#wes: why was the bearded middle aged man talking to a teenager to begin with. these r the questions.

[diefame]

@ghostfame : don’t we hear enough of this story every year ?

it's    hard    to    rise above    the    staring,    especially    when    both    he    and    tara    find    themselves    occupying    the    same    public    space.    people    can't    help    it,    it    seems.    in    fact,    they    seem    to    rarely    actively    give    a    shit    about    common    curtesy. welcome    to    new    york.   

❛    apparently    not,    ❜    wes    grouses,    curling    his    expression    into    one    of    pained    disgust    as    he    makes    eye    contact    with    another    bug  - eyed    stranger    across    the    coffee    shop.    seriously ?    ❛    everyone    in    my    anatomy    class    just    knows    me    as    that    one    guy    who    got    shanked    in    the    spleen    by    a    thirty    year    old    man    baby    &    shot    in    the    foot    by    his    psycho    underage    girlfriend.    ❜    his    face    pivots    deeper    into    discontentment    at    the    memory.    ❛    which,    by    the    way .    .    .    so gross.    ❜

[spaceorphan18]

Head Over Feet (1/14)

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

Canon Divergent after Season 5.

Ao3 Link

A/N: Yes, I know I have a bunch of other WIPs - and I am still working on all of them! But I’ve been so excited about this one, I just want to get it out there... 

Thanks to @snarkyhag for the beta. :) 

***

Chapter 1: Loser Like Me (Part One) 

Fall 2028

Blaine is dreaming.  It’s all fuzzy, but there are hands… familiar hands that are on him clasping his own, cupping his face, trailing down, down, down to where it feels good.  He begins to feel the warmth spread throughout his body.  He feels good, so good… Lips are against his, rough and hungry, he is enveloped in want, in need… He lets out a groan, letting the pleasure overtake him.  He reaches out, desperate for more, but as he does so, that good feeling starts to float away.  He makes a grasp for it, but it’s no longer there, and he is left cold and wanting more.  

And then his alarm goes off.  

Blaine wakes up hard as a rock.  He can’t remember the last time he had a dream about sex.  Maybe when he had been a teenager? Or possibly college?  But he doesn’t remember any of those dreams ending him with his dick actually aching to fuck something.  

He stares at the ceiling for a good long moment, thinking the urgency will eventually wear off.  He turns his head, slightly, to see the outline of his husband on the other side of the bed.  He doesn’t bother to wake Sean -- not that morning sex had ever been a part of their marriage.  They’re on opposite schedules; the show Sean is doing the costumes for is in the middle of its workshop, and if it gets picked up by a good producer, it could mean big things.  And Sean is cranky in the morning, anyway.  

Blaine can just as easily take care of himself.

He gets up, slowly.  The erection still hasn’t died down, and Blaine begins to wonder if this is even normal for someone his age.  Maybe he should call a doctor.  He laughs to himself.  Or maybe he should jack off and not worry about it.  

He moves off the bed, having to go around it to get to the bathroom.  In the process, he has to step over a huge pile of Sean’s clothes.  Blaine takes a moment to pick them up, and throw them into the laundry basket.  Two seconds, it takes.  Is that really so hard?  

The clothes also smell like booze and cigarettes, which means Sean has been staying out late with the company again.  It’s fine, they used to both go all the time to the afterparties and the clubs, but some time after Blaine hit thirty, he didn’t find them as enticing any more.  Something about feeling almost twice as old as everyone around him killed the spirit.

Blaine gets into the bathroom, turning on the light, and easily stripping out of the boxers that he wears to bed.  His dick is still throbbing to be touched, so he gives himself a few hardy strokes before turning on the water for a shower.  It’s weird, he thinks, as he gets in.  Sex used to be the a staple of his marriage but, as the years passed, he and Sean manage once a week if they’re lucky.  He hasn’t really missed it, or maybe he hasn’t noticed he missed it.  Because getting off with just his hand doesn’t normally feel so good.  

He indulges a little, thinking about that dream, and those hands on him.  Letting someone else take over, take control, take him apart.  He thinks, at first, of Sean, pulling from the catalogue of their sex life.  Sean being the one to hold him, and stroke him, and suck him down.  But as much as he tries to concentrate on his husband, the scene keeps pulling away, and there’s someone else there -- a faceless man with deft hands who knows exactly how Blaine likes to be touched.  

He speeds up his hand, and yet somehow it doesn’t feel like enough.  He braces himself against the tile of the bathroom wall, fucking furiously into his hand until his hips take on a life of their own.   Eventually he comes, jolting hard into his hand.  The orgasm tears through him, and he lets out a near scream that he hopes doesn’t wake Sean.  

It takes a moment to come down, and he leans against the tiles, enjoying the blissed out feeling as the hot water sprays over him.  He’s not sure what had brought all that on but he does feel more relaxed.  He’s been too pent up lately.  Maybe he does need to start seeing his therapist again…

***

On Wednesdays, Blaine only teaches one class and he is back home by noon in time, usually, to make himself lunch before heading out to do afternoon errands (or stay in and grade papers).  Before the workshop started, he and Sean would usually make Wednesday nights their together time.  But those have faded away over the past year or so.  Blaine has gotten used to spending the evenings alone, to the point that when Blaine arrives back at the apartment that afternoon, he’s startled to see Sean there making himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  

Sean stands against the counter, chewing the sandwich slowly as he watches Blaine put his bag and coat on one of the kitchen table chairs.   “You okay?” Sean asks, taking another bite.  A bit of crust lands in his red beard, and he brushes it off and onto the floor.  Blaine shakes his head, now he understands why the floor is always so filthy.  “You’re looking at me as if I’m a stranger in the house.”

“No, it’s fine,” Blaine says.  Maybe it’s not.  It feels, weirdly, like an intrusion on his private time, but the thought is laughable.  His husband is home -- he should be happy.  Blaine begins to rifle through the fridge, pulling out a container of tuna fish to have for lunch.  They could eat together, at the table, like civilized people.  “What happened with the workshop?”

“Remember me telling you about Ashleigh and Karyn and their obsessive ambition to be the first to win a Tony? Or whatever the fuck they’re actually looking for.”

“Yes.” No? Maybe? He can’t keep all of the cast members of Sean’s show straight.  But Blaine doesn’t really feel like listening to a who’s who tangent.  He finishes making the sandwich as Sean explains further.  

“Well, I don’t know how it started, but I know how it ended -- with the both of them in the hospital,” Sean says.  “So with both the lead and the understudy out, the workshop is on hold for a little while.”

“Wait, who was the lead again?” Blaine asks.  Sandwich made, he grabs some chips from the pantry and a bottle of water and heads to the kitchen table.  Sean follows him, leaving his now empty plate on the counter, before taking his usual seat across from Blaine.  

“Karyn,” Sean says, stealing some chips from Blaine’s bag.  “The blonde.”

“Right.”

“So, I guess you have me home for a while.”

Blaine plasters an immediate smile to his face.  He’s not entirely sure how to feel, though.  “Are you still getting paid?”

“Yeah,” Sean grabs more chips.  “Marv’s gotta girl lined up in case it takes longer.  Shouldn’t be more than a week.”  

“Ah.”  

Sean taps his fingers on the table.  Blaine sips from his water bottle.  There’s a siren outside somewhere, and the upstairs neighbor’s dog sprints back and forth, causing the ceiling to creek.  

“I paid the water bill,” Sean says after a long moment.  

“Great,” Blaine says.  “I still say we should get reimbursed for the neighbors tapping into our pipes.”  

“I’ll talk to Greg about it.”

“Great.”

Blaine eats his sandwich in a strange sort of silence as Sean watches him.  He feels like they should talk about something.  What do they usually talk about these days? Work? The apartment? The new musical mini-series Netflix put out?  Sean doesn’t ask how Blaine’s class went.  Blaine doesn’t offer to talk about it.  Nothing really feels like a good conversation.  

Which is why Blaine decides to mention it… “So, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was some kind of sex dream,” Blaine says, licking the tuna from his fingers.  “I woke up hard as fuck.”

Sean gives a smirk.  “I can’t tell if this is your way of telling me you want to fool around tonight, or if you’re concerned and want to see a doctor.”  

Blaine laughs into his water.  “I decided I’m too young still to have dick problems, and jacked off in the shower.”  

Sean’s eyes go wide with amusement.  “Shame I missed that show.  If you’re still feeling it, we can mess around after lunch if you want.”

Blaine gives an unenthused shrug.  “I’ve got some errands to run.  Then I’m having dinner with Santana tonight, but if you want to catch the late show, it can be arranged.”  

“We’ll see,” Sean says.  “I told some of the guys I’d meet them out for drinks tonight.  There’s a new bar opening over in SoHo.”

A flash of irritation runs through Blaine.  It’s not the turning down of sex that bothers him.  He really doesn’t want to spend his evening at a bar in SoHo.  He really doesn’t want to spend the evening with Sean’s questionable friends ‘Way-Too-Flirty’ Don and ‘Drinks-Too-Much’ Steve.  He doesn’t even really want to go out, especially when he has to teach an early morning class.  But he’s not there to tell Sean what to do.  

He finishes off the sandwich without a word.  It’s not like Sean feels differently about Santana.  

“You know, speaking of Santana, that reminds me,” Sean says, getting up from his seat.  He goes over to the counter and brings back a red envelope.  “This came for you today -- from McKinley High.”  

Blaine takes it with interest.  He gets mailers from Dalton Academy all the time -- even if he didn’t graduate from there, he had still technically been an alumni.  But something from McKinley?  That just seems weird.  It isn’t the right time for there to be a reunion.  He has no idea what it could possibly be.  

He opens it up to find a black and gold invitation. “Oh,” he says a little fondly as he reads it.  “My old glee club teacher is retiring.  He’s inviting everyone back for homecoming weekend to celebrate.  Cute.”  

Sean grabs at the paper after Blaine lets it drop back to the table.  “Do you want me to come with you?” he offers quietly.  

“Would you want to go?” It’s not often that Sean comes with him on the rare occasions he heads back to Ohio.  

Sean hesitates before he speaks, and snacks on another couple of chips before replying.  “I probably should stay to make sure Marv has a handle on this whole Ashleigh-Karyn thing.  That is, unless you’d like me to go.”  

Blaine stares hard at the paper.  It’s not like he couldn’t go.  He doesn’t have to teach on Fridays, and the school is having a holiday weekend that same weekend.  In theory, he could and it wouldn’t be a problem.  “I don’t even know if I should.”

“Maybe go to see your parents, Blaine,” Sean says.  “It’s got to be at least a few years since you’ve seen them.”

“I saw them last year at…” Blaine considers.  Has time really flown by so quickly? “Huh, I guess it has been at least two since that Christmas we spent in Ohio.” He sits back in his chair to think about it.  

“Hey, Blaine…” There’s suddenly a heaviness in the air.  There’s something behind Sean’s eyes that hadn’t been there earlier.  Something that Blaine catches glimpses of every once in a while.  Something that they’ve been avoiding and, for a moment, Blaine fears that Sean is actually going to bring it up.  The room gets darker, just a cloud passing by the sun, but everything is still -- too still, and Blaine’s heart begins to race.  The moment passes, though, and whatever Sean had been about to say changes.  “I guess talk to Santana about it, and see what she says.”

Blaine stares down at the paper again.  Suddenly, a weekend away from the apartment, away from the city, away from Sean doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”  

***

The fall wind is sharp in its crispness, but it’s still a nice enough evening to go for a run in Central Park.  Three days a week, he and Santana Lopez go out for a jog then grab dinner at a nearby taco truck so they can sit and gossip.  Santana, who’s office isn’t far from where they meet, is already waiting for Blaine when he arrives.  She is stretching her legs, bent over in a V, wearing her usual black spandex pants with a bright, blue bomber jacket that billows slightly.  Her designer sunglasses rest on the top of her head.

Because he has been thinking about high school all day, he can’t help but think that she hasn’t changed much.  Her face has hardened a little with age, but Blaine knows her beauty care routine is much more extensive than his, and he knows how much she spends on wigs and dye jobs.  Today, though, her long, black hair is pulled back tightly in a high pony, amusingly reminiscent of how she wore it in high school.  

“Okay, so I have some hot goss for you today,” she says, immediately after they exchange pleasantries.  She waits for him to do his own stretching, but continues to launch into her news.  “So, you remember how I’ve been endlessly talking about the cute redhead on the floor below?”

“The one who works as a secretary for the greasy lawyer?” Blaine pulls his leg back.  The stretching feels nice, he is glad he is able to get out of the stuffy apartment in some capacity tonight, even if he can tell Santana is a bit more ramped up than usual.  

Santana nods.  “So for weeks now, it’s been flirty glances, and unbuttoning buttons to show off some pretty pricey brassieres, but you know, nothing direct.  Well, today she comes up to my floor, claiming the bathroom is not working in their offices -- and I checked, she was totally lying -- and she’s wearing this tight, and I mean tight, nearly see-through button-down.  With no bra.  She had on no bra.  I could see her fucking nipples, Blaine.”

“The nerve,” Blaine teases.  They begin to walk down their usual path.  They have a good quarter of a mile before they usually start jogging, though they might go the first half of their two miles at a walking pace just so Santana could release her pent up energy verbally.  

“Who doesn’t wear a bra in a professional setting?” Santana continues.  Blaine arches an eyebrow at her.  “Okay, so I have totally done it, but I promise you it was warranted.  Anyway, I think she’s trying to kill me.  I took all of my restraint not to pull her directly into the janitor’s closet and make out with her.  And play with her tits.  I can’t unsee her fucking hot tits, Blaine.” Santana grumbles, putting a fist to her head, as if it’ll magically erase the image.

“You know, you could ask for her number,” Blaine suggests, for maybe the third time since Santana has started talking about the woman.  “Or, you know, find out her name.”  

Santana looks at him sharply.  He knows, she just wants a minute to bitch and revel in her janitor closet fantasies, but it’s not in him not to offer suggestions.  “Her name is Liz.  I at least found that out today.”

“Well, that’s a start,” Blaine offers.  

“Alright, what’s up with you?” she asks abruptly.  “Usually, you’re talking my head off about school, and I’m always having to catch up to you.  You’re trailing me by nearly a foot.  Something’s going on.”

Santana’s senses are rarely off, he shouldn’t be as surprised as he is by it.  He tries to quicken his pace but she is right, he is been in his head all day.  “I’m thinking of going back to therapy.”  He says it simply, laying it out as if it’s another fact, and not something that’s been weighing on his mind.  

She gives him a concerned look.  “Is this a ‘just you’ thing? Or a ‘you and Sean’ thing?”

“A ‘just me’ thing,” he admits.  They are nearly at the lamp post where they usually start to jog, but he’s not feeling as up to it as he had been when he arrived at the park.  “Sean’s staying home for a few days, and I’ve been restless lately…” he doesn’t quite say the things he’s thinking.  “And, I don’t know, I had a weird sex dream this morning.  I’ve been off all day.”

“Well, what does Sean think?”

“He offered to fuck, but I told him I had it taken care of.”

“What, no, not about the sex dream,” Santana stops in her tracks.  They have to wait a moment for an older woman walking a doberman to pass in-between them.  “What does your husband think about you going to therapy?”

“It didn’t come up.”  

“God, Blaine,” Santana says, exasperated.  “Well, if you really would rather spend your evening with me than reconnecting with your husband who is, as you well know, built like a fucking viking, then maybe therapy is what you need.”

It’s more complicated than that.  She knows some of it, but maybe not all of it, and it’s more than Blaine would really like to get into on their fairly public walk through Central Park.  But Santana has also grown to be one of his closest friends and, if nothing else, he can confide in her.  

“I’m going to set up an appointment,” he tries to play it off as just another thing.  She knows better, and gives him one of her infamous staredowns.  “And if it’s something I think I need to continue to do, I’ll keep you informed,” he tries to assure her.  

“You better, Anderson.” Her voice is sharp.  “I may have a cold, dead heart, but I want you to be happy.  And you know I’m always going to be blatantly honest with you, so I say this with all the love I can muster, but I don’t think you are.”  

“I know, I know…” He’s not not happy.  He loves his job.  He loves his little apartment.  He loves being in one of the greatest cities in all of the world.  He and Sean are…  “So, hey, did you get your invitation to Mr. Schue’s retirement party?”  He begins to walk again.  He knows he’s avoiding the conversation, so does Santana.  But she rolls with it.  

“He’s retiring?  Dear god, he’s barely over fifty.”

Blaine lets out a little laugh.  “Well, that’s what the invitation said.”  

“And, fuck, no, I haven’t gotten one,” Santana says.  “Though, it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve checked the mail.  Who sends invitations through the mail these days?  Just start a text chain like a normal person.”

“Would you go?” He asks.  He’s been back and forth on the idea all day.  Does he really want or need to see anyone from high school again?  Possibly?  Would it be nice to get away for a weekend? Most definitely.  Can he really afford to skip town for a little while? That is the big unanswered question.  

Santana bites her lip, thinking it over.  “I mean it really depends on who else got these magical invitations.  Oh, god, will Rachel Berry be there? Please tell me Rachel Berry will be there.  Because I have got to see how little Miss TV-Princess does in a place that does not revolve around her ego.”

Blaine has never had the issues with Rachel that Santana had, but he does remember college.  He does remember Funny Girl.  “Sorry, Santana, I don’t actually have an answer for you on that one.”

Santana throws her hands in the air.  “You keep in touch with everyone, right?  Well, isn’t she part of everyone?”

“I think she’s become a little out of my status level,” Blaine replies, with a smirk.  “Besides, I don’t keep in touch with everyone .”  Truth be told, Santana might be the only person he talks to from high school.  At least on a regular basis.  For all the promises made during the time of staying BFFs forever, real life managed to get in the way of the magical thinking.  

“Alright, let’s work it out, right now, cause this will be the determining factor,” she says.  She pulls at a leaf from one of the trees above her, causing the branch to bounce.  It nearly whacks him in the head, which causes her to giggle a little and shake her head.  “Let’s see… Rachel Berry, possibly.  Said ego might drive her back to the place where it all began.”  

“Sam Evans will probably be there,” Blaine says.  “He does still live in the area.” He and Sam don’t have a lot of contact, but occasionally they’ll do a long distance Fantasy Football thing or chat about a new video game they both own.  He hopes Sam will go - he could use more of that laid back charm in his life.  

“Artie clearly won’t be,” Santana continues.  “I know, because I’m the one who put him on the European press tour for his new film.”

“I doubt Tina will be there either,” Blaine adds.  “She just had her third baby, and she and Ron probably don’t want to make the trip from Boston to Lima with three young children.”  

He thinks of Tina’s Instagram, the only way he really communicates with her, and the constant updates for her hectic life.  She’s happy and looking good, and way too busy to drop everything and run back to Ohio.  Blaine makes a note to give her a call at some point to congratulate her formally on the new baby, even if he had already left a cute note on the Instagram pictures.  

Santana is too caught up in her thought process to say more about Tina.  “Finn won’t be there for obvious reasons.  What the fuck happened to Puck? I doubt he has an address to even send anything to.  Quinn’s too prideful to drag her divorced ass out of Connecticut.  You know she’s already taken a new lover ?  She’s in her mid-thirties, and still hitting up the sugardaddies.  I mean, have some goddamn respect for yourself.”

“Well, Mike’s in Chicago,” Blaine offers.  Mike had been part of the Chicago Ballet for a long time, and had since become a dance instructor.  Blaine had been at Mike’s wedding to his wife, Marie, a couple of years ago, and he’s another one whom Blaine wouldn’t mind seeing again.  Maybe he, Mike, and Sam could have a nice guys’ night out that weekend.  He’ll have to get in touch.

Santana nods.  They walk by a woman sitting on a bench with two screaming children.  Blaine feels bad for the woman, but he and Santana share a look -- both of them glad that they don’t have to deal with that kind of hot mess at home.  

“Then there’s Mercedes,” Santana says, looking up and out into the world.  “Goddess among women.  We do not have the privilege to be in her presence.”  Santana laughs at her own comments.  “Seriously, though, I love my girl, but I don’t judge her for continuing to live her best life.”

“What about Brittany?” Blaine asks, tentatively.  He has no idea if this is a sore subject for her or not because he doesn’t think Santana has brought her up once over the course of their friendship.  

Santana becomes stoney-faced, as if not to give herself too much away.  “No,” she says simply.  “Brittany’s living in some commune in LA where she does Fondue for Two and runs a cat babysitting service.”  

“That’s a thing?”

“In LA it is.”  A fond smile climbs on her lips.  “In any case, as much as I am always up for seeing my girl again, I highly doubt she’ll be back.  I mean, we were still hooking up for a while the few times I made it out to LA, but recently she’s found someone a little more… permanent.  And before you go on pitying me, let me assure you, I am more than fine.”  She’s quiet for a moment as she reflects.  For a person who is almost always open about her thoughts, she’s decidedly reclusive when it comes to matters of her heart.  Blaine knows better than to try to pry it out of her. “Anyway, if we’re going to be upfront about exes, I believe there’s only one person left, if we’re not counting random chicks with mafia dads or weird Irish exchange students.  And I’m sure we both know that there’s no way in hell Lady Hummel is coming back to Lima, Ohio.”

“Oh!” Blaine says, as if it’s a complete revelation.  Kurt hadn’t even entered his mind, and it is surreal to think that his brain didn’t go there first.  

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you actually forgot about Lady Hummel and his heartbreaking ways,” Santana scoffs.  “Pretty sure years of therapy couldn’t undo all the trauma that did.”

She isn’t wrong, and she would know, because she helped pick him up a year after everything had happened.  But that’s the funny thing -- it’s not that he doesn’t remember Kurt.  (God, he remembers all of Kurt.)  He doesn’t remember the person he used to be when he had been with Kurt.  There had been a time when he would have shifted the Sun and the Moon and the entire Earth for Kurt Hummel.  A time when his heart had pointed in only one direction.  And a time so dark that when Kurt had ended it, Blaine didn’t know how he would ever move on.  

And yet he did.  

The person he had been is now such a faded memory he can barely remember what those feelings were like.  Kurt Hummel is just another name from his past, a person who, yes, helped shape him into the person he is now.  But long gone are the emotions once attached to that name.  Funny how things can change.  Someone could mean so much to you at one point in time, and yet after time…

“I didn’t forget about Kurt, clearly,” Blaine says. He grabs her arm, and loops his own through it.  The jog isn’t happening today, and he’s fine with that.  Some days, it’s best just to have the company rather than the exercise.  “I just think you’re right, unless Burt is dying or something.  But doubtful that he’ll return for a silly retirement party.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

Blaine shrugs, and gives a smile.  He doesn’t know how he feels about whether or not Kurt will be there.  He hasn’t thought about him so long.  But he does know that after all this talk of the past, maybe he is ready to go back and see if anyone else is feeling the same way.  “I think we should do it.  Go back.  I mean, why not?”

Santana shakes her head.  “Oh, this whole idea sounds like the worst, but if there’s a chance I get to make-out with Quinn Fabray again, then I’m in.”

For the first time in a while, Blaine feels a little lighter on his feet.

***

Not a few weeks later, Blaine is on a plane back to Ohio.  

He and Sean talked it over and, while Sean had been technically free to go, they agreed that maybe it would be better if Blaine went himself; the unspoken dialogue being that space isn’t the worst thing they could give each other.  Blaine had not been able to help but be fidgety with his wedding ring during the flight but, intent on giving himself a weekend off from real life, he drowned himself in his favorite podcasts, and had tried not to think about his life in New York.  

The party is on a Saturday afternoon, but he’s there on Friday so to spend time with his mom.  They end up having a nice lunch together, and she takes him shopping.  She’s as feisty as ever, somehow managing to remind Blaine of Santana, and he wonders if she’s always been like that or if that’s a new trait of being in your sixties.  They end up FaceTiming with Cooper and the kids, and Blaine indulges his little nieces by singing them Disney Princess songs.  The whole day weirdly feels like the family they usually are only around Christmas time, but he’s in good enough spirits that he doesn’t question it.  

Later that night, his dad comes home, and they have pizza before his parents go off for one of their social benefit parties they often frequent, reminding Blaine of the old days when his parents were never home on a Friday night.  He doesn’t mind so much because McKinley’s Homecoming Football game is that night.  

His original plan had been to meet up with Sam since Santana’s plane isn’t coming in until tomorrow.  But Sam declined, stating that Mercedes Jones is coming late that night and she needs a ride from the airport.  Sam didn’t ask Blaine to come with him.  Blaine calls up Mike, who is happy to hear from him, and says that he will be at the party but is only going to make the trip to Lima once on Saturday.  He doesn’t bother trying to get a hold of anyone else, and ends up going to the game alone.  

Coming back to McKinley feels like going back in time, and yet the kids running around make him feel entirely too old to be there.  He half expects Sue Sylvester to pop out and start yelling at the cheerleaders, or Mr. Figgins to make some sort of half-time speech, but the world of McKinley has moved on, even if the campus has remained remarkably the same.  The game is fun, but kind of boring, and he’s not surprised when the team loses by seventeen points.  Still, seeing the array of alumni all cheering around him, he feels a strange sort of connection to the place in a way that he really didn’t when he actually went to the school.  It’s a bit surreal.  

