fit of laughter.

Will started laughing too, his chest rumbling behind your back, the sound automatically causing the glare to fall from your face and be replaced by a smile.

You turned back to him, bringing your hands up to grab his face, causing his eyes to flicker up to yours.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at you and you smiled, bringing him closer.

“But you.” You mumbled, swiping your thumbs over his cheeks anf pausing to peck his lips, pressing your forehead against his once you came back apart. “Are the best.”

He smiled, leaning in to press his lips against yours in another kiss, but was cut short by another lime peel being thrown at your heads, followed by a second, a third and a fourth, forcing the two of you to come back apart to cover your heads as the guys continued to torment you until they were all out of peels.

It was a beautiful night in the middle of July and you were together, drinking, eating, laughing, talking and having a good time with your closest friends, wrapped up in the arms of the love of your life. Everything was perfect, and nothing could bring you down.

[detectivejigsawpines]

Relatively Relativity-part 2 (Some adjustments required)

Eventually, the worst of the noise subsided.

Only for Mabel to take another look at her boy grunkles, and make them nearly jump out of their skins with her amazed and delighted squeal of, “Oh my gosh, you guys are so CUUUUUTEEEE!!!!”

“Gah!”  Stan saw the impending doom, and tried too late to escape from one of her arms snatching him up into a hug.  Seconds later Ford was grabbed by her other arm, and made a strangled noise as he had what felt like all of his air squeezed out of him.

Mabel actually lifted both of them off their feet in her enthusiasm, swinging them back and forth with far more strength than someone her age should have been capable of when they hadn’t spent years living on the streets or traveling the multiverse.  “You guys are just the most precious little pair of sweeties I’ve ever seen!  As soon as we get home I’m making you both tiny sweaters and taking a hundred pictures!!”

“Mabel-leggo-we need air-” Stan struggled, and finally just rolled up her sleeve and licked her arm.  Even though she was more often than not guilty of using the same tactic, it was enough to make her release them.

Dipper was by now curled up in the fetal position against a tree, rocking back and forth and gasping, “Not again, not again, this can’t be happening again!”  He glanced down at himself.  “I mean, at least I’m still in my own body, so that’s nice.”  He resumed rocking.  “But this still can’t be happening!”

“Okay, okay, everybody STOP!”

Ford waited until all eyes were on him, and then climbed up onto a nearby convenient tree stump.  He adjusted his glasses in a way that looked soothingly Ford-like even in his tiny child body and higher-pitched voice.  “Let’s all just calm down for a second.”

He glanced over at the flower, and saw with concern that it had wilted, with all the petals lying in a heap around the stem.

That can’t be good.

“...I think we all need to go home so I can examine that-” he pointed to the remains of the flower- “and figure out what kind of spell it cast on us.  This is nothing to panic over.”

“Nothing to panic over?!” Dipper demanded.  Fascinating; even with his voice fully developed he still managed to make it crack to an astonishing degree.  “Look at me, Grunkle Ford!  I’m old!”

“Yeah, and if ya don’t figure out how ta calm down you’re probably gonna start giving yourself a heart attack!” Stan said.

“Stanley!  That is not helpful!” Ford snapped, hopping off the stump and going to his nephew’s side.

“...Sorry.”  Stan joined him, and Mabel crouched down on Dipper’s other side.  Three hands rubbed his shoulders as he pushed his head between his knees.

After a minute Dipper took a few deep breaths, and then slowly got to his feet.  He still looked shaken up by the situation, but at least he had calmed down a little.  “Ugh, ow.  Do your guys’s joints creak this much when you have to stand up?”

“Oh yeah.  It’s even worse first thing in the morning.”  Stan stretched his back, and then his eyes widened in delight.  “Whoa, wait.  It’s been years since I’ve been able ta do that without it feelin’ all messed up!”  He looked down at his legs, and a wide smile stretched across his cheeks.

Before Ford could stop him, he took off running back down the trail with a whoop.

“Stanley!  Stanley, get back here!  We have to-”

Stan was already practically out of sight.  Ford groaned, and shrugged off his now-giant backpack which he had barely realized he was still wearing.  He glanced at the-well, technically the children, they still had the minds of thirteen-year-olds.  “Find something to put that flower in, would you?”

Then he chased after his brother.

****

Ford was disconcerted when he realized, very quickly, that his body had reverted back to the physical limitations he had possessed at this age.

Back then, while it was all well and good to go running around on the beach with Stan, chasing the waves or the sea gulls or each other, he had hated exercise when there were far more enjoyable options available, like reading his books or just sitting and drawing something.  He hadn’t gotten into the habit of going for long walks in the woods, or been forced to spend a lot of time running for his life from interdimensional bounty hunters.

Soon enough Ford was forced to slow down because of the stitch in his side, and double over gasping with the need to get more air into his lungs.

He clenched his fists against his knees in frustration, because he knew that he was capable of running faster than this, at least when he was in his regular body, he’d done it a million times, and now he couldn’t.

A few moments later he heard the thud of boots pounding against the ground, and a familiar out-of-breath voice.

“Whoo!  What a rush!  If I tried doin’ that when I was old I’d have ta sit on the couch for a week afterwards!  Ha!  Who’s an old fossil now, Mabel?”

Coming from the man (boy?  Shoot, that was going to get confusing pretty fast) who was capable of punching out giant squid monsters and outrunning angry leprechauns while carrying a heavy treasure chest, that was definitely an exaggeration.  But Ford was too busy trying to stop wheezing to call him on it.

“...You okay, Poindexter?” Stan asked, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

Ford lifted his eyes until they met his twin’s.  “W-We...should probably...go back to the kids.  I realize...you’re excited...about rediscovering your youth...but they’re not enjoying this as much as you are.”

Stan gave him a chagrined grimace.  “...Oh yeah.  Sorry.”

Ford patted his arm as he straightened up.  “‘S’ okay.  I get it.  It feels good to get some of those aches out of my bones.”

“Yeah, no kidding!”  Stan looked down at his arms with wide eyes.  “Can you believe these things were ever this skinny?”

Ford snorted.  “Your face is back to being mostly nose, though.”

“Hey!”  Stan slugged him in the arm.  “Take a look in the mirror, genius-you’re not much better off!”

Ford punched him back, giggling.

He was a little surprised by how natural a sound that felt to make, now that he was no longer an old man.

****

It turned out that Dipper had emptied out part of one of the water bottles, and then dug the flower out-roots and all, just in case-before placing it and its petals inside.  He’d even managed to get some pollen samples and add them to the inside of the bottle.

“Good job, Dipper!” Ford praised him, accepting it and slipping it into his backpack.  Then he straightened up, puffing out his chest.  “Okay, let’s get this back to the lab, and turn ourselves back to normal!”

Mabel cooed and clasped her hands together at her chin.  “Awww, you sound so adorable when you say stuff like that now!”

...Ford couldn’t help feeling like she was spoiling the gravitas of the moment.  He tried to ignore Stan’s wide smirk, and adjusted his coat collar with a cough before he started marching back the way they’d come.

****

A new problem arose when they reached the car.

Stan dug into his pocket and pulled out the keys, and just as he was unlocking the car Dipper grabbed his shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Stan raised an eyebrow at him, in a way that was still very grunkle-like despite his young face.  “Gettin’ ready ta drive us home.”

“Grunkle Stan, you’re thirteen now!  You can’t be the one driving!”

The boy folded his arms.  “Uh, last I checked, you didn’t exactly have a driver’s license, kid.”

Dipper faltered.  “I-I know how to drive the golf cart!”

“Not the same.  Besides, remind me how many times you crashed it last summer?”

“Oh, like your driving is any safer!”  Dipper lunged for the keys.

Stan jumped out of reach.  “Fair point, but this is still my car!  And nobody but nobody is allowed ta drive it but me!”

Dipper chased after him, meaning that they were suddenly running around the car, with Stan defiantly holding the keys out of his elderly nephew’s reach.  “We’re gonna get pulled over if the cops see you behind the wheel, Grunkle Stan!  Be reasonable!”

“Never!  I’m not lettin’ you scratch up my car cuz you-”

Mabel finally stepped between them.  “Boys, boys!  I have a solution that’ll fix everything!”

****

Five minutes later, Dipper was in the driver’s seat, with Stan sitting on his lap, head tucked against his shoulder.  Dipper’s feet worked the gas and brakes at his grunkle’s command, while Stan did the steering and watched the road with his newly improved vision.  Neither of them looked pleased with this solution, but they’d had to admit that they hadn’t been able to think of a better one.

Mabel and Ford sat in the back, with the water bottle containing the flower clenched in Ford’s lap.  He stared at it thoughtfully, scribbling notes in his journal and thinking about other experiences with enchanted plants, and how they might compare to this one.

Unnoticed by him, Mabel had pulled a cloth tape measure out of her pocket and was taking his measurements; already she was thinking about what kind of sweaters to make him and Stan.  Because on the one hand, both of them seemed to like the color red, and looked pretty good in it; on the other hand, this was a special occasion, and maybe she should make something in blue, or green, or gold.  Maybe all of them together?  Decisions, decisions…

She was still thinking about her options when the car pulled up in front of the Mystery Shack.  Stan turned the engine off, and unbuckled himself and Dipper.

“Geez you’ve got bony knees,” he said dryly as he looked up at his nephew.

Dipper snorted.  “Now you know how I feel.”

Fortunately Stan’s mood had improved enough for him to grin before opening the car door and bounding up the steps of the porch.

“Soos, we’re home!” he called as he opened the door.

A few seconds later there was a startled yelp, and a thud.

A little bit after that, the front door opened again, and Stan peered uneasily out at his family.

“...Guys?  I think I just killed Soos.”

********

Don’t worry, I didn’t actually kill Soos.

I’m not that much of a monster.

Usually.

[come-out-to-lavender-country]

LIFE UPDATE

whooohoooo first life update from the new account!!!

built a greenhouse by draping and zip-tying sheet plastic to the existing frame. It’s FUCKING HOT in there so I think its doing its job!!! 

we brought some glass top outdoor tables in to keep the little spouts off the ground because there are hella slugs down there 

there are also HELLA WORMS in the garden!!!! so many!!! we’re putting them in our compost which is exciting 

radish sprouts got big and are now in the ground. they haven't died yet. 

We pruned back some fruit trees that we’re not sure are alive, and if they are alive, what sort of fruit they make? but at least they are set up for success now 

decided on a location for a burn pile and started dragging the clippings from the grape vines, trees, and the tree which fell into the pool down to it so we can get burning soon 

bought a drill. about to buy a chainsaw. feeling more butch by the moment lmao. 

also about to buy some goats as you guys already saw 

Bertha mason now kills rats and brings them to the porch to dramatically consume by crunching all their bones up. She starts with the head and slowly works her way down to the tail without ever taking a bite, she’s like a python. it’s so metal. 

marshmallow, one of our indoor cats and my son, has a perpetual cold which has worsened in the last few days so we started giving him little steam baths where he goes in his carrier with a blanket over it and a little bowl of hot water in front of the door so he can breathe the steam. I think its helping 

my fucking pigeon is still pulling out all his fucking feathers.

speaking of birds we get soooo many here and they’re so lovely to watch from the library or the porch! we have robins and two types of jays and juncos and finches and grossbeaks and sage grouses and towhees and shit tons, literal shit tons, of quail. They’re so round and cute and I want to pop them. 

