#worsened the war on drugs

[aphnxrising]

My coworker and I got matching shirts because fuck Ronald Reagan

edit to add link to the shirt: "ANTI-RONALD REAGAN" T-shirt for Sale by trumporium | Redbubble | ronald reagan t-shirts - anti reagan t-shirts - anti ronald reagan t-shirts

[thebibliosphere]

I’ve got my tumblr inbox turned off so I really have to commend the person who actually emailed me to let me know they don’t like the things I’ve posted about the UnitedHealth CEO being murdered on their commitment to their beliefs.

But seen as how you emailed me from a dud email that appears to be bouncing back replies and I really wanted to address something you said to me about violence begetting violence:

My migraine medication, the medication I was given for my debilitating neurological disease that has gotten so bad I spent most of this year actively suicidal, costs $1300 a month.

My insurance covered it. But only because my doctors office went to fucking war for me because I’m a high anaphylaxis risk for the drugs the insurance wanted me to try.

Because that’s the thing.

My doctors knew, based on my documented medical history, I likely wouldn’t be a good fit for the “first line” of preventative migraine drugs, but because of insurance, I had to be given drugs that were contradictory to my other life threatening conditions, because otherwise insurance wouldn’t cover anything else.

I failed them. Spectacularly and with an anaphylactic reaction to one of them. And I was still warned insurance would fight me because I hadn’t tried the remaining drug they wanted me to try.

A drug which I would have to take in an ER waiting room because my mast cell disease is unpredictable but insurance wouldn’t cover in-patient treatment to let me try it safely under medical supervision.

Is that not violence?

Were all the times I was denied coverage for vital and necessary procedures that could have prevented my disabilities from worsening not violence?

Maybe not in the sense you mean. But I assure you it felt very much like violence to me.

Do I condone murder? No, obviously. But I’m also sick and tired of people pretending that what is happening to the American people every day isn’t eugenics through class warfare.

Violence begets violence.

It sure fucking does.

Maybe these insurance companies should have thought of that first.

[charmedreincarnation]

Let me share you some examples of people outside of a spiritual realm using the law of consciousness. Reading about placebo opened my eyes to realize whether I believe it or not, use it or not, it is always operating.

1. During wartime, particularly in World War II, when medical supplies were limited, the use of a saline solution as a placebo became prevalent. One notable figure associated with this practice is Henry Beecher, a medic during the war. When morphine, a powerful painkiller, was scarce, Beecher resorted to injecting injured soldiers with a saline solution (a mixture of salt and water) as a substitute.The fascinating observation was that many soldiers responded positively to the saline placebo, reporting a reduction in pain. Beecher’s experience led him to further investigate what is now known as the placebo effect. He discovered that even inert substances like saline could elicit a therapeutic response in individuals, highlighting the power of belief and the mind’s influence on healing. Using saline as a placebo during wartime was a practical solution to address the scarcity of medical resources. It allowed healthcare providers to provide some form of treatment while conserving limited supplies for critical cases. The phenomenon observed in these wartime placebo administrations contributed to our understanding of the placebo effect and its role in medical practices.

2. And then there was another placebo test done with surgeries demonstrated the power of the placebo effect in the context of surgical interventions for knee pain.

The study, often referred to as the “fake leg surgery” study, focused on patients with osteoarthritis in the knee. Participants were randomly assigned to either receive real arthroscopic surgery or undergo a sham procedure where no actual surgical intervention took place. The sham surgery involved making small incisions and mimicking the actions and sounds associated with the actual procedure.The surprising finding was that both groups, those who underwent real surgery and those who had the sham surgery, reported similar improvements in their knee pain and functionality. This suggested that the positive outcomes experienced by the participants were not necessarily due to the physical intervention but rather to psychological factors such as the placebo effect.

3. The most fascinating one was this one: The study aimed to explore the role of mindset in reversing some aspects of aging.

In this experiment, Langer and her team created a simulated environment reminiscent of the 1950s to immerse a group of elderly participants. The participants were instructed to act as though they were 20 years younger and encouraged to engage in activities that required physical and mental activity. It aimed to create an atmosphere where the participants felt as if they were stepping back in time.The results of the experiment were described as astonishing. Participants reportedly experienced improvements in various areas, including physical health, cognition, and overall well-being. The study suggested that by changing one’s mindset and engaging in an environment that challenges typical aging stereotypes, individuals may experience positive effects on various aspects of their lives.