Afterwards, not ready to go home to an empty house, he drives around for a bit, until by chance, he drives by Scandals, Lima’s decrepit excuse for a gay bar.  Feeling somewhat amused, a little nostalgic, and a lot in need of a drink, he decides to grab a beer for old times’ sake.  He decides, on a whim, to put his wedding ring in his pocket.  He’s not actually planning anything, but it’s also not like Sean wears his anymore, anyway.  

Scandals is even more in a sad state of affairs then he remembers, even if ‘Funk-It-Up-Friday’ is trying to give the place some of that Mid-Western Charm.  He orders a bottled beer, and sips as he thinks fondly about the time he watched Dave Karofsky try to line dance.  God, that had been so long ago…

“I’m guessing this place rarely sees a man as gorgeous as you.  Mind if I buy you a drink?”

It takes a moment for Blaine to realize the pick-up line is directed at him, but he does instantly recognize the voice.  Much to his shock, when he turns around, he’s face to face with a much older, and yet still dazzlingly magnificent, Kurt Hummel.

[chancelloramidala]

Across The Stars In A Galaxy Far Far Away ★ Star Wars & Marvel Crossover AU

ONE.

Tony didn’t know what else to expect when Peter called him at two in the morning. He wasn’t even asleep, just drinking coffee in his workshop and fiddling with a new project. Usually when Peter texted him it was about literally the smallest thing. And most the time, Tony didn’t mind it, he found it endearing that the kid wanted to update him on if he passed a test or not and the latest gossip going around school was.

But this time, it was a call, which was deviated from the usual. Calls were important, and Tony wasn’t prepared to talk about anything important. Was Peter going to talk about dating with him? Did he like someone at school? Did he have questions about the birds and the bees?

No. The answers to all of that was no.

Not even fucking close.

Peter was talking so fast that Tony thought the kid accidentally took some drugs and was hallucinating, but when the kid finally slowed down, that’s when Tony heard it.

“I think a space ship just crashed into Central Park, Mr. Stark!”

Tony spat out his coffee all over the steel table. “What?”

“I think a space ship just crashed-”

“Nope, I heard you kiddo,” Tony rubbed his temple feeling a migraine begin. “Promise me you didn’t take anything, nothing that looked like candy off the ground?”

“What? Why would I even... Oh my god, I think aliens are inside the ship!” there was some shuffling and Tony could only assume Peter was running to hide. “I hear something, yelling... clanking...”

Tony felt his face pale as he stepped away from the coffee ruined table and he held the phone closer to his ear. “Peter, whatever you do, don’t approach them. Wait till we get there.”

“”We”?”

“Yes we. Now stay put.”

“Wait! Don’t hang up!” Peter exclaimed as the voice call turned into a video one, “I think they’re trying to get out of their ship! Look!”

Peter turned the camera in his phone around to reveal what he was seeing to Tony.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Anakin helped Obi-Wan down the ramp with one arm loosely around his friend’s torso to keep him upright. “Well, at least we’re all in one piece.” He said as he sat Obi-Wan down next to Ahsoka who was being tended to by Padmé.

Padmé rolled her eyes as she applied a bacta patch on Ahsoka’s bruised back. “No doubt it’s thanks to your flying, Ani,” she sharply replied.

“Where are we anyway?” Ahsoka asked, carefully rolling her shoulders despite the aching pain.

“We’re too far away for our coms to get a signal out.” Rex said as he continued to tap at his com. “I can try again with the communication systems on board, but they looked fried beyond compare, sir.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to try again,” Anakin nodded his head at the Clone Captain before he turned around and went back onto the ship.

Obi-Wan patted Anakin’s arm before reaching up to run a hand through his auburn hair. “I didn’t recognize the star system before we crashed,”

“Artoo?” Anakin called out for his trusty astromech droid. In an instant, R2-D2 rolled down the ramp, beeping and chirping. “Can you get a read of the terrain and figure out what we’re dealing with?”

The Jedi Knight looked around at his surroundings, seeing that there were trees, grass and what seemed to be a water fountain nearby. Benches were scattered about and there was a cobble stone wall way a few feet away. If anything, the area they were in didn’t seem hostile at all.

“Will do,” he beeped as a part of his dome shed while his life-form scanned extended from the top. It turned and started to scan the surrounding area while the droids companions were given bacta patches from Padmé.

“I’m picking up someone in the tree over there!” warbled the droid as he moved side-to-side nervously and extended his utility arm to gesture to the tree he was talking about.

Anakin reached out into the Force, feeling that there was a Force-sensitive being in the tree. Then, with a raised arm, Anakin used the Force to apprehend the being and remove them from their hiding place. From what he could see, it was a small form, lean and of average height wearing some sort of blue and red suit with strange shaped eyes.

Peter Parker yelped as he was yanked out of the tree and dropped his phone on the ground, Mr. Stark’s voice fading away. Now he was just levitating in the air before the aliens he was stalking. “Oh my god, please don’t kill me!”

Padmé Amidala’s eyes widened as she heard the voice and jumped up from her spot next to Obi-Wan and tugged on Anakin’s arm, “Ani, he’s just a kid, put him down!”

“Oh,” Anakin deflated as he felt his face heat up. He carefully lowered the boy to the ground and sent him a sheepish grin. “Sorry ‘bout that,”

The teenage boy wanted to scream, he was so confused. “Uh... that’s okay, um, thanks for putting me down-”

Then a beautiful woman dressed in a maroon vest paired with tan pants and long-sleeve stepped forward. “Are you okay?” Even if Peter was absolutely baffled with what was going on and was on a verge of an anxiety attack, the soothing presence of this woman calmed him down a bit. 

Peter made a small uncertain noise, “I don’t really... know,” he let out an awkward laugh before pulling off his mask, causing Padmé, Anakin, and Obi-Wan to see how young this boy was. Ahsoka was glad to see someone who looked around the same age as her. “I mean, how would you react if you saw a UFO crash in the middle of Central Park?”

Before anyone could answer that, (especially Anakin who wanted to say that he wasn’t an alien here and if anyone was an alien it would be Ahsoka), a voice was screaming from the ground.

“Peter? PETER?!” 

“Shit,” Peter mumbled under his breath and then crouched down to pick up his phone that he dropped earlier. “Mr. Stark-!”

“Fucking HELL, kid! You can’t do that to me!” Tony Stark’s panic ridden face filled his screen, and from what Peter could see, he was wearing his Iron Man suit. “Where are the aliens? Whatever, we’re on our way.”

Peter raised a brow as another flare of confusion coursed through him. “Mr. Stark, I don’t really think that’s necessary-”

“Stay where you are. That’s an order!” Tony briskly ended the call.

Peter stared blankly at his phone with his mouth agape.

Rex then descended from the ship’s ramp and walked over to the group with his helmet in his hands. “Sir,” he said, briefly sparing a look at the boy they picked up.

“Yes, Rex?” Obi-Wan slowly rose from his spot on the rock and ignored the shoot of pain from his ribs. Anakin also turned his attention to his second-in-command, but could sense something was up and that it probably had to do with what he found.

“Um...” The Clone Captain looked torn, expressing this through standing up straighter and nervously gripping on his helmet. “There’s no record of this galaxy in our records.”

Anakin’s fists curled by his side. “What?”

Padmé frowned and turned her head towards Obi-Wan. “Is that even possible?”

Obi-Wan held a thoughtful expression on his face and gently stroked his auburn beard. “It wouldn’t be the first time a planet was wiped from the records. It happened to Kamino before the War started.”

Ahsoka turned away from the adults and let them talk among themselves, feeling that her input wouldn’t add anything. So she turned her attention to the human boy across from her. He looked severely conflicted by how furrowed his eyebrows where and how he kept nibbling on his lower lip. Not only the physical signs of conflict being completely evident in him, but she could feel the emotional strings of his mind reach out to her.

He’s Force-Sensitive? She asked herself and then cautiously approached him, curiosity swirling inside of her. “Hey, are you okay?”

Peter shrugged and ran a hand through his brown hair. “This was not how I was expecting my night to go, that’s all.”

The Togruta almost laughed, the exact thought crossing her mind. “I get that, name’s Ahsoka by the way.”

 “I’m Peter, hi Ahsoka.” he offered her a half-hearted smile, one that she returned.

A shadow of something flew overhead, accompanied by what Ahsoka could only assume was a jet pack. Her hand instantly fell onto her lightsabers by her hip, turning her head in the direction of her Master. Bright lights then shined brightly, causing Ahsoka to raise a hand to block it from blinding her as five silhouettes appeared from the source of the light.

“Stay where you are,” a modulated voice said and stepped forward, revealing a red and golden droid aka the source of the lights that came from its palms. “Give us the kid and we can do things without ruining Central Park.”

"I don’t think this hostility is necessary,” Padmé started her cordial senator mask falling onto her easily, putting her hands up to show that she meant no harm. “Our ship crashed while we escaping an ambush set up by Separatist sympathizers. We will be more than willing to explain everything to you, but please, we need medical assistance and a place to repair our ship.” she carefully explained, staring at the droid and discerning that the make and model wasn’t Separatist grade.

Tony Stark turned his head to the side to one of the silhouettes but kept his hands raised just in case. “What do you think, Cap? Do you believe their story?”

Steve Rogers scanned the group before them. One of the men was holding his side, while another looked like he was going to pass out because of pure exhaustion. Three of the five individuals had slim silver cylinders on their belt, as for the other two had guns he has never seen before. If anything, they looked bruised and tired, and didn’t seem hostile.

“I do believe them,”

Tony made a small disgruntled noise but then lowered his arms to his side. “Fine,” he eyed them warily and scanned the group with his sensors, seeing that four of them were humans while one was indeed an alien species. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., bring in the cavalry to get their space bucket out of here,”

Obi-Wan staggered in his footing, causing Rex, who was the closest to him, to hold him steady. “Careful there, sir,”

“I’m fine,”

“Nope, you’re a liar,” Tony scoffed as he did a full scan on this bearded guy. “You’ve got a concussion and two broken ribs if my medical sensors are right, which they usually are..”

“Obi-Wan! You said it was nothing,” Anakin scolded his former mentor.

“And it is!”

“Alright, tough guy,” Natasha Romanoff rolled her eyes as she walked over. “Let’s get you to someone who can make sure of that, hm?”

Clint and Natasha helped round everyone into one of the black SVU’s parked along the side walk while R2-D2 hurriedly rolled behind them and beeped incessantly.

“What the kriff is going on?” he asked.

“I’ve got no clue, Artooie,” Ahsoka patted his metal dome with her gloved hand.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” the droid beeped nervously before hoisting himself inside the strange looking speeder.

[stachmousworld]

Avenge me tomorrow (Ch.6)

Pairing: polyavengers x Black!reader 

Previously: The team couldn’t find Thea.

Tag: @thedarkplume​

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 -  Part 7 - Part 8  - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

The journey to the compound went faster than she thought. Thea had made sure to block every call from the Tower and thanks to JARVIS, they wouldn’t be able to find her before she would be long gone.

She watched the forest surrounding the compound and relaxed a bit. She still checked in the rear-view mirror if no one was following her on the road or in the sky. It wouldn’t be surprising if they sent Thor or any Stark Drones after her.

Thea sighed. It was getting ridiculous. She wasn’t a kid, and she could do whatever she wanted. Leaving the Tower should have not felt as if she was doing something wrong. They were not bounded to each other. They weren’t even together to begin with. So why did she feel guilty?

She parked in front of the large building, almost expecting someone from the Tower to come out and…and…but there was no one. She looked around for the last time, enjoying the birds chirping, the wind in the leaves whistling some mysterious tunes.

Thea waved at a few young teenagers eating on the grass. Interns, maybe? They looked at her quizzically but reciprocated with a joyful smile. Why did she wave? She cringed, accelerating her pace and keeping her head down until she was inside the building.

The first thing she noticed was the lack of security. There were no security guards in the building and seemingly no cameras. She squinted her eyes looking above her. Did they really believe that no one would try to attack them from the inside? They were isolated but the barrier would be no obstacle against intruders. And what about the airways? Anyone could land a jet in the middle of the “park”. It was – a blue streak passed in front of her. Thea froze. Was that?

“Hello!” a soft chirpy voice said behind her.

She spun around quickly, heart beating fast. The blue strike disappeared in a pop.

“Are you Thea?” 

She slowly turned around and faced…Diablo. Excitation and happiness rushed through her veins. She bit her lips hard enough to stop herself from jumping on him. Diablo. She was in front of…She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t want to surprise you,” he apologized in a chirpy voice.

A few unintelligible words escaped her mouth and she flushed, embarrassed. Get a grip, she admonished herself. He is going to think you are a groupie. Her Diablo plushie and posters would prove otherwise.

 Before she became an Avenger fan, she has been totally invested in the X-Men. How many times had she played as Diablo, Hank, Storm or Wolverine…his name alone made her blush. Let’s just say that Wolverine has been the main actor of her fantasies for a long time. He is also the main reason why she never clicked with people her age. They all felt bland and childish compared to her heroes. They didn’t understand her, or her struggle and would change subject whenever she’d talk about deep subjects.

During high school and college, she had been isolated. No one wanted to be seen with her. And it didn’t help that she was pansexual. She may have gone to a prestigious university, but they had been pretty close minded. Fortunately, her family has supported her. At least the members that counted. Her mom, her siblings and her godfather, Rhodey.

“Hello?” Diablo said, waving his hand in front of her face. “Are you alright?”

She nodded not yet trusting her voice. Diablo tilted his head and started signing. Thea’s eyes grew wide.

“I don’t know how to sign,” she replied quickly, grabbing his hands.

“Oh.” He looked down to their hands. She jerked away, suddenly conscious of what she’d done. Really, could this day be worse?

“I’m sorry, I…I should have never touched you without your permission.”

Diablo was still staring intensely at his hands. He turned them upwards and caressed where her hands touched his. He then raised his eyes. She opened her mouth but quickly closed it. His eyes were unreadable. His chirpiness has tone done down. Diablo didn’t seem mad at her. Maybe?

“I’m sorry?” she repeated, unsure.

“You are not afraid of me?” he asked slowly.

The question took her by surprise. What? “No.”

“Really?” He asked, his voice full of hope.

“Yeah, you are not scary.”

Diablo took a few steps forward stepping into her comfort zone. Thea noticed the dark blue tattoos on his skin. She hadn’t been aware of that. She frowned. Even the pictures she had didn’t show any tattoos and they spread everywhere, on his face, arms and to rest of his body, she presumed.

“I’m not scary”, he repeated slowly as if the words were foreign.

“You should see my mom,” Thea pretended to tremble from fear. “She’d make your worst nightmare seems like a dream.”

Her tentative to joke fell flat. Diablo kept examining her. His eyes roamed her face for an answer she wasn’t sure to have. He may have found it because he smiled a little and finally stepped back. He wasn’t back to his bubbly self. Or was that a façade? Something to help people relate to him and see him as less of a threat. His tail swayed slowly behind him. Thea looked at it, entranced. It looked bigger than in pictures and more agile.

She was so concentrated on the appendage that she didn’t notice the quick movement. She blinked once and the next moment, the tail was in front of her face. The triangular tip brushed softly the tip of her nose. She twitched her nose refraining her sneeze.

“And now, are you scared?”

Thea shook her head and wiped her nose to erase the sensation of his tail. Chill ran down her spine making her shiver. She froze. The shiver turned to trembles. The snake appeared in front of her and hissed a warning. Someone is coming.

The rumble of a storm buzzed in her ears.

“We need to go now,” she urged Diablo, who stopped rambling. He stared quizzically at her. “One of the Avengers is coming for me. We have to go.”

Diablo quickly gripped her arms and transported them.

 The ship was way bigger than the Quinjet. It looked more spacious and colorful. It didn’t look like a jet, at all. She followed Diablo through a corridor. He walked quickly and glanced sometimes behind to make sure she was following. Her eyes tracked the paintings on the walls. Who’d put paintings in a jet? What purpose did they serve? She wasn’t well versed in arts, but these looked expensive.

“Why are they –”

Wolverine. Wolverine was in front of her. She squealed and jumped round him. Oh my God, Oh my God, this is Wolverine. She fumbled with her bag to get her phone and barely got it out without dropping it.

“Kid, you’re going to have stroke. Calm down,” he said, in a deep rumbly voice. It sounded like a growl. She barely had the time to register that he talked – actually talked to her, that she babbled.

“Why did you choose Wolverine as a nickname? Is it because wolves are “supposed” to be solitary animals? Although they do live in a pack so that’s ridiculous…”

“Kid,” he cut her off. “Calm down.”

She gulped some much-needed air and exhaled. Wolverine nodded silently and encouraged her to breath some more. As she let herself relax, she couldn’t miss the overall beauty of the man. His beard, the muscles rolling under his shirts and jeans. His stance seemed normal, but with her godfather in the military she was able to notice many things. Wolverine was favoring his left. He was consciously bracing himself for any attack. His muscles seemed tensed and ready. He thought she was a threat. Despite his soothing tone, he didn’t trust her at all. Good. Because she didn’t know what she was capable of. She felt somewhat reassured that he took the situation seriously.

“Come sit down and you’ll tell me why Xavier made us pick you up.”

They entered a room behind the cockpit. A blue hand appeared briefly.

“Is that Mister Hank?” She whispered.

“Kid,” Wolverine warned her.

She made a step in the direction of the cockpit. Wolverine stopped her.

“Don’t,” he growled.

Thea narrowed her eyes and moved, only to be stopped by adamantium claws. She couldn’t believe it. She…it…she was touched by his claws. Her squeal came back full force. She brushed her fingers against the claws. The metal was warm and deadly sharp.

Wolverine sighed but didn’t move.

“So, you have a fan, finally,” Diablo joked.

“Fuck you, Blue Devil.”

Diablo hissed in disapproval, Wolverine growled and Thea, well, she was now holding on dear life onto his callous hand.

“Kid, if you go sit down and buckle yourself, I’ll show you what I can do with these.” He raised his right arm and retracted his claws.

She yelped and ran to her seat. Her legs bounced nervously. Wolverine shook his head and raised his eyes to the sky.

“Last time I trust you, Xavier, last time,” he grumbled.

 If Logan had not really expected Thea to stay silent during the trip, he certainly regretted his wish.

She suddenly stopped chatting. Her head snapped to the right and she stared at the wall. Logan glanced at Diablo who shrugged, as uncertain as he was.

“Kid? Are you okay?”

“He is coming,” she mumbled, still out of it.

Hank who had been making his way out of the toilets stopped a few steps from them.

“Who is coming?” He mouthed at them.

They both shrugged. Hank rolled his eyes and came in front of Thea. She still didn’t react. Her eyes were unfocused and her shoulders high. The more they looked at her the more she seemed tense.

“Thea, who is coming?” Hank asked in his soft voice.

She finally drew her eyes away from the wall and looked at him in the eyes.

“The God of lightning.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. Xavier hadn’t told them they’d have to encounter some obstacles. He felt his claws breaking his skin. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to fight a God, but he’d try.

“Who is –”

“Drop it Hank.” Logan stood up and went to the cockpit. He looked at the board looking for the radar. Besides the normal interferences, he noticed something small coming in their direction at full speed. He snapped his fingers a few times to call Hank, who grumbled (“I’m not a dog.”)

“What?”

Hank dropped his eyes to the screen.

“Oh. The God of lightning, huh? Just that,” he sighed.

Logan’s frown was still firmly attached to his face. He stared at the clouds expecting at any moment to see Thor. The seconds turned into minutes. Then, nothing. Loga checked the screen again.

“Wolverine! She is down!” Diablo screamed from the other room.

Logan reacted quickly and ran to them. He almost broke the door of the cockpit and cut Hank’s hand in his urgency.

Thea’s body was bent in two. The only thing that prevented her fall was the chest belt. Wolverine assessed the situation quickly. Could Thor have an impact on her? Had he cursed her? Or was her “unknown” power weakening her?

He pushed Diablo away into Hank’s arms and kneeled in front of Thea.

“I can teleport her. I can do. I know I can. Let me do it,” Diablo babbled, panicked.

“Calm down, Diablo, everything is going to be ok. Xavier told me she was a bit on edge when she called him. She may have fainted from all the stress.”

Hank pushed Diablo to the side and forced him to sit.

“If we need you wi –”

The jet trembled and tilted on the right. Logan rolled on the floor, claws grazing the metallic floor. He bounced on the right wall, then ran to the cockpit. Hank followed him quickly. The cockpit was pure cacophony. All the screens were blinking, and the alarm was blazing. Logan quickly looked for the anomaly. Was it one of the reactors? Had they been attacked by something?

“Do you see the problem?” Hank screamed, as he looked for a way to turn the alarm off.

Logan shook his head, eyebrows frowned. Thea’s words about a certain God echoed in his mind.

As he was to voice his thoughts, the alarm stopped. The jet stop swaying. After a few minutes of this hell, the silence was as deafening.

“What the fuck,” Hank sighed, flopping on the seat. He took of his glasses, swiping his eyes and forehead.

“What? So, I thought you loved Norse mythology?” Logan joked, half-serious. He unclenched his fist retracting by the same his claws. His heart beat fast and loud. It was ringing in his ears. What the fuck, really.

The adrenaline slowly seeped out of his body, leaving him raw and drained. He took a big breath and sagged.

“You think it was him?” Hank asked genuinely.

Logan stayed silent. He looked behind him where the prostrated body of Thea was. Xavier, are you sure to know what you are doing?

 Thea took a few more minutes before waking up. Logan sat next to her and watched over her. Hank was back in the cockpit with Diablo. He hadn’t wanted to go. Hank had to physically restrain him. Logan had been surprised that Diablo hadn’t even think of teleporting himself back. They were all used to his personal level of anxiety but today he has reached his peak.

Logan played with his claws cleaning them with a wet tissue. A few movements on his left attracted his attention. He narrowed his eyes. Thea slowly rolled her spin out and groaned. She massaged her neck with shaky moves. Logan observed silently. His hands were clenched. If he wasn’t on high alert before he was now. He should have known what Xavier had in mind. Sending Hank, Diablo and him… The only time he did that was when he wasn’t sure of how powerful the new addition was and how dangerous their power could be.

“What happened?” He asked, serious.

“What?” Thea replied, still stretching her body. “I’m the one who should ask you that? Have I sle—”

“Don’t lie. I know you remember what happened.” A brief flash of fear appeared in her brown orbs. “You talked about the ‘God of Lightning.’”

She opened her mouth, then shut it in a click. “What about it?”

Logan counted to three. Why did Xavier thought he was patient enough to deal with this kind of bullshit?

“The jet almost crashed because something – someone flew past by with such a velocity that we almost lost control of the engine.” He sharpened his claws against each other, eyes still on her. She swallowed with difficulty. Good. That’s where he wanted her. “Now, spill it.”

 The rest of the journey went uneventful. After telling her story to Logan, Thea has been chatting with Diablo. Logan didn’t know what kind of story Diablo was telling her, but she looked beyond shocked.

“So…” Hank said, next to him.

Logan barely acknowledged his presence.

“What do you think of her?” The scientist kept going.

“What am I, a fortuneteller? If you wanted someone to read people, I’m not the right one,” Logan replied, with enough sarcasm to surprise him. He didn’t know why he felt like that. Worried and anxious. He was still on the edge from the near encounter with a God, but it didn’t explain the deep roots of his anxiety.

Something bad was going to happen. And for once in his life, Logan felt powerless.

Next chapter

[wo-wann-was-wer]

WHAT I WAS THINKING: DARK SEASON 3 EDITION

EPISODE 1:

Who are these dudes with the harelip and what do they want

Why did she just take him to a cave and leave that’s kinda rude

So everything in this universe is just gonna be backwards. Love it

Ugh I’ve said this a million times but this show has such Fringe energy and I can’t wait to get a tattoo for this too

This is super freaking me out, i dont like that everyone’s in everyone else’s house.

Ooooh Katharina with glasses yes girl you better work.

I like Michael and this hat he’s rocking

Super into the fact that magnus and fransizka are involved in this universe too

There’s nothing cuter than sex before school. Ahhh the nostalgia

Ten bucks says that Hannah gets out of this bed and is pregnant

Fucking YEP

I am loving Martha in this Jonas journey

I know that all they did was flip the lens of the camera but my brain is breaking at this flipped Winden

Who the fuck is this random dude Martha is with

You know what he kind of looks like Jonas. I wonder if that's relevant or if I'm just grasping at straws

Bartosz looks like he's going to his first grade violin recital

I straight up just did not recognize Charlotte with makeup. She looks hot

There's got to be another person in that picture other than Ulrich because that's a lot of space to rip out for one person

okay hold up Woller looks so good and then when I saw that he was missing an arm I almost lost my fucking mind

Oh shit okay Hannah is living in Katharina's house.

Oh my God are Ulrich and Charlotte having an affair

Is it normal in Germany for kids to just walk into classes that aren't there’s and just sit down

follow up he has a clear noose mark on his neck

Aleksander looks so hot with this beard. universe B is the fucking glow up universe

It's weirding me out that the whole school is black and gray instead of light brown

The look of satisfaction on katharina's face

Wow honestly Louis just broke my heart with his facial expression when he realized his mom didn't know who he was

he looks so scared

Yes yes do it afffffffffair

Oh no you done got found out!!!