Sunny Love finally realizes we actually live here and aren’t visiting so she’s started being her sort of naughty, very excited self again which is nice. winfred still occasionally bumps into things 

we put posters up on our walls!!! the lovely vintage style episode centric Star Trek posters we've had for LITERAL YEARS since there was nowhere to put them in our old house 

my dad keeps bringing us wine boxes full of books up from LA which is very nice. Lots of them are good YA books from when I was a kid, but many of them are terrifying pulpy 70s cautionary tales and then also very trashy babysitter’s club style ripoffs that people gave me as gifts. 

we watched, and then PROMPTLY REWATCHED, the hobbit trilogy which I think is objectively worse than LOTR but WAY more fun because it’s just like. bonkers. I’m gonna write fic. 

we’ve both been writing a lot mostly in the library!!! blake sits in the window seat and looks very sexy and romantic :) 

[mlovesstories]

You Know You’re What You’re Doing Part 9

Words 2300

SPNDeanBingo square: none

Warnings: physical fight/attack, cussing, emotions, death threats, feelings of worthlessness.  

Tag List

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Masterlist of Masterlists

500 FOLLOWERS CHALLENGE!

“What?” YN covered her mouth.  

“I found it on the porch when I came to check on you,” Jared told her.  

“Oh.”

————

“YN!” Jensen and Danneel ran into their house through the open door.  “You okay?”  Danneel wrapped her arms around the girl.  

“Yeah,” she sighed.

“Thanks, man,” Jensen whispered to Jared.

“No problem, dude.  Always.”

As the evening went on, YN and Jared explained what happened to various officers and the foster parents.  

“I’m calling Cliff to get some guys here,” Jensen pulled out his phone.  

“Jay!” Danneel whispered to him. He looked up, and she nodded toward YN sitting alone on the couch. YN looked blankly at the wall in front of her, not noticing the commotion of people walking all around her who were assessing the scene. “Fine, but we need to talk to her.”

“Right. Be right back.”

After Jensen was done asking Cliff for added security, the investigators received pictures of the community security cameras and the Ackles’ personal ones as well. YN could not identify him since she had not seen him in so long.

“It’s okay, no one is mad at you. You haven’t seen him in eleven years, kid,” Jensen sat down next to her.

“Okay,” she looked right through Jensen, not truly hearing him.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Huh?” YN met his eyes. “I can’t,” she reached the top step and quickly got to her room.  YN locked the door behind her and ripped her journal from her highest shelf.  

YN JOURNAL ENTRY

I can’t deal with this.  Why does he want me?

What does it say?  I don’t want to know.

I just can’t. 

______

“YN.” She heard a knock on her door.  The knob rattled, but the door didn’t open.  “Hey, come on,” Jensen calmly wanted her to open it.

She slowly stood and unlocked the door.

“Hi,” he said nonchalantly.  

“I’m fourteen.  Why do I have to deal with this?” YN looked at him seriously.  

“I am not sure, but we’re right here.”

“Please tell me what I am supposed to feel.  What am I supposed to do?”  

“You’re allowed to feel confused.  I don’t think there is a specific way to feel about this right now.   I’m a little confused myself, but no matter what, we’ll support you.”

“Sarah?” YN looked behind Jensen.

“Hi, Mr. Ackles.  Hey, YN.  You okay?”  The coordinator walked into the girl’s room.

“Fine,” she replied, huffing out a breath of frustration.  

“We need to move her.  I have a family that can take her,” Sarah said quickly.

“WHAT?” YN gasped.  

“He knows your location, YN,” Sarah reasoned.

“You can’t just take her away from us.  She’s doing so well here!” Jensen growled.  

“I’m not going, Sarah” YN stood and gritted her teeth.

“Let us move her to a hotel or something, please,” Jensen tried to appease the caseworker.  

“We have to put her in the custody of someone else.”

“No, you don’t.  You know I can hire security and keep her safer than one of your other houses,” Jensen said lowly.

“Sarah, please.”  YN chimed in.  

“Stay up here, I need to talk to the investigative team.  We can talk about the details in a minute,” Sarah exited.  

“I don’t want to go! Why can’t you be my dad?” YN fell to the floor in tears.  Jensen froze at her statement, but he snapped back to reality and bent down to her eye level.

“I don’t think they will take you.  I can keep you safe.  Cliff has some guys coming over.”

“Okay,” YN sighed.

_______

“Okay, the investigative team and I are fine if you stay here,” Sarah entered YN’s room again where Danneel, Jensen and YN were waiting.  

“Really?”  YN looked up at her with a grin.

“AS LONG AS she has security of some sort.  Someone with her at all times.”

“Sarah, I’m not in jail! Come on!”

“Shh, baby,” Danneel soothed her.  “So that means no leaving the house then?”

“Any of you.  Only a few people in and out for now,” Sarah replied.

“I may as well be locked up!  Why is this-”

“YN!” Danneel yelled.  The girl turned to face her foster mom. “Stop!  We don’t know anything yet.”

“Yes, we do.  Give me the damn note.” YN stomped down the stairs.  “Give it to me.” YN put her hand out for the police officer to hand over the piece of paper.  Jensen came down the stairs and nodded to the investigator.  The woman in a black uniform slowly picked the note off the table.

“Here you go, young lady.”

She took a copy of the note and read it while Jensen watched.

YN,

   I see you found a good family.  Too bad I want you back.  See you around.

Alex

“Your security dudes better keep me safe, Actor Boy,” YN yelled.  She threw the note to the ground and marched back to the base of the steps.  

“YN!” Jensen chased after her. “You wanted to stay here,” he caught up to her.  

“Before I knew he wanted to kill me!” She slugged him in the chest.

“Stop.”  He put her hands to her sides. “You could be at any house right now, and I am probably one of the few people that can provide safety for you, and you know it.  Don’t take this out on me.  I’m here for you. I know you’re scared, but we can handle it. Go sit down and cool off a minute.”

“Sir,” an officer stepped forward.

“Go.  Couch.  Now.”  Jensen dismissed YN so that he could address the investigator.  His foster daughter walked over to a couch in the living room.  “Yes?” He turned to the cop in front of him.  

“We have the note, our team is going to process it.  We have done all that we can do for now.  An officer will be here at your door until your hired security arrives.  She needs 24/7 security.  Mandatory,” she spoke deeply.

“Yes, ma’am.  Have a good night.”

“You too, sir.”

As the last police officer exited the house and took his post outside, Danneel and Sarah walked to the first level of the home.  YN sat, eyes glazed over, processing what had happened.  Before she knew it, Sarah left, and the three of them were alone, with the officer outside.  

“Sweetie,” Danneel crouched in front of YN.  “Come on, go get dressed for bed.  It’s late.”

“I ruined your evening,” she responded with no emotion.

“You don’t get to blame yourself.  None of that here.  I’m so proud of you.  No negative thoughts.  Stand up.”  Danneel pulled YN up from her seat.  

“The babies?”

“The babies are spending the night with Grandma and Grandpa.” Danneel pulled her foster daughter up the stairs.  “Get dressed for bed, sweetie,” she said soothingly.  

“I can’t sleep.”

“It’s okay, but you’ll be more comfy in PJs.”

‘Okay,”  YN relented.

When YN came back out of her room, Danneel and Jensen brought her downstairs to watch TV.  She leaned against Danneel with a blanket over her.  YN could not relax.  She constantly shifted in her spot on the couch.  

“YN, you okay?”  Jensen asked.

“I’m wide awake,” she whispered, Danneel asleep next to her.

“Let’s try something else,” Jensen told her to get her shoes.  He took her to their in-house gym.  “You want to run, do weights, punch a bag?”

“Umm, weights?”

“Okay. Let’s do strength training.  It will help you focus your energy. Let’s do a bench press.  Grab weights that you think are almost too heavy for you.”

YN took some dumbbells off the rack and lied on her back.  Jensen guided her through how to do it correctly.  

“I can’t do any more,” she grunted.

“Yes, you can.  Breathe and get your frustrations out.” He spotted her to keep her safe.

“I can’t.”

“You say you can’t and yet you keep going,”’ he smiled.  “Three more.”

When her repetitions were done, she sighed.

“You did it,” Jensen offered a high five.

He continued guiding her through various exercises until she slouched over on the bench.  

“All done. Go shower.”

“Too tired,” she whispered.

“Okay, upstairs you go then.” He held her up by her elbow, guiding her to her room.  

“Goodnight, Jensen.”

Thirty minutes later, he checked on her sleeping form.

“Good night, wonderful,” he whispered. Jensen shut her door and went to lie in bed with his wife who he had brought upstairs a few minutes prior.  

“The security team will be here in a few hours. Damn, it’s 3AM. Cliff said they would be here at seven.”

“Then we need our sleep. Climb in bed, Jay.”

————

“Babe, the security team is here,” Danneel whispered.  

“Ugh,” Jensen rolled over. “Okay.”

The parents met the group of big, burly men at the base of the stairs.

“Good morning,” Jensen yawned. “Sorry, long night.”

“The officer left his post as we arrived. I will be taking the front door, one of us will be in the back, and one will be in the same room as YN at all times.”

“No.” YN appeared next to Jensen.

“Yes.” Jensen growled.”You wanna be safe?” He turned to face her.

“Fine, but he doesn’t get to be in my room. Gross.”

“Door stays open. He’ll be stationed in the hallway. Change your clothes in the restroom,” the first man stated factually.

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Okay, Thing One,” YN rolled her eyes. Danneel sighed, letting the girl’s attitude slide.

“Hey,” Jensen said lowly. “This doesn’t just affect you.”

“Not now, Jensen,” Danneel warned. “Let’s all settle in.”

———-

“Thing Two, you want some lunch?” YN asked her new bodyguard friend.

“No, miss. Thank you,” he answered her.

“You’re pretty nice,” she offered.

“I try not to cause too much trouble, Miss LN.” He grinned.

“Me either, but apparently that didn’t work out.”

“Miss, if I may, this isn’t your fault,” he said as he sat across the kitchen from her.

“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes.

“It’s not. Get that through your head, YN.” Jensen walked into the room and reached for an apple on the counter.

“Whatever.”

“Your father did this. Not you.”

“You wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for me!” YN’s voice rose. She tried to skirt past him.

“Get off your damn high horse! This is not your fault. It WILL end. Just not right now.”

“I need a minute,” YN walked into a first floor bathroom and locked the door.

Jensen sighed and hurried frustratedly passed the restroom and into the living room. He crash-landed on the couch next to Danneel and the kids.

“What was-“

“Don’t, Dee,” Jensen leaned against the supportive backing of his seat.

“She’s having a tough time,” Danneel whispered.

“SO ARE WE!” He shouted. “I can’t go to work, because we are locked in our own home!  And SHE thinks SHE has it hard?”

YN was about to come around the corner to the living room when she gasped.

“AT LEAST SOMEONE ISN’T TRYING TO KILL YOU!” YN shouted in return.  “Get off my high horse? You get off yours first, Hollywood. You’re no better than me!” She snapped her mouth shut and ran up the stairs. Thing Two followed behind her. “You know what, screw you and all these rules!” YN slammed the door. Thing Two followed behind her and pounded on the door.

“You gotta leave it open, Miss-“

They all heard a crashing sound and a scream from her room. Thing Two kicked the door open with minimal effort as Jensen ascended the steps. The men ran into her room. An angry man was yanking her around the glass-covered floor. The bodyguard pulled him off the girl, and Jensen carried YN out of the room.

“Come here,” he put her in the next bedroom. They heard continuous wrestling while Thing One and Thing Two now fought the man into the ground, everyone becoming scraped from the glass. “Are you okay?”  

“Uh,” her mouth and eyes wide open. “I think so,” she replied, scanning herself. Jensen stood back to see a few cuts from the glass on her arms. A bruise was forming over her eye.

“Breathe.  You’re okay.”

The two saw the man being dragged down the hallway and pushed down the stairs as he fought back.

“I need her!” He yelled. “Baby girl!” His voice became echoed as he was taken out of the house.

Alex.

YN grasped onto Jensen’s shirt as she sat on the bed and he stood in front of her.

“I’m scared.”