4. The Man Who Overdosed on Placebo" is a story about a 26-year-old man, often referred to as "Mr. A," who was part of a clinical trial for an antidepressant drug. In a desperate state of mind, he attempted suicide by ingesting 29 capsules of what he believed to be the experimental drug. This act was triggered by his depression, which had worsened after a breakup with his girlfriend.

However, unbeknownst to him, the pills he had taken were not the actual antidepressant, but rather placebos - essentially inert substances, often sugar pills, used in clinical trials as a control group. Despite this, Mr. A's vitals showed alarming signs similar to those of a drug overdose, reflecting the power of belief over the physical body, a phenomenon known as the "nocebo effect."

The nocebo effect is essentially the evil twin of the placebo effect. While the placebo effect can lead to improvements in health due to positive expectations, the nocebo effect can cause negative symptoms or even exacerbate existing ones due to negative expectations. In this case, Mr. A exhibited symptoms of an overdose solely because he believed he had taken an overdose.

5. Sam Londe, is one of the best but sad classic example of the nocebo effect, as detailed in Dr. Joe Dispenza's book "You Are the Placebo."

Sam Londe was diagnosed with esophageal cancer, a condition known for its grim prognosis. His doctors informed him that he didn't have much time left to live. Accepting this diagnosis, Londe quickly became bedridden and his health deteriorated rapidly, following the trajectory his doctors had predicted.However, upon his death, an autopsy revealed a surprising fact: there was not enough cancer in his body to have caused his death. The small tumor in his esophagus was not large enough or in a position to interfere with his swallowing or breathing. Essentially, Londe didn't die from cancer; he died from believing he was dying of cancer.

This case demonstrates the power of the mind over the body, both positively (the placebo effect) and negatively (the nocebo effect). In this case, Londe's negative beliefs about his prognosis led to physical symptoms and ultimately his death.

I've seen dozens of examples where of stuff like this particularly in the realms of hexing and witchcraft. Honestly, the same could probably be said about subliminals. But it doesn't matter much.Why? Because they work. It's all about observation and choice. You could say it’s the mind but the mind operates on logic. This goes beyond the mind and to your true being, what observes the mind observing the pain in the first place.

Actually I was talking to someone who had been struggling with shifting for a while about this and it really resonated with her which is why I decided to share it. She took a water bottle, labeled it shifting juice and just assumed that when she finishes the bottle she has “full access to shifting powers” is that how it works. Nope. Did she shift after two years of struggling. Yep. It doesn’t matter what story you create yourself whether you want to use logic or not whatever you assume and persist in and know as a fact will harden into truth and therefore reality.I just wanted to share this story bc I find it absolutely hilarious how we sometimes take it so seriously yet it can be so easy. I know placebo is just an assumption. It’s like when you tell children you checked under their bed for the monsters and drafted them and they assume so so they can sleep soundly at night. Call it whatever you want assumption, placebo, it’s all just words and each community calls it something different but at the end of the day it works wether you know the truth behind it or not.

[millervrse]

❝ BY THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞ javier peña x reader

summary: Javier Peña doesn’t like you. You’re too nice, too bubbly, and you get on his last nerve. He didn’t get how anybody in this line of work could be so goddamn cheery all the time. Though aside from your, in his eyes, forced and fake kindness, you had no bad features, and perhaps that, added to your beauty, is what ticked him off so much. Could he learn to like you the more time passes, or would you do this dance of hatred forever?

pairing: javier peña x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, r! has a bit of an established backstory, a few uses of y/n but only when necessary, r! has a dog, references to narcos and thus real life people and occurrences (pablo escobar, the cartel, dea, etc), ENEMIES TO LOVERS but it’s one sided because javier hates r!, r! has an established personality, grumpy x sunshine, workplace setting, javier and r! are coworkers, use of cigarettes

word count: 2.6k+

LYN SPEAKING! so this is the first chapter of, again, a finished piece that was written nearly a year ago. you can read the prologue here! and again, this is all from javier’s pov, but i’m going to throw in some nsfw chapters using second person for the economy so, yeah! enjoy! lyn out!

DO YOU WANNA KNOW? @bishtrouille @axshadows @troubledsoul-black let me know if you’d like to be added!

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion. “What?” she asks. ❝ YOU'RE BLOCKING THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞

CHAPTER 1: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

COLUMBIA, SEPTEMBER 1982

For once in our lives of chaos, the madness had died down, and there was no new news regarding the man who had been the focus of our missions for months now.

Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria: A drug dealer, and a major pain in my ass.