Oh the theme of the play here is red and set of gold

Fransizka looks so cute in this little outfit

Oh my God she's deaf!!!!

What the fuck. the fact that this actress can talk is blowing my mind

RIP to Regina a real queen

Peter's a fucking priest

All the fucking weird-ass freaky motherfucking trio is back

The dopplers have the same house That's cool

excuse me sir I think your child is broken

these guys are so creepy What the fuck

I definitely don't like the piano wire

oh this motherfucker is the one who gets lost

I feel like winden in this universe is just a little bit fancier

Well Charlotte and Ulrich just be fucking like crazy

Bartosz is the Jonas of this group and I love it

who was that??????

I cannot get over Aleksander in this beard

I like that things are opposite but they also have things that are different enough.

Like I'm so into the fact that they all went down into the bunker

who in the unholy fuck is that. who is that

Oh shit old Martha

What the fuck is this Tannhaus’ factory we're at

hold up Martha's in 1888

What the fuck. why is Jonas in 1888 and looking SO good

EPISODE 2:

casually sitting over your bed watching you sleep

he's look so good though

yo what the fuck everybody else is there too

Oh no things got really ugly at Mads’ wake

Not for nothing but Tronte is a dick

I kind of don't understand why Claudia would want Regina to live in such pain in this type of universe

Peter is such a good boy

lurking is the freaking national past time of this place

Oh shit we got some spin-off timeline stuff good

who is This is blind guy

I love Katharina so fucking much

I know what she's thinking and it's the same thing I'm thinking which is can I kill a child

why does this picture of Tronte make him look like Jimmy Smits

Katharina looks amazing in this jacket

Also I definitely did not just start yelling GO GET YOUR MAN KATHARINA

Regina just gets more and more badass as time goes on. Also all of the women of the tiedemann family are so fucking badass

I am so excited to watch this fucking relationship develop. they're both too cute

awwww he's using signs!

oh they're writing back and forth

DAMNIT PETER

I always feel like little Noah should do fuckboy sign offs when he leaves rooms because he's so smooth

yesterday Laurel said that this was back to the future but serious and just now Bartosz said it's not super easy to get nuclear fuel in 1888 and now I think that Laurel's right

I will never get over how good he looks JONAAAASSSSSSS

This guy feels like the OG inventor of sic mundus right

Katerina why are you even trying to check in at the front desk bitch Go and get your man

Is this Katarina's mom why does she just recognize that woman's name

everyone on the show is so talented.I spend the whole damn time being like oh my god the performances on the show and it's like yeah we know

Katerina get your man

I literally love them so much look at the look on her face She is a mama bear She is not going to let anybody take her man or her children and I love her

Not a huge fan of people who quote Shakespeare right before they kill other people or am I an enormous fan of people who use Shakespeare right before they kill other people

using a garotte to kill someone is ugly as fuck

I feel so bad for Jana

see this is one of the reasons why I'm like why would you bring Regina back to this world.

wowwwww TRONTE what's up dude

YO WHAT

Oh so how did Charlotte get back there but Elizabeth's still there too. didn't they switch places?

oh the head bump

Not excited for the mother daughter abuse stuff that's about to happen

I love these split sequences that they do at the end

anytime somebody stands and stairs for a lonely at a spot on the ground I assume to somebody died there

Oh shit that guy is a tannhausokkkk I see you

a religious images we love to see it.

This show is a whole series of pause that frame.

No I ruined something for myself!!!!

EPISODE 3

got to love those through and through Ariadne references

okay so Charlotte's great great grandfather has her watch?

who are these horrible traveler human beings

they look like less sexy Francis dolarhydes

I can't get over the fact that wollers missing an arm here I swear

we ARE the glitch BITCH

alternate universe Ulrich is a better person than standard Ulrich

what's this new like zoom-y thing they're doing

I was attracted to Magnus at this jump of the show but he looks better with dark hair

How did they not all die of fucking flu

eternally repeating deja vu

I looked at the production stills and I was like what the fuck is this hair do that Moritz has but he looks amazing

Also everyone on this show deserves an acting award

and Magnus is wearing a skeleton sweater

Hannah does that deep dive detective work any bitch knows the Nose doesn't lie

why doesn't anybody want to fuck wöller

omgggg eat the RICH

also he has that x tattoo on his hand that represents the no future thing

oh the light is rectangular and not circular ooooooh fancy

The show is also a lot of people catching each other's wrists as they walk away

I knew we couldn't trust this bitch

What did he give her

I love the parallels and characters behaviors between universe a and universe b

I want to know how Noah factored into all of this on this side

Martha has a type and her type is iconically Aryan

Oh Aleksander's back with that beard he's back

Hannah is such a snake

Omg that's her!!!!! I thought she was a trans actress.. hm. not super happy bout that :/

What is Helge talking about Ulrich did what??? omg

I would be like SIR DO WE NEED TO FIGHT STOP FOLLOWING ME

I stopped taking notes for the last half of that episode cuz I was really sucked in haha

EPISODE 4

FIRST OF ALL I'D LIKE TO GO ON RECORD THAT I DON'T CARE FOR THESE GENTLEMEN AT ALL

second of all why is this guy being like oh I took your name

why does he have Agnes's bracelet I don't like that

I don't like anything about this guy That's the end of the story

Also hold up a red hot second is Agnes dead cuz if so that's a hate crime

see what did I say

I knew that Hannah was going to get involved with Egon

from the second she walked in that office I was like that bitch has her eye on him and as she should he's handsome as fuck

Also he spoils her so much more than any other man she's ever been with AKA is Egon the only man she ever deserved

Is Hannah going to develop a heart cuz I'm not sure how I feel about that

Also what happens if Hannah gets pregnant

why is Ines a bitch I thought she was mad cool the beginning and now I feel fucking deceived

Also it's such a sweet gig that The kids who are playing kids can now play teenagers

poor Doris. Also he was shitty to her but he was far nicer than I would have been

Doris is so beautiful it's bullshit

older Magnus is so handsome

All I wanted was middle-aged Martha

bitch you have been having unprotected sex with him why do you think that pregnancy was not on the tabl

I'm like who's this guy in the church if it's not Noah I bet it's that little bitch

yeah I fucking knew it

Is this the dude that was married to Agnes I feel like this guy isn't real or something

I'm not surprised he let her go but I don't know why I'm not surprised. I feel like she's important to his timeline and I'm not sure why

look at these relationships forming between these sweet little bab

Hannah looks good in this red. Hannah looks good in all of these styles. 

who is this child

I like that already as a child Bernd had his eye on Claudia as someone who was smart and had a ton of potential

 I keep forgetting that I'm taking notes because I get so invested in episodes

Also I realize the zoomi thing which is going back and forth between the universes

Is Agnes Silja’s mom And if so with whom 

he gave her Agnes’ bracelet that dope All right Tronte

Wow Claudia needs to back off her man

Claudia force him into a relationship with her

I fucking hate Hannah but sometimes she speaks so much sense

ooh I don't need anyone Yes girl that's true You don't need anyone You needing people was what made you act fucking crazy You don't need anybody

This was always my big problem with Hannah was that I initially identified with her because she was such a survivor but then she did such horrible reprehensible things I just couldn't let it go and I absolutely couldn't identify with her anymore

Oh here's my daddy Noah looking so good

I mean okay so I have been in this position before where I was cheating and then my man cheated on me and I was like how dare you but also you cannot be mad if your partner cheats on you when you cheated too. You both fucked up

Is Hannah going to have a redemption arc cuz that's a lot

Oh my God she's not going to get rid of this child is she

Oh my great God I cannot believe that she gave Helene that necklace. 

I knew she was fucking connected to Katharina in the older generation I knew it

Louis and Lisa are a super cute couple and I know that they're not dating in real life but I think that they're very cute together

Oh everybody fucking

yeah they created the Apocalypse yeah

Oh no they have a child outside of worlds that's a mess How does that work so they had they gave birth to that ugly fuck

honestly I hate that he's their child for the most part just because he's ugly as fuck and neither of them are ugly as fuck so it makes me mad.

[kunrendeotaku]

Chapter 15

“Marco! If you don’t open your eyes, how are you going to tell me where we’re going?!” Star’s voice is full of laughter, her voice piercing directly into my ears from only a few inches behind me. As her question implies, I have my eyes squinted tightly shut against the chilly fall wind that blows more powerfully than I would have ever expected. Then again, I don’t often consider what it would feel like to fly.

I weigh my options. On the one hand, my insane magical friend could easily fly us to the next country if I don’t give her directions. On the other hand, maybe if I keep pretending this isn’t happening we’ll magically teleport back to the ground. Crazier things have happened, today. Our winged red wagon finally pausing its acrobatics to glide gently is the deciding factor for me peeling open my eyes to take a look at what I’d been missing.

My sleepy little California town spreads out below me, a view I’d seen perhaps a fraction of every now and then caught from drone cameras or news helicopters. Seeing it for myself for the first time is an experience I will never forget if I live to be a million years old. Without even thinking about it my whole body relaxes my previously hyper-tense muscles and I lean back into the architect of the chaos infecting my life, her body still running hotter than I would have expected. It feels nice in this chilly air.

She begins giggling, still holding me tight with her non-wand hand, and when I look back at her face with awe-struck eyes I see the same expression she always tends to have. Full of a wonder at the amazing sights you can see if you chase after adventure. Is this what I’ve been looking for, more than a chance to test my martial arts, more than an escape from the boredom of the world, and so much more than safe kids or bad boys?

Perhaps I would have found the answer for real in those sparkling blue eyes of hers if not for the whole wagon beginning to shake, “Marco, for real! We need a destination, I have no idea how long these wings will last!”

“Oh! Oh, okay!” I sit up and peer over the side of the wagon, the desperation of the new emergency throwing me out of my thoughtful mood. Now that we’re past the initial fear of climbing so high in the air, my own apprehensive attitude about heights is blasted away to wisps of butterflies in my stomach that I honestly rather like, but I’d still rather not crash and die. My destination is rather difficult to find as I’ve never looked for it from the air, but desperation is a powerful motivator. I point out a certain little house in a cul de sac in the middle of town, yelling out, “There! Land us there!”

Immediately the wagon dips into a nosedive. Star clearly is in the mood to get us to the ground as quickly as possible, which is likely due to the fact that I can now see the glittering purple wings dissolving before my very eyes, “We’re not gonna make it, Staaaaaar!” I yell out, her name transitioning into a high pitched (but definitely still totally manly) scream as I feel gravity take hold of us completely.

Star’s grip on my hoodie tightens as we approach the ground at a horrifyingly fast pace. We’re perhaps fifty feet from the ground when for the umpteenth time today I consider myself definitely dead. “Cotton Candy Cloudy Charm!” The princess screams out behind me, and a pink laser blasts past my head to summon a truly massive clump of what looks like a solid cloud of the same color. It has blue eyes and a smile that opens wide as we approach, munching us right out of the air.

The next few moments are a nearly vomit inducing simulation of what a pinball must feel like, as we bounce around the supernaturally soft and durable material until we finally disperse all of our momentum. Somehow we’ve managed to become entangled in a confusing mix up of limbs and odd positions, and I believe the wagon is actually on top of us as I feel I’m laying on the cotton candy-like being Star had summoned.

I find myself feeling a strange mixture of disappointment and relief that it is quite dark in here, as from the feeling of her legging clad knees and thighs on my head I might actually be looking directly up Star’s skirt. The oddly bittersweet feeling doesn’t last long, Star’s wand lighting up to blast the wagon off of us and poof the giant cloud out of existence in the same flash of pink light. She jumps to her feet, then yanks me up as well to spin me around by my wrists. I can’t help but join her in laughing, exalting in the feeling of simply being alive after our harrowing experience.

We’re thrown out of our revelry when the wagon crash lands on one of the homes in the cul de sac and smashes right through the ceiling. The pair of us blink at the property damage, then nearly dissolve into another giggle fit. Someone could definitely have died from that, “Oh, my God Star. That was the best experience of my life. Let's go see if we actually made it to the right house?” I pull my hands away from Star and hook a thumb at what definitely looks to be Fergusson’s home, the grin on my face impossible to suppress even by focusing on the new collection of bruises and scrapes I’d added to my body with the latest escapade. Am I becoming a masochist?

“Okay!” Star rushes off to the doorway and manages to contain herself to only three doorbell dings in quick succession. She’s learning! I follow the crazy blonde up to the door, a bit slowly. I might not be bothered by the injuries I’m slowly racking up, but they’re definitely slowing me down, especially as the adrenaline stops pumping.

The door is answered by Fergusson’s mother a few moments later. She’s probably one of the prettiest adults I’ve ever seen, a gorgeous petite little pixie of a girl with bright orange hair and slender limbs. She could nearly pass for our age. I swear, the only thing Fergusson got from her is his hair and her friendly personality. Not that he can make use of it very often, considering how basically his only friends are me and Alfonzo. Perhaps when he gets to college or so he’ll come into his own?

“Why, Marco! C’mon in, my Ferggie is with Alfonzo in his room as usual.” She barely even seems to notice Star for the first few minutes as we catch up, her talking about a thousand different little nothings a mile a minute. Star simply follows the pair of us into her home looking a little confused at being ignored. Must be strange for a princess to not even be greeted when meeting someone new, but Francine has always been really attached to me for some reason. I happily chat with her until Fergusson’s father, Olaf enters the room.

“Well now, who’s this with you Marco?” A deep voice booms out of the kitchen as a massive giant of a man squeezes through the doorway into the living room. He’s blonde, probably seven feet tall, and all muscle with a gigantic beard. He’s also carrying a tray of brownie fresh from the oven. I swear to all that is holy, how that giant tub of lard Fergusson managed to come from these two parents is a mystery that could stump our world’s greatest minds.

“I’m Star Butterfly! Basically Marco’s best friend, and new roomie!” Huh. First time she’s gone with that as her introduction. Is she actually getting the fact that the magical princess introduction breaks things more often than not?

“Aha, well, I’m Olaf. This is my wife, Francine. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Butterfly. Marco often introduces his foreign exchange students to this household, and I extend the same invitation to you that I always do give them: You’re welcome here anytime.” The little woman dances up to her husband, gives him a peck on the cheek (she has to jump, which is the most adorable thing), and steals a brownie before tossing us both a wink.

“Have fun, Marco! You’re especially welcome, you know. Even if Fergusson isn’t around.” Francine leaves us with that to disappear into the kitchen, giggling like a teenager. Olaf is all smiles until she leaves the room, but once she’s out of sight bends his massive bulk down towards us to give me specifically a death glare.

“You keep him away from my wife, Butterfly girl. I’ll be watching.” His accent deepens, perhaps scandinavian? I’m not that good with accents, for all that I’ve been around foreign kids for years. He then heads back towards the kitchen as well, prompting Star to give me an absolutely befuddled look.

The best I can offer her in return in a bashful shrug. “They’ve always been like that. I don’t really get it, but they’re definitely nice people!” Crazy, but nice. Kind of like Star herself!

[ezilyamuzed]

Ten Years Gone- The Beginning

Description: Ten years ago, your world had changed. Ten years ago, you had met him, leading your life to never be the same again. Time is running out, but is it too late after all these years?

Word Count: 7775

Warnings: Language, Parent’s death, PG teen “cuddle” time. 

A/N: This is the prelude of a new series. I was listening to Led Zeppelin's ‘Ten Years Gone’ while watching the early episodes of Supernatural and got some ideas... Enjoy. 

Any grammatical mistakes are all my own, because I am human. Remember all comments and feedback are welcomed! If you want a tag in future posts regarding this series or other writings please send an ask! As always thank you for reading! Enjoy!   

TEN YEARS GONE MASTERLIST

*Picture and lyrics used are not mine. Led Zeppelin is Amazing.

Changes fill my time, baby, that's alright with me In the midst I think of you, and how it used to be

Your legs were sprawled out along the back seat of your uncle’s ‘70 Chevelle as you hummed along to the guitar rhythm and stared out the window. The trees and scenery were whooshing past in a blink of an eye, but it all looked pretty much the same no matter where you were. The autumn quickly changing the leaves that were now falling to the ground. Trees, trees, dirt, and grass. Hey a rock. Sometimes you turned your sight seeing into a game to see how long you could stare out without blinking before you either got dizzy or your eyes dried out. Your record was to the second chorus of The Steve Miller Band’s “The Joker”. 

“We almost there? I gotta piss,” you whined up to the front. 

Your uncle Danny let out a laugh as he turned his head to the rear-view mirror to see your turnt up nose. 

“We’re about 5 minutes away. You can hold it until then. If not, I’m sure there is a bottle or something back there.”

Although he was not longer looking you still give him an evil glare in response.

“You know it doesn’t work like that Uncle Danny.”

“Well if you’re going to keep talking like a rude little boy instead of the proper lady like I know your momma raised you to be, I’m going to keep treating you like it,” he replied back, turning the radio down as he spoke.

“She tried. It didn’t stick,” you rolled your eyes in a humph.

“If only she could see you now. Hell, 14, starting up high school…”

“Yeah, how many schools will I go to this year? The standard 4 minimum?” you added with sarcasm.

“One, smartass,” you could see him smiling as he looked to you in the rear view mirror. “I’ve worked out a deal with a buddy of mine while I go on a business trip.”

“Ya hunting plants, fruits, vegetables, or minerals this time?” You laughed at your own dumb joke.

“Don’t you worry about that missy,” he replied. “You just keep your head while I’m gone. No getting into trouble.”

“Who ya dropping me off with anyways? They in the business too,” you asked while making air quotes. 

“Yeah, but recently he has stepped back a little. Actually, he’s been watching two teenage boys around your age while their dad also goes out on the road,” he replied before looking back to you again in the mirror. “And I don’t want to hear about you getting into no trouble with those or any other boys. Ya hear me?”

“Ew, no,” you face twisting in disgust.

“Yeah, you say that now. Soon enough though, you’ll be just like the rest of us and find that special someone that turns ya all stupid enough to want to spend the rest of your life with em.” 

You rolled your eyes again as you slumped back further into the seat, keeping you eyes on the road signs as the passed by. Sioux Falls, North Dakota 10 miles ahead. Ten more miles until you can finally stretch out properly. Ten more miles until you might get to sleep in real bed, in a real house, something you hadn’t done for almost three years.

It had been an unusually warm fall that year. With your birthday approaching, your mom and dad were busy setting up everything for your party. Uncle Danny had taken you out to pick out whatever gift you wanted- a butterfly knife with dusty rose handles. He of course argued with you, but with his vast collection of knives that you had always admired, he agreed as long as it stayed a secret between the two of you. He even had an interesting symbol etched into the blade. It was a little star that looked like flames were coming out of every corner. He said it was extra protection, whatever that had meant. After grabbing ice cream he had driven you home, only too see the door wide open with no answer. He told you to stay in the car, but of course after a few minutes you stopped listening. It was your home. Why would you have to wait outside? That’s when you saw what he wanted to protect you from. Both of your parents, ripped to shreds by what looked like an animal. There was no animal in sight though. You don’t even remember exactly what else happened that day. There were sirens and people in uniforms everywhere. Neighbors of course being nosy and gawking at the scene. What you remembered was your Uncle Danny holding you close and telling you that everything would be okay. And you believed him.

Up until now, he had tried his best to juggle everything- his job and raising you were not easy tasks. You got into fights in school quite a bit, but with the fact that you were leaving it in a week or so to go to another, who really cared? There were nights when you were all alone, waiting patiently for him to return, always wondering in that back of your mind if this was the time you’d lose him too. He always came back though, a little beaten a bruised perhaps, but always with a smile. 

Eventually he finally told you where he was going during all of his trips. Fighting ghosts and other monsters sounded ridiculous to you, but eventually you realized he wasn’t kidding. He was a hunter- he saved people. And that made him that so much cooler. Over the summer he had started teaching you how to shoot and what things to look for. You had already became really good with a knife, learning little tricks and that with the one he had bought you. He had an old notebook that was filled with drawings and descriptions that you tried to memorize, the ink wearing away with each use. You asked if you could join and help on a case, but he would always tell you that it was no place for a kid to be which was complete bullshit. You could handle yourself. You weren’t scared. But with all your protests, he would not budge, thus bringing you to here.

“About 5 more minutes until we’re at Bobby’s,” he stated while turning left down the road. “Hold on to your bladder just a little longer.”

You re-positioned yourself to stare out the window to see if anything was at least interesting around this guy’s house. Nope. Trees, fields, and a couple houses every once in a while. Great - middle of fucking nowhere U.S.A.  You caught the sight of what looked like the after effects of a tornado. Cars and junk everywhere with a little house in the back. 

“Welcome to Singer Salvage yard.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you moaned.

“Hey, language.”

“Sorry,” you muttered before speaking up again. “But seriously, you are LITERALLY leaving me in a garbage dump. What the hell am I supposed to do here? Get tetanus?”

“No, you’re going to get an education and have a normal childhood,” his voice sounded angry. “Now I know it’s not pretty, but Bobby is a good friend. He will watch out for you and make sure you have everything you need.”

“I’m going to need a bath,” you mumbled under your breath.

When the car finally came to a complete stop and the dust from the ground settled you were able to get a better view of the place. It was alright, probably looked better on the inside. Well, at least you hoped. Still a shithole. There was another chevelle parked alongside it that was just like your uncles, but more on the run down side. Next to it, a sleek black Impala. That was probably Bobby’s car. Hunters always have a thing for muscle cars. Sturdy, reliable, fast, or “American made” as your uncle liked to state. Whatever the reason, they were nice to look at. 

Two men walked out of the house with solemn looks on their faces with two teenage boys trailing behind. You followed your uncle's lead and climbed out of the car to the fresh air. 

“Danny, it’s been a long time,” the dark haired man with a gruff voice stated while extending his hand for a shake.

“ Way too long Johnny,” he replied while shaking his hand before moving to the bearded guy with a baseball cap. “Bobby, thanks for doing this.”

“It’s no trouble at all. There’s already two hellions, what’s another?” He chuckled as he looked over at you staring down to the ground, pushing your chucks into the dirt. “You must be Y/N.”

“Yes sir,” you replied with a tight lipped smile. 

“This is my boy Dean, he’s just a little older than you and my boy Sam who is just a bit younger,” John stated, while guiding the boys closer with his arm, although they clearly could care less.

“Dean, could you and Sam help Y/N inside?” Danny spoke up. “I know I’ve been making her wait to use the restroom, so I’m sure she’ll be grateful to know where it is.”

Dean nodded his head and grabbed at your two bags in the backseat before walking past you to go inside. Sam following. You rolled your eyes to your uncle and trailed behind to your new life- at least for now. 

You were wrong about it possibly being better on the inside. Nope, it was a shithole too that was covered with books and empty liquor bottles. The decor covered by a pound of dust and cobwebs resembled something like a real house, something someone used to care about. 

“Toilets over there,” Dean nodded down the hall while tossing your bags down before he flopped himself on the couch.

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you walked down the hall.

Surprisingly the toilet was at least semi clean, although there was enough hair trimmings in the sink to resemble a small animal.

After finishing in the bathroom you walked out to the living room area. Dean was sprawled out on the couch with a comic book and Sam was sitting on the floor next to him with an old worn down book. Out of place and unwelcomed were the nice ways of saying how you felt at that moment. After grabbing your book bag, you sat down at the kitchen table all alone, not knowing what else to do, but to stare at the walls.

“You boys helped Y/N find her way,” you heard your uncle's voice say as he entered the room.

Dean nodded as he turned the page on his book. Sam looked back at him, following his queue. Your uncle approached you, sitting himself down at the seat next to yours.

“See, it’s not that bad, right kiddo?”

Even though your head was down, you looked up to him through your lashes, rolling your eyes just a little towards the two boys.

“You’ll be fine,” he smiled. “Just give it a little bit and I’m sure you will all be getting along just fine when I come back.”. 

“How long?” You asked although you could guess the answer already.

“Not sure kiddo,” he grabbed your hand and held it gently. “But I’m going to call every Sunday night after dinner time to check in on you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Just come back to me okay Uncle Danny?”

“You be good Y/N;” he said as he returned your hug back before standing up again. “I’ll see you soon kiddo.”

He never promised that he would come back. It was a promise that he couldn’t make. He knew it and you knew. He always said that he would never make a promise to you that he couldn’t keep. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

You watched as he shook Bobby’s hand by the front door, turning to give you a loving smile before leaving out the door to go to the next job that awaited him.

“So, how about you boys actually show Y/N where her room is.” Bobby stated firmly, causing Dean to roll his eyes as he slapped the comic book shut. “You two know how it goes around here. We’re not savages. Now get going.”

“Yes sir,” the two of them mumbled as they got up from their spots. 

Both boys each grabbed one of your bags, still not saying anything really directly to you as they walked up the stairs. Bobby was standing with his arms crossed watching them closely as you followed behind them. 

“This one is where Bobby sleeps,” Sam informed you while pointing to a door. Dean and I are in this one, and you’re the last one down the hall.”