He saw her inhaling and exhaling erratically.

“Keep breathing,” he rubbed her back with a rhythm for YN to follow. “Good job. Hey, look at me,” he stepped back to see her face. She was dazed, but she did as asked. “You’re safe, sweetie. He can’t get you anymore. You’re okay…”

His assurances continued as the sound of his voice faded into the background.

She repeated what he had just told her over and over in her head. When he caught her attention again, she wrapped her arms around his waist while still sitting on the bed. Before she knew it, her body shook, and she started crying. Danneel ran up the stairs with the kids safely in their playroom.

“What happened? Is she okay?”

The couple talked as YN continued wailing, she didn’t hear what they said. YN held onto the smell of Jensen’s cologne and flannel mixed together. Stability and kindness all wrapped up into a fragrance of a man she didn’t like a year ago.

She kept her eyes closed trying to breathe evenly. When she opened her eyes, YN saw tears in their eyes, increasing her own tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she continuously apologized for her perceived faults in the situation.

“Not your fault, baby. You didn’t do this.” 

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[our-jensen-ackles-love]

Flashes; Chapter Nine

Summary: Playboy Jensen Ackles is hurting his television show’s image. Every time he promised to get his act together, it’d last for about a week before pictures emerge of him half-drunk with some broad on his arm. Fed up and desperate, his agent decides their only hope to save some face is to write up a contract with a nobody girl who could use the money while getting to play the role of Jensen’s girlfriend.

It was only for a year and it was only for the photos.  But feelings don’t always follow the rules, do they?

Warnings: swearing, slight angst

Word Count: 2032

CATCH UP HERE FEEDBACK IS LIFE.

Chapter Nine

T-Minus twelve days until Thanksgiving. Well, the American one that is.

You had been dreading this day more than any other day. Today was the day Jensen, Cliff and yourself all flew down to Dallas to spend his two-week filming break with his family. Even though both Jensen and Henry had suggested that you should make another pit spot in Ohio to visit your mother, you know, to make it more “authentic,” but you had said that you needed time to think about it. Really the defining moment would be how things went over with Jensen’s family before you even thought about bringing your mom into this.

Because when all is said and done, it’s still just a piece of paper that is getting one of you paid and the other off easy.

“Miss Y/L/N, do you want me to take your bags?” Cliff asked you, pulling you out of your circling thoughts.

The flight into Texas had been just as smooth as when you flew in Vancouver and your thoughts had been just the same; a giant mess of emotions and different scenarios. None of which ever worked in your favor. Your stomach was so tight that when the stewardess came through and asked about snacks, you could barely make words without feeling like you were going to throw up.

“No, no,” you offered a half assed smile to your favorite body guard. “I think I can handle pushing my own suitcase for once. You already do so much for me Cliff.”

The huskier man returned the gesture and you hoped that he knew that you meant he really did a lot for you. Sometimes you felt like it was a little too much.

“Y/N,” Jensen glanced at you while the three of you stepped past the threshold of the plane and into the more crowed airport. “Are you feeling okay? You look a little green.”

A solid glance in his direction, you knew that he was getting a huge kick out of your apprehensiveness right now. “You know damn well, Ackles, I don’t do well with meeting the parents.”

“You told me the other night that you literally only met your high school boyfriend’s mother,” you didn’t have to see him to know that he was wiggly his eyebrows condescendingly at you. “And we all know how long ago that was.”

If there weren’t so many people around you would have smacked him hard. Who knew how that would look to the press; the last thing you needed on this trip was Henry calling you up and bitching about how the public was viewing your relationship as on the “rocks.”

“And she hated me.”

“Maybe she had a good reason too,” he teased.

You poked your tongue out at him before going back focusing on not losing Cliff, who was a good couple of steps in front of the two of you. Another silence fell over the group as you continued to make your way to the rental vehicle section where Cliff had gone ahead and reserved an SUV similar to the one that was sitting in the parking lot of your apartment in Canada.

Once you reached your destination, you and Jensen hung back while Cliff approached the counter and took care of the rest of the details before you could be on your way to the Ackles estate. Seriously, you heard Jensen on the phone the other day – he actually called it the family estate.

“Just breathe,” Jensen spoke to you, lazily throwing and arm around your shoulders. “I swear, there is nothing like some real southern hospitality. Even if my mom hates you, she sure as hell isn’t going to let you know it.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” you moaned, shoving his arm off of you and heading towards Cliff who had a set of keys in hand.

You heard Jensen laugh, but chose to ignore it out of spite of his lack of empathy to your feelings towards meeting his parents. He was a freaking actor who knew who to work the room when he felt out of place and unwanted; you were pretty sure the man could smile at a stranger and they would feel like their life had changed, while you on the other hand wore your emotions on your sleeve. Especially the ugly ones.

Your “boyfriend” continued to crack some jokes at your expense while Cliff drove south before hoping on the highway. Both men had told you that the trip would only take about twenty minutes or so and you could tell by the lack of silence happening with Jensen, that he was either actually trying to make you feel better or was just trying to hide that fact that he was just as nervous about your meeting his mother and father for the first time. Hell, who knew if you would be seeing them again during the course of this contract.

“Home sweet home,” Jensen exclaimed happily, unbuckling himself before the car was even in park. The man was practically jumping up and down like a child going on a field trip to the zoo. “Man, I can already smell my momma’s cooking.”

“I hope you get fat,” you joked, still eyeing him carefully, afraid that he would stop, drop and roll his way out of the car before too long.

The house was large and painted a beautiful shade of canary yellow, but not mansion like; more like someone at a point in time had a large family and everyone needed their own room kind of large. The front door was a very bright red, something that you could spot the moment you turned from the main road onto the private dirt road. It looked like they owned quite a bit of land and from the flower bed that surrounded the wrap around porch, you could make the assumption that Mrs. Ackles had quite the green thumb.

Jensen pouted at you before throwing his door open the moment the car wasn’t in motion. You, on the other hand, took your sweet time slugging your way out with purse in hand. When you heard the front door swing open and a loud squeal, you couldn’t help but break out in a nervous sweat.

“Oh, my sweet baby,” a blonde woman who looked to be about in her sixties crooned loudly throwing her arms wide while running down the steps to where Jensen and yourself were standing at the trunk of the car. “I’m so happy you are here, darlin’.”

The smile kept growing on Jensen’s face as he met his mother half way. “Momma,” he cooed, wrapping her up in his arms and picking her up a good two inches off the ground. “I’ve missed you.”

“Shoo,” she swatted at him when he placed her feet back on the grass. “You don’t miss yer momma enough to be able to call her and tell her that you are dating someone again?”

That was your queue to step forward and put on your brave face. Jensen’s smile didn’t falter when he turned towards you and gave you a wink. “Momma, this is Y/N.”

The petite blonde woman grinned widely at you before stepping away from her son and wrapping your up in her bear hug. “Now don’t you be a stranger,” you could feel her smile into your shoulder as she kept you close barely allowing your arms to move from your sides. “My home is yours. And despite what Jensen may have told you, please, call me Momma.”

That was going hurt when the time came.

“Oh, well, nice to meet you Momma,” you said awkwardly while shooting Jensen a look from over his mother’s shoulder. “Thank you so much for letting me stay here.”

As she pulled away, she waved her hands in front of her like the thought of you staying anywhere else was just complete and utter nonsense. “Please, I’m not stupid in thinking ya’ll are these innocent high school kids.”

Both you and Jensen opened your mouths in protest, but Momma’s next sentence had them clamped tighter than a mousetrap. “I’ve seen the pictures darlin’.”

Despite feeling more flustered than you had when you first saw the photo in question, Jensen’s mother continued, “I’m sure Joshua won’t mind carrying the bags up to Jensen’s old room for the two of you and Cliff  can go get some much needed rest in the basement,” she stated turning towards Cliff. “We have you all set up down there – think of it like your own lil’ apartment.”

Cliff gave Momma a much appreciative nod before popping open the trunk and pulling out all the bags. As soon as you even tried to lean in the direction of your favorite polka-dotted suitcase, Jensen’s mother had the both of you scooped up in her arms and pulled in the direction of the house.

“Now I want the two of you to head right on upstairs and get washed up for dinner,” she spoke sternly, like she had been dealing with elementary aged children all day. “Food will be on that table at six o’clock sharp. So that means no monkey business.”

You stood there blushing immensely at the foot of the staircase, only allowing you to cautiously nod your head. You got the feeling that Jensen’s mother really knew how to run a house. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good,” she praised you with a pat on the back, followed by a gentle shove towards the staircase.

Jensen hadn’t stopped smiling since the plane had landed on his native Texan soil. “It’s so good to see you again Momma.”

“I know baby,” she reached a hand up and clapped it against her son’s cheek. “I know this is short notice, but Mackenzie ran into Danneel at the market and told her that you would be in town for the holiday.”

All traces of playfulness that had been there moments prior were completely erased from Jensen’s face as he stared at his mother. You knew that Momma couldn’t see him as well as you since she was still on the ground floor, having turned away from him to adjust a family portrait on the wall next to the stairs; one that looked to be from Jensen’s high school days. The both of you had started your journey towards your shared room, but the quick change in facial expressions told you that Danneel was not a name that he wanted to hear.

“I guess the two of them got to talking and Mack asked her over for supper,” Momma continued with her grin, turning her attention back towards her son.

Her smile slipped a bit when she saw the look on Jensen’s face, something that you could only describe as the look you get when you just saw a careless driver hit your new puppy; so you hurriedly jumped in.

“Thank you so much Mrs. Ackles – I mean Momma,” you resolved, grabbing Jensen by the arm and giving him a tug to follow your lead up the stairs. “I promise, after we get a little more settled, we will be down at six on the nose.”

You barely gave her anytime to say anything else before you yanked her son away from her point of view and up the rest of the stairs. Just as you were about to make an educated guess on which room was the one that you two would be sharing for the next thirteen and half days, Jensen gripped your forearm harshly.

“What the fuck Jay?” you seethed, jerking your arm away from him.

He turned to you, his face still written with pure hatred and something that looked a close to embarrassment. “I can’t be in the same room with that woman.”

The two of you were awkwardly still standing in the middle of his hallway, all you could do was hope that no one was just hanging out in their room at this time because it looked like Jensen wasn’t budging. With a heavy sigh, you rubbed your arm and asked him the question you knew he didn’t want to answer. 

“Okay, who is this woman?”

“She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

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[kootenaygoon]

So,

It took me five minutes to reach the bottom of Niles’ driveway.

There were no addresses along this particular stretch of the Slocan Valley, so I’d been following a set of directions he sent via Facebook that included line items like “turn right after you pass the green barn” and “take the left fork after the fallen tree”. The light was beginning to dwindle on this breezy Friday afternoon, and I found myself navigating sharp switch-backs and rattling down intense inclines, trusting my RAV to keep us from sliding into the woods.

When I finally broke out into the sunlight I was presented with a gorgeous tableau: a small farmhouse with a wrap-around deck silhouetted against the harsh glint of the river, with lush green fields stretching in either direction. A trio of small children were playing with a dog in the front yard, and when they spotted my RAV they ran alongside it screaming. They crowded at my driver’s door when I climbed out, excitedly introducing themselves. Behind them the dog leaped and barked, trying to get in on the action.

“Okay, niños! Vamanos! Our friend Will doesn’t need to hear all your screaming,” Niles said, appearing at the front door.

“Why don’t you take Brutus for a run? You’re making my ears hurt.”

Niles smiled apologetically as the kids took off. He was wearing a floral shirt unbuttoned to the navel, tucked into a pair of white jeans, and his heavy silver necklaces bounced against his sunburnt chest. He blew a long hank of blond hair out of his face and beckoned for me to follow him inside, padding up the main staircase in his bare feet. I gazed around, checking out the framed family photos, and kicked off my Blundstones. I’d run into Niles a few times since meeting him at the party, but had no idea he had such a big family. There were at least four kids in the photos, and a blond woman who looked like she taught Jazzercise. 