In the years that I’ve worked Escobar’s case, the man has put the DEA, and the whole of Columbia, for that matter, through hell and back. A war of drugs has been going on under our noses, and the man behind it is an evasive ghost.

We haven’t found him because he doesn't want to be found.

Days in the office have been passing by slowly. With no new leads, and little for us to do, we’re at a loss here. Can’t tell you how much time I’ve used clicking my pens or looking through the same case files over and over again, just to see if something appears that wasn’t there before.

It hasn’t happened yet.

For the third time that morning, I got up from my seat to get a cup of coffee, since having drained mine. Murphy’s eyes snapped to mine from where he sat across from me, and he raised an eyebrow.

Murphy was the guy I’d been working with on the drug cases for a few months, and we’ve come to be pretty friendly with each other during that time. Thus, his first words when he sees me get out of my seat.

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at me. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack with all that damn caffeine,” he remarked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

I shrugged, throwing away the paper coffee cup that I’d been drinking out of. “Murphy,” I scoffed, crossing my arms to mirror him. “If there’s a damn thing in this world that’s going to give me a heart attack, it’s going to be Escobar, not coffee.”

Murphy sighed in response. I could tell the guy was just as done with Escobar’s shit as me, even if he was better at not discussing it than me. He shrugged and rubbed his forehead before responding, “Yeah, fair enough. Drink away.”

I nodded at him, then made my way to the door.

As I made my third journey that day down to the coffee machine, I passed by the hallway where the ambassador’s office was. What was already a shitty day only worsened by the feeling I got in my gut only by looking at her door.

It was hard at the DEA, Murphy and I being the main people assigned to this case, the only two men in the world who knew as much about Escobar and his cartel as the man himself.

And regardless of that, what we knew was minimal.

While the ambassador wasn’t really our boss, just walking by her office was enough to remind me of the drug cases: And that we weren’t getting a damn thing out of them.

I shook off the feelings that crossed over me then and there, and just went on walking.

I was veering the corner to go to our break room, where the coffee machine was, when I heard and saw a view I surely hadn’t when I clocked in this morning.

“Where can I put my things?” a feminine voice rang out from down the hallway, the voice filled with a sort of cheer that wasn’t very common from those who worked here in the DEA building.

My eyes snapped to the speaker before my brain could even process it.

There was a woman at the very end of the hallway I was in, holding a brown box, presumably the “things” she had been referring to mere seconds ago. My eyebrows raised fairly quickly: I had never seen her in the office.

Because I’m sure I’d remember a face like that.

It was impossible to miss her. Her eyes seemed to mesmerize the man she was speaking to, because he was looking at her with an expression usually saved for old, married couples.

He wasn’t the only one.

I couldn’t take my damn eyes off of her: I was drawn to her appearance, and she wasn’t releasing her hold. There was a serious and assured, yet honeyed way about her. Her eyes and smile spoke volumes to what I assumed was a kind persona, but her attire, a white collared shirt, black slacks, belt, and tie, vouched for her professionalism.

It made me uneasy to get so much from her based on her appearance alone. So that was when I whirled on my heel, all but jogging back to where Murphy was.

I loped back to the room with a concerning pace, closing the door quickly behind me. Murphy’s head snapped up, and he looked at me with a concerned expression.

“Hey, hey, hey, Murphy,” I said in a hoarse voice, a little out of breath from getting here so quickly. I took a second to relax, then asked, “Who’s that girl?”

Murphy’s eyebrows raised up, and he looked at me like I’d just asked him to marry me. “What girl?” he asked as his face scrunched up in cluelessness.

I let out a huff and opened the door again to see where the woman had gone. Then, I came back in the room and waved to the window. “That girl there. All the way down the hallway,” I clarified.

Murphy got up and looked through the window that showed the hallway outside of it. His eyes landed on the woman’s, and a look of realization crossed over his face. “Oh. Oh, yeah. That’s the new girl. I think her name is Y/N,” said Murphy.

I looked at Murphy with a furrowed brow when he said that. “You knew?”

Murphy shrugged and nodded, walking back to his chair and sitting down. “I heard some folks whispering about her. She was pretty popular in her old job, I think, skilled in her field. That’s why everyone’s talking about her,” he shrugged, like the fact was common knowledge.

“And no one was gonna tell me?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Uh, no, I guess not. Why would it matter, anyways? She won’t be working with us that much,” he responded.

“She won’t? Why not?” I asked curiously. Why was she up here, then?