“Yeah, lucky you,” Dean scoffed. “You get your own room.”

“Lucky me,” you stated back with sarcasm. “I get to live here with you.”

Dean turned his head to you with a glare before he opened the door and switched on the light. It was a simple room, surprisingly organized and clean. It was almost like someone had cleaned it recently. 

“This was Dean’s room,” Sam informed you, making you feel a little guilty about displacing him. It wasn’t like this was your choice though.

Dean tossed the bag he was carrying down onto the bed with a thud. Sam chose to use the gentler approach of setting the bag he was carrying on a chair in the corner.

“So what’s your story,” Dean asked as he sat down on the corner of the bed.

You shrugged, as you moved through the room, checking out the view from the window. 

“You travel with your uncle,” Dean stated. “So where’s your parents?”

You turned and looked back to him silently, not really wanting to talk about the tragic backstory of your life.

“Okay, don't talk to us then,” Dean rolled his eyes as he stood up. 

“Dead.”

He paused in his steps and turned to look at you, mouth agape. You returned to look out the window again before continuing, hoping you would see your uncles car any moment again to take you with him.

“It’s just me and Danny;” you continued as you looked over to them. “So what’s your story?”

“Mom’s been gone a long time and dad is in the business,” he stated with some sort of pride. “The family business.”

“Doesn’t a family business typically mean that more than one member of your family is doing it?” You snarked back.

“I’ve gone out on hunts before,” he stated in defense. “I’ve seen a ghost before.”

“Good for you,” you rolled your eyes again. “So why did he leave the two of you here then.”

“Dean got in some trouble on his last hunt,” Sam spoke up. 

“What, did you act like an ass to the monster too?” You smirked to Dean.

“That’s a long story,” he said as he started rubbing the back of his neck. “So how long are you here for?”

“Who knows?” You responded. “Hopefully just a few days, maybe weeks.”

“And you’re like what 13?”

“Fourteen,” you corrected him. “I’ll be fifteen-.”

You stopped yourself short, not wanting to discuss or even think about the fact that you had a birth date like everyone else. It was a day you’d rather forget. You finished your sentence with the word “soon” popping off your lips.

“Are you going to be going to the high school with Dean then?” Sam asked. 

“I guess so,” you shrugged. “So What is there to do around here anyways?”

“Read,” Sam replied with innocence, Dean rolling his eyes in response.

“There ain’t much to do, but there’s always something you can find to at least pass the time.”

“Like what?” You asked. 

Dean laughed while nodding outside.

“Well, you like cars?” He asked as you gave him a side eyed glance. “We got tons of em out there.”

“What do you do? Try to fix em up or something?”

Dean shrugged as you all heard Bobby yelling up the stairs to start getting ready for dinner. 

“Don’t keep him waiting,” Sam said as he walked out the door.

“Is Bobby strict?” You asked Dean who was still standing there, waiting for you to go downstairs as well.

“He’s alright, can be strict at times,” he replied back. “He does his best to make sure that we have some sort of normal in our lives.”

“What’s normal?” You rolled your eyes. “Being dropped off with some strange dude in a shit hole.”

“Give it time,” Dean laughed. “It’s not that bad. It’s better than staying in a crumby motel every night alone. ”

You paused your steps to the door as you heard those words leaving his lips. Motel and alone. Well that summed up the last three years of your life. Guess you did have more in common with these two boys besides being dumped off. If they could handle it, maybe it wasn’t going to be that bad after all.

The next couple weeks weren’t that bad. You had started high school with Dean showing you around. The fact that he became somewhat protective of you was probably why you didn’t seem to have any trouble with the other kids. The boys seemed to be scared of him, and the girls seemed to be in love with him. Each Sunday as promised your uncle would call to check in, consistently avoiding the topic of when he would be coming back. It was alright though. You had become so busy with your school work and hanging out with the boys that you didn’t mind it so much. Bobby’s house was slowly becoming your home.

“So to find the slope, you take the difference from the two Y points and divide by the two corresponding X points,” you stated to Dean as the two of you sat at the kitchen table.

“Why do I even care?” He grumbled.

“Well, slopes give you an idea of the rate of acceleration. Like in a car,” you stated. “Say you know that if you start at the end of the driveway and move to the other end in 60 seconds, you can determine how fast you were going.”

“Or I could just look at the speedometer,” he grinned. 

“Smartass,” you laughed as you shoved his arm. “Okay, so you see a Rugalu, and they move from point A to point B in so many seconds. How fast do you have to move your ass to get the hell out of there?” 

“Who says I wouldn’t stay to fight?”

You rolled your eyes to him again. Clearly at this point he was just being a smartass. 

“Fine, you don’t run away. So how much faster do you have to be to gank him then Winchester?” You asked with a cocky smile.

“Just got to be faster,” he replied. “Who cares how fast?”

“Well, let me give you a little insight into physics and biology. You expel more than enough energy for a task, you deplete your energy storage. Making it easy for the other Rugulu to take you down.”

“Okay, point taken,” he laughed. “Math is important. So how did you become so smart in this shit anyways?”

“My dad was a science professor,” you shrugged, before realizing that you had mentioned him for probably the first time ever to Dean besides the fact that he was dead.

“And your mom?” Dean prodded a little further. 

“History professor,” you replied while taking in a deep breath. “Guess it just rubbed off on me. Anyways, do you get it now?”

“Oh, I got it about a minute after you decided to try and help me,” he smiled. “I just wanted to see how far I could get you frustrated before you gave up.”

You smacked him lightly on his arm as he laughed in response.

“You’re a dick,” you laughed. “Why did you want to see me get frustrated?”

“Because I think it’s awesome that even when you don’t know how to help someone, it gets to you so much that you don’t quit,” he smiled. “That and when you realize that you did in fact help someone, your eyes kind of light up a little. You’re a good person Y/N.”

The way that Dean was looking at you as he spoke was so genuine; no one besides family had ever done that before. It made you feel something at that moment. What it was, you weren’t sure. You bit your lip nervously as he leaned over, pulling his text book back over to him. 

“So question 4, find the y-intercept,” he read from the pages.

“You helping Dean with homework there Y/N?” Bobby stated as he entered the room with Sam, both carrying bags of groceries that could probably feed a small army. Or in this case, the Winchester boys for a weekend. 

“Just making sure he gets it,” you smiled back while standing up to help them put the groceries away.

Peering into the bags, there was an item that you had told Bobby in secret that you needed that you didn’t see. He had either forgotten, or was too embarrassed to pick it up. 

“Um, Bobby,” you muttered. “Ya forgot something.”

He looked at you with furrowed brows until it dawned on him. He mumbled ‘crap’ under his breath before exhaling loudly.

“I suppose you need ‘em soon,” he sighed, you nodding in response. He looked over at Dean finishing the last question of his homework and closing the book. “Dean, take Y/N and my car to the little corner store. Be back in twenty for dinner.”

Dean squinted his eyes in confusion as he grabbed the keys from Bobby. You rolling your own eyes that now Dean was going to be very well aware of the gross part about being a girl: your period. 

You trailed behind Dean after Bobby handed you some cash, muttering an apology as you walked away. In less than 3 minutes, with Dean obviously ignoring anything that resembled a speed limit sign you were at the store.

“So what did you need? Make-up, hair stuff?,” he inquired as he followed you in, making you give him a funny look. “Didn’t know if all of the sudden you were trying to look like those other girls in the school.”

“I’d rather live forever in my comfy jeans and t-shirts then to ever be like them,” you snarked back, as you approached the feminine section.

Dean’s eyes followed where yours went, staring at the boxes of tampons with little flowers printed on them. It was not something he knew a lot about, but he knew enough. He reached over and grabbed a box, staring at the packaging.

“I don’t know why they try to make it all fancy,” he pondered out loud. “I mean, a girl can bleed for a few days and still kick your ass. They should have something more fierce on the box. Like a warrior princess.”

You shook your head with a laugh, catching on that Dean was trying to make this would be awkward situation into a joke. 

“My dad used to say that they used these for bullet holes,” he stated while grabbing two more boxes. “We should probably stock up knowing our luck. Who knows, maybe I’ll need some.”

Your laughter died down as you followed Dean to the register when you saw a group of guys looking and nodding over to the two of you with smirks.

“Looks like Winchester isn’t getting laid this week,” the one stated out loud. “Unless he’s into walking the red carpet.”

Johsua Adams. A notorious prick that thought he was God’s gift to women. First day at school and he had already tried, and failed, to have you,the new girl cozy, up behind the bleachers with him.  Dean just sat the products down on the counter, clenching his jaw as he turned to him with a grin.

“No, that’s what your girlfriend is for.”

Josh’s smile faded quickly, his face hardened now approaching Dean rapidly with you standing next to him. You felt Dean’s arm push you back by your waist, surprising you for a second until you saw what happened next. Josh yelled a ‘fuck you’ as he swung his fist towards Dean’s face, Dean almost effortlessly caught him by the wrist and twisted his arm behind his back.

“Now you’re going apologize for your remarks and you're going to go back to your little circle jerk,” he seethed, holding him steady as he tried to break free. 

Josh’s friends all moved from their spot, clearly pissed off that their friend was being hurt. Dean shook his head stating ‘uh huh’ as he twisted Josh's arm more to make him yell out. 

“Now I’m going to let you go,” Dean instructed the Josh in his ear, loud enough for everyone to hear. “And you all are going to leave me and my friend alone, or next time I won’t be so nice.”

Josh nodded his head, giving Dean the queue that he was going to comply. His friends all stared the two of you down hard with anger as they walked out of the store. You had almost forgotten the fact that you were in a store until you heard the onlooking cashier behind you.

“Your boyfriend there is a good guy,” she stated. “Those boys are nothing but trouble. It was about time someone showed them their place.”

You didn’t argue what she had called him: your boyfriend. Definitely not. Probably not ever. But she was right, he was a good guy. You handed her the money as you lead the way out the door to Bobby’s car. The two of you opening the doors and setting yourself in. 

“Where did you learn how to do that?” You asked with enthusiasm, the whole act was something you had only seen in the movies.

“My dad,” Dean replied. “And Bobby a little. Why?”

“Teach me,” you said as your turned your body to him with intrigue in your eyes.

“What?” Dean exhaled audibly. “Why?”

“You really have to ask?,” you sounding surprised. “Come on Dean! There are tons of assholes out there like that, plus knowing how to take care of myself would definitely help with, you know...those other things that we aren’t supposed to talk about.”

“There is no way in hell I’m teaching you any of that,” he looked at you directly with seriousness on his face. “You haven’t had to know what it’s like to fight for your life; you’re lucky and blessed. And I will be dammed if I ever let you get mixed up in that shit.”

“It’s not like I’m not already mixed up in it Dean! Something supernatural killed my parents. Hell, I’m being raised by hunters! Do you really think I will ever just get on with my life and not have that following me?”

Dean growled lowly, as he shook his head. 

“Fine,” he stated as he turned the key in the ignition to bring the engine to life. “But this is between us. If Bobby knew, he’d kill me.”

“I promise.”

“And leave Sam out of it too. That kid is going to be a doctor or lawyer someday.”

“No problem,” you agreed. “Thanks Dean, for you know, what happened in there.”

“ Anytime,” he said as he pulled out of the spot and drove down the road. “He had it coming to him anyway.”

“And I know why you’re scared to teach me how to fight Dean.”

He glanced over at you with confusion, making you smirk in return.

“Because you know I’ll be able to kick your ass,” you replied with snark. 

“Oh darlin,” he shook his head with a laugh. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” 

The next week, Dean and you had figured out a routine on when he was able to teach you. Most of the time it was right after dinner when Sam would be caught up in a book and Bobby would pass out drunk at his desk.

The garage light was enough for you to see what you were doing, and far enough away from the house so they couldn’t hear you.

“Okay, so again,” Dean stated, making you follow his directions in the sequence as he rattled them off. “Left punch, right punch, left uppercut, and a right hook.”

You did as you were told, until he stated to go faster, and then faster again. Dean shook his head in disapproval as he watched. 

“You’re locking your arms too much,” he said as he gripped your right elbow. “You’re going to break something of yours, not theirs.”

His hands moved to reposition your arm, tickling a little as he touched your skin; making you flinch back with a giggle.

“Ticklish huh?” Dean smirked as his eyes grew wide.

“You wouldn’t dare,” you laughed, as you noticed the devilish look in his eyes. 

He reached over as you tried to move out of the way, and furiously tickled you all over in an instant. Your laughter echoed through the room as you tried to get away, but he was not stopping.

“Stop Dean! Stop,” you gasped out in between your laughter, tears now rolling down you eyes. “I’m going to piss myself!”

He continued with his own laughter as you twisted yourself and started to fumble backwards; grabbing onto his arms to bring him down as well as your back hit the ground. 

“Ow,” you laughed again, Dean propping himself up on his hands next to your sides, staring down with a grin. “See what you did?”

“Rule number one,” he smiled. “Know your opponents weak spots.”

“Uh huh, and where’s yours?” You smirked as you started to tickle his rib cage. 

Dean moved swiftly and pinned your hands down on the ground with a smirk. Your breath caught in the moment, with your chest rising and falling deeply to catch it. He stared down at you as you looked up to him. The feeling that arose was different, and by the looks on his face he was feeling it as well. He paused himself for a moment, before leaning down and pressing his lips onto yours gently. An act that surprised you at first, but it felt right. Your first kiss. Your first real kiss was happening with Dean on a dirty garage floor, but you didn’t care. You found yourself returning it, moving your lips along with his, opening them just a little as you felt his tongue glide across them. You didn’t really know what to do. It’s not like this was really covered in health class, but you glided your tongue with his, moving them together in sync. It felt smooth, sending a warm feeling down your body as you felt his hand now touching your face, bringing you closer and deeper into his.

“Whoa,” you heard Sam gasp aloud, causing you to both break away and look over at him in panic.

“What the hell Sam!” Dean yelled.

“So that’s what you two are doing,” Sam smiled. “You two are making out every night!”

“Get out of here Sam before I kick your ass!” Dean yelled again.

“Whatever,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Just don’t let Bobby, dad, or her uncle catch you. They just called.” They’re coming back.”

“He’s coming back?” You sat yourself up, knocking Dean back a little in your action. “When?”

“They said they’d be here after school tomorrow,” Sam answered. “So that probably means we will be moving on too.”

Dean sighed out loud and nodded as he stood up, shaking the dirt off of him before extending his hand to you to help you up. As you got up you felt the mixed feelings of dread and excitement. You were going to see your uncle again, but at the same time you were now probably going to lose Dean. You stared down to the ground as you followed the boys back into the house. Dean instructing Sam to keep his mouth shut about what he had seen. You went upstairs to your room, trying to ignore Dean’s glances as you shut the door and flopped down on the bed. The feeling of his lips still lingered on yours as you gentled touched them with your fingers. What was going to happen next?

You awoke from your deep sleep as you heard the sound of your door opening. Glancing at the clock it was just a little after midnight. You sat up and turned to see Dean walking in with a solemn look on his face. 

“Hey, didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized.

“Yes you did,” you smiled in the dark room, the only light peaking through the curtains from the moon outside. 

“I just thought, since tomorrow we might be parting ways, maybe we should talk about what happened?” He nervously replied.

You nodded as he sat down on the edge of your bed, you sitting up straighter and pulling the covers up to your chest. You could see the hesitation in his face, unsure of what exactly to say. The silence was lingering, only growing with anticipation of what he was about to say fiercely within you. 

“I’m sorry Y/N,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

 You were confused for a moment, but you laid your hand on top of his in reassurance.

“Hey, it’s alright,” you replied softly. “It was nice. Unexpected of course, but I don’t regret it.”

“I’ve just, I don’t know,” he paused again. “I just was trying to keep you away from knowing how I felt about you.”

“How do you feel about me?”

“I like you Y/N,” he confessed as he looked at you. “I mean, it's hard not to. You’re someone who genuinely cares about people, and I didn’t want you to get hurt when I had to leave again.”

“What makes you so sure that you will have to leave?” you asked. “I mean, maybe they’ll let us stay here for a little longer.”

“Doubt it,” he sighed. “You don’t know my dad. He won’t care. The only thing that matters to him is taking care of Sam and finding what killed my mom.”

“But what about you Dean? I’m sure he cares about you.”

Dean shook his head, you catching the sight of a lingering tear fall down his face. 

“I was happy once before, not too long ago. I had a semi normal life away from them with someone I cared about, but he didn’t care and I couldn’t leave Sammy.”

“Dean,” you found yourself reaching for his face to look at you. You searched in his face to find whatever guilt he was holding back. “Tell me what happened.”

He sighed again as you dropped your hand down. His eyes searching for an easy way to tell you, possibly scared at your reaction.

“You know how Sam told you I had screwed up on a hunt? Well that isn’t true. I got myself in trouble and found myself at a boy’s reforming home. I got to go to school, do normal teenage things, and I had met someone there that I think I might have loved.”

You just found yourself nodding, although the last part hurt just a little, but you could tell it was still something he was still hurting from. 

“Anyways, my dad showed up after months even though he knew where I was the whole time and made me come back. He was angry and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Then of course I thought of Sam. I’ve been protecting that kid my whole life. I couldn’t walk away from him.”

“I understand,” you whispered. “But Dean, you do know that you can be happy again. No one knows what tomorrow will bring.” 

“How is it that you always know the right thing to say?” he chuckled softly.

“Because I’m awesome,” you smirked back with a soft laugh. 

“Yeah, well I’m going to get back to my room before Sammy realizes that I’ve left,” he said as he started to get up, but you grabbed his hand to stop him.

“If this is really possibly the last night I get to see you, I don’t want you to go,” you confessed as you let your grip fall. “I don’t know exactly whatever it was that I felt earlier, but I don’t want to give it up yet.”

Dean looked deeply into your eyes as he moved to crawl under the covers with your assistance of pushing them back to allow him access. He laid his head down on the pillow next to you, gazing at you, moving the hair out of your face as you mirrored him. You nuzzled your face into his hand as he cupped your cheek. He was hesitant, but you moved your face closer to his. Biting your lip a little before you leaned in and felt his soft, full lips on yours once again. He followed your lead and before you knew it, you felt the same warmth as you did before now hitting harder as your lips moved together by the light of the moon. It was a feeling you never wanted to let go of as you pushed your lips on his harder. His hands now resting on you, one holding your head steady, the other caressing your hip. It tickled a little, the way his hand touched your skin, making you moan just a little, wanting more. His lips moved from yours, trailing along your skin and down to your neck as his hand moved from your hip to your heaving chest. Through your clothes you could feel him grasping your breast gently, not wanting to be rough. You didn’t  know exactly what had pushed you in the moment, but you pulled away from him and lifted off your shirt to leave your chest expose to him. You wanted to feel his skin against yours as he watched you with wonderment in his eyes before crashing his lips against yours once more. His hands were now all over you, feeling every inch of you as you continued. His lips moving to discover new spots on your body and the pleasure-filled reactions they ensued from you. It could have been only minutes that it continued, but it felt like forever until the kisses and touches started to slow down. Dean looked into your eyes, as he pulled away with a deep breath. 

“I think I love you Y/N,” he confessed. “And I don’t want us to do anything that neither of us are ready for just because we may never see each other again.”

“I think I might love you too Dean,” you smiled back. “And I agree with the one part, but I know this; we will see each other again. When we’re both ready, perhaps a bit older, things will be different.”

“You always know just the right thing to say,” he smiled again as he pulled you into his arms to lay your head on his chest.

“Goodnight Dean,” you yawned as you nuzzled into him. 

Dean placed a kiss on top of your head, not allowing himself to fall asleep right away. He wanted to hold on to this feeling just a little longer as well because tomorrow, he knew it was all going to change. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” you heard Bobby yell out loud, snapping you awake in an instant.

Dean sprung himself up from the bed, leaving you to cover yourself up with the blanket. A look of fear and panic in his eyes.

“What the hell is going on here?” Bobby demanded. 

Dean held out his hand to try and calm him down, but it was not working.

“Bobby, it isn’t what it looks like,” Dean pleaded. “We didn’t do anything. We were just talking and I fell asleep.”

“Her shirt was off, and you just fell asleep?” Bobby looked at Dean with disappointment. “Do I look like an idjit to you? Now the two of you get dressed, in your own rooms. You have school and then your dad and your uncle will be here after.”

“You’re not going to tell them are you?” you asked in a panic. 

Bobby glared at the fear in Dean’s and your eyes as you awaited his answer.

“I’m supposed to be watching the two of you, and Dean you know better,” he glared at him hard. “I for sure ain’t saying shit to them. But you listen to me, this stops now or so help me I will kick both of your asses into next Tuesday.”

“Yes sir,” you both nodded in reply, feeling a little sense of relief. 

“Now get dressed,” Bobby stated as he walked out the door. 

You took in a deep breath and exhaled out as you turned to Dean who was almost out the door. 

“Dean?”

“You heard him, get dressed,” Dean said gruffly before walking out, shutting the door behind him. 

Dean hadn’t said anything else to you as you silently ate your breakfast and on your way to school. He was completely ignoring you now, even when you tried to speak, he chose to go the other way or say something to someone else. How he was acting was hurt, but you tried to just let it go, knowing he probably was just protecting himself and you from what awaited when you walked through the door after school. 

You saw your uncle and John sitting there waiting with Bobby. None of their faces really looked happy. 

“Dad-“ you heard Sam say as he walked in behind you.

“Time to pack your bags boys,” he instructed. “We’re moving on.”

“Yes sir,” you heard Dean state as he started for the stairs.

“Where are you going?” You asked out loud, making them all look at you in disbelief that you would even question what was happening. 

“Say goodbye to Sam and Dean, Y/N,” Danny stated as he stood up and gave you a small hug. “It’ll be awhile before you see them again.”

“This is bullshit,” you exclaimed. “Why do any of them, any of us have to go anywhere? What to live in the back of a car or a crappy motel, not knowing if any of you will ever come back?”

“Danny, settle down that girl there,” John advised.

“No, fuck you, ya prick,” you spat out, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. “They’re happy here, we all are. Bobby may not be our family, but he’s been here. He is at least trying to give us a normal life. Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

You felt guilty after hearing your words leave your mouth, as you looked up to your uncle. He had tried to be there, he just couldn’t. You now realized why he had brought you here in the first place. He knew he couldn’t do everything you needed. He was really trying to give you the life you deserved. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you cried to your uncle before you ran out the door.

You plopped yourself down on the ground, tears flowing down your face. You heard the sound of gravel moving under someone’s steps, but you didn’t flinch. 

“That was some speech you gave in there,” John’s rough voice stated as he sat himself down next to you. “I can see you’ve really become attached to my boys and this place.”

You just nodded your head, feeling anger and resentment towards the man next to you.

“Me too,” he confessed. “That’s why they’re coming with me.”

You looked at him baffled, not understanding why he was even talking to you after what you just said.

“Your uncle is a strong man. One of the best guys I’ve ever known. He is doing right by you in letting you stay. I’m not as strong,” he sighed. “I need them around. I look at them and on my weakest days I can see my Mary in their faces. It’s what keeps me going as I try to figure out what happened to her.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I feel like everything has been sugar coated for you for probably way too long,” he replied. “What happened to her, what happened to your parents, well someone has to stop it.”

“My parents…”

“We’re not sure if it’s the same thing, but we sure as hell won’t stop until we find it and kill it,” he answered back. “I know it’s a tough life for all of you kids, but you’re getting older now. You should know. Dean, he has been in this for so long, he knows what is expected. Sam, well although I’d like to keep him out of it, this has been his whole life. This is just what happens. You say your goodbyes and move on.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“You will,” he smiled. 

You both heard the door of the house swing open and shut, Dean walking out with a green duffel bag with Sam behind him. He paused as he looked at you both, unsure of what was happening. John looked over at you and Dean staring at each other, as Dean put his head down and helped Sam into the car. 

“They’ll be alright Y/N,” John stated, making you turn your head to him. “And so will you.”

He got up from his spot and brushed the dirt off of him as he walked towards his sleek black car.

“You boys all set?” He asked. 

Dean nodded as he stood there with the car door open, looking at you with sadness in his eyes. John turned to see you doing the same as he opened up the drivers door.

“Let’s get a move on it,” he said as he sat himself inside.

Dean looked down again, before looking back to you. You mouthed the word ‘goodbye’ as he nodded and got inside the car. The trail of dust they had left behind took minutes to disappear, but as it went down slowly and was gone, you knew they were now as well.

John’s words with everything that had happened replayed in your head. ‘You will’ he said, and at that moment, you hadn’t realized or known just how true that really was.

Tags: (Let me know if you don’t want added!)   @snffbeebee​ @waywardnerd67​ @waywardbaby​ @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @jaylarkson​ @ladywinchester1967​ @wildefire​ @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name @hobby27​ @iamabeautifulperson18​ @19agbrown​ @sonotalice​ @drakelover78​ @aloneanddesperate​ @pisces-cutie​ @biawol​ @jamielea81​ @fallininjapan​ @justkending​

[we-are-only-halfway-home93]

Come and Lay the Roses 5- Sell My Soul- [Ivar x OC]

Summary: Aaline meets Ragnar. Aelle makes a deal with Ecbert.