“Funny, Brutus seems to be everywhere,” I said. “Must be a popular dog.”

“He belongs to my son.”

“Who, Snapper? He’s your son?”

He smiled, then shrugged. “We don’t get to choose our own blood in this life, unfortunately. Can I get you a beer?”

“I never would’ve guessed,” I said, as he handed it over. “You guys don’t look alike at all, not even one bit.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

He gave me a quick tour of the house, which had an incense-heavy fug. There were wood carvings in nearly every room, sculptures of various animals, and each wall was crowded with art. One piece in particular stood out to me, a landscape painting with a rock jutting over a highway. I recognized it from somewhere, and stopped for a moment to try and figure it out. I’d seen this exact scene somewhere, but where?

“Ah, that’s a John Cooper,” he said. “He’s from around here, actually, taught for decades. He’s known as the Toad Rock painter, and that’s Toad Rock. Apparently there’s hundreds of them, but this one’s mine.”

“This is on the way to Kaslo, right?”

“Exactly.”

“I love the colours. I should write a story about this guy.”

“Yes, you should.”

Eventually we made it down to his dock, where a pair of bright red Adirondack chairs were waiting for us. The river was slow-moving here, slipping by with a soft burble as the evening quieted. There were no other human habitations in sight, though we could hear the occasional thrum of a car rocketing past in the distance, and the trees slow-danced in the wind. The sky was just fading from a soft peach colour into a deeper orange. I’d been in the Kootenays for nine months but the surroundings still routinely overwhelmed me. I took a slug of my beer.

“In the summertime this river becomes an absolute magnet for the party crowd. They float down in inner tubes, or little blow-up boats. It’s quite a spectacle,” Niles said. 

“I used to stand on the porch with my rifle, pretending to pick them off one by one. But my wife made me stop, said I’d end up getting arrested. No sense of humour, that woman.”

After a few minutes, Niles asked me about the Star. Unlike many of the people in the Kootenays, who only seemed to read our headlines before spewing their uninformed opinion online, he legitimately engaged with journalism and had an appreciation for the written word. I’d previously learned that he was a writer, and had even published a collection of short fiction in the 1980s. But he’d given up those dreams long ago to focus on growing weed and raising a family, a decision he seemed to regret. Repeatedly he’d asked me whether I would work with him on various manuscripts he’d half-completed, and I’d agreed to take him on as a student through my writing mentorship service.

“The big thing is this Ryan Tapp story. It’s actually been keeping me up. I couldn’t sleep properly all this week,” I told him.

“I keep thinking ‘what if it was me?’ This guy’s my age, friends with my friends. Now that the cops have ruled it a suicide it’s like nobody’s allowed to ask questions anymore, and I have all these fucking questions.”

Niles nodded. “I asked around a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I don’t know either. From the sounds of it he wasn’t beefing with anyone obvious, at least not local. The guy had a lot of business connections, a lot of irons in the fire, but I’m not getting the sense he was in bed with anybody shady. If I were a betting man, I’d say it was the jealous girlfriend wanting to teach him a lesson.”

“What makes you say that?”

He smiled. “A few friends of mine went to his funeral at the Royal, right? Well, it turns out multiple women showed up believing themselves to be the sole significant other of Mr. Tapp.”

“Holy shit.”

“From what I heard, one of them went up to the front and began reading this very tearful love letter, and meanwhile the other women were in the audience absolutely losing their shit. Cat fight!”

“It just seems so weird, a woman killing someone like that.”

“Women in the Kootenays are fucked, believe me. If you’re saying a woman isn’t capable of violence like that, then I have a bridge to sell you. There’s a saying in these parts you have to live by: ‘don’t stick your dick in crazy’.”

By this point I’d witnessed firsthand not only the quirky and strange people who populated Nelson’s streets, but the legitimately unhinged ones too. Paisley had made friends with one woman in particular, a business owner and mother, who turned out to be hopelessly addicted to a menu of pharmaceuticals that was truly impressive. Down the street was a woman suffering from some sort of delusions, and one morning we spotted her doing yard work in her underwear. The bumper sticker said “Keep Nelson Weird”, as if it’s stockpile of weirdness was diminishing, but I knew the opposite to be true.

“Makes me glad I’ve already got a partner,” I said. “I don’t need to deal with any of that bullshit.”

“Oh yeah, where is she?”

“Visiting her parents in Nova Scotia for a week.”

“I bought one of her desserts at the Co-op the other day. It was fantastic. You’ll pass along my praise?”

As we were speaking, a quartet of women appeared from the trees and came tromping through the grass in our direction. They all wore overalls, white face masks pushed up to their foreheads, with dark green rubber gloves that climbed halfway up their arms. All of them were somewhere in their 20s, and pretty, though they looked haggard and dirty. They were giggling and chatting, obviously relieved to be finished a long shift. When they got close enough I recognized Blayne, who I hadn’t seen since her incident in the middle of winter. I half-stood, giving her an awkward wave, as Niles jumped to his feet and began to bark orders. He quickly got them sorted and they loped off to the main house before I could say anything. I was thrown off for a moment, flustered, but then Niles threw himself down in his chair.

“Remind me,” he said. “What were we talking about?”

The Kootenay Goon

[thecrains-hillhouse]

The Haunting of Hill House - Fanfiction Luke/OC

Faded

Anna Spencer was no stranger to the horror of Hill House and now it was calling her home.

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two - Current] [Chapter Three - Coming Soon]

Faded

Chapter Two

Sun filters through the trees like waves of sunlight breaking onto shore. The grass is a luscious green, the flowers in bloom and beautifully fragrant and the picket fence that surrounded the property sat proud like a pristine white halo. The picture perfect house in front of me had a porch that wrapped itself around the walls like a safety blanket, with a swinging chair hung towards the left hand side of the large wooden door. Blue shutters adorned the windows and the faint smell of apple pie drifted through the warm breeze.

This was my home… Or at least the one I had created for myself in the deepest most sacred parts of my mind when I was nothing but a child. Everything down to the garden path and the oak tree that shaded the yard was perfect and right now, so evidently real.

“Momma!” An angelic voice sounded bringing me out of my dreamy gaze. A mousey brunette girl bounded from the house, her curls bouncing as she skipped towards me. “Momma, come on!” She shouts and I instinctively reach out for her, pulling her close to my chest.  “Momma?”

“Yes, baby?” I ask, planting a kiss on her forehead as if it was the most natural thing in the world. This was my daughter, of this I was certain.

“Daddy said that dinners ready!” She tells me excitedly, pulling me towards the house, her little hand fitting perfectly in mine.

I follow her in wonder up the garden path, she leads me up the stairs, across the porch and through the large wooden door and I’ve never felt more at home.

“There’s my girls,” a familiar voice sounds from inside the kitchen and the small girl lets out a perfect laugh.

“Daddy!” She calls releasing my hand to launch herself in to his arms. “I got momma like you asked.” She tells him, and I take a step forward to peer round the corner.

“Hey baby,” He says to me and my heart almost stops

Like Crain stands before me, holding our daughter in my childhood dream house. Pictures begin to adorn the walls and I watch our perfect life play out like a fairytale. Tears sting my eyes and I breathe a sigh of relief. This was exactly where I was supposed to be.

“You okay?” Luke asks, his rough hand gently caresses my face, his expression full of concern. I nod and offer him a tearful smile.

“I’m perfect.” I tell him as I lean into his touch. “For a second there I thought I had stepped into a dream.” We laugh together and it’s magic. We spend the afternoon eating apple pie, playing hide and seek and laughing together. We’re a family and it feels so good.

As it gets late, and the sun begins to set, we curl up on the couch. Luke holds our girl close and my legs are slug lazily over his, with his hand resting naturally on my knee. I pitch myself to make sure this is real and as I feel the sharp pain against my skin, I find Our daughter fusses in Luke’s arms but as I reach out to touch her, she turns to me with dark eyes.

“It’s time to wake up momma. It’s time to go home.” Lightening sounds from outside and I stand quickly from the sofa. I watch as everything that was once picture perfect turns into the perfect nightmare. Mould creeps up to walls like vines. Rain and hail slammed against the windows and a silhouette of a red head clouded the door.

I can’t move, I can’t speak, I can’t do anything other than stand and wait for whatever fate has is store for me.

“Anna?” Luke calls to me and suddenly he’s ten feet away, and she’s there in place of our baby. The lady with the fire hair. And she’s holding something... A needle.

No.

I scream out for him, but no sounds pass my lips. The redhead slams the needle into Luke’s chest and the ground swallows him hole.

I can feel the tears streaming down my face, I want to run to him, to follow him to whatever abyss he’s fallen into but I’m frozen in place.

“Sleep never helped you before, honey.” Red says, her charismatic smile firmly in its place. “You can’t escape,” She tells me. “Now I won’t tell you again.” She lights a cigarette and strolls over, taking long, slow drags as she does. Red stops a few feet away and flicks her cigarette in my direction. I watch helplessly as it hands but inches away from my feet.

“It’s time to come home.” She demands before I’m engulfed in flames.

I wake up with a start gasping for air, the smell of cigarettes still lingers in the bedroom, to a faint banging on the front door downstairs.

04:02

What the fuck?

“Anna!” A voice calls me as I stumble clumsily down the stairs. I fumble around with the lock and the door swings open.

“Steve?” Steve Crain stands before me, his eyes bloodshot.

“Anna, I’ve been trying to call you for two fucking hours.” He half shouts at me, hitting the brick wall with his palm.

Something’s wrong.

“What’s happened?” I ask, and I can already feel the hairs on my body stand on end.

“Have you heard from Luke?” My heart drops.

“You know I haven’t seen him since dinner, Steve.” I answer defensively. Luke and I hadn’t been on speaking terms for a while now and Steve knew this. It was a sensitive subject and I was half offended he even had the cheek to ask. I move to the side and let Steve move into my home. He makes a sarcastic comment about ‘still leaving the light on for him’ and I ignore it effortlessly as I had done for the past 25 damn years.

I cross my arms over my chest, and ask “Now tell me why the hell you’re standing on my doorstep at four in the morning.”

“Are you eating?” Steve asks innocently.

“Yes.” I snap and he doesn’t push me any further.

“It’s Nell.” Steve continues slowly and as hard as I try not to see the tears gather in Steve’s tired eyes, they are more than evident. My stomach churns as I await the news that tastes so bitter on his tongue. “She... She went back to that damn house.” Fuck, Nellie. You promised. “She’s dead Anna. She killed herself.”

Time itself stops and everything good in this world falls apart molecule by molecule. Steve and I stare at each other with broken glances, and behind him a flash of red. I can feel hot tears fall down my cheeks, and Steve presses the sleeves of his jacket firmly into his eyes. Steve Crain; logical strength.

“No,” I shake my head. Pure denial crossing my entire being. It didn’t make sense. Especially after Olivia. Nell wouldn’t hurt the ones she loves like that, not after the damage it had done to them all when we were kids. “There’s no way. She wouldn’t do that to us, Steve.” I tell him and Steve scoffs at me, like maybe he believed that just a few short hours ago.

“Yeah well she did. She’s gone.”  He tells me, and I feel heavy with grief. We do not say anything for a while, we stand in silence taking solace in each other’s presence.

“What do you need me to do, Steve?” I ask quietly.

“I need you to help me find Luke, he voluntarily left his rehab last night and no-ones seen him since.” Fuck. “Following that junkie girl like a lost puppy... He’s 90 days clean, did you know that?”