“No, she’ll be working with the coaches, training the dogs for drug sniffing. She’ll be around, but—” Murphy explained, but then he suddenly cut himself off. He cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a second, why does this even matter to you, Peña?”

That got me to shut up real quick.

For one of the first times in my life, I was at a loss for words. I licked my lips as I tried to pick my brains for a response that would make sense.

But my mind was abandoned, way too preoccupied to give him a reason. Sooner or later, I just shook my head, giving myself a way out of this conversation.

“It doesn’t,” I shrugged, walking over to my desk. I ruffled through the drawers for a second, before grabbing the final cigarette from the box that I always had with me.

I took a deep breath as I made a note to myself to get more, before saying, “I just wanna know who I’m working with.”

Murphy nodded, though he didn’t really look convinced.

But the good thing was, if there was one thing Murphy knew about me, it was to never push my words. He picked up the case file that he’d been working on when I walked in the room and simply mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

I sighed in relief, glad that he had just dropped the issue; I seriously didn’t want to talk about this right then and there. Talk about a woman.

I left the room without so much as another word, perching the cigarette in my mouth before I had even made it out of it. I usually smoked in the office, not giving much of a shit to our boss’ wish for me not to. 

But today, I obliged, making my way down the lift to go outside.

When I walked through the lobby and through the doors to exit the building, I mulled over the morning that I’d just had. Escobar’s doings may not be in plain view now, but a new sense of chaos was clearly ready to take the podium.

I lit the cigarette as I leaned on a pillar in front of the building, rubbing my forehead as a migraine began to form there. I exhaled puffs of smoke from my nose and lips, praying that it’d ease all the tension in my figure.

Fuck, what was even going on with me? Who was this girl, and why the hell was one glance her way driving me crazy?

She was just a woman. That’s all she was. And I’ve had countless experiences with women, an art that I knew like the back of my hand. I knew my way around them, and I wasn’t looking to get wrapped up in one at any point, at any time.

I’d just have to pray that this wouldn’t cause any problems in the workplace for me.

I’d have to have hope, and a hell of a goddamn lot of it.

I was walking back up to the breakroom after I’d got back to the building half an hour later. After all, I hadn’t even gotten that cup of coffee I’d been craving before leaving to have a smoke.

But when I walked in the room, I didn’t envision the first person I’d see inside of it.

The new girl.

There she was in front of me again, the same vibe that had emitted from her earlier in my presence once more: Only, it was closer to me now. She was conversing with a male coworker of mine, and they seemed to be engaged in some happy go lucky discussion, because the woman was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, I figured, why not? My dog is my best friend, and I don’t want to leave her home all of the time while I’m working, you know?” she giggled as coffee poured from the coffee machine she was next to.

The man, whose name I didn’t even know, chuckled in response. “That’s crazy. So they just let you bring her, huh? And you’re gonna train her up with the other dogs?” the man asked her.

She nodded, flashing him a smile that seemed to glare off the walls. “Yeah! Pretty cool, isn’t it? I’m glad they let me. I wasn’t really sure they would,” the woman laughed, picking up her cup and taking a long sip out of it.

The man was about to answer, when his eyes finally met mine, acknowledging my presence for the first time since I’d walked in the damn room. This caused the woman to look at me too, only smiling at me.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure your dog will do well. Shepherds are pretty big, and the ones we already have do a good job,” he murmured, looking down at the ground. “Anyway, I should get back to work. You have yourself a good day, Y/N. And good luck.”

So that was her name. Guess Murphy didn’t lie.

“Peña,” he said with a professional nod and awkward smile. Then, he left the room.

When it was just her and I in there, we looked at each other for several long seconds. My eyes glazed over her, fully analyzing her appearance now that she was so much closer to me.

I furrowed my eyebrows. 

I don’t know what it was about this girl that was seriously getting to me.

She was just different. 

And I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” she smiled widely at me, putting her coffee cup down to offer her hand to me before giving me her last name. “I’m new to the DEA, if you couldn’t tell. It’s my first day. What’s your name?” she asked.

Her kindly demeanor unsettled me, being both refreshing and alarming. Most of the men and women on this job worked with somber faces. No feelings, small talk, laughs or smiles. Just work, work, work. It was bizarre to see someone in the DEA building beaming, like we worked in some candy shop.

Didn’t she have any idea what this job encompassed?

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What?” she asks.

“You're blocking the coffee machine,” I clarified for her. Sure enough, she looked to her side to see that I wasn’t lying about that. She murmured a quick, “Sorry,” then moved out of the way.