Characters: Ivar x OC, Bjorn x Torvi, Ubbe x Margrethe, Hvitserk x Thora, Sigurd x OC, Lagertha, Ragnar

Warnings: Arranged marriage, language, violent, sex, torture

Word Count: 2634

Ch. 4

“Trust is a dangerous game.”

Ecbert sat with his hands pressed together and held against his lips. He watched Aelle with inscrutable eyes and contemplated his plea.

Aelle had been rash, attacking Kattegat. The peace brokered between Ragnar Lothbrok and his Northmen was tenuous at best but it had held steady since the death of his wife seven years before. Ecbert had worked hard to keep Ragnar Lothbrok at bay. He was a formidable enemy and the Saxon organization had suffered enough at his hands.

Aelle’s attack on Kattegat was foolish and had cost him. Yes, Ragnar Lothbrok suffered considerable financial damage, however, he made enough annually that it would be easy for him to recover the nearly five million dollars that he’d lost in Aelle’s attack. If anything, Aelle lost more than Ragnar.

The attack itself had been rash but Aelle decided to send his brother Aethelwulf in as the lead on the attack. Many Saxon men died and Aethelwulf was missing. Ecbert was confident that Ragnar Lothbrok had him locked up somewhere to use as a bargaining chip. If Aelle was lucky, they would just leave him locked up but, if Ragnar did was Ecbert thought he would do, then, Aethelwulf was most likely in the hands of Ragnar’s most brutal and unpredictable son.

Ecbert was well aware of Ivar Lothbrok’s reputation. It was well earned, after all. The rumors that surrounded Ivar “the Boneless” were intriguing. Ecbert had been witness to some of Ivar’s fights when he was a teenager. It was true that he appeared to dance inside the ring. If you looked close enough, it looked like he was moving and bending in ways that were impossible for the human body. His childhood nickname of “The Boneless” took on a whole new meaning.

Ecbert had heard whispers among his men of what Ivar Lothbrok was capable of. He was merciless when provoked. Fighting in the boxing ring was one thing but, when attacked, Ivar was ferocious. He stopped at nothing to get what he wanted or right whatever wrong he felt had been dealt against him. He was insane and yet, Ecbert had to admire the fierce loyalty that he maintained. He’d never turned his back on his family and Ecbert could only dream of such blind loyalty. His own son, coincidentally also named Aethelwulf, was loyal to a point.

Ecbert’s men liked to talk. They spoke mostly of Ragnar’s sons and their devotion to their father and his cause. They spoke of Björn’s impenetrable fighting style. How he was untouchable and no man could mark him. They spoke of Ubbe and Hvitserk and Sigurd and how each brother fought with abandon, unafraid of death.

They mostly spoke of Ivar. A demon, they called him, with black eyes full of malicious intent. A smile that dripped of sin and waved you off as he sent you to meet your maker. They spoke of how his teeth dripped red with the blood of his enemies. The most popular claim was that he would take men home, still alive, and flay the skin from their bones before eating it raw.

Ecbert was not one to believe in rumors. He did not doubt that the youngest son of Ragnar Lothbrok was as savage as his men claimed but he very much doubted that he was a cannibal or a demon, for that matter. He was just a man and men had weaknesses.

“What is it you think I can do for you, Aelle?” Ecbert folded his hands and sat back in his chair. Aelle heaved a great sigh and shifted his girth in his chair. The legs creaked ominously beneath him and Ecbert arched an eyebrow, waiting. “I propose that we come together. My men and your men, as a single unit, would be too much for Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons.”

Ecbert nodded in thought before he sat up. “I was not the one who attacked Ragnar Lothbrok. My brother is not the one currently behind enemy lines, probably being tortured for information. Ragnar Lothbrok is not after me. Why should I help you and break the peace that I have with Ragnar Lothbrok?”

Aelle looked irritated but must’ve been expecting the argument. He opened his mouth to continue. “It is no secret that the peace between you and Lothbrok has been unstable since the sudden death of his wife which,” Aelle held his hand up to keep Ecbert from interrupting. “We both know had nothing to do with either of us. It was an unfortunate tragedy, yes, but neither of us was wise to the plot.

“All the same, Ragnar has not trusted us since that unfortunate incident and has steadily been trying to push us out. He’s slowly bought out our clients, our storefronts. Just last week he made a deal with one of the top construction companies in the nation and is now a member of its board. He’s trying to get rid of us as quietly as possible.”

Ecbert narrowed his eyes and looked away from Aelle. He had had similar thoughts within the last few weeks. Lothbrok’s reach was getting too long. He was beginning to control more territory that Ecbert and Aelle combined. Soon enough, he would have control of everything Ecbert held dear.

He turned back to Aelle. “What kind of deal did he make?” Aelle’s smile widened and he leaned forward. “Ives Jensen was indebted to Lothbrok, owed him millions of dollars that he couldn’t pay back. Now, Ives’ only child is a daughter that he sent away after the death of her mother. Ragnar has five sons, all of whom are extremely devoted to their father, do whatever he asks.

“Now, Ives is a coward. He hasn’t been running his company since his daughter graduated from Oxford. Ragnar has four sons that are already married and one son that is rumored to be uncontrollable.”

Ecbert began to understand what kind of deal Ragnar Lothbrok had made. “These rumors have been hurting Ragnar’s reputation. His own men have begun to discuss his inability to control Ivar and how it may be time for him to step down. Of course, this is unacceptable so, when Lothbrok goes to kill Ives Jensen and take back his money, Ives does what all cowards do and offers someone else in his place.” Aelle’s voice was quiet like he was sharing a secret. Ecbert couldn’t help but smile as he listened.

“Ives offers his daughter as a wife for Ivar. He’ll hand over his company, his assets, everything to his daughter and, as an extension, Ragnar, in exchange for his life.” Aelle sat back, happy with the tale he just told.

“This is something that Ragnar cannot possibly pass up. One of the nations largest construction companies, virtual control over it, millions of dollars in revenue, and exhibiting his control over his youngest son. It works out wonderfully in his favor and gives him control of properties that have been in our territory for years.”

Ecbert took a deep breath and licked his lips. He looked over at Aelle. “Well, if Ragnar Lothbrok can make deals of marriage, why can’t we?” Aelle looked contemplative as Ecbert leaned forward, his hands pressed tightly against the desktop. “I have a son, you have a daughter. Let’s discuss our options.”

.

Aaline crept lightly down the stairs. The house was quiet and dark. Everyone else was asleep and Aaline didn’t want to wake them.

It was after three in the morning and Aaline was heading to the kitchen. She had trouble getting to sleep so she decided to venture down to one of the kitchens and make herself something to eat.

She remembered as a child waking up in the middle of the night and going in search of her mother. She would always find her in the kitchen with a tall glass of milk filled with crushed Oreos that she would dig out with a spoon. It was heavy with sugar and numbed Aaline’s mouth with the cold. She remembered giggling wildly with her mother during those late night snacks. It was one of the only memories she had of her mother before she died.

Aaline pulled the milk from the fridge and the Oreos from the cupboard. She poured herself and tall glass and then crumbled up each cookie individually before she dropped them into her glass. She closed her eyes as she took the first bite. It had been a long time since she’d last enjoyed this special treat. She hadn’t done it since college and the flood of memories brought tears to her eyes.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if she and Ivar might ever share memories like this. She felt despair settle in her stomach at the thoughts and shook them away. She would be lucky if Ivar was tolerable.

She placed her dirty glass in the sink and made her way back around to the staircase and up to her room. On her way, she heard a soft rustling from the sitting room in the back of the house. She turned to investigate and saw a soft light coming from down the hall. She slowly made her way towards it and stopped in the doorway.

She’d seen enough pictures of Ragnar Lothbrok to know that he was sitting before her now. He had a newspaper from today, well, technically yesterday, unfolded in his hands. He had a pair of reading glasses pushed far down the end of his nose. He was bald but with a thick beard that obscured the lower half of his face. His face was lined with the experiences afforded to a man his age. The lines around his eyes trailed down his cheeks. There was a long scar on his right cheek that curved around his eye and up his forehead. She could tell, even from the doorway, that Ivar got his eyes from his father. They both held the same secrets and the same pain. Ivar’s eyes were cold where Ragnar’s were warm.

What surprised Aaline most about Ragnar’s appearance were the tattoos on either side of his head. They touched at his temples and spanned the space of his head, trailing down around his ears and disappearing into the collar of his shirt at his neck.

She was surprised that a businessman like Ragnar would adorn himself with such obvious ink but she recalled where he started in life and it made sense.

He began his career as a businessman at the bottom of the totem pole. A lowly foot soldier taking orders from the man on top. He did the bidding of Earl Haraldson, the man that Ragnar would one day replace.

As a foot soldier, Ragnar tattooed his victories on his skin. They told the story of his strength and his independence. They told anyone who looked at them how he overcame Earl Haraldson for control of Kattegat and, eventually, the Northmen.

“You are welcome to join me, Miss Jensen. There is another seat.” Aaline startled and blushed fiercely at being caught staring. She shuffled forward and sat on the edge of the chair next to Ragnar. He smiled at her and closed his paper, handing her an empty glass. She took it, confused, and watched as Ragnar unscrewed a flask and poured her two finger worth of whiskey. She smiled and took a careful sniff. Ragnar laughed when she burst into a coughing fit.

“My apologies. Floki makes his own whiskey and it is very potent.” She nodded and set the glass down, deciding to leave it untouched. Ragnar shuffled his paper and went back to reading.

Aaline felt awkward, sitting in the dark with a man she barely knew. She opened her mouth to speak but Ragnar beat her to it. “We have not been formally introduced.” He folded his paper and set it down on his lap. “I am Ragnar Lothbrok.” He held his hand out for her to shake. “Aaline Jensen.” She whispered.

He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners and she found she liked the way it changed his face. “It is nice to finally meet you, Aaline Jensen. I have heard a lot about you.” She tensed and nodded once, looking away from him. She heard him hum. “I imagine it is hard for you, being here, alone, knowing no one.”

There was an accent present in his voice. It was thick but he enunciated well, spoke clearly. She imagined a man like Ragnar Lothbrok was not stupid by any means. He had to be clever in order to get to where he is now.

She turned to look at him. “I’m adjusting.” She said. He nodded, looking over her face. “The girls are lovely, very welcoming.” She nodded and looked down at her hands. “At one time, they were all in your shoes. New to this world, the challenges of marrying a Lothbrok.” She snorted and he quirked an eyebrow.

She sighed. “No offense, Mr. Lothbrok,” He cut her off. “Call me Ragnar, please.” She hesitated but nodded and continued. “No offense, Ragnar, but I don’t think any of the other women who married into this family did so under duress.” Ragnar smiled and nodded, humming his agreement. “No, I don’t believe they did.”

She looked at him and watched as he breathed deeply. “You remind me of my daughter, Gyda. She had a fire about her. She would not be told what to do. She followed her own path, made her own decisions.” Aaline drew her eyebrows together. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

Ragnar looked sad then and nodded slowly. “She died, many years ago.” Aaline closed her eyes and shook her head. Losing her mother had been hard on her but she couldn’t imagine losing a child. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been very difficult for you.” Ragnar grunted.

“There was nothing I wouldn’t have done for her. She was the light of my life.” Aaline felt tears burn her eyes and wished that her father held her in the same regard that Ragnar did his daughter. Her father had said a lot of pretty things to her but never had he displayed his affection in a way that meant anything.                  

“I love my sons, dearly. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for them.” She looked up at him then and his gaze was focused on her entirely. She felt trapped beneath his eyes. “But their wives, my new daughters, in all of them I see Gyda. I am reminded of how easily life can be taken and I vowed to protect them as I would my own daughter.”

He picked up his own glass of whiskey and took a long drink. He placed it back down and smiled at her. “I know that this is not what you want. It is not what Ivar wants, either. I imagine none of us ever thought this would be a path life would lead us down but, alas, we are here.” He shifted in his seat to face her fully, his eyes still locking her in place. “I want you to know, as much as you may not believe it now, you will always be protected under this house. You are my daughter now and you will always be safe here.”

Aaline swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall. She wanted to speak, say anything to Ragnar Lothbrok but the lump in her throat was too thick and any words that she tried to force would lead her to tears. Ragnar must’ve sensed it because he tipped his head to her and gestured to the door.

“It is late, child. Go back to bed. There are many things to do in the morning.”

[sincerefakeahcau]

It wasn’t easy being a teenager. Even less so being a short, gymnast who was openly gay in a not so nice area. But Jeremy was used to it, after all this was the life he had lived for the past eighteen years and it will get better right?

The phrase was a mantra in his head as he tried to ignore the hand of Michael, a roided, should be graduated, twenty year old who seemed to think Jeremy was his punching bag, even though being a gymnast gave him a strength he rarely showed. He only had to make it through the year and then he would graduate, seven and a half months until he wasn’t a walking punching bag to idiots anymore. I’m

“What are you gonna do squirt? Find a real man to take care of you like the little bitch you are.”

Despite knowing he shouldn’t Jeremy snaps not caring for his own safety for a moment.

“If you don’t leave me alone I’m going to fuck your dad.”

Michael’s face grows purple and he shoves Jeremy again before walking off with his group of minions, brainless roided bodies the group of them.

“Would you really?”

That’s Gavin, Jeremy’s best friend who was a foreign exchange student from England, staying with the family next door.

“I mean... have you seen his dad?”

Jeremy raises his eyebrows a smirk falling onto his face and Gavin just chuckles before wrapping an arm around the shorter boy.

“One of these days your mouth is gonna get you in trouble.”

“One of these days? As if it hasn’t already.”

“True.... now show me a picture of his dad.”

“What?”

“If he made a son that looks like that he’s got to be attractive. Stupid as hell but attractive.”

“Gavin he was a model. But now he works with computers. I think he’s hot and smart.”

Jeremy pulls up Instagram, opening it to the mans page and when Gavin sees it he nods in agreement.

“He’s your type. Tall, bearded, dad. Now again would you really fuck him just to get back to Michael?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Or maybe just cause he’s hot and smart and he is my type.”

“Have you ever met him in person Jeremy. Also he’s obviously straight, after all he is Michael’s dad. Speaking of what about his mom?”

“I don’t think they are together because he posted on Mother’s Day and was like ‘while it wasn’t magic for us you gave me the best gift ever. Thanks for being the best mom to our son.’ And look at this picture and tell me he’s straight Gavin. Look at it.”

“Mr. Dooley!”

Hearing the voice of his math teacher he looks up and realizes that his entire class is looking at him, and he’s looking at his phone.

“Sorry.”

“What was so interesting on your phone that you just had to show Mr. Free in the middle of my class?”

“Nothing.”

“Than maybe you should put it away.”

“Yes sir.”

He puts his phone away and motions to Gavin that he’ll show him later. Math class finally ends and Jeremy pulls his phone right back out showing showing Gavin the picture he had been trying to show him before.

“Maybe he’s just a really into himself straight man.”

“I doubt it. But I’ve never met him so like will it matter honestly? I’ll just admire him from afar.”

“I vote you slide into his DMs.”

“But...”

“Jeremy I say you shoot your shot. You are amazing and confident and of the legal age of 18. So why not.”

“What if he’s not gay?”

“So? It never hurts to ask. Besides how can you tell Michael you would fuck his dad and then not even try to follow through.”

“So you’re saying if nothing else I should try because I could hold it over Michael.”

“Yes. But also like you said he is hot and hopefully smart. And if he is smart he’ll get it.”

Jeremy bites his lip before looking at his phone and clicking the paper airplane to send him a message. He debates for a second before just sending a simple hi and then puts his phone in his pocket.

“I want to die.”

“I could help with that.”

Hearing Michael’s voice Jeremy is instantly glad about his decision. He doesn’t respond instead just sending Gavin a small smirk ignoring the boy. The rest of the school day passes uneventfully and when he and Gavin walk to his car to drive home he pulls his phone out. He stops his walk at the notification that he had a message back from Michael’s dad.

“Jeremy?”

“He messaged me back.”

“WHAT DOES IT SAY!”

Gavin is too loud and multiple people stop to stare at the pair, if either was easily embarrassed they would be red, but they weren’t. Jeremy just rolls his eyes continuing their walk and once they are in his car he speaks.

“I mean I haven’t looked yet Gav. I was just shocked he actually opened my message to begin with.”

“So open it.”

Jeremy bites his lip as he stares at the notification on his phone before doing just that, opening the message. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but the hello handsome that greeted him was a happy surprise.

“He called me handsome Gav.”

“Huh maybe he is gay after all.”

“Seriously that’s your one thought?”

“No but I think you should keep it going. But I would make sure he knows you are younger.”

“Yea... I wonder how old he is. I mean Michael’s 20.”

“Talk to him a bit more and then just mention your age and be like I hope someone as worldly as you doesn’t mind talking to me. Maybe he’ll tell you then.”

The next few weeks pass with Jeremy casually messaging Michael’s dad, Ryan he should call him he supposed. They had talked about a lot, including age, Ryan was 36 twice Jeremy’s age but that wasn’t a deterrent. And then he opens his phone one morning to a text from Ryan, they had exchanged numbers after a week.

So how about a real date tonight?

Jeremy just stares before running from his house next door and knocking on the door, knowing Gavin would be home but the others probably wouldn’t.

“Jeremy?”

Gavin was still half asleep, not surprising the boy would miss school like daily if not for Jeremy making him be on time.

“Gavin he asked me if I wanted to go on a date tonight.”

That wakes Gavin up fully and he opens the door letting Jeremy in.

“So?”

“What do I do?”

“Jeremy you’ve been chatting with him for weeks, you told me you like him a lot, and for more than just his looks. You go on a fucking date with him.”

“But.”

“But what Jeremy.”

“What if he expects something different than me?”

“I doubt it. Tell him yes, ask when and where and then let’s get you ready.”

Jeremy lets out a little breath but responds to the message.

I’d like that. Where are we going and when?

He pauses for a moment wondering if that’s the proper response when he gets a reply almost instantly.

I can’t tell you where it’s a surprise. But dress casually. And I’ll pick you up at 6.

“He says dress casually.”

“Ask how casual. Because you and I have a different idea of casual and you want to make sure.”

Knowing that what Gavin says is true he pauses before sending a new message.

How casual is casual?

He watches as he gets three dots pulled up as Ryan responds.

Maybe not a T-shirt but jeans and a nice shirt would work. Can’t wait to see you.

And now he is flushing slightly Jesus Christ how was this man doing this to him.

Can’t wait to see you either. x

The x at the end was a bit bold but he couldn’t help it he was actually stoked for his date. He heads back to his house. After all he had almost ten hours until his date and he was hungry and needed to shower and go through all his clothes. Five thirty rolls around and he’s dressed and ready to go, his parents had wondered where he was going but when he said out with a friend they just assumed it was someone from school and let it go. He was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans cuffed at the bottom with a light blue button up and a pair of white sneakers. He’s nervous but ready, it wasn’t his first date with an older man his last boyfriend was 25 to his then 17 almost 18. He gets lost in his thoughts h til the doorbell rings and then he jumps from his seat wanting to make sure his parents don’t answer the door. When he spots Ryan standing there looking very much like the model he used to be in a black button up with a pair of jeans and sneakers his heart starts to beat a bit faster.

“Hi Jeremy.”

His voice is deeper than Jeremy had thought it would be and timber causes his body to warm.

“Hi Ryan.”

“So do I need to talk to your parents.”

“No.”

The word comes quickly as Jeremy sets outside having grabbed a jacket from behind the door as he left.

“Are you embarrassed by me?”

Ryan’s question catches Jeremy off guard for a second and then he answers truthfully.

“No I’m embarrassed by them. They aren’t the most traditional parents and I try not to scare off the men I like before we’ve had an actual date by introducing them to my parents.”

“But I will get introduced?”

“I promise. Eventually you will. Once I’m certain they won’t scare you off.”

“And it has nothing to do with me being twice your age?”

“God no. My last boyfriend was eight years older than me. They know I like older. And they don’t mind. My dad is fifteen years older than my mom.”

By now they are in Ryan’s car and driving to their date spot and Jeremy has slightly relaxed. When they pull up to a building Jeremy’s never seen before he looks at Ryan.

“I hope you like Italian. I would have picked something else but I wanted it to be somewhere you hadn’t been before and few people have been here.”

“I love Italian and I have never been here you are right.”

“Good.”

The smile that breaks across Ryan’s face makes Jeremy’s heart swell a bit. After they have ordered and are waiting Ryan asks the question Jeremy had been expecting from the moment they started talking.

“So how did you even find my Instagram?”

“Well... I go to school with Michael. And he posted something with you in it a while ago. And I saw and clicked your screen name and instantly attracted to you so I followed you. But I was like 16 at the time? And then I got a boyfriend and I kind of just would occasionally like something you posted that I liked. You posted a picture of a view with some beautiful cherry blossoms one day and I wished I could see the cherry blossoms so I liked that. And then I broke up with the boyfriend after like 5 months? And just kinda stayed single. And I turned 18 and didn’t think you were attracted to men. So I didn’t think I had a chance or anything. But then I mentioned you to my best friend and he told me I should at least try. So I said hi and you know the rest.”

“Is it weird to you that you go to school with my son?”

“Is it weird for you? I’m not worried about it. And if I didn’t I would never have even met you so I’m kinda glad I do.”

“Me too.”

Their date continues with the pair talking about any and everything and then Ryan drives them to a small cafe.

“I don’t really like coffee but I don’t want this to end and I was hoping you would want to chat a bit longer.”

“I don’t like coffee either. Well I’ll drink it occasionally but it’s bitter so I tend not to but I absolutely want to keep chatting.”

And chat they do, for hours their conversation continues, past closing time of the cafe and into the early morning hours before Ryan makes his way back to Jeremy’s house.

“I had a great time. I’d really like to do this again.”

“Me too.”

Jeremy bites his lip as his eyes meet Ryan’s. They were parked out front of Jeremy’s house and Ryan pauses for a second before leaning across the center console and placing a kiss to the younger mans lips.

“So after I meet your parents I’ll take you to see the cherry blossoms.”

“After?”

“Well I figure if we are going to go to Japan together I should at least try and reassure them I’m not going to kill you there.”

“Japan?!”

“While Washington D.C. has beautiful cherry blossoms, that’s where that picture was from, Japan’s are even better. But don’t worry they don’t bloom til the new year so we have a few months.”

“But I have school.”

“Spring break is in March right?”

“Yea.”

“We can go then. But I’ve got to meet your parents first. They will be beautiful then and look amazing with your handsomeness.”

“March is a while away.”

“All the more time to get to know you better.”

Five months to be exact, and he doesn’t see how Ryan could put up with him for five months, his last boyfriend hadn’t ending it stating that Jeremy was too needy, too annoying, and too young.

October passes with little event, they went out on three more dates before Ryan had looked at Jeremy and told him he was so glad they were boyfriends. Jeremy had been wondering about their relationship but hadn’t wanted to bring it up so hearing that made his heart soar. And the following dates always lasted for hours, with the pair cuddling and kissing and just happy to be together.

November starts with Jeremy’s parents asking about his new boyfriend and if he’s like to come to Thanksgiving dinner. Jeremy asks Ryan but unfortunately the older man is unable to come, he had promised his own parents he would go home since Michael was with his mom for the holiday this year. They make plans to meet up for dinner before hand though and by some grace of god Jeremy’s parents don’t completely ruin his life. Ryan actually like them, and they like him as well. Their dates slowly end with Jeremy staying the night at Ryan’s usually nothing more than cuddling and sleeping going on because they both agree they want to take it slow.

December is full of dates, kisses and cuddles. Jeremy panics for a full week over what to get Ryan for his birthday and then Christmas which is right after. Ryan had bought Jeremy and himself tickets to Japan after that first date but still picked out a bunch of random little things along the way which he saw and instantly thought of Jeremy. Ryan invited Jeremy over on Christmas Eve because he knew the younger was spending the holiday with family, aunts and uncles came into town with their family, and introduced Jeremy to Michael as his boyfriend. Michael looks shocked for a moment before nodding his head. And despite the fact that Michael is rude to him every time they see each other at school their conversation is polite and Jeremy is glad he had picked up a gift for Michael when he was out as well.

January starts with an Instagram post. Three months after they started dating officially they both post the same picture, sharing a kiss as the new year is rung in, with identical captions as well. I’m so excited to start this year with you. The first week of January is spent exploring a new stage in their relationship. Jeremy started staying over nightly, and there was less sleep than there had been before. It had never felt as right before and Jeremy was glad they had waited, glad it was Ryan. He didn’t want to think that he loved the man but he knew already that he did. Michael started coming around to him as well, there were less incidents at school, in fact he could count on one hand all of them for the first time in years, opposed to the once a day attacks from before.

The first day of school in February starts a lot like his old days had, with Michael shoving him into a locker, but this time they are alone in the hall it was before hours.

“You aren’t just fucking with my dad to get back at me right?”

Jeremy sees the look in Michael’s eyes and knows he’s just being protective of his dad because he loves him.