“I did, actually.” I nod and Steve rolls his eyes at me. Of course I damn well knew, I called that centre so many fucking times, the actually picked up by saying hello Anna. I give Steve one of my infamous looks and he holds his hands out in surrender. We both sigh in defeat. “Does Luke know about Nellie?”

“Not yet, that’s why I need you.”

“Give me five minutes.”

---------

The night is dark and the air feels as heavy as my heart. I watch the outside world pass by and it’s hard to contemplate that Eleanor Crain, my best friend and soul sister no longer walks this world with us. She doesn’t breathe this air, she doesn’t see the blackness of night or the light of day. She doesn’t do anything, she doesn’t feel anything... She’s just gone.

Luke’s sober coach talks aimlessly at Steve and I can see it goes in one ear and out the other. I look at each and every individual that we pass, taking the time to register if they are strangers or Luke, the first boy and only boy. Their faces blur together and I wonder if we’ll ever find him in this ocean of beings.

I can feel the emptiness of my stomach churning once more, the gold necklace hung around my neck feels unusually heavy. My hand instinctively reaches for it, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I find it exactly where it should be. The necklace sits just above my heart and from there hangs a  diamond ring. An old promise made in another life.  A different life.

Bile rises in my throat and I have to close my eyes for a moment and remind myself to take a breath. I count to myself and I can feel my heart slow, my fingers in a death grip around the white gold promise.

I can hear Steve swear to himself, cursing every addict in this dead-end city and as I open my eyes to cuss him right back, there he stands... Like an angel in the darkness.

“There he is, I see him.” My voice is quiet and the tension in the car hits its highest. Steve pulls the car over and I hesitantly step out. I watch as Luke Crain takes seven steps. He waits for a moment and then counts seven more.

“Luke,” I call to him.

“Anna.”

There has to be seven. That’s what keeps you safe.

-------

Thank you for reading, please do let me know what you guys think and whether I should continue. Apologies for any errors, I have a bad case of tonsillitis so I’m 100% blaming that! Until the next chapter :D

TAGS: @iamthemaskhewears @currentlythinkingofacoolusername @inhumanhacker @southernmistake @coolyoungbouquetdestinylove

[lillaxtrigger]

Faded land: Chapter 1

A woman slowly opens her eyes as she awakens from the cracked ground beneath her. Rain pouring down her back as she gets up. “Ah...What happened?” she says as she rubs her head. Looking ahead, she saw a gray wasteland, dead trees and stumps laid strung about the rocky terrain. “Where am I? How’d I get here?”. Her mind flashes to the last thing she remembers before waking up. Both her and a blonde man were in a science laboratory. The man was messing with a metallic sphere sat on a table with the labeled: “Time sphere”. The woman rushes over to the man as sparks start to fly from the sphere. Trying to pull the man away, a white flash consumes the both of them. “Arthur!” she exclaims. Looking around, she couldn’t find a single sign of life anywhere. She starts to walk ahead, the ground crinkling beneath her feet with each step. “Oh Arthur. What have you done? I knew building the time sphere was a bad idea, but nobody listened.” Stepping on a big rock, she looks upwards towards the sky. The gray rain. clouds in the sky blocked out any sign of sunlight. She lost her balance and fell down on her back. Looking over, she saw the rock she was standing on was shaking. Coming out of the bottom was a slimy slug, which slithered along the ground. The woman crawls backwards away from the rocky snail. “Wha?.”. Backing up into a tree, she looks behind her and sees a human face molded within the bark. She gets up and back away slowly before bolting it as far from the tree as possible. Running up to a cliff, the warm winds blow in her maroon hair. She looks out and sees a massive crater in the distance, about as big as a small town. From the cracks shined a green glow among the circumference of the crater. “What is that?”. Looking closer, she’s able to make out a small building just beyond the crater. She could see something walking out of the house, though she couldn’t make out what it was, it being a speck when viewed from afar. Adjusting her glass, she looks closely and questions: “Is that a person?”. Downward, she saw the cliff was steep, but had enough jagged rocks to climb down. Slowly taking her time in climbing down the cliff, she makes sure she has a firm grip on the rocks before she lets go. She peeked down and saw the tall drop from below. Quickly closing her gaze, she tightened her grip on the rocks. “Take it easy. It’s just a fall into certain death. Just take your time and you’ll be okay.”. Grabbing onto one of the rocks, the stone began to move, making her loose her grip. Before she could fall, she swiftly grabbed another rock. Looking at the stone she let go, she saw that a slug came out from the rock and began to slither around the wall. Looking along the cliff, more and more snails began to pop out of hiding, slithering along the face, varying in size. She takes a deep breathe and says: “Okay.”. Climbing down the cliff, she grabs any of the rocks that are still left. She then steps on a snail and starts to fall. Grabbing onto whatever she can, she grasps one of the snails and finds that the slug sticks to the wall. The membrane stretching out a couple of yards, but still holding on She looks down at the other snails, some which are moving along the wall. “Hmm...”. The woman then swings off the snail like a vine and grabs on to another. She then lets go and lands on a big snail. This slug doesn’t stretch out when she lands, firmly hugging the wall as it slithered down. She looks down and sees a trail of giant snails leading down. The woman jumps down the cliff, landing on snail after snail. Finally, she lands on the bottom of the cliff, taking a great big sigh of relief as she stands on solid ground. Looking out, she sees the crater not far, only a brisk walk away. Approaching the wide crater, scientist looks in and sees the hole was very deep, half as big as the cliff she just climbed down. Inside, she saw the cracks within glowing a bright green light, so harsh in fact that she could stare them for a few moments without squinting. The rain hitting the irradiated cracks evaporate as soon as they touch them, making it look like the crater was smoking. The dimming sky made the glowing cracks stand out in the encroaching darkness. She looked away and took off her glasses to rub her eyes. Putting them back on, she looked over to the other side to see the small house. As she started her trek around the crater, she began to ask herself: “Why is their so much radiation coming from this crater? Just staring at it makes my eyes hurt.”. She then trips on the ground, looking back, she sees a piece of wood, buried in the ground. Kicking it in frustration, she saw the plank didn’t move an inch. Curious, she started to dig around the wood and was surprised how deep it was buried. Pulling it out, a sign popped out from the ground. Looking at the front, it read: “Welcome to Barge front. The most peaceful town in Tennessee”. The woman puts down the sign and turns towards the house in the distance. Approaching the humble home, the woman saw a truck parked beside the house. She sat down on the porch to catch her breath. As she was breathing, she felt the cold touch of steel on the back of her head. She turned to see an old woman pointing a shotgun towards her skull. Shocked, she falls to the ground and backs up as the elder aims her shotgun at the girl. “The heck is a lady you doing out here. You not Canadian, are ya?”. “Canadian? I-I just got here. What’s going on?” “Barbra, what’s going on out there?” a man’s voice rang out. “Nothing Berry. Just taking care of some varmits.” the woman said as she focused on the girl. An elderly man quickly came out and gasped. Pushing the old lady aside, she said: “Barbra, put the gun away! Can’t you see this pour girl’s scared?”. The old woman reluctantly backs off, pointing his gun away. The old man approaches the scientist and takes her hand out. “I’m so sorry about that. My wife can get paranoid around new people. Eh...would you like to come in?”. In her heavy breathing, she said: “That would be nice, thank you.”. Inside the small home, the lady sat down on a seat beside a dining table in the kitchen. Berry poured two cups of tea on the counter and carried both of them over to the table on a plate. He passed one of the cups over to her shaking guest. Sipping a bit of the tea calmed her nerves, taking a little sigh after drinking. She looks to the man sitting across from the table and asks: “Um, thank you for...not letting your wife shoot me.”. “Think nothing of it. She can’t really help it. Living out here’s made her a little twitchy.”. “By what?”. “Oh you know, Mutated monsters, bandits, those sorts. “Why live out here in the middle of nowhere if it’s so dangerous.”. “Believe it our not, this is actually one of the safer places in the country. Well, there is the refugee town a several miles down, but...it’s a little too dangerous for people like us. Heck, Barbra has to bring a pistol whenever she goes into town.”. “Even with the big irradiated crater?”. “Oh it’s not so bad. The radiation gives us free energy that never even flickers.” Berry said as he looked to the light over head. “About as nice as it can get honestly.”. “How did a giant crater like that pop up?”. “Oh, it’s always been there. Ever since the bomb dropped on us.”. The guest spurt out tea back in her cup, lowering it from her mouth to say: “Bomb?”. “Oh yeah. Came right above the sky. I believe I was 20 when it hit? Memories are a little fuzzy though.”. “Where did a bomb come from?”. “Hmm...Oh, you know what, both of us are sitting here talking about my wife and I, when I haven’t even got you’re name.”. “It’s Clara.”. “Well, Clara. You look rather well dressed for someone out in the middle of Tennessee. Where’d you come from?”. “Well, that’s...honestly a long story. I’m not even sure about all the details, really.”. “Oh that’s alright. We all have stuff that we don’t want to talk about. Whether it brings out painful memories or unsure of what’s happening around us. It’s fine.”. The young lady takes a sip of her tea and says: “This tea’s really good.”. “You like it? It’s an old recipe passed down from my grandma. I even figured out how to make them into packets. I was gonna plan to sell it someday, but uh...you know.”. “Hee...Right.”. Clara looks down at her tea and back to Berry, asking: “You said something about a refugee town. You know where I can find it.”. “Oh, it’s north from here. Going from the right side of our house. But it’s about 15 miles away. It’d take about a day or two to get there on foot. Why don’t you stay here for a couple days and Barbra can take ya when she goes out for food.”. “Um, I don’t mean to rush thing, but I think I might be in a hurry. Not to be rude, but can you guys drive me there now?”. “Heck no!” the Wife shouted out in the other room. Berry put his tea down and got up, saying: “Excuse me for a minute.”. He walks out of the kitchen and shuts the door behind her, after which yelling could be heard. The walls muffled the arguing between the spouses. Clara looks around the kitchen and sees some small photos on the counter. Getting up, she starts to approach the counter, but stops when she hears both of them shout through the walls. “The truck doesn’t have enough gas for two round trips and more won’t come in til next week!”. “She can’t just send her out there all by herself, she could die!”. She begins to slowly walk up to the counter toward the frames. Looking closely, she saw one of the photos was that of two young boys standing in a lush field. Next to it was a young couple standing together in front of a recently built house, the man from the picture looked a bit like one of the kids in the previous photo. Another showed the both of them, but not really interacting with one another, instead reading books on their bed. Two more showed Berry and Barbra sitting in rocking chairs in individual frames. She picks up the photo with Barbra and takes a closer look. Small numbers seemed to be at the top of the frame. “11-9-2083”. Looking back at the picture with the family, she looks above to find another date in the corner. “3-17-2022.”. Suddenly, the door knob started to open. Clara rushed back into her seat just as Berry walked in. “I-I’m sorry. I can’t really, convince my wife to go into town right now. Seem you’ll have to wait a while.”. “Alright” Clara said, looking disappointed. She then got up and started to head for the door. “Where are you going?” Berry asked. “I gotta get moving. Thanks for the tea.”. When she steps outside, she notices that the only light left was the light from the glowing crater and the light coming from the house. Everything beyond it was nothing but pure blackness as far as the eye could make out. Walking back inside, Berry was still standing in the kitchen. “So do you guys have I guest room I can maybe stay in?” Clara ask. “In the back.”. Clara opens the door to the room she would be sleeping in. The room consisted of only a drawer, a lamp, and a bed. She put her hand on the bed and felt that the fabric looked untouched, but rather old. A shadow emerged on the bed. Clara looked behind her and saw Barbra standing in the doorway giving her a piercing glare. “Oh! Uh-Um hey there. Uh, sorry about, um...You must have thought that I was a bandit or something.”. Clara gets up and starts to approach the elderly woman. I “didn’t really knock or introduce myself or anything. Thanks for-”. “You listen me and you listen good. So long as your under my roof, you won’t eat anything, you won’t go anywhere, you won’t do anything, without my consent, you hear me.” Barbra said in a threatening manner as she approaching her guest, making Clara back up onto the bed. “Food is scares for us. And I only got so many bullets for my gun. And I don’t want to waste them on a scroungy brat like you.”. Standing over the edge of the bed, Barbra stares at Clara, saying: “When I have to go back into town and I take you, you better not think about coming back here.”. Barbra walks out of the room and slams the door shut. Clara takes her lab coat and shoes off and put them to the side, laying down on the soft bed. Looking out the window, she could only make out the feint light that was coming from the crater. She stares up towards the ceiling leaving her alone with her thoughts. Too many questions were floating around in her mind to let her simply drift off. “What am I gonna do? Where am I even gonna start? How much of the world is left?”. As she stared at the ceiling, all she could hear was the sound of the wasteland winds blowing through the humble abode. “So much happened all at once today. So many questions going through my head. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.”. The next morning, little light shined against the clouds, illuminating the lands and the home. Clara was sound asleep, her snoring echoing through the whole room. The door suddenly swung open, waking the scientist and making her fall off the bed. “Alright, time to get up.” she heard as Clara was coming out of her daze. When her eyes focused, she saw Barbra standing right above her. “Ah?” Clara mumbled as she got up. “Come on. Ain’t got all day.”. “Wha...What’s going on?”. “You’re gonna get to work is what’s going on. If you wanna be fed, you gotta earn your meals.”. “Work? What kind of work.”. “Just the usual stuff we do around here. Wash dishes, sweep the floors, set up traps. Those sorts.”. “And what just what will you be doing?” Clara asks. “Oh, I’ll be doing what I’ve always been doing. Make sure we stay alive.” Barbra says, as she shows off her shot gun. With a clipboard in hand, Clara started to count the number of cans inside the cabinet. She wrote down how many she counted down on the clipboard. She then started to sweep up the floors in the house, gathering the dust and sand. Clara started to sweep under a couch, but jumped when a rat scurried out from under and into the kitchen. Clara then was outside setting up a bear trap on the side of the house. After opening up it’s steel jaws, she said to herself: “Don’t really know why you’d have to set up traps around here. Nothing around but snails.”. She then looks over to the house and sees something on the side. Looking behind the home, she sees a little shed several meters from the house. Opening up the little shack, she saw several tools hanging up against the wall. Hammers, a saw, drills, a pistol, a shovel, a rake, some chains, a big mallet, several pillars and Screw drivers. Under the rack of tools, Clara found boxes of screws, nails, bullets, an empty beer bottle, and a backpack labeled, emergency supplies. Looking inside the pack, she finds some cans, crackers, can opener, flash light, water bottles, a cup and box of matches. She heard the sound of a gun cocking and looking behind her to find Barbra pointing her shotgun at her once again. “B-Barbra, hey. Uh...Did- Didn’t you want me to check in here to keep stock of all the tools?”. “Nice try. Git!”. Barbra forces her guest out of the tool shed and says: “If I catch you in here again. I’m stuffing you full of lead, got it?”. As she was helping Berry wash the dishes, Clara couldn’t stop shaking. Berry saw how frightened the pour girl was and handed her a cup of tea. “Here, drink this.”. The scientist grabbed the cup and started sipping, her shaking gradually stopping as she drank. Taking a sigh of relief as she put the cup down. “Thank you.”. “Think nothing of it. I know when I feel scared or stressed, a cup of tea always calms the nerves right down.”. After taking another sip, she then says: “Um...if you don’t mind me asking...how did you and your wife meet?”. “That’s actually goes a long way back. We used to be high school sweethearts actually. We used to sneak out of our parents houses all the time, go up to the tallest building in town and just gaze a the sunset for hours on end. Used to be one of our favorite spots.”. “What was she like?”. “She was actually very nice. Really caring. I saw her take a nest up a tree when it fell down. Even checking if the eggs were fine. We had our spats every now and again. But it wasn’t really anything serious, until...” Silents fills the kitchen, giving Clara a sense of heaviness that fills the room. The silence is then broken by the sound of a shot gun blast. Clara looks out the window and sees a monstrously mutated wolf outside. Barbra could be seen shooting at the wolf as it lunges at her. The old lady shoots it into a bear trap, where it struggled to get free. As it did, Barbra slowly approached, pointing her fire arms at the monster. Clara sees her point her gun at the beasts head and looks away before she pulls the trigger. The loud gun shot echoed through the lands. The night falls on the humble shack. At dinner, she ate plates of beans with the elderly couple on the kitchen table. While Berry and Barbra ate, Clara stared at them, eating very little off her plate. The air was thick as not a single word was being said. Clara tries to pierce through by saying: “So...Any- anything interesting happen around here?”. “Nope.” Berry simply said. “...So Barbra, I saw you fighting that monster out there. How-how often to they come around?”. “About once a month.” Barbra said. “You know, we’d probably not be so low on food if you’d bring stuff like that in for dinner instead of burning the carcasses.”. “I’ve told you for the 27th time. We can’t eat the animals around here. They’re irradiated and could kill us.”. “Well, it’s just that I’m tired of eating beans all the time. I’d be nice to eat something else for once.”. “What do you want me to do? All I can get is beans.”. Clara ate a little more of her beans and said: “You know what. I think I’m gonna hit the hay a little early. I’ll see you two in the morning.”. “So all they have in that town is beans, huh!? No canned fruit or vegetables of any kind?”. “None that I’ve seen.”. Clara started to slowly back out form the kitchen. “Well maybe you’d find some if you stayed in town for more than two hours.” Berry said. “I’d like to see you drive into town and scrounge for food.”. “You know very well I can’t drive!”. As Clara walked into her room, she found a small box on her bed. Looking inside, she found a note which she reads aloud. “Wanted to give you this. If I can’t sell it, I can at least give it to somebody who likes it as much as me.”. Putting the note aside, she find a bunch of tea packets. She then heard the couple arguing out in the hall. “I burn both ends of the candle to make sure that were safe and well fed. I don’t see you doing anything around here.”. “Oh yeah, cause driving to a beatnik town and shooting wild animals every month is so hard for you. You know I responsibilities too around here, I make sure the house is clean, the dishes are washed, the clothes cleaned, the inventory stocked, the rats out of the cabinet, and I have to all of this everyday, year round.”. “Please, anybody could do that stuff. I’d like to see you wrestle a bear with four heads.”. Maybe if you didn’t drink so much then you could actually help me around here.”. The sound of punching could be heard from the hall, followed by Berry exclaiming: “Ow! Why would you do that!? Why would you do that!? Why would you do that!?”, followed by a door slamming shut. Another door opens and closes. It was the middle of the night, Clara could not get a wink of sleep in, the domestic incident still fresh in her mind. She got out of bed and put her coat and shoes back on. The scientist peeked out of her door to the hall. Coming out, she looks around and sees nobody. In the other bedroom, she see’s two lumps on the bed. In the kitchen, the single light shines on the empty bottles on the table. Clara walks out the front door and heads towards the tool shed. She walks in and takes the back pack. Reaching for the boxes of matches, she notices it open with a couple of shells taken out. She looks on the wall and notices the pistol missing. “Where-”. She hears the sound of a gun cocking and looks behind her and sees Barbra aiming her gun at her. “And where do you think you might be going?” she asks. “Um, I was going to head to town.” Clara says nervously. “What’s your hurry for?”. “If I told you, you’d probably never believe me.”. “You know what I think. I think you really are a dirty Canadian. Destroyed our country in the war, now you want to take the scraps that are left. Wasn’t it enough that you bombed us and left us with barely nothing!?”. “W-What!?”. “Don’t matter now. Least I’ll get my two sense in.”. Barbra aims her shotgun towards Clara. “This is for ruining America, you maple witch.”. Clara shuts her eyes as she waits for Barbra to fire. She hears the sound of a gun going off. Opening her eyes, she fines herself completely fine, no bullets wounds on her person. She then looks at her attacker and gasps to find a bullet hole in the middle of her chest. Barbra feels her chest and looks at the blood on her hands before she falls to the floor. Clara looks above Barbra’s body and see’s Berry holding the pistol, smoke coming out the end of the gun. Berry breaks down in tears and breaks down next to Barbra’s body. The scientist slowly walks past the both of them and picks up the pistol on the ground as she walks out. Clara shines her flashlight down the ground as the light from the crater and the home, fades away as she walks into the dusk.