“Yeah,” I groaned in response. I grabbed one of the paper coffee cups near the machine, then got to fixing myself a cup.

To my surprise, she didn’t leave the room. She crossed her arms behind me, and I could see her looking over me out of the corner of my eye. I could tell she had the urge to speak, but didn’t know how to do so.

Black coffee poured from the maker when she finally opened her mouth. “I haven’t gotten your name yet,” she murmured.

I let out a sigh, wondering why she even needed to know it. “What does it matter?” I replied without a care in the world, looking for creamer in the drawers below the machine.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t, I suppose. I just want to know,” she answered. Then, she perked up, looking at me with a new sense of hope in her eyes. I craned my head towards her for only a second, just to see that same pearly white smile she’d been wearing across her face earlier. “Do you work on this floor, too?”

I closed the paper cup with a lid as she spoke, not even realizing that I’d forgotten to add creamer to it. “Name’s Peña. Javier Peña. And I don’t do small talk,” I replied composedly, turning my body to face her. Clearly, I had yet to get used to her appearance. I’m pretty sure my heart dropped down to my ass when I laid my eyes on her again.

However much I didn’t want to talk to her, there was a fact that remained true, regardless of how it was I was feeling.

She was fucking gorgeous.

Even with my semi rude remark, she smiled at me nevertheless, giving me a little shrug. “Fair enough. It’s not everyone’s thing, especially early in the morning. I get it, Peña—”

“Agent Peña. And no, it’s not,” I said back to her. I was just about ready to leave the room, when she grabbed me by the arm, causing me to pause in my tracks.

“Wait,” she said, clearly doing her best to cling to this conversation for as long as she could.

“What?” I snapped. Though, I didn’t move her hand away.

“Do you know an Agent Murphy? I’ve been looking for him,” she asked very quickly, tilting her head. I raised an eyebrow: She had my attention with that one.

“Murphy? Yeah, he’s my partner. Why, what do you want with him?” I asked curiously, facing my body back towards hers.

“He was supposed to give me some case files on drugs, mainly cocaine. I’m going to be working with the dogs, training them on sniffing out drugs and things like that, so I kind of need them.”

I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes at her. “He’s in the office down the hall. I’ll take you there,” I annoyedly offered. That’s where I was going, anyways, so I didn’t have much of a choice.

“Great! Thank you so much. Lead the way,” she grinned in a brilliant smile, signaling to the door. I grumbled and nodded, before making my way down the hall to Murphy and I’s shared office.

What was it I was saying earlier about hope?

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — mansion parties

aeri uchinaga's mansion, gangnam-gu, seoul, korea.

WARNINGS ; intoxication, implied coercion, peer pressure, cheating, gaslighting, driving under the influence, drugs (cannabis usage), illegal substance use (5.1k)

yoo jimin loved parties.

she loved the faint smoke in the air, blurring the dim lights as swirls danced around above the twenty-something olds in the house. the rum, although cheap, gave her a sense of comfort that she knew all too well.

the dullness, the nausea. everything was perfectly disastrous. a concoction of all her dreams and hopes that amount to nothing but a strained knee, and years of aggravation to be overshadowed by her junior.

but most of all, she loved the smell of weed. it was almost as intoxicating as the leers girls would give her, undressing her with their eyes as she walked across the room.

she was wanted. she was loved.

jimin knew it was just for her body, for her face that she just happened to be gifted with. she knew that people would wage war just to look like her.

she was yoo jimin.

she hated it.

she hated the weight of her name, the last memory of her father dangling in front of her, mocking her like she does to herself in front of her mirror. she hated her face, the world too shallow to see the girl beneath, exhausted beyond belief. she hated her anger, volatile and quick to rise, none of which she had (nor wanted) control over.

she hated it. she hated herself. she hated everything. she hated the divorce, she hated the volleyball net that always seemed too high, she hated-

"minnie?"

she knew that voice.

it echoed in the back of her head when she didn't run fast enough, when she didn't play hard enough, when she looked at herself in the mirror and all she saw was a washed-out athlete.

it rang through her ears and into her veins when she saw jang wonyoung... when she saw l/n y/n.

jimin heart dropped, and despite her entire body screaming - begging, she turned, the heaviness in her chest crushing the remnants of her heart.