“No Michael. I know I said I would fuck him to get back at you but honestly I wouldn’t have. I like him, a lot. He’s the first guy who hasn’t made me feel like I’m not worthy of affection and he makes me really happy.”

“He is too. I just... his last boyfriend was an asshole and really hurt him.”

“I know what that’s like and that’s the last thing I want to do. I... I haven’t told him so I don’t know why I’m telling you. But I love him. He’s my heart and my soul and I’d probably be really lost without him.”

“Okay...”

“I know we don’t really get along Michael, though it’s been better since you found out about us but no matter how I feel about you I wouldn’t fuck with someone else to get back at you. And we are better or I like to think we are.”

“He deserves to be happy.”

“And I want to help make him happy for as long as I can.”

Michael nods his head before moving away from Jeremy and then speaking again.

“So what are you getting him for Valentine’s Day?”

“I have no idea. Well I have an idea but I don’t know if he’ll think it’s as cool or useful as I do.”

“Need some help?”

Jeremy pauses before looking at Michael wide eyed.

“Really? You’d help me.”

“Yea. So what do you say?”

“That’s be great.”

And that’s how Michael almost completely got over being a dickbag to Jeremy. There was still the occasional moment when a bit of his former hatred popped out but for the most part they were fine. Valentine’s Day was a major success, Jeremy had been thrilled with his gifts from Ryan, stuff for their japan trip and a few more romantic things that they could enjoy together. And Ryan was beyond happy with the collection of custom Diet Coke bottles, that Michael helped him pick out, the luggage separators to improve space and a few little things that no one else needed to see, and of course the confession from Jeremy, tears in his eye as they eat dinner together of I love you. The words come softly and then bolder and Ryan can’t help but respond in the same. Somehow after four short months he knew he loved this man. And then there is the last minute panic and hurry to make sure they have everything for their trip in a month, between packing and buying and searching they manage to find time for dates and kisses and love galore.

March starts slow, they have two weeks before Japan and Jeremy is stressing about midterms, and has basically moved into Ryan’s house. Ryan has taken to making him dinner every night, helping him study and giving him massages when he’s super stressed. In return Jeremy helps Michael study, cooks breakfast for them all in the morning and peppers Ryan with love and affection at every turn. At the end of the second week they check their luggage one more time and get ready to be brought to the airport. Jeremy had stayed with Ryan that night, he had been fluttering between there and his own house, mainly because he missed Gavin’s bullshit and his parents own version of crazy, and when they woke up the next morning for Michael to drive them to the airport he’s jittery, texting Gavin the entire time.

I can’t believe this is real.

His words are more from a shocking bout of insecurity and Gavin sees right through them before responding.

It’s real. You deserve this and so much more. You have someone who loves you for exactly who you are and you are so blessed to love him in return. It’s something that many people hope for and you have it. Now have an amazing time in Japan with your love and tell me about it when you get home.

When they finally land in Japan, Jeremy is bouncing from the need to move, being on the plane so long was killing him.

“Calm down love.”

“I am calm. I’m just glad to not be on the plane anymore and I’m excited to spend the next week exploring with you.”

Ryan places a kiss to Jeremy’s forehead as they wait for their luggage. And they do spend that week exploring, though Ryan makes sure they visit the cherry blossoms every day. On their last day in Japan during their last visit to the cherry blossoms Jeremy looks around him, he could never have imagined anything better than this. He turns to say something to Ryan and his hands fly to his mouth spotting the man down on one knee.

“I know it’s only been a few months, and I know you are still young. But I was hoping you would be willing to make me even happier than I am now, happier than I thought was possible and marry me?”

“Really?”

His question is silent as he stares directly into Ryan’s eyes and he sees the love and sincerity in them.

“Absolutely.”

Before Ryan can say anything else Jeremy has answered his own question, he knew he loved Ryan, knew Ryan loved him, knew this moment was perfect. He leans down kissing Ryan with all his mite, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’m so in love with you.”

“And I with you.”

“You did good Ry.”

Hearing the female voice Jeremy turns confused and then he sees a short blonde woman smiling at him with Michael behind her.

“Um...”

“I know this is unconventional but I wanted Michael to be here. He is my son after all. And he told me when I asked that he thought we would be great together so he gave me his blessing to propose. I asked your parents but they said they would celebrate with us when we got home.”

“I think the um was more about mom, dad than me being here. Jeremy this is my mom, mom this is Jeremy.”

“Hi hun. I’m sorry I know it’s your moment and all but I figured you guys might want some pictures, and Michael took a video as well. I’m just glad that Ryan has someone to love him like you do.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for the pictures and video, Michael. I’m lucky that in marrying Ryan I get you both as part of my family.”

They talk for a few minutes before Michael and his mom leave the newly engaged couple alone. Jeremy just smiles at Ryan nonstop and then his phone goes off with a message, he’s been tagged in a post by Michael. He opens his phone to Instagram and spots one of the pictures they had taken moments before. I’m glad you love my dad as much as he loves you. It features Ryan kissing Jeremy’s cheek as Jeremy smiles widely and has an arm wrapped around Michael.

“You know he’s a pain in the ass sometimes but I really am glad he’s your kid cause I wouldn’t know you otherwise.”

“You are preaching to the choir.”

Jeremy and Ryan both post pictures then, Jeremy posting one of the four of them, and Ryan posting one of everyone but himself, they share the same caption though a single word, Family. They hold off posting about their engagement until they are back in the states, mainly because Jeremy wanted to tell his parents and Gavin in person, even though his parents knew. Cuddled in bed with Ryan one day after they’ve been home for a few weeks Jeremy thinks back to that faithful day when he repeated his mantra of it gets better and a smile breaks onto his face. Because it was true and he was so grateful for that, because every day, every moment, every second with Ryan it really gets better.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Enough

This is for the wonderful @childofdustandashes who wanted to see this particular fic and has had a very turbulent week and got through it all with her usual brilliance and kindness. So enjoy sweetie.

This is what happens when you and your girlfriend realise than Enough from In The Heights suits Eliza perfectly...

Eliza considered herself a patient person.

She’d learned this about herself, after years as the middle sister, the Switzerland of her friendship groups, the mediator at her job, the calming influence to an often spiralling husband, the mother to now six, soon seven, different hurricanes each with their own patterns and systems to solve their problems.

She was a patient person, she was proud of it. It was what made her life an impossibility to almost everyone else she met and a scenario better than she herself ever could have hoped for, all at the same time.

And this was what hurt the most, as she sat at the kitchen table, shoulders tense, leg bouncing fretfully, limp salad she hadn’t had time to eat at lunch and had planned to have for dinner instead sitting, useless and more unappetizing by the second, in front of her. She sighed as the muffled voices got louder and louder, two voices so alike you could hardly tell which was which, only their overlap betraying the fact that two separate people were even involved in the conversation. It sounded as if a single person were arguing with themselves, growing more and more lost in their own head and frustrated with it all. Eliza sighed, spearing a sickly-looking leaf of spinach on her fork, ruminating on how true that metaphor might well be.

 She’d pleaded with Alex not to but it had all been depressingly perfunctory. She knew that concrete set to her husband’s expression, a hallmark of his lawyer face, his politician’s face, not the face of the father of her children or the man she’d loved with all her heart from the first moment he’d shyly kissed her outside their college library. Eliza had gentled and sighed and distracted as best she could but Alex had stayed cold and stiff as iron, letting her attempts to pull him away with kisses and offers to tell him about her day slide off with as light a touch as rainwater when, any other night, they’d snag his undivided attention easily. Especially as the evening and aged and darkened and the other children had disappeared to bed, Alex had stayed, pacing restlessly in the hall with tension and silent fury buzzing off him while Eliza stayed chewing her lip anxiously, pretending she was eating. With her Alex, it was always the silent anger that was the most worrying, when every other moment was full of noise and bluster, positive and negative. It was like when the tide suddenly retracted until it was gone from sight entirely, a hushed change but a deadlier one than the boom of a storm.

Then there had been that unmistakable sound, the key turning in the lock, the noise itself almost hesitant, apologetic, hopeful of not being discovered.

“Baby, please…” Eliza had murmured, one last hope, she had to. But Alex’s lip had curled, eyes not even flickering over to her, fingers gripping his forearms.

Eliza had barely gotten to murmur two words to AJ as he’d slunk sullenly into the house, defences already way up, determinedly looking at his sneakers rather than either of his parents, before Alex had whipped him off to his office and firmly shut the door.

And then the muffled shouting had started, right on time.

 Eliza winced, letting her fork fall and clatter against her plate, head slipping into her hands with an exhausted sigh. Of course, she was just as worried as Alex was by their son’s behaviour, of course she’d been just as angry when night after night he came home after dark with no word other than Philip’s hesitant assurances that he’d seen him after school to tell them that he was safe. Of course, his gradually slipping grades and unopened textbooks left on the dining table, almost like a deliberate provocation, frustrated her just like they did Alex. And of course the worried calls from AJ’s boyfriend Eli, asking if AJ had called in yet because he’d had to leave him at some party after getting too exhausted to keep up with him, asking why he hadn’t turned up for their study session and was still in bed at half one in the afternoon, asking Mrs Hamilton (despite so many gentle assurances that he could call her Eliza) in a shaky, nervous stammer if AJ had mentioned Eli doing anything…anything wrong? Upsetting him in some way?

It wasn’t like Eliza was wilfully ignoring any of it, like she was willing to let it go by unchallenged. She just suspected there was a root cause to it all and felt a calm, long conversation was the best way to find out what that was. Every teenager went through some version of this, even her sunshine Philip and her quiet, gentle Angie had done it to a degree. But AJ…AJ was on another level. Surprising no one, in truth, he always had been. Which meant it was difficult but Eliza still saw no reason why they couldn’t just have a classic Hamilton heart to heart around the kitchen table that would end with tears and hugs and things generally being better than when they’d started.

Alex, apparently, disagreed with his wife. Hence the blistering arguments between him and his son, night after night, morning after morning, almost every time they ended up in the same room together. To the point where Eliza had to realise that maybe there was a root cause on either side that needed digging up and pulling free.

Which was a difficult realisation, given that neither of her Alex’s were willing to give even an inch of ground, not to each other, not to her. Leaving Eliza stuck in the middle of it all, getting more and more anxious that the damage being done would cross some final, invisible boundary line where they wouldn’t be able to go back.

No way in hell was she letting that happen.

The only question was what on earth to do.

 The sound was like a tear running through the quiet darkness of the house, violent and sudden and jarring. Eliza staggered to her feet, startled by the huge crash, the reverberation of what sounded like half a hundred things hitting the floor upstairs. She was running before she’d really formulated a plan, just needing to put herself in the middle of this before all hope of control was gone. Make it up as she went, think while she talked, what could go wrong?

Eliza spared a quick thought that none of the other children could hear this as she raced up the stairs to Alex’s office. The one inside her she unfortunately had to take along for the ride, one hand resting on top of her only ever so slightly, only enough so she and Alex really noticed, sloping outward stomach, as if apologising for the interruption to their gentle day. It was far too early for anything tangible to be happening but she could swear there was a note of exasperation emanating from inside her. Eliza could only agree with them.

 Alex’s office looked like a small explosion had erupted inside it. His desk was overturned and everything on it was lying scattered, every single sheet of paper that had been on it now carpeting the floor and in danger of tripping up anyone who dared take a step into it. The whole room had turned into something of a barricade, a battlefield, books strewn everywhere like hastily drawn up walls, chairs lying as sharp stakes drawn along defensive lines, no signs that anyone was abiding by the Geneva convention.

Eliza was stunned into silence for a second, seeing the same face mirrored on two different bodies. One scrawnier, parts of it growing faster than the other parts could keep up with, gawky and uncertain and Bambi-ish, hair with hours poured into making it look messy, the barest beginnings of a beard; one squarer, more lined, more angular, tight like they’d been holding tension for far, far longer, unyielding, grey streaks standing out in black hair, beard outgrowing it’s usually neatly kept lines. But the frustration, the anger, it made them identical. Both of them had jaws tight and mouths twisted, eyes narrowed. And yet unmoving, as if they’d stay there forever.

Unless Eliza did something.

“Oh my god, enough!”

Her voice made them both jump, as if they hadn’t heard her throw the door back, like her shout had sent a jolt through the two of them.

“Eliza?”

“Mama…”

“No!” Eliza silenced them both. She didn’t usually use this tone, there was something unnerving about how it lashed, whip like from the heart shaped, gentle face of a woman who looked like she talked to her sunflowers to help them grow. Which she did.

“I have had enough of this! More than enough!” she snapped, hands on her hips, blazing eyes flickering between her son and her husband, her anger non-discriminatory, “So now you’re both going to shut the hell up and listen to me!”

“But mama-” AJ yelped.

“Betsey, come on-” Alex groaned in the same breath.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Eliza’s eyebrows shot up until they disappeared under her bangs, “Did I not make myself clear? What I said was enough from both of you jackasses so someone else can speak for once.”

Two jaws opened, two plaintive retorts dangled on the ends of two tongues for an achingly long moment. Then two sets of teeth thunked back together without a word.

“Yeah,” Eliza snorted bitterly, “That’s what I thought…now, I have had all I can stomach of you two yelling and snapping at each other. This is not how we do things in this family!”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” AJ wailed indignantly, standing bolt upright.

“Yes, because there is absolutely nothing wrong with dragging yourself in at five minutes till midnight without a word,” Alex snapped back, glaring furiously.

It took everything Eliza had not to flip some furniture herself, instead just settling for a good, firm stamp of her foot.

“Are you both so blind that you can’t see what’s going on here?” she demanded, sending them both retreating into their respective corners with guilty looks, “Have you got blinkers on, for crying out loud?”

Alex bit his lip, looking uncharacteristically shaken. He could face down pretty much any opponent from across a courtroom or the floor of the Senate, in fact, he’d do it a little too eagerly. But this was Eliza.

“Betsey, easy, the baby…” he tried, as gentle as his voice ever got, wandering forward, hoping if he could maybe get his arm around her shoulders…

“Oh, don’t you the baby me, Alexander!” Eliza snarled, “Back to the corner!”

“Going, going…” Alex backed off, hurriedly.

Eliza pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to use the calming tactics she heard other people recommending to her husband, “Look, I know you two. I know neither of you like to hear you’re wrong or to quiet down or anything really that you haven’t already said yourself. But I am done with this. Can’t you see that you’re way too similar to go at it this way?”

The pained winces that flickered simultaneously across both of their faces showed her that she’d hit the mark.

“Look, Alex, I know you’re scared AJ is turning into you,” Eliza murmured, letting her voice gentle, “I know that’s what you’re trying to prevent.”

AJ startled a little, mouth slackening a little. Clearly this was news to him.

“I…” Alex went bright red, right to the very tips of his ears, “I mean…why shouldn’t I?”

“Because,” Eliza sighed, “He is you. He’s your son. You can’t just take parts of him out and replace them with different ones, even if it is because you’re trying to keep him safe.”

AJ’s voice came out hoarse and shaky, his eyes fixed on his father, “I thought you hated me…”

Horror flooded Alex’s face in a second, “AJ! I could never hate you, mijo, I love you more than anything. I hate who I was when I was your age and I just see so many similarities…” His jaw kept working even as the words trailed off, lips moving weakly. He looked to Eliza, panic in his dark eyes.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, nodding gently, gesturing encouragingly. They were so damn close…

Alex grasped one arm nervously, probably intending to say something considered and measured. But what happened, as it had so many other times in his life, was that everything came pouring out in a restless rush.

“AJ, listen, I’m not mad. I know I act like I am but I’m just scared,” he stammered, tripping over his own words, “I’m scared you don’t like being here so much anymore and I’m scared you might get hurt or pulled into something out of your control…as you’ve been getting older, I’ve been getting worse and worse at helping you with your problems. I’ve become completely useless. I’ve...I’ve become a bad father. I can change diapers and fix skinned knees and get bottles the right temperature but…hell, I can’t do teenagers? So, I tried yelling and hoping everything would just reset but of course I made the whole damn thing worse. And I’m sorry, AJ. I’m really, really sorry.”

Eliza knew how much her fierce little AJ hated crying in front of other people, even his parents. She was very familiar with how he was scrubbing at his eyes like they were itchy, shuffling his feet, becoming incredibly interested in his hands like that would keep it all at bay.

She wasn’t surprised when all he managed to choke up was, “I…I’m really sorry I tipped your desk over…” It made her smile a little, though.

Maybe she’d done enough here.

“This is what’s going to happen,” she said softly, folding her arms, enough of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth to dissolve the tension, “You two are going to put this whole room back together. Then you’re going to talk, quietly, for as long as it takes. And you’re going to listen.”

“We will, Betsey,” Alex murmured, his expression tired but grateful.

“Promise, mama,” AJ muttered, looking at his sneakers.

“Good,” Eliza let her smile grow, utterly transformed back into her usual self, “And I’m going to go eat six cookies and go to bed. Because this went fantastically. Goodnight, my loves.”

After some gentle replies, she closed the door and leant against it for just a moment, long enough to hear the scrapes of moving furniture, just enough footsteps to take one scared father and one anxious teenage son across an office and into each other’s arms.

Smiling, Eliza nodded in satisfaction and wandered back towards those cookies she’d promised herself for a job well done.  

Just needed a little push.

[fiercyy]

Till Death Chapter 1/?

Co-authored by @holyfuckabear

This fic began as a bitchfest between me and B. It morphed into an actual story, with plot, characters and world building. Go figure. With only mild disrespect to Kubo’s vision, we present a reimagining of Bleach.

@ichirukimonth for the prompt Agent of the Shinigami + Soul Society Arc: Chapter/Episode Tag

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Ichigo Kurosaki has become a superhero overnight. This entails a lot more oversight than he was lead to believe there would be. Is this his life now? Being stalked by some tiny woman, hellbent on bossing him around?

(For the record: yes.)

 A canon rewrite fic.

AO3

Spring is supposed to be a time for new beginnings. Plants peak out of the earth, cherry blossoms fall, a new school year begins and it rains every other goddamn day.

Seventeen-year-old Ichigo Kurosaki hates the rain. It makes his skin itch and his hands clammy. The worst days of his life are tied to drenched shoulders and tears mixing with rainwater. When it rains, more than one kind of ghost comes out to roam. And ghosts have a way of finding Ichigo.

Ichigo is about to learn a little more about the world. From here on out, everything changes. But for today, he feels...

Amazing. It’s the only word to describe it. There is a rhythm to fighting that Rukia cannot replicate in melody. She hums as she attacks. Her legs step to an unheard beat as she flies to and fro, perplexing the dumb creature. It roars and her heart does an internal aria.

Rukia has always been meant to do this. Most days she thinks it’s the only thing she does well. Hollow, merely a whisper in the wind now, she turns to the frightened spirit crouching by the mailbox and thinks, well, maybe not the only thing.

She is not a nurturing woman by nature, but she does what she can to soothe him. Rukia likes the feeling of heavy hands on her head, fingers ruffling her hair, memories of a bygone age. So, she does this for the child-spirit. He seems to take comfort before she releases him to the next life. She hopes that he will not be hungry. She wishes him weakness. Rukia looks up and around her when it’s done. The humans mill around, none the wiser for having narrowly escaped a soul-sucking death. For a moment, she thinks she makes eye-contact with a bearded man in a white coat and quickly realizes that she imagined it. His eyes skip over her and he continues his stroll down the street She has been in Karakura for a week. It isn’t loneliness per se but she feels distinctly invisible. Her voice has started to hoarse from disuse. That’s why she started singing to herself as she fights. No one can hear her anyway, who would mind?

“Ichigo.”

Ichigo squints as he stares into the sun. “What are you looking at?” asks Tatsuki, around a mouthful of kebab. He blinks to adjust his eyes and shakes his head, trying to shake off the strange feeling of being watched. “Nothing.” There was no black butterfly on the horizon. There was no one atop the telephone pole. He’s just tired. That’s what he tells himself.

Ichigo tells himself a lot of things. Especially these days.

That is to say, it looks like he’s talking to himself. Like. All the time.

What he’s really doing is chatting with the weird old cat lady spirit who refuses to leave until the last of her cats are adopted from the pound. Despite the fact that they ate her corpse. He knows this detail because she tells him every time he passes the shelter.

Sometimes it’s not Mrs. Hojou, but Mina, who is creepily keeping her eye on her ex, who moved on too quickly for her tastes.

More often than not it’s Mr. Agano. Ichigo doesn’t know what his deal is but he seems lonely and spends every Tuesday following him around. He learns very quickly to schedule things that require concentration on any other day.

Ichigo works his life around the drifting strangers who can’t seem to leave him alone.

This is how he notices that something is amiss.

He spends next Tuesday alone.

Raito, the teenaged boy who lives beside the river is gone too.

The ghosts of Karakura Town have slowly begun to disappear.

It takes him weeks to realize why.

Someone is singing. It’s a song that’s been playing on every radio lately and god is he sick of it. Whoever it is, she’s basically screaming it between grunts.

Ichigo rounds the corner and sees her. And it.

Holy shit.

A fucking monster the size of a city block is snapping its jaws at the ghost who he brings flowers to. The white of its mask is stark against the clear blue sky. Its black leathery body moves with speed that belies its size.

Between Ichigo and the beast is a girl.

She leaps out of the way just in time to avoid the monster’s fist come down and leave a crater in the ground. She does a backflip over it, draws her sword and HOLY SHIT DID SHE JUST FUCKING FLY?

Wait. Stop. Rewind.

This is the moment that Ichigo Kurosaki’s life changes forever.

Rukia Kuchiki is 4”10, pale as seafoam and as deadly as anything he’s ever seen. And she is singing about love and bunnies at the top of her freaking lungs.

This is fate, but he doesn’t know that yet.

With a slice of her katana (?!?!?) the thing is neutralized. She is still singing.

Ichigo is mildly aware that he is gaping. He looks around to see if anyone’s around, if anyone else is staring. There are, but none of them have so much as fliched. Well, he supposes that he’s used to seeing things at this point.

It is in this moment that Rukia looks up and the tune ends. Her brows furrow as if squinting into the distance. Their eyes meet and Ichigo remains frozen in place. She opens her mouth as if to say something but a roar cuts through the air.

And then she’s gone, as if blurring out of existence.

Huh.

That. was. weird.

Ichigo arrives home to a kick in the face. Literally.

“Where the hell have you been?!” His father demands, putting him in a headlock.

“I ran into some ghosts okay? What the hell was I supposed to do?!”

“Oh, so it’s the ghosts’ faults huh? I bet it’s a ghost’s fault that your room is a mess, huh?”

While they shout each other down, the two girls at the table sigh simultaneously. Karin, the younger one, spoons more rice into her bowl and pretends she can’t hear them. Karin pretends that she can’t hear a lot of things.

“You’ve got another one Ichigo,” she mutters.

“Huh?” an older gentleman appears over Ichigo’s shoulder. “When the hell did you get here?” He tries to wave him away. He’s done with spirits for the day, thank you very much.

“I wish I could see spirits,” sighs Yuzu, “I mean, I can feel them sometimes but-”

Karin is kind of glad she cant. “I’m not even sure they exist.”

“How can that be? Can’t you see them too?”

“I’m in permanent denial. Just because I can see them, doesn’t mean I believe in them.”

Here’s the thing about breaking and entering. It doesn’t count unless someone sees you.

And no one in Karakura Town can see her.

Rukia has developed a kind of selective hearing. She moves through the world of the living while ignoring the living. In the beginning, she’d look up if it sounded like someone was talking to her, but no one ever was. Slowly it got easier to tune it all out.

It’s been peaceful. The 13th division is so loud. And it’s a different kind of quiet than the Kuchiki mansion.

So when she walks through the wall and lands in the middle of a bedroom that smells like dirty socks and cologne, the last thing she expects is to literally have her ass kicked.

“How strange. You look normal, but you must be defective in some way,” she remarks while examining him like a specimen on a slab in Squad 12.

“I’ll show you defective!”

Rukia tries, she really does. Humans are very strange and this one is not very receptive to simple explanations. Are they all slow, or is it just this one?

And then he touches her hair and ohhhhh was that a mistake.

“Bakudo #1, SAI!”

“What the hell did you do to me?!”

“Don’t struggle, it’ll make it worse. I might appear young to you but I have lived nearly 10 of your lifetimes. I would kill you on the spot if it weren’t against my orders,” a lie, but on some level she thought it might be fun to rattle this one. “Now shut up, you little brat.”

It’s only after she brings the hilt of her sword down on the wayward spirit that she realizes she’d scared the human. She feels bad for a moment but presses on.

“Now, for why I’m here. I’ll explain using small words.”

And maybe some informative drawings.

So you know those days, that change your whole life?

Ichigo Kurosaki is having one of those days; a terrible one.

His hands are free from the kidou but he’s still helpless. Yuzu is unconscious in the house somewhere, Karin is unmoving in his arms and this tiny woman who sings bad pop songs while she fights is dodging around the grappling fists of what she calls a hollow.

The hollow had said that it wanted his soul. It was looking for him, all this time. He brought flowers to a ghost and that made her a target. This thing has been following him all this time, but why?