[vestedbeauty]

I Finally Nailed My Morning Routine At 53

New Post has been published on https://vestedbeauty.com/i-finally-nailed-my-morning-routine-at-53/

I Finally Nailed My Morning Routine At 53

How freaky is it to look forward to a morning routine every day?

Assuming a good – or at least decent – night’s sleep, this morning routine is a glorious thing. The best part is that it doesn’t even feel like a massive string of excellent habits all strung together. Always a plus when you can trick yourself (er, understand human psychology) and do all the things you know are good for you.

It feels a little weird writing this one because:

This morning routine is ROUTINE. Like, putting it into words shows how boring it is. There’s nothing all that impressive. Nothing eyebrow-raisingly badass. Certainly nothing epic. But maybe that’s part of its charm.

You might read this and be like, “Oh man, this is the morning routine I’ve been looking for my whole life!” Cool. But you’re pretty much on your own as far as figuring out how to implement it. I’m no life coach!

But if your morning routine could use a little shake-up, this might help.

Wake Up in the Morning Feeling Like P-Did…

(Okay, I won’t embarrass my kids after all. But you and I both know that when you reach midlife, songs get stuck in our heads more than ever before. Doesn’t matter that these songs are now playing over the speakers at the grocery store.)

I don’t use an alarm. Well, unless I’ve got an early flight or appointment. That hardly ever happens. What’s freaky is that I’ll go long streaks of mornings waking up at the same time, to the minute. 6:17 is the current streak. 

Before my feet hit the floor, I spend some time in gratitude for the avalanche of blessings that fill my life. I pray for my kids (the two I raised, and the three my hubby raised) and their partners, my tribe (family and family by choice), and the seven families I know who’ve lost a young adult child, including one in my extended family. I ask for wisdom, grace, and creativity – and a heart full of love, joy, and peace.

Coffee on the Porch with Hubs

We make our coffee, then distract the dogs long enough to sneak out the front door before they stampede.

On the porch, there’s this glider loveseat in the shade. I bought a cushy cushion so it would be comfortable enough to sit on for a while. Out there, we watch birds, squirrels, and bunnies. 

Sometimes our neighbor gives us a show. Not that kind.

He raises racing pigeons. They fly laps around the block many mornings. There also seem to be some volunteers – wild doves that want to earn a spot on the team so badly that they try out day after day.

FREE CrossFit! (Minus the Gym Whistle… If That’s a Thing)

Thanks to having a huge oak tree fall at the corner of the house (not on!), then getting mulched to oblivion, I have a year or so of workouts. Each morning, I’m shoveling, pushing a wheelbarrow, dumping the load of mulch or dirt, and spreading it. Listening to a little Trance mix puts extra pep in my step. (I have been listening to mixes by @DavidOlam for about a decade.

Of course, that’s after I do a stint as a chicken tender. We have 21 hens currently. They love cracked corn. In fact, they love it so much they will congregate on our back deck asking for it. They get some (it’s like candy for them). They also get fed and watered. I collect eggs then, too. Usually, we give about 3-4 dozen eggs away each week during summer and fall. Those slackers go way down in production during the winter.

Also, I love growing flowers and veggies. So, when stuff’s growing, I check in on it all. I use those watering globes to make sure everything gets the water it needs… where were these all my life?