The same reason it took Karin but not Yuzu; they can see it. Something deep inside them calls out to these creatures. Like a dinner bell.

The hollow grazes the shinigami’s side just as she gets what looks like a critical hit. She skids across the street as she falls.

Intellectually, Ichigo has seen what she can do. She might as well leap tall buildings in a single bound. But she’s so small, and every instinct he has tells him that makes her someone he should be protecting.

Ichigo glances around for a weapon. To his right there’s a folding chair from the clinic. He picks it up and darts over to the beast. Maybe he can distract it, maybe he can help.

He knows he can’t, but maybe if it takes him it’ll leave his sisters alone. “HEY!” he shouts, “You want me? Come and get me!”

The hollow obliges.

So does Rukia, although, less happily.

She disappears from behind the creature and reappears in front of him, just in time for the monster’s jaws to clamp around her and her sword, instead of him.

“You idiot!” she shouts in pain.

He feels blood on his face. He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this, but it’s surprisingly warm. He didn’t think a goddess would bleed.

With a surge of strength, the girl shoves the hollow back. It has a large crack down the center of its bone white face. She clutches at her wound and crawls to lean against the crumbling wall of the clinic.

“Oh I am going to kill you when this is over,” she promises with a wet laugh.

“Go ahead and try,” he jokes. He’s trying to stop the bleeding but his hands aren’t big enough.

The hollow looms.

Her sword clatters to the floor beside her. Ichigo dives to pick it up. His right-hand wraps around the grip. It’s surprisingly cold. It chills him to his bones. He tries to lift it up to defend them from the advancing monster but it’s too heavy. He physically cannot budge it and the more he tries, the colder the sword becomes; until it burns.

“Ichigo, do you want to save your family?”

As she says his name, he realizes that he doesn’t know hers.

“Shinigami-”

“Rukia, my name is Rukia,” she sighs and looks at the hollow, still trying to recover. “Will you do whatever it takes?”

“I’d do anything.”

“Then you’re going to have to trust me. I’m sorry.”

And then.

And then.

The pain radiates out from his chest, into every nerve ending. But it’s the sweet kind of pain that builds to a crescendo and releases with a breath.

Black robes swirl around him. In his hands is a sword.

Somehow he knows exactly what to do.

In the morning he wonders if he dreamed the whole thing.

But then she appears in homeroom.

His classmates’ chatter turns into a faint buzzing in his ears as he looks down at her. Her voice is saccharine, she bats impossibly thick eyelashes. With her slight form and girlish voice, she looks harmless, introducing herself to the boys using outdated and formal Japanese.

The illusion is shattered by a glance at the palm she’s held out to him. Smeared already, black ink spells out:

‘Make a scene and you’re dead :)’

Charming.

His lips form around the word, “You.”

Her smile is sinister.

Notes:

Here is a list of some changes you can expect from this reboot:

Rewriting the rules of the universe so they’re consistent and make sense.

Ichiruki

Ichigo’s family backstory is different

Aging up the characters a little, they’re now 17 at the beginning of the series.

The gang’s dynamics are going to change and include Tatsuki

Speaking of Tatsuki, the characters who really should have had some spotlight are going to get some.

We’re culling the cast of thousands so it’s manageable.

Stakes

By this we mean rising action, realistic powerups, and escalation that does not get out of control.

Rukia gets the goddamn arc she deserves.

Reducing the length of and amount of fight sequences.

Soul Society is basically completely different, don’t worry Ichigo will be the layman and Rukia, your exposition fairy. JUST LIKE CANON!

REAL SORRY IF YOU LIKE KON SUCKERS

[athenaltena]

Short story: Daddy’s Girl

This is a short piece I did based on the notes our DM gave us prior to the game starting, and based on recent in-game events I wanted to get my version down of what the relationship between Ireena and her father was like.

In the Burgomaster’s house in the Village of Barovia, Kolyan Indirovich was troubled. Well, more troubled than usual.

From the lines on his face to the white hairs at his temples and in his beard, both of which seemed to increase in number every time he looked in the mirror, he looked far more tired than a man his age was supposed to. Part of it was being the Burgomaster of the village that abutted Castle Ravenloft, but a decent amount was just living in Barovia his entire life. It had a way of aging a man even beyond the norm.

He was looking over an ancient, heavy leather tome by the light of a single candle, not moving except to turn the pages and adjust his half-moon glasses. He was used to trusting his judgment, being the leader of the entire village required it, but for the first time in many, many years he was hoping he was wrong.

Through the open window he heard snatches of a conversation, followed by the screech of the gate, footsteps along the path, and the thud of the front door closing.

“Daddy!”

He shut his eyes, placed a bookmark and closed the tome. “Upstairs, in the study.”

After a flurry of footfalls the door sprang open. A petite, red-haired teenage girl skipped in.

He sighed. “What is it, Ireena?”

She bounded over to him and held out a letter, her green eyes sparkling.

“I figured out my present!”

He watched her for a moment before reached out and took it, noting the already broken wax seal, a stylized V.

Keeping one eye on his daughter, he unfolded it and read.

To my dear friend Burgomaster Kolyan Indirovich,

You and your family and cordially invited to the Festival of the Silver Dragon, to be held in the Town of Vallaki on the third Sunday of the month. Come eat, drink and be merry and push away the darkness!

 All will be well,

Baron Vargas Vallakovich

Ireena watched him, her hands behind her back and her head tilted to the side.

He held up the letter and waved it in the air “Why do you want this, Ireena?”

“I don’t know, because I never get to go anywhere?”

The familiar headache began to twinge at his temples. He took off his glasses and pinched in the bridge of his nose. “Ireena…”

“Come on, Daddy! You said to tell you when I figured out what I wanted for my 18th birthday. And this is it!”

He shook his head.

“Daddy, please! My birthday was three months ago!”

“Vallaki is at least two day’s travel away…”

“It’s not like I’ll go by myself! I’ll take Ismark!”

“Have you asked him yet?”

“Well, no, I just got the letter…”

He put the glasses back on and looked over the tops of them at her.

“Daddy, please, isn’t the Baron your friend?”

“In the very loosest sense of the word.”

“But you never let me do anything! And you know the Baron would never let anything happen to me because I’m your daughter! And Vallaki is crawling with guards so it’s not like I’ll be in the middle of nowhere.” 

He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.

“Please, Daddy, you can’t keep me locked up forever.”

He glanced briefly at the closed book on the desk. And thought of a 4 year old girl, mud streaked and alone, staring up at him.

He sighed. “Alright Ireena, you have a point. You are a grown woman now and if you take Ismark I’ll allow it. But you need to ask him first and make arrangements to leave by the morrow to get there in time. I’ll have several town guards accompany you on the road there and back.”

She beamed, ran forward and threw her arms around his neck.

“Thank you Daddy! I’ll be careful, I promise.”

She kissed his cheek and skipped out of the room, calling out her brother’s name.

Kolyan sat back in his chair. Downstairs he could hear talking, followed by laughter from Ireena and a resigned sigh from Ismark. Like father, like son.

The next morning he saw them off at the door, Ireena brilliant in her green traveler’s cloak, never worn, and Ismark standing beside her with his sword on and at the ready. Half a dozen town guards stood behind them, pointedly avoiding looking at Ireena.

“Now, go straight there and come straight back once it’s done,” he said. “Stay in sight of at least one guard, ours or the Baron’s, at all times.” He looked at his son. “And keep an eye on your sister.”

Ismark smiled. “When do I not, Father?”

“I’m right here, you know!” Ireena protested.

Kolyan placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “You two are all I have, so please be careful. Now get going if you want to keep the daylight.”

They both nodded and turned for the gate, the guards trailing dutifully behind them. He watched them move down the Old Svalich Road until they were out of sight before he stepped back into the empty house.

It was far too quiet for comfort.

Four days later, in the late afternoon, he heard voices outside as he worked on his official correspondence. They were his children’s, but they were raised in anger, and he didn’t expect them back for another day.

“Ireena, we have to tell him!”

“Why do we have to tell him? It was just a stupid dance!”

Kolyan dropped everything and ran downstairs.

“Ireena, how do you not grasp the enormity of this?!”

“Don’t be stupid, Ismark! You already dragged me away a day early, and the last thing we need is to worry Dad over something that doesn’t matter!”

The door flew open, and in came Ireena, her face flushed, followed by Ismark, glowering. They were so caught up in each other that they failed to notice their father waiting in the foyer until he spoke.

“Ireena, what is it you didn’t want to tell me?”

Her face grew redder and she took a step back. Ismark, in turn, stepped forward.

“She didn’t want to tell you that she danced with Strahd von Zarovich!”

For a moment Kolyan forgot to breathe. Ireena glared at her brother and balled her fists at her sides.

“Ismark, it was one dance! Just one! It’s not like I knew who he was until afterwards, and what was I supposed to do, just blow him off?”

He whipped around and glared at her.

“Yes, yes you were! Because it’s Strahd von Zarovich!”

“How was I supposed to know that?! It’s not like you or Dad ever let me go anywhere or see anyone! He could have been a damned fruit peddler for all I knew!”

“Oh really, like you couldn’t tell the difference!”

“Shut up, Ismark!”

“Stop it, both of you,” Kolyan said. “My study. Now.”

They glared at each other one more time and followed him upstairs. Once in the study he shut the door, took a moment to compose himself and turned back to them. Ismark was standing, his eyes dark with fury, while Ireena had appropriated his chair and sat slouched in it with her arms crossed.

Kolyan rubbed his temples.

“Start from the beginning. What happened?”

Ireena opened her mouth, but Ismark cut in first.

“He approached her out of the crowd, right in the town square. And asked her to dance. And she did. The entire place was silent, like they were all hypnotized --”

Kolyan looked steadily at his son. “And where were you during all this?”

Ismark held up both hands. “Right there next to her! Where I was supposed to be! But I couldn’t move, Father, it was like--”

“Like nothing!” Ireena piped up. “So I danced with him, big deal! Lots of people were dancing with other people and no one made a fuss of it!”

Ismark’s face was now just as red as hers. “None of those other people were Strahd von Zarovich!”

Kolyan pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache was back in full force.

“Pipe down, you two. Now, what happened after that?”

“He pulled me aside, kissed my hand and told me who he was,” Ireena looked at the floor. “Then he bid me goodnight and said he’d be seeing me soon. And then he was gone.” She stood up and glared at Ismark. “And then he showed up and dragged me back here!”

Ismark stepped forward so he was looming over her, his eyes bulging.

“Ireena, you naive little...! You have no idea--!”

“Stop.”

They looked at their father.

“Both of you, stop it. Before you say or do something you regret. This is a cause for concern but that’s no reason to speak to each other like that. Apologize.”

They looked down. Ireena crossed her arms over her chest and Ismark scratched the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry, Ismark.”

“I’m sorry, Ireena.”

“Good,” Kolyan said. “Now, both of you get some rest, since you’ve been traveling all day and tempers are clearly frayed. I will deal with this.. whatever it is, in due time. Now go.”

They filed out, leaving him alone again. He sat down and rested his head in his hands, trying to breathe.

“Why God?” he said. “Why have you done this to me? To her? What have we done to deserve this?”

But nothing happened. Days passed and tempers cooled, and Ireena and Ismark even started to laugh with each other again. Perhaps it had been a fluke, or some sort of bad joke by an aspiring prankster. That was what Kolyan wanted to believe. 

Until one evening he saw black carriage outside his window, just as he was about to retire for the night. From it stepped a man, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. And though Kolyan had only seen that visage in old portraits and coinage there was no mistaking who it was.

He raced downstairs, and just as the stranger reached the front steps and raised a hand to knock he threw open the door.

“You!” he shouted. “You are not invited!”

The man paused, his dark eyes steady. “Burgomaster Kolyan Indirovich. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am--”

“I know who you are, Devil! You need to leave! Now!”

A hint of a smile curled at the edge of the man’s mouth.

“I said leave!”

The man moved to bow at the waist, but Kolyan slammed the door in his face first. 

Inside, he leaned his back against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

He has just refused entry to Strahd von Zarovich.

What he didn't see was Strahd place the bouquet on the steps and glance at the upstairs window where Ireena stood, watching, before he turned away and returned to the carriage. It trundled down the street and into the mist, leaving the street silent once again.

Kolyan spent the next day barely able to function or concentrate. Ireena was oddly quiet too, but she had been more somber in general since returning from Vallaki. Ismark was puzzled at both of them, especially when his father refused to tell him the reason, but knew his father better than to press it.

They had just sat down to dinner when a howl startled them and a scratching began at the window closest to Ireena. Ismark was on his feet in an instant and ran for the ceremonial sword on the wall. Before he could reach it the glass shattered and a skinless hand reached for her, making her shriek and flinch away.

“Ireena!” Kolyan grabbed her hand. “Upstairs, now! Ismark, cover us!”

They retreated to the study as more howls joined the first outside, along with the moaning of the no-longer-living. They barricaded themselves inside using the desk to block the door and spent the night huddled together, Ireena with her face buried in her father’s chest and Ismark standing over them, sword at the ready. It wasn’t until the first light of dawn touched the sky that the assault ceased, and they cautiously made their way downstairs to find the house in shambles, windows broken and claw marks dotting the wood. They barely spoke a word as they boarded up the windows and tried to pretend everything was normal. 

The headache was back again, and Kolyan found it increasingly hard to concentrate. Even the town guards, when summoned and told what had happened, looked at him warily and refused to commit to protecting the house. He dismissed them in anger and tried to prepare for the next assault, and for the next five days the same pattern repeated, his headache growing worse and worse each time until he could barely keep himself together for Ireena’s sake.

Then on the fifth day Ireena approached him, a fire in her eyes he had never seen before.

“Father,” she said. “I have an idea. If the guards won’t help us maybe the Church can! I’ve heard Father Donovich speak about fighting back the darkness with Light, maybe he can teach me how to do it!”

Kolyan shook his head. “It’s too dangerous, Ireena, I can’t let you go off by yourself.”

“They don’t come during the day! Please, Daddy, let me try to help!”

He shut his eyes and put his hand over his eyes. “Alright, while there’s still plenty of daylight you can go ask him. But I don’t know if he’ll accept. I’ve known him for years but he is… troubled, as of late. But be back by sundown, for God’s sake.”

Ireena fought back tears as she hugged him. “I promise. We’ll figure it out, Daddy.”

He watched her go with a heavy heart, but before dusk she returned, clad in the white and red robes of the Church with the holy symbol of the Morninglord around her neck. And so they settled into a pattern, where Ireena would leave in the morning and return before dark from her lessons, and at night they would fight off the wolves and the ghouls that came to the door.

Until the night Ireena didn’t come home. Kolyan had to stop Ismark from charging straight to the Church to retrieve her, telling him there were far too many enemies on the way and she had probably just lost track of time and stayed overnight at the Church for safety. Even though he was tempted to run out himself, damn the risk. So they waited into the small hours of the morning, Kolyan trying to distract himself by reading from the ancient tome while Ismark kept watch. 

Kolyan stood up to pour a cup of tea to calm his nerves. Ismark was crouched behind an overturned bookcase serving as a makeshift barrier by the window, scanning the path outside. So far, nothing, which was even more cause for concern.

Ismark heard porcelain shatter and leapt to his feet. “Father? Father, are you alright?”

He found Kolyan slumped in his desk chair, his left arm hanging uselessly by his side and the teacup broken on the floor.

“Father!” Ismark grasped his hand. “Father, what’s wrong? Talk to me, Father!”

Kolyan tried to speak, but the words refused to knit together, coming out garbled, while one side of his face began to droop.

“Oh no!” Ismark said. “Hang in there, Father! Once the sun comes up I’ll get help, just stay calm! Stay with me!”

Ismark ran downstairs as Kolyan stared straight ahead.

Please God, he thought. Please, don’t take me yet… I have to be there for her. For Ireena. Ireena, my darling, there’s so much I need to tell you… so much you don’t know about who you are… Oh Ireena, please forgive me…

His mind went to day he met her, when a message from the Captain of the Guard arrived saying that a young girl had been discovered alone and wandering in the woods outside town. He had her brought to the front room of the Burgomaster’s house, where he found her sitting quietly, her long red hair full of brambles and twigs and her face and clothing streaked with mud. She looked up, but her eyes did not focus on him.

He knelt down in front of her so they were at the same level.

“My name is Kolyan Indirovich,” he said. “I’m the Burgomaster of this town. What’s your name, my dear?”

The girl’s eyes darted back and forth, as if looking for something. “Ir--Ireena.”

“Hello Ireena. How old are you?”

“F-Four.” 

“Where did you come from? Where’s your family?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I -- I don’t know.”

She began to cry, and Kolyan took her in his arms, letting her weep against him.

“It’s okay. You’re alright now. Whatever happened to you back there, you’re safe here.” 

The Captain of the Guard stepped forward. “We checked, but there are no reports of any missing girls matching her description. I would guess she’s been wandering for the better part of a week. It’s a miracle she made it that long with all the wolf sightings we’ve been hearing about.”

“Is she injured?”

“No, but she clearly hasn’t eaten in days. We gave her some water but she’s refused all the food we’ve offered. And every time we’ve tried to question her she just shuts down and starts crying again. We haven’t gotten any more information than you did just now, Burgomaster.”

The girl continued to weep against him. Clearly something terrible had happened, enough to make her push the memory from her mind. Barovia was full of children with nowhere to go back to.

He also thought of his wife, dead for years, and how she had always wanted a daughter. And of Ismark, now 8 years old and growing up alone in a huge house with only his father for company.

It was the easiest decision he ever had to make.

“I’ll take charge of her.”

The Captain nodded. “I’ll leave it to you, Burgomaster.”

He departed, and once Ireena was all cried out and quiet again Kolyan lifted her up and looked her in the eyes, which he could now see were a brilliant green.

“Ireena, do you want to become part of my family?”

She thought about it for a moment before she sniffled and nodded.

“Good. Now, let’s go get you cleaned up so you can meet your brother. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to finally have a sister.”

In the present, when morning broke, Kolyan Indirovich was dead, and Ireena returned to the house at a mad dash to find Ismark waiting for her, weeping.

Upstairs, in Kolyan’s study, the ancient leather tome lay open, the chapter header underlined in red ink.

The Tragedy of Tatyana Federovna

[helloworlddemo1122-yahoopar-blog]

Why Everyone, Including Alan Cumming’s Mother-in-Law, Is Talking About the Actor’s Sex Scenes (Exclusive)

In Alan Cumming's latest film, After Louie, the celebrated screen and theater actor, who is back on CBS with Instinct, portrays grief-stricken LGBTQ activist Sam Cooper, still mourning the loss of his lover to an AIDS-related death over two decades ago. Enter a carefree, 20-something Braeden Devries (Zachary Booth), who ends up at Sam’s place after the two meet at a bar. Cocktails lead to rough, hand-slapping sex -- and, yes, Cumming watched that very scene with his mom and mother-in-law.

"Can you imagine having your mom there?" Cumming asks ET, laughing as he recalls sitting with both women at Frameline, San Francisco's long-running LGBTQ film festival, in June of last year.

“Grant's mom said, 'I love the sex scenes! I thought they were great!'" he says, referring to Grant Shaffer, his husband of six years. "I was like, ‘Please stop talking about the sex scenes. I do not want to have a discussion with my mother-in-law about me, you know, having my hand over the mouth of someone as I'm penetrating him."

However, plenty of people do want to talk about Cumming being nearly nude in the film, which is now streaming VOD. To appear older for the role, the 53-year-old actor packed on a few additional pounds and grew a beard.

"It's like people dancing -- someone's sexy when they're dancing, when they're comfortable in their own skin and comfortable with their own body, and they can be any size or shape," Cumming says. "So, I'm glad people are thinking, 'Oh, there's a middle-aged man naked.' If that inspires or helps them, you're welcome.”

But After Louie reaches beyond sexual desire, tackling the generational divide that exists between two gay men: Sam, who lived through the AIDS crisis but can't shake its lingering trauma; and Braeden, who's only ever known HIV as a manageable disease.

"As someone who lived through the AIDS crisis and identifies as queer, I can remember feeling scared of AIDS; I can remember feeling angry about the way that people who had HIV were stigmatized," Cumming says, recalling AIDS as "literally a plague."

Alan Cumming as Sam Cooper in "After Louie."

After Louie

Cumming was struck by first-time director and longtime gay activist Vincent Gagliostro's unique vision, this "schism between these two generations," and believes its queer niche-ness has universal appeal. "Why do we think our stories aren't important enough for a mainstream audience to witness and enjoy? In all sorts of ways we pigeonhole ourselves," he says about LGBTQ-themed cinema.

Cumming understands why, of course: The Scotland-born actor, whose first U.S. feature was 1997's cult comedy Romy and Michele's High School Reunion opposite Lisa Kudrow and Mira Sorvino and has recently appeared in The Battle of the Sexes and on The Good Wife, had doubts that his personality and sense of humor would be understood in America. But, Cumming says people should be concerned about hearing everybody's story.

"It's actually a great time for this film," he says. "Even the Me Too movement is essentially a kind of treatise on how the older generation has let down their younger peers because they have allowed a behavioral pattern to be unchecked."

Alan Cumming as Dr. Dylan Reinhart on "Instinct."

Francisco Roman/CBS

When Cumming revels in the diverse crowd at his New York City nightclub, Club Cumming in the East Village, he’s gripped by a sense of kindness as "all genders and sexes and sexualities come and co-mingle, and feel relaxed, safe and happy with each other." Witnessing that melting pot of clubgoers has been his "biggest pride."

Of course, the actor also feels proud that his new procedural, Instinct, debuted on CBS to impressive ratings, spiking during its second episode, which aired after Anderson Cooper’s highly anticipated 60 Minutes interview with adult star Stormy Daniels, who detailed her alleged sexual relationship with the current president. "Our [ratings] went up by a million and a half -- and that, of course, is in part due to the lovely Stormy Daniels, and that's a great thing."

Laughing, Cumming says, "It's the one thing I will ever thank Donald Trump -- for allegedly having sex with Stormy Daniels -- because it made my TV show get better ratings."

Furthermore, the actor praises the sexuality of his character, CIA operative Dylan Reinhart, the first gay lead in a network TV drama, for being "handled really nicely [and] with dignity." "There are millions of people out there in America who have never seen a gay character on TV like this," Cumming adds, "but also have never probably seen a same-sex marriage on their screens, and are seeing one that is happy and supportive and lovely."

For Instinct, the actor shares the same soundstage with fellow CBS legal drama The Good Fight, a spinoff to The Good Wife, on which Cumming spent the series playing crisis manager Eli Gold. In fact, his Instinct dressing room once belonged to Julianna Margulies, while the two shot the CBS drama. As for a cameo on The Good Fight, which stars Sarah Steele as Eli’s daughter, Marissa Gold, who begins work as an investigator for a law firm: "It was in the cards, but it didn't quite work out contractually," Cumming says. "But who knows. It's still a possibility. They just have to cough up, that's all."

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[trendingnewsb]

Trump and the Risks of Digital Hate

In the year 1929, the Nazi propaganda tabloid Der Stürmer published a caricature of an imaginary group of devious looking Jewish people peeling off in a car after apparently running over a German boy, left bleeding in the arms of his father.

In the year 2017, the president of the United States retweeted a video of a dark-haired teenager assaulting a blond, Dutch teenager on crutches, with the erroneous caption, “Muslim migrant beats up Dutch boy on crutches!”

In the year 1942, the Nazi pamphlet Der Untermensch accused Jews of delighting in destroying churches, with the caption, “For the Jew and inhuman the highest satisfaction comes from the destruction of churches!”

In the year 2017, the president of the United States retweeted a video of a bearded Muslim man smashing a fair-skinned statue of the Virgin Mary with the caption, “Muslim Destroys a Statue of the Virgin Mary!”

For many Americans who woke up to President Trump’s tweets Wednesday morning, these videos seemed unduly hateful, and in the case of the video of the boy on the crutches, even fraudulent. (According to Dutch authorities, the assailant was born and raised in the Netherlands.) But for researchers of propaganda, the historical parallels within the videos were more chilling than anything else. There are, they say, just two differences between the German caricatures and the president’s tweets. First, the social media age has given Trump more readers on Twitter than Der Stürmer or Der Untermensch ever had. And second, we have no way of knowing how this chapter in history will end.

"I think this is real dangerous shit," says David Livingstone Smith, a professor of philosophy at the University of New England, who specializes in the history of dehumanization and who authored a book on the topic called Less Than Human.

"This is scary shit," echoes Jason Stanley, a professor at Yale and author of the book How Propaganda Works, whose father fled Nazi Germany in 1939.

To be clear and compliant with Godwin's law no one is comparing Trump to Adolf Hitler. "That would be absurd," Smith says. His concern is that the president and the general public have not learned history's lessons about the impact this type of fear-mongering can have. That's especially true today in the age of Facebook- and Twitter-driven echo chambers, in which any headline, photo, or video can be slyly captioned or edited to distort its original meaning to comply with a group's existing bias. The long past of propaganda blended with the communication channels of the present and future form a toxic mix.

"I think this is real dangerous shit."