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Stretttttttttttch That Body

After dripping sweat from mulching, nothing feels better than lying flat on my back on the floor. My muscles stretch, and sometimes my back cracks a little (gently). A little floorwork, then it’s time to stretch. I’ve always been about as flexible as a pretzel rod. But with daily stretching, there’s some progress. 

My goal is to build strength and endurance and increase my flexibility and balance. Days I need to miss this routine, I feel like a slug. A stiff slug.

I Scrub His Back, He Scrubs Mine (My Favorite Part of the Morning Routine Around Here)

Anyone else out there shower with your partner on the regular? We do so every morning that we’re both home. In fact, if one of us is traveling, we joke about not remembering how to even clean ourselves anymore. It’s lovely. 

He’s been so good-natured about the ever-changing lineup of products. Doesn’t even freak out when there’s one conditioner for every day except Monday and Thursday, on which there’s a different one. Also, he takes some ribbing from the guys in his VW restoration shop for being “late” to work. But he melts my heart when he says, “Are you kidding? For a chance to wash my girl’s hair? You bet I’m late.”

It’s more time to just connect (hehe – okay, yeah). We share what’s on the agenda for each of us. That works well because I’m the Content Director at Capitalism.com, a very busy startup – plus we both own businesses. It can be a challenge to keep our schedule in sync, but we’re getting pretty good at it.

Fix and Fuel

Having a pretty simple routine for hair and makeup on the days I do them is beautiful. (Here’s what I’ve found to make my hair routine work…ish.)

I listen to podcasts (at 2x speed). Current favorites are, Capitalism.com (of course!), Garrett Gunderson’s Wealth Labs, and Brooke Castillo’s The Life Coach School.

Floss (it sucks, but sucks way less than having to have dental work done). Makeup – I get most of mine from BeautyPie. I’ll do a review one of these days. If you want to check it out, here’s my referral link, which will give you your first month’s access free.

While I dry my hair, I catch up on newsletters like Morning Brew. On Mondays, I read a bit of Mark Manson’s goodness. Maybe check email and FB (NOTE: this is about 90 minutes after I wake up! NOT first thing! Not even second thing.) 

As a creature of habit, I thrive on routine. This shows up big-time at breakfast. I’ve probably had steel-cut oats for breakfast 99% of the time for the past six months or so. A little bit of fresh fruit in the bowl first, a spoonful of Mike’s Natural nut butter (I’m a taste tester and my team is writing product descriptions – I’ll write more about that when they launch), and a splash of milk. Or, just nut butter on an apple, if we’re out of oats.

And then… ready to make my long commute to our home office (and my lovely ergonomic desk chair).

What Parts of Your Morning Routine Do YOU Love?

I didn’t build this routine overnight. It grew gradually by stacking one practice on top of another. Within a few months, it got to feel like second nature. With a few more months, it felt like something was “off” if I skipped part of it. 

What I love most is that this natural rhythm of starting the day helps me prioritize my relationships, attention, health, and the expansion of my mind. By focusing on these core vitals every morning, it seems like the rest of the day just works better.

How about you? I’d love to hear your #1 favorite part of your morning routine in the comments.

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[kramlabs]

“Moving Water”

By Michael Keaton

My dad shot the head off a turkey with a rifle from 150 feet at the Montour Run Sportsman’s Club turkey shoot raffle in 1956. About an hour and a half later, he stubbed out a Winston, set down a pony bottle of Duquesne beer on a picnic table, picked up a .22, and shot a bat out of the air as it circled the bulb of a nearby streetlight. My dad could shoot.

I’m a pretty decent shot myself and I probably couldn’t shoot a bat into the air if you folded up its wings and shoved it down the barrel of my twenty-gauge.

Membership of the Montour Run Sportsman’s Club was made up of mill workers, railroad men, mechanics, farmers, and numbers runners. Italians, Poles, Germans—sons of immigrants. Men in hats, white short sleeve shirts, who smoked cigars, drank beer, and swore. As it applied to some of its members, the word “sportsman” in the title was probably a stretch. My father, who always taught us good sportsmanship, didn’t quite fit that mold.

Montour Run itself ran slow and bath-tub cool past the sportsman’s club, its banks holding deep shades of orange left over from strip mine deposits. Andrew Montour himself was a half-European and half-Oneida Indian who served as a scout and interpreter of four languages during the French and Indian War, and the idea of something as exotic as Indians fighting alongside and, in Montour’s case, against Frenchmen in these western Pennsylvania woods filled me with excitement. You’re talking about a kid with a big imagination, and so something like this was just more coal being shoveled into an already blazing furnace.

The creek flowed under a narrow two-lane county bridge about a mile down from the club. I have always been drawn to moving water, and most summer mornings between the ages of nine and twelve I could be found sitting on the big, cool, mossy stone abutments of that bridge holding my hardware-store Zebco fishing rod, with a packed lunch at my side. And those smells. Sweet humid air, honeysuckle, creosote off the railroad ties of an old railroad bed fill my sense memory to this day, but what really transports me is the water. Staring into the water. Moving water. Water just clean enough to hold a reasonable population of bluegills, suckers, catfish, and the occasional carp. I can still feel that tap-tap of a bluegill as it sabotaged my nightcrawler, nipping away at it right up to the bend in my Eagle Claw hook, then swimming away. Watching that dunk of my bobber when a catfish ate. This is what thirty years later my boy would call “plain fishin.” Plain fishin’ to this five-year-old was anything that didn’t require a fly rod. Plain fishin’ was sinking a Hare’s Ear nymph or a Trude from the end of the monofilament line of his own Zebco rod. The beginning of the end of my own plain fishin’ occurred after staring at on old photograph of my grandfather standing on a rock with a cane rod working a fly through a pool in the middle of a Pennsylvania trout stream. He was wearing rubber boots, a wool sports coat, and a smile. If Pennsylvania fly fishing was Christianity, to me he looked like Jesus.

***

It was a few years after staring at that photograph of my trout fishing grandfather that I took the money from cutting Mrs. Story’s lawn and, with the help of my dad, bought a $60 fly rod and a $34 Mitchell reel, once again from a hardware store. It should be noted that Mrs. Story was generous enough to bump me up from $3 to a whopping $3.25 to cut about an acre of grass while tallying about seven yellow jacket stings per summer. I caught my first trout on a fly under a bridge in King’s Creek in West Virginia, not forty-five minutes from Montour Creek. A thirteen-inch hatchery-born, planted rainbow. Over the years since then, I’ve become a decent angler. Self-taught and along the way generously schooled by world-class anglers, I’ve fished in more than a dozen countries. I’ve waded miles of Caribbean flats, watched the miracle of a tarpon leaping over and over again 100 yards away from the end of my line—dinosaur on a stick. I’ve been dropped off in the Patagonia wilderness and caught brown trout that have never seen a fly. I’ve stalked permit with the desperate look of a junkie at five o’clock in the morning wandering the Cabrini Green projects. I’ve stood slack jawed while a chrome-bright steelhead streaked back to the Pacific after a thirty-minute rodeo that left me standing there with my rod in my hand, rain dripping off my hood, and that dumb “wha’ happened?” look on my face. I was left feeling like I had to lie down or check into what my friend calls the “nervous hospital.” I am blessed and grateful for these experiences, and they all started on those little Pennsylvania streams.

***

I would get to see these creeks and rivers once I reached the legal hunting age during deer hunting trips with my dad and brothers. Crossing steel bridges over those pretty streams, I would press my nose to the side window and then crane my neck as they got farther from view. Moving water. In the fall of 1963 the U.S. Army sent my brother to Okinawa, my oldest brother was starting a career in banking, and my brother Paul was struggling through his college finals. Me, I was going deer hunting on opening day with my dad. Alone. When you are one of seven, time alone with one of your parents is a rare thing. A cherished thing.

We crossed the beautiful Clarion River as evening set in and turned up a little gravel driveway that led to a small, two-story wood-frame house wearing the inviting glow of a front porch light. It was owned by two very perfumed little old ladies who rented out rooms to hunters. And we were hunters. It was warm and clean. A good thing, too, because as we climbed the comfortingly creaky stairs and entered our room, it began to rain. It rained for three days. We laid out our boots, gloves, long underwear, and wool hunting coats that would absorb enough water over the next two-and-a-half days to add at least another four to five pounds to my already too big, hand-me-down attire. We climbed into the double bed, just big enough for an adult and one kid who still was one of the smaller guys in his class. He turned off the light and, after the standard adjustments before settling in for a night’s sleep—pillow positioning , throat clearing, blanket negotiating—my dad, who was meticulous, ran his hand through his thinning hair—hair that grew thinner and thinner as more of us were brought into the world. I remember how he smelled. Like a man. Like a working man. He smelled like Old Spice and work. We lay there. Some seconds went by and we discussed our strategy for tomorrow, the rain, etc. I threw in a token expression of what a tough break it was the brothers couldn’t make it, and then after some seconds we talked about the good fortune of finding a place after not making proper arrangements, as it turned out to be just the two of us and not a party of four or five.

Then we discussed the thing we were both thinking. Normally, during our hunting trips we’d be staying in a rough-and-tumble hunting camp with a bunch of rough-and-tumble hunters or in a cheap motel, or even sleeping in the car for a couple of hours if we left early enough not to need a room the night before opening day. All the other guys we knew were doing just that, and more than likely all the guys we didn’t know were, too. It’s hunting. We’re hunters. It’s what’s done. We acknowledged and accepted that we were deviating from the norm and bedding down in a very welcoming, dry, warm, and inviting guest house. A guest house that had pink wallpaper, nice lamps, clean furniture, and a cooked breakfast courtesy of two sweet little gals who were flush with what my mom used to call “rouge.” Secure in our masculinity, we accepted our situation and closed our eyes for some good old manly shuteye. We lay there in the silence with only the sound of the steady rain drumming on the roof. I waited. I waited a little more. Now, I thought. Drop it now. “Dad?” “Yeah?” “Maybe we shouldn’t mention where we stayed to the other guys when we see them.” I waited. My mom was Irish. Laughter to her was as easy as breathing. My dad had just enough Scottish blood running through him that he wasn’t exactly prone to mirth. I waited some more. I could feel the smile on his face grow without having to see it. Then a laugh. Pause. Another—this time bigger. Longer. Silence. “Good idea.” He rolled over with his back to me. Pause. Then the mattress softly shook, and I could hear one more laugh from the other side of the bed before he fell asleep. Nailed it. Irony, situation, timed and delivered with the precision of a surgeon, if I do say so myself. I lay there with a smile on my face that you couldn’t have erased with a jackhammer. I felt like a prizefighter. I felt like a gunslinger. I lay there. Smiling. Rain on the roof.

I would spend the next two-and-a-half days walking through the rolling mountains of Pennsylvania, cold and soaked to the bone. I would miss a fairly easy shot at a seven-point buck that looked at me after the fact with a look on his face that kind of said “you’re kidding, right?” before calmly trotting away. Missed with the punkin’ ball slug from a .410 shotgun that rests in my gun closet today. Didn’t mind at all.

***

Some years pass and I’m thirty-seven years old, and I’m crossing the sweet little river that winds through my ranch with my own little boy on my back, his arms wrapped around my neck, his chin on my shoulder, face next to mine. Trust. We climb up the bank and I put him down. As the sun sets, we walk across a hayfield, his little hand in my left hand and my fly rod in my right. Headed home. As we walk across that field with the porch light of our house glowing in the distance, I think my chest will explode with gratitude and joy. If you’re doing it right, the longer you live, the more you become just who you really are. When you’ve been fortunate, unless you’re flat out stupid—and some would say the jury is still out when it comes to me—your gratitude should grow in direct proportion to your years.

We eat our dinner. We read our books. I kiss his forehead goodnight. He smells like grass and air and purity. Sometimes I miss plain fishin.’ Sometimes I miss my dad.