David Livingstone Smith, University of New England

Trump's tweets may look like an impulsive and offensive attempt to pander to the Ann Coulter wing of the Republican party, but looked at through the long lens of history, Trump's messaging has dangerous undertones that could be compared to propaganda tactics found in the well-worn playbook of how to demonize entire categories of humans. As forbidden as such historical comparisons are in polite society, Smith says, it's in ignoring history altogether that societies risk falling into the time-tested trap of believing that pending mass atrocities clearly announce themselves in bright neon lighting.

"There’s always a backstory," he says.

It typically begins with leaders fomenting fear, specifically by portraying a relatively powerless group as a societal threat. One of the most powerful examples of this was the portrayal of African American slaves in the antebellum south. "African Americans were the most vulnerable members of the population," Smith says, "Yet they were represented as violent monsters, particularly African American men, who were represented as almost super-human in the danger they posed."

The script repeated in 1934, one year after Adolf Hitler took power, when German Jews were already being herded into the Dachau concentration camp outside of Munich. The front page of Der Stürmer featured a headline, typed out in red and underlined, that read, "Jewish Murderplan Against Gentile Humanity Revealed."

Similarly, in Rwanda in 1993, Hutu Power propaganda magazines like Kangura ran stories accusing the Tutsi, already a persecuted people that had been driven into exile, of "evilness" and "killing, pillaging, raping girls and women." That message was amplified by the launch of RTLM, an extremist radio station that promoted some of the most vile and violent propaganda about Tutsis. One Harvard study has since shown that the better the radio coverage was in a given area, the worse the bloodshed.

All of those examples, of course, came before Facebook and Twitter. These destructive myths and stereotypes can now be disseminated to millions of people in a matter of seconds. And it's not simply cartoons and phony headlines filling people's minds. Doctored photos and misrepresentations of real footage, like the video the president shared, are a dangerous new development in the history of propaganda, experts say. "Everyone knows caricatures exaggerate," says Claudia Koonz, a historian at Duke University and author of The Nazi Conscience, "but gullible viewers, including probably Trump, see videos as reality."

The Rohingya Muslims of Myanmar are the most recent and tragic victims of this trend. When the government barred ultranationalist Buddhist monk Ashin Wirathu from preaching his anti-Rohingya messages, for fear they were driving his followers to violence, he took the message to Facebook. Now Facebook, which has 30 million users in Myanmar, up from 2 million in 2014, has become a central repository for Wirathu's photos, which depict crimes supposedly committed by Rohingya, some of which Facebook has removed.

Complicating matters more is that activists on both sides of the ethnic cleansing being waged against the Rohingya by the Myanmar Army are contributing to the misleading information being circulated on social media. People concerned about the Rohingya have shared photos depicting tragedies from other wars, misrepresented as part of this current massacre. Meanwhile, those seeking to demonize the Rohingya have disseminated archival war photos, wrongly describing them as evidence of Rohingya militarization. All of it contributes to a cloud of confusion that makes it easier for Myanmar's leaders to claim the very real violence is being overblown.

"What would have been horrifying a year ago is now normalized."

Jason Stanley, Yale University

In the social media age, not only does the information travel faster, but the sheer volume of shocking images people are exposed to on a daily basis helps numb societies to the hate they're seeing. President Trump tweeting explicitly anti-Muslim content from the leader of a British hate group, who was herself arrested recently for hate speech, has already fallen from the headlines, as issues like tax reform and the Russian meddling investigation dominate. In 2017, Trump's tweets were just another Wednesday. That has its own frightening implications, too, historians say. "What would have been horrifying a year ago is now normalized," Stanley says. "That’s part of the playbook, too."

These messages don't have to promote violence to solicit it. History indicates that dangerous rhetoric tends to sound cautionary at the outset, ringing the alarm against what the people in power deem to be a serious threat. The people who spread it, he says, think they're "out to save the world. Their idea is to rid the world of a terrible evil."

That, according to White House spokeswoman Sarah Huckabee Sanders, was Trump's motivation in this case. Asked by members of the press why the president would share a video that lies about a Muslim migrant committing an act of violence, she said, "Whether it's a real video, the threat is real."

Yes. A threat so real it could only be illustrated with lies.

The tweets the president retweeted used simple language to frame Muslims as a dominating societal menace ("Muslim destroys statue …"), despite the fact that Muslims make up just 1 percent of the US population and that, since 2001, homegrown right-wing extremists have killed nearly twice as many Americans in the US as radical Muslims have.

The Council on American-Islamic Relations immediately condemned the videos, calling them an "incitement to violence against American Muslims." Such violence is already on the rise. Pew Research found that in 2016, a historic number of anti-Muslim assaults were reported to the FBI, more than in 2001, when anti-Muslim fervor was high.

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After Trump shared those videos, pundits and politicians argued that the president's tweets would only help ISIS recruit. Trump, they argued, seemed to be overtly confirming terrorists' claims that America is the enemy of Islam. And yet, according to Steve Stalinsky of the Middle East Research Institute, the question isn't what impact this video will have on ISIS, an organization so depraved it would manipulate even benign statements from the president. The question is, what impact it will have on groups in the US?

"Talking heads will say this is going to help ISIS or jihadi groups with recruitment. I don't know that that's necessarily true," Stalinksy says. "Recruitment for right-wing groups? That's a different story."

So what can be done about it? Social networks, certainly, have a role to play in preventing hate speech from spreading online—a perilous high-wire act they have not yet successfully maneuvered. But, given their reluctance to censor the president's messages to the public, that still wouldn't stop the man in the White House from waking up on any given morning, picking up his phone, and clicking Retweet on any selectively edited video he chooses. On Friday, even Twitter sent mixed messages about why, exactly, it's allowing these videos to stay up. In Germany, Volksverhetzung, or incitement to hatred, has long been criminalized, and a new law there requires social media companies to remove it or face hefty fines. But in the US, the First Amendment would inhibit such government-driven attempts at censorship. That means the power to prevent such escalating hatred quite literally rests in the president's relentlessly tweeting hands.

President Trump wants badly to justify his plans to ban citizens from a host of primarily Islamic nations from entering the United States. Videos portraying Muslim violence—both real and fabricated—fit neatly into that story. But they also fit neatly into a much longer story of tragedy around the world. Whatever his motivation, history provides few excuses for those who fail to anticipate the damage that words and images can do.

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from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2kCf9Im via Viral News HQ

[spindle-legged-crane-blog]

Bloody Mirror

It always stares back, that monster in the mirror. Turning my head back and forth the reflection stares right back and just smirks. A single cold bead of sweat slid down the center of my spine. The monster was just using my face, had been for the past year as far as I’ve noticed. Maybe I don’t even have my own reflection anymore. I flung open the cabinet door, hands beginning to shake as I search through the prescription bottles. Finding the one I need; taking two pills and just stood there and I tried to calm myself down. The panic that was caused by the monster that my over active imagination must have created began to fade, breathe easing back from that all too familiar constricting flutter. Slowly I close the cabinet back to see a well-behaved reflection, wiggling my fingers cautiously to ensure everything was alright again. With that sense of security restored I briefly wonder what lay beyond the Looking Glass where the monster lived. Lewis Carroll had it right for the most part, but unlike Alice who met rabbits in waist coats and talking flowers there is only fear here. Fear that not even self-medication could completely protect me from. Finally staring at what I desperately hope is myself I took in my own appearance. Short brown hair combed back; face common enough. Certainly didn’t scare the girls away at least. Slowly my attention drifted towards the rest of the bathroom. My mothers’ feminine décor style leaving a lot to be desired to a teenage boy. The surfaces were a pale tan or a cream which didn’t really bother me, but that floral print shower curtain… I tried to hide my disgust. Really it was like being stuck in a flower Garden. “Honey, your friend is here!” My mother’s voice finally pulled my attention away from mirror, leaving the bathroom. The reflection following with a malicious smile. I reached the end of the staircase where my mother stood in the doorway, smiling with a little too much happiness at my best friend Tucker. Or maybe that’s former best friend as I wasn’t so comfortable with the way Tucker spoke too my mother. The mirror that stood behind them moved with perfectly behaved reflections until I stepped into view as well, the monsters frightening smile stretching wide across what was supposed to be my mouth. “Simon, where are you two going this time?” Mother reached up too smooth my hair, more a force of habit than a blatant attempt at embarrassment but otherwise effective. “Just too the fair, ma’am. Do you want to come too?” Tucker’s smile made me shudder in a completely unpleasant way. She was my mother, the way Tucker looked at her… Starting to feel queasy I cut mom off mid-sentence. “Why how swee—“ “She can’t. Has a book club meeting, Right mom?” The clipped tone actually made her pause. Should probably exercise that tone next time I bring home a D on my next report card. “Let’s go” Tucker glared while he was pushed back out the door. In the background my mother closed the door and turned, taking in the sight of the doppelgänger running a clawed hand over her reflections neck. The image let out a silent scream, the light in your mother’s eyes fading to a dull brown as the reflection died with my mother falling into a bloody heap on the middle of the floor. “You didn’t have to do that y’know.” My friend and I climbed into a rusted out Pontiac, ominously dark clouds crawling over head. “Yeah, I did. Back off my mom.” A blond head poked forward between the seats, smiling openly at the two boys. “Hey boys!” I manage to force a smile at the younger girl, recalling faintly that her name was Jayden. Must be one of Tuckers new girlfriends. Briefly I have to wonder how long this one will last; Tucker didn’t exactly have a track record for long-term girlfriends. “Hey Jayden, you ready to scream yourself hoarse?” I responded with a happy laugh, her blond hair flying as she gave it a shake of denial. “I don’t scream on Fair Rides. They’re not scary,” Tucker laughed, tone dripping with mockery. “I don’t Tucker!” The car filled with familiar arguing since Tucker did always like them feisty. My eyes move to the side view mirror and let out a scream of terror, a blood-covered me staring back. Tucker jerked the wheel and for a moment we bounced on and off the curve before he corrected himself. My doppelgänger stared in angry disappointment. “What the fuck man!” I couldn’t look towards his grim expression. “Sorry… thought I saw your mother working the corner.” The tension melted as Tucker punched at me, the moment forgotten for the moment. Jayden frowned at the two from the back seat. The Fair was just as it was every year, shrieking children and carnival grease perfuming the air. Thanks to the ever darkening sky the lights of the rides swirled like chaotic neon fire-flies. Carnies shouted at the ticket entrance, enticing those who entered to check out the exotic freak show and to make sure to eat plenty. Jayden collected their money and went to get their wrist bands for the night. “Man, it’s been ages since we been to a carnival.” Tucker muttered in awe. “When was the last time?” “I think we were 9. You threw up on the tilt-a-whirl.” “Shut up.” Tucker scowled, moving to continue when a long gnarled hand reached out and grabbed at my arm. The hand happened to be attached to an equally gnarled old man, beard stained yellow around the mouth and reaching down too his bellybutton. Rancid breath reminiscent of what I can only imagine would be a dragon hit me square in the face. “Little man should watch out for his reflection.” Oh yeah, he was a smoker. Or maybe a chewer. I did my best not to gag he continued to talking about the reflection. “You know about him?” “Little boy better beware, or his reflection will finally take his place.” The old man paused, looking fearfully at something over the boys shoulder. “Don’t let her trap you too.” “What do you mean, take my place?” “Man, he’s just a carnie-crazy.” Tucker tried to get between the two. “Shut up. What do you mean tak—where did he go?” Pushing past my friend I looked left then right, a deep sense of dread settling into my bones. “Dude, he was just a crazy old—“ I cut him off, anger flaring through my voice. “No he wasn’t Tucker! You don’t even know what you did.” The tension sizzled between the friends before Jayden intervened. “I got the bands. Ready?” An image in a fun house mirror that had sat directly behind stepped out of view, following after them, the old man hiding from her sight as he ran.A_B1177 Bypassing the rides for now, I trailed after the couple as they approached the games. Several games of Darts later didn’t seem to help my still shaking mind. Where had all that blood in the mirror come from? And why hadn’t that old man stayed to finish his message? Jayden came to stand with him, arms laden down with a cheap Stuffed animal. “You okay? You really scared us in the car when you screamed.” Though sweet I couldn’t help feel a little irritated as Tuckers girlfriend pried. Surely she means well but she was just another of Tuckers long list of girls. “Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” Jayden looked away, shuffling her feet as an uncomfortable tension filled the air. “So how long have you and Tucker been a thing?” “What.” You’re forced to look towards her horrified face. Oops, you blundered. “Tucker is my cousin… gross.” The moment of disgust is all that it took to ease the rest of your tension away, and you laugh. Deep, side-splitting laughter. All Jayden could do was fill in. The moment was ended with a sudden flash of lightning filling the sky. Tucker joined them with a sharp word that made his cousin blush. “We haven’t even ridden the Gut Twister!” “Maybe it’ll pass. Let’s wait it out in there.” Jayden took off, both boys following her into the Mirror Maze. Your monster stood in only the entrance mirror, a malicious smirk covering its face. “Man, where the hell did that rain come from?” Tucker gave his head a shake, sending water flying like a dog. “I know. The weather report said it was supposed to be clear.” Jayden wrung out the front of her t-shirt. The siblings almost didn’t notice my rigid stand or the look of pure panic coming across my face. Almost, anyway. “Simon... are you okay?” Looking down into Jayden’s worried face I tried to relax. “I… can we get out of here…?” I had to admit it but even I sound strained. Thunder gave a mighty crescendo outside, the mirrors that surrounded them harmonizing with a shudder. “It’s still raining badly out there. Let’s just explore the maze. It could be fun.” Jayden’s enthusiastic smile was not deterred by my strained expression. She took her cousin and my hand, dragging us deeper into the maze. The reflections trailed after him, though I could swear Jayden and Tuckers’ tried to keep as far as they could from mine without being noticed. The lights of the maze flickered overhead the deeper we got, one dead end after another making us backtrack continuously. “Isn’t this fun?” Jayden laughed delightedly. “Come on man relax.” Tucker nudged me patiently. Neither of them could bring me down from the big ball of stress I had become, trying to continuously push them both faster so they could get out what I knew was going to be a death trap. Turning the next corner made all of the reflections vanish without a trace. Tucker and Jayden slowed to a stop, taking it in. Jayden’s grip on my hand tightened. “We must be standing in like… a blind spot or something?” Tucker offered quietly, moving forward. But when no reflection appeared Tucker became much more agitated. “Maybe it’s like this for fun?” Jayden didn’t move after her cousin. Suddenly the lights flickered off, eliciting a scream from all three of us before they flickered back on. Tucker and Jayden’s reflections took off across the mirrors, terror evident on their faces as they rounded their corner, my sinister looking monster chasing after them already covered in blood. “What the hell was that?” Tucker looked towards me with alarm before doubling forward in pain, a thick cut breaking over across his cheek. “Run.” I shoved at them both, Jayden startled as she tried to help her cousin. “What? Simon he’s bleeding.” “Run! Get out of here quickly.” The urgency in my voice must have spurred them on, sending both after their reflections. I stayed behind, slamming my hands against the glass. “Leave them alone! It’s me you want isn’t it!” The fact I didn’t hear any screams was reassuring, but that could also mean that they were killed immediately before they could utter another sound. The reflection, doppelgänger, slinked back into view and filled ever single mirror. It smirked, running a finger along the glass as it passed. To my horror the glass began to crack, blood oozing out slowly. I stepped back and slammed into the mirror behind it hard, the cracks growing larger. “Who are you?” The seemed to giggle, though the sound didn’t quite reach through. “What do you want from me…? What?” The doppelgänger stared at him finally giving an answer. The Mirror Maze shuddered hard with every syllable. “Most call me Bloody Mary. And what do I want? Your life, silly” Two arms shoot out from the glass behind me, wrapping tightly around my chest and jerked me back into the Looking Glass Prison while the doppelgänger changed. For a moment it was this big black feminine creature. It or she had edges melting into the background before becoming the reflection of his Mother, then Tucker and Jayden before finally settling on a tall severe looking woman with black hair that hung to her waist. She walked around him slowly, bony fingers prodding me ruthlessly before finally stepping back. “I do adore getting a new prisoner. And you’re so deliciously protective of your friends. Too bad now they have to die.” Her laughter sent terror into my bones as she turned and waltz off, taking on the appearance of Jayden. Jayden was the first I had to save from the tyranny of Bloody Mary. She would never be the last either. From school children who summon this demon in a dark bathroom to the victims she chooses on a whim I’m there, trying to stop her. First she takes your reflection and then she replaces it. Don’t say her name because then you just give it to her that much faster. So when you hear me shout run, even if you think you’re only hearing things you better run. All I can do now is follow after her and keep her from destroying everything. I can only hope to be freed someday, but until then I will learn everything. Her weakness, how to fight back. Until, then look for me in the mirror but don’t look too hard or you’ll just catch her attention. Then you’ll just become her next victim or her next prisoner.

[trendingnewsb]

Trump and the Risks of Digital Hate

In the year 1929, the Nazi propaganda tabloid Der Stürmer published a caricature of an imaginary group of devious looking Jewish people peeling off in a car after apparently running over a German boy, left bleeding in the arms of his father.

In the year 2017, the president of the United States retweeted a video of a dark-haired teenager assaulting a blond, Dutch teenager on crutches, with the erroneous caption, “Muslim migrant beats up Dutch boy on crutches!”

In the year 1942, the Nazi pamphlet Der Untermensch accused Jews of delighting in destroying churches, with the caption, “For the Jew and inhuman the highest satisfaction comes from the destruction of churches!”

In the year 2017, the president of the United States retweeted a video of a bearded Muslim man smashing a fair-skinned statue of the Virgin Mary with the caption, “Muslim Destroys a Statue of the Virgin Mary!”

For many Americans who woke up to President Trump’s tweets Wednesday morning, these videos seemed unduly hateful, and in the case of the video of the boy on the crutches, even fraudulent. (According to Dutch authorities, the assailant was born and raised in the Netherlands.) But for researchers of propaganda, the historical parallels within the videos were more chilling than anything else. There are, they say, just two differences between the German caricatures and the president’s tweets. First, the social media age has given Trump more readers on Twitter than Der Stürmer or Der Untermensch ever had. And second, we have no way of knowing how this chapter in history will end.

"I think this is real dangerous shit," says David Livingstone Smith, a professor of philosophy at the University of New England, who specializes in the history of dehumanization and who authored a book on the topic called Less Than Human.

"This is scary shit," echoes Jason Stanley, a professor at Yale and author of the book How Propaganda Works, whose father fled Nazi Germany in 1939.

To be clear and compliant with Godwin's law no one is comparing Trump to Adolf Hitler. "That would be absurd," Smith says. His concern is that the president and the general public have not learned history's lessons about the impact this type of fear-mongering can have. That's especially true today in the age of Facebook- and Twitter-driven echo chambers, in which any headline, photo, or video can be slyly captioned or edited to distort its original meaning to comply with a group's existing bias. The long past of propaganda blended with the communication channels of the present and future form a toxic mix.

"I think this is real dangerous shit."

David Livingstone Smith, University of New England

Trump's tweets may look like an impulsive and offensive attempt to pander to the Ann Coulter wing of the Republican party, but looked at through the long lens of history, Trump's messaging has dangerous undertones that could be compared to propaganda tactics found in the well-worn playbook of how to demonize entire categories of humans. As forbidden as such historical comparisons are in polite society, Smith says, it's in ignoring history altogether that societies risk falling into the time-tested trap of believing that pending mass atrocities clearly announce themselves in bright neon lighting.

"There’s always a backstory," he says.

It typically begins with leaders fomenting fear, specifically by portraying a relatively powerless group as a societal threat. One of the most powerful examples of this was the portrayal of African American slaves in the antebellum south. "African Americans were the most vulnerable members of the population," Smith says, "Yet they were represented as violent monsters, particularly African American men, who were represented as almost super-human in the danger they posed."

The script repeated in 1934, one year after Adolf Hitler took power, when German Jews were already being herded into the Dachau concentration camp outside of Munich. The front page of Der Stürmer featured a headline, typed out in red and underlined, that read, "Jewish Murderplan Against Gentile Humanity Revealed."

Similarly, in Rwanda in 1993, Hutu Power propaganda magazines like Kangura ran stories accusing the Tutsi, already a persecuted people that had been driven into exile, of "evilness" and "killing, pillaging, raping girls and women." That message was amplified by the launch of RTLM, an extremist radio station that promoted some of the most vile and violent propaganda about Tutsis. One Harvard study has since shown that the better the radio coverage was in a given area, the worse the bloodshed.

All of those examples, of course, came before Facebook and Twitter. These destructive myths and stereotypes can now be disseminated to millions of people in a matter of seconds. And it's not simply cartoons and phony headlines filling people's minds. Doctored photos and misrepresentations of real footage, like the video the president shared, are a dangerous new development in the history of propaganda, experts say. "Everyone knows caricatures exaggerate," says Claudia Koonz, a historian at Duke University and author of The Nazi Conscience, "but gullible viewers, including probably Trump, see videos as reality."

The Rohingya Muslims of Myanmar are the most recent and tragic victims of this trend. When the government barred ultranationalist Buddhist monk Ashin Wirathu from preaching his anti-Rohingya messages, for fear they were driving his followers to violence, he took the message to Facebook. Now Facebook, which has 30 million users in Myanmar, up from 2 million in 2014, has become a central repository for Wirathu's photos, which depict crimes supposedly committed by Rohingya, some of which Facebook has removed.

Complicating matters more is that activists on both sides of the ethnic cleansing being waged against the Rohingya by the Myanmar Army are contributing to the misleading information being circulated on social media. People concerned about the Rohingya have shared photos depicting tragedies from other wars, misrepresented as part of this current massacre. Meanwhile, those seeking to demonize the Rohingya have disseminated archival war photos, wrongly describing them as evidence of Rohingya militarization. All of it contributes to a cloud of confusion that makes it easier for Myanmar's leaders to claim the very real violence is being overblown.

"What would have been horrifying a year ago is now normalized."

Jason Stanley, Yale University

In the social media age, not only does the information travel faster, but the sheer volume of shocking images people are exposed to on a daily basis helps numb societies to the hate they're seeing. President Trump tweeting explicitly anti-Muslim content from the leader of a British hate group, who was herself arrested recently for hate speech, has already fallen from the headlines, as issues like tax reform and the Russian meddling investigation dominate. In 2017, Trump's tweets were just another Wednesday. That has its own frightening implications, too, historians say. "What would have been horrifying a year ago is now normalized," Stanley says. "That’s part of the playbook, too."

These messages don't have to promote violence to solicit it. History indicates that dangerous rhetoric tends to sound cautionary at the outset, ringing the alarm against what the people in power deem to be a serious threat. The people who spread it, he says, think they're "out to save the world. Their idea is to rid the world of a terrible evil."

That, according to White House spokeswoman Sarah Huckabee Sanders, was Trump's motivation in this case. Asked by members of the press why the president would share a video that lies about a Muslim migrant committing an act of violence, she said, "Whether it's a real video, the threat is real."

Yes. A threat so real it could only be illustrated with lies.

The tweets the president retweeted used simple language to frame Muslims as a dominating societal menace ("Muslim destroys statue …"), despite the fact that Muslims make up just 1 percent of the US population and that, since 2001, homegrown right-wing extremists have killed nearly twice as many Americans in the US as radical Muslims have.

The Council on American-Islamic Relations immediately condemned the videos, calling them an "incitement to violence against American Muslims." Such violence is already on the rise. Pew Research found that in 2016, a historic number of anti-Muslim assaults were reported to the FBI, more than in 2001, when anti-Muslim fervor was high.

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After Trump shared those videos, pundits and politicians argued that the president's tweets would only help ISIS recruit. Trump, they argued, seemed to be overtly confirming terrorists' claims that America is the enemy of Islam. And yet, according to Steve Stalinsky of the Middle East Research Institute, the question isn't what impact this video will have on ISIS, an organization so depraved it would manipulate even benign statements from the president. The question is, what impact it will have on groups in the US?

"Talking heads will say this is going to help ISIS or jihadi groups with recruitment. I don't know that that's necessarily true," Stalinksy says. "Recruitment for right-wing groups? That's a different story."

So what can be done about it? Social networks, certainly, have a role to play in preventing hate speech from spreading online—a perilous high-wire act they have not yet successfully maneuvered. But, given their reluctance to censor the president's messages to the public, that still wouldn't stop the man in the White House from waking up on any given morning, picking up his phone, and clicking Retweet on any selectively edited video he chooses. On Friday, even Twitter sent mixed messages about why, exactly, it's allowing these videos to stay up. In Germany, Volksverhetzung, or incitement to hatred, has long been criminalized, and a new law there requires social media companies to remove it or face hefty fines. But in the US, the First Amendment would inhibit such government-driven attempts at censorship. That means the power to prevent such escalating hatred quite literally rests in the president's relentlessly tweeting hands.

President Trump wants badly to justify his plans to ban citizens from a host of primarily Islamic nations from entering the United States. Videos portraying Muslim violence—both real and fabricated—fit neatly into that story. But they also fit neatly into a much longer story of tragedy around the world. Whatever his motivation, history provides few excuses for those who fail to anticipate the damage that words and images can do.

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