[parkersrevenge]

The Outsiders is Gay(tm), an academic study:

Some of these quotes are 100% serious and meant genuinely, especially in regard to Dally and Johnny. Other quotes are absolutely us being pedantic, entirely because of how much of a hissy fit Hinton threw for the mere suggestion that there is a possible queer reading of this book. So if some of these seem like reaches… they are, and that’s what makes it so much fun.

Chapter 1:

WHEN I STEPPED OUT into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. (Paul Newman, a bisexual icon.)

I have light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-gray eyes. I wish they were more gray, because I hate most guys that have green eyes, but I have to be content with what I have. (Ponyboy has a type.)

Darry is six-feet-two, and broad-shouldered and muscular. He has dark-brown hair that kicks out in front and a slight cowlick in the back--- just like Dad's--- but Darry's eyes are his own. He's got eyes that are like two pieces of pale blue-green ice. They've got a determined set to them, like the rest of him. He looks older than twenty--- tough, cool, and smart. He would be real handsome if his eyes weren't so cold.

Soda is handsomer than anyone else I know. Not like Darry--- Soda's movie-star kind of handsome, the kind that people stop on the street to watch go by. He's not as tall as Darry, and he's a little slimmer, but he has a finely drawn, sensitive face that somehow manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time.

Soda merely cocked one eyebrow, a trick he'd picked up from Two-Bit.

“I'd just as soon tease a full-grown grizzly” (The biggest and best reach of all.)

They came running toward us now--- four lean, hard guys. (They were hard, guys.)

Steve Randle was seventeen, tall and lean, with thick greasy hair he kept combed in complicated swirls. He was cocky, smart, and Soda's best buddy since grade school.

(The entire description of Dally that lasts three paragraphs.)

If it hadn't been for the gang, Johnny would never have known what love and affection are.

Dallas lit a cigarette and handed it to Johnny. (Historically a queer symbol, just saying.)

Two-Bit cocked an eyebrow. "Nice-lookin' bruise you got there, kid." I touched my cheek gingerly. "Really?" Two-Bit nodded sagely. "Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough."

I can understand why Sodapop and Steve get into drag races and fights so much, though--- both of them have too much energy, too much feeling, with no way to blow it off. (Heh.)

In a moment his breathing was light and regular. I turned my head to look at him and in the moonlight he looked like some Greek god come to earth. I wondered how he could stand being so handsome. (Why would you even think that?)

Chapter 2

I felt my ears get hot. Two-Bit or Steve or even Soda would have gone right along with him, just to see if they could embarrass the girls, but that kind of kicks just doesn't appeal to me. I sat there, struck dumb, and Johnny left hastily to get a Coke.

I grinned with pride--- I don't think I look one bit like Soda, but it's not every day I hear Socs telling me they think my brother is a doll.

Dallas scowled for a second. If it had been me, or Two-Bit, or Soda or Steve, or anyone but Johnny, Dally would have flattened him without a moment's hesitation. You just didn't tell Dally Winston what to do… But Johnny was the gang's pet, and Dally just couldn't hit him. He was Dally's pet, too.

It had taken more than nerve for him to say what he'd said to Dally--- Johnny worshiped the ground Dallas walked on, and I had never heard Johnny talk back to anyone, much less his hero.

I looked at Two-Bit admiringly. He sure put things into words good.

"Get Johnny some, too. I'm buyin'," he added as Johnny started to reach into his jeans pocket.

I don't like to go on weekends because then there is usually a bunch of girls down there flirting with Soda--- all kinds of girls, Socs too. I don't care too much for girls yet. Soda says I'll grow out of it. He did. (COME ON.)

I quit worrying about everything and thought about how nice it was to sit with a girl without having to listen to her swear or to beat her off with a club. I knew Johnny liked it, too. He didn't talk to girls much. Once, while Dallas was in reform school, Sylvia had started hanging on to Johnny 32 and sweet talking him and Steve got hold of her and told her if she tried any of her tricks with Johnny he'd personally beat the tar out of her. Then he gave Johnny a lecture on girls and how a sneaking little broad like Sylvia would get him into a lot of trouble. As a result, Johnny never spoke to girls much, but whether that was because he was scared of Steve or because he was shy, I couldn't tell. (Harold, he’s gay.)

Chapter 3

Dally--- wild, cunning Dally-

I looked at their clothes and realized for the first time that evening that all I had was a pair of jeans and Soda's old navy sweat shirt with the sleeves cut short. (Fashion.)

Two-Bit took a long drag on his cigarette, Johnny slouched and hooked his thumbs in his pockets, and I stiffened. (Heh, pt. 2.)

I only wanted to lie on my back under a tree and read a book or draw a picture, and not worry about being jumped or carrying a blade or ending up married to some scatterbrained broad with no sense. (He just wants to deal with normal stuff, not weird stuff like gang violence and women!)

"Shoot," I said, startled out of my misery, "you got the whole gang. Dally didn't slug you tonight 'cause you're the pet. I mean, golly, Johnny, you got the whole gang.

Chapter 4

"You could use a bath, greaser. And a good working over. And we've got all night to do it. Give the kid a bath, David."

Bob, the handsome Soc, was lying there in the moonlight, doubled up and still. (He’s dead, Pony. You don’t need to describe his looks right now.)

I knew Buck, and the only way you could get anything from him was to bully him. I guess that's why Dallas could handle him so easily, although Buck was in his mid-twenties and Dally was seventeen.

He appeared in a few minutes, clad only in a pair of low-cut blue jeans, scratching the hair on his chest. (Fashion, pt. 2)

It would be a miracle if Dally loved anything. The fight for self-preservation had hardened him beyond caring. (IMPORTANT)

"Oh, shoot, kid"--- Dally glanced contemptuously over his shoulder--- "I was in the bedroom." He suddenly stared at me. "Glory, but your ears can get red, Ponyboy."

Dally walked us back to the door, turning off the porch light before we stepped out. "Git goin'!" He messed up Johnny's hair. "Take care, kid," he said softly. (He’s in love. Source: Chapter 10.)

I stretched out and used Johnny's legs for a pillow.

"I'm sorry. Why didn't you wake me up?" "That's okay. I didn't want to wake you up until I had to."

"I guess I look okay now, huh, Johnny?" He was studying me. "You know, you look an awful lot like Sodapop, the way you've got your hair and everything. I mean, except your eyes are green." "They ain't green, they're gray," I said, reddening. "And I look about as much like Soda as you do." I got to my feet. "He's good-looking." "Shoot," Johnny said with a grin, "you are, too."

Chapter 5

I pushed off Johnny's jeans jacket, which had somehow got thrown across me…

I propped myself on my elbows and grinned up at him. "Hey, Johnny. Fancy meetin' you here." He looked down at me over a big package. "I swear, Ponyboy, you're gettin' to act more like Two-Bit every day." I tried unsuccessfully to cock an eyebrow. "Who's acting?" ( ಠ◡ಠ )

"A paperback copy of Gone with the Wind! How'd you know I always wanted one?" Johnny reddened. "I remembered you sayin' something about it once. And me and you went to see that movie, 'member? I thought you could maybe read it out loud and help kill time or something."

"Things have been happening so fast..." I put my arm across his shoulders to warm him up

He slumped down beside me. "I didn't mean it like that, Ponyboy. Don't cry, Pony, we'll be okay. Don't cry..." I leaned against him and bawled until I went to sleep.

I woke up late that night. Johnny was resting against the wall and I was asleep on his shoulder.

That was the first time I realized the extent of Johnny's hero-worship for Dally Winston. Of all of us, Dally was the one I liked least. He didn't have Soda's understanding or dash, or Two-Bit's humor, or even Darry's superman qualities. But I realized that these three appealed to me because they were like the heroes in the novels I read. Dally was real. I liked my books and clouds and sunsets. Dally was so real he scared me.

One morning I woke up earlier than usual. Johnny and I slept huddled together for warmth

"You know," Johnny said slowly, "I never noticed colors and clouds and stuff until you kept reminding me about them. It seems like they were never there before." (Literally a cliché from every Disney movie ever made.)

Johnny shrugged. "Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I guess we're different." (!!!)

"Hey, Ponyboy!" He grinned down at me. "Or should I say Sleeping Beauty?"

Chapter 6

"Johnny," Dally said in a a pleading, high voice, using a tone I had never heard from him before, "Johnny, I ain't mad at you. I just don't want you to get hurt. You don't know what a few months in jail can do to you. Oh, blast it, Johnny"--- he pushed his white-blond hair back out of his eyes--- "you get hardened in jail. I don't want that to happen to you. Like it happened to me..."

Chapter 7

Darry and Sodapop were in the pictures too; Jerry Wood told me that if Sodapop and Darry hadn't been so good-looking, they wouldn't have taken so many. That was public appeal, he said. (Everyone has a hard-on for Darry and Soda.)

They slammed the door, of course, and Two-Bit came running into the kitchen. He caught me by the upper arms and swung me around, ignoring the fact that I had two uncooked eggs in my hand.

"Hate to tell you, buddy," Steve said, still flat on the floor, "but you have to wear clothes to work. There's a law or something."

Steve followed him and in a second there was the general racket of a pillow fight. (Why would you follow your naked friend into his bedroom?)

Chapter 8

"Tuff enough," he managed, and by the way his eyes were glowing, I figured Southern gentlemen had nothing on Johnny Cade.

I knew Johnny understood what I meant. We had always been close buddies, and those lonely days in the church strengthened our friendship.

Chapter 9

Darry had on a tight black T-shirt that showed every muscle on his chest and even the flat hard muscles of his stomach. (Fashion, pt. 3.)

"Welup," Two-Bit said cheerfully, cocking an eyebrow, "I see we are in prime condition for a rumble…

“That big guy with y'all, you know him pretty well?"

Then Paul said, "I'll take you," and something like a smile crossed Darry's face. I knew Darry had thought he could take Paul any time. (I bet he could…)

Steve lay doubled up and groaning about ten feet from me. We found out later he had three broken ribs. Sodapop was beside him, talking in a low steady voice.

Several people yelled at us, I think because we were pretty racked-up looking, but Dally had nothing on his mind except Johnny…

Johnny's eyes glowed. Dally was proud of him. That was all Johnny had ever wanted.

Dally swallowed and reached over to push Johnny's hair back. "Never could keep that hair back... that's what you get for tryin' to help people, you little punk, that's what you get..."

"Damnit, Johnny..." he begged, slamming one fist against the wall, hammering it to make it obey his will. "Oh, damnit, Johnny, don't die, please don't die..." He suddenly bolted through the door and down the hall.

Chapter 10

How can I take it? I wondered. Dally is tougher than I am. Why can I take it when Dally can't? And then I knew. Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone.

Steve stumbled forward with a sob, but Soda caught him by the shoulders. "Easy, buddy, easy," I heard him say softly, "there's nothing we can do now."

Chapter 11

Yeah, he was good-looking even then, with a grin that reminded me of Soda's, a kind of reckless grin. He had been a handsome black-haired boy with dark eyes--- maybe brown, like Soda's, maybe darkblue, like the Shepard boys'. Maybe he'd had black eyes. Like Johnny. I had never given Bob much thought--- I hadn't had time to think. But that day I wondered about him.

I knew he liked to pick fights, had the usual Soc belief that living on the West Side made you Mr. Super-Tuff, looked good in dark wine-colored sweaters, and was proud of his rings.

Chapter 12

You know a guy a long time, and I mean really know him, you don't get used to the idea that he's dead just overnight. Johnny was something more than a buddy to all of us.

It was too vast a problem to be just a personal thing. There should be some help, someone should tell them before it was too late. Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand then and wouldn't be so quick to judge a boy by the amount of hair oil he wore. It was important to me.