"yeji?"

y/n's anxiety was at an all-time high.

although part of her was ecstatic to finally stand her ground, a bigger part was terrified.

jimin was horrifying when she was angry, and y/n refused to see the sight of a blood-splattered, fist-shaped imprint on the wall again.

her eyes darted methodically, scanning the crowd of university alumni and students every few seconds before repeating.

once to the right, where choi yena was doing a keg stand near the kitchen (or trying to despite alexandra baek's very adamant demands for her to shut up and slow down), once to the middle where a sea of people crowded the entrance to the mansion foyer embellished with intricate swirls of gold and red, and once to the left where the room extended to a greater, much bigger hall that seemed to be the dining room.

there was no sign of jimin, and y/n didn't know if that scared her or reassured her.

"you okay?" minjeong grabbed her hand, squeezing it lightly.

despite the older girl's effort to reassure her, it only worsened the churning in her stomach. minjeong's icy hands were a reminder of her anxieties, and if it weren't for her iron grip, y/n would've pulled away.

"jimin's gonna kill me, unnie." y/n looked again. right, middle, left. "i shouldn't be here."

she's gonna kill me. she's really gonna kill me.

"you'll be fine." yuri grabbed her shoulder, smiling at the girl as if y/n's body wasn't screaming for her to leave the uchinaga residence. "just get drunk out of your mind and you'll forget all about her."

y/n shook her head, her palms tingling from the heightened fear.

being drunk meant lowering her guard, and that meant there was a higher chance of jimin seeing her.

y/n couldn't have a repeat of her last party at the uchinaga's.

"what if she finds me?" y/n felt like a colony of bees had overtaken her lungs.

minjeong looked at the two other girls, the worry etched on y/n's face setting waves of deja vu through them. she could feel the slight tremble of her hand, and the uncharacteristic waver of her voice.

she knew what this was. it was pure, unadulterated fear.

kim minjeong really hated yoo jimin.

"she won't." minju smiled, her eyes sincere despite the fear swirling through them. "we'll be here."

so will jimin. y/n couldn't help but think.

"yeah, unnie!" jiwon spoke up, her smile beaming past the others' dim ones. the younger girl was the only one out of all of them who hadn't truly experienced what jimin could do. "plus, i'm planning on staying sober."

y/n envied the girl, forgetting at that moment that she was dating the latter.

minju scoffed, her eyes rolling. "like i'm letting you drink."

jiwon glanced at her older sister, and that was enough for the girls' to know how the university freshman actually felt.

yuri crossed her arms, y/n scanning the right once more to hear the loud cheers chanting yena's name.

"you are such a buzz kill, kim minju."

minjeong followed the girl's eyes, grimacing at the older girl who seemed to be drowning in beer.

"the hell am i supposed to do?" minju's eyes scanned jiwon's face. "let her drink? she said she didn't want to."

jiwon looked at yuri, almost pleading with her to stop (or to continue. yuri wasn't that good at reading people).

"jiwon. baby kim." yuri squished the taller girl's cheeks. jiwon's face turned bright red, both from the proximity of yuri, and from the unsettling prescence of minju's anger. "do you want to drink?"

minju looked at her, an eyebrow-raising.

jiwon bit her tongue, not wanting to anger the older girl by commenting on how much she looked like their mom at that exact moment.

"um-"

minjeong's head turned back to the three, while y/n busied herself scanning the entire visible area for jimin.

she couldn't forget about jimin again. forgetting about jimin meant letting her guard down. y/n can't let down her guard, not when jimin is high, drunk, or both.

lily morrow knew what happened when y/n did.

"you can say yes, you can say no." yuri let go of jiwon's face, patting her shoulder lightly as smoke blew behind her. "but i'm only accepting it if it's your decision."

jiwon took a glimpse at her older sister, using the same guideline as she does with her mom.

one eyebrow arched was a warning, two eyebrows furrowed meant she was safe, and a frown meant she were in trouble for a light scolding. no expression meant jiwon was fucked.

minju currently had a frown.

"but minju-unnie-"

"fuck her." yuri inturpted, as if the vice president of the student council was no where near the two. "yes or no?"

jiwon stared at minju, trying to decipher her as y/n scanned the room again.

her sister's frown deepened at jiwon's hesitance, while yuri's appeared.

"...yes."

jiwon glanced.

minju had no expression.

"minjeong." yuri's voice dripped with pure happiness. "take her to the booze."

minjeong looked at y/n, then at yuri.

"why me?"

she didn't want to leave y/n when she was in this state, but god, did she love pissing minju off.

"you're the only one here that doesn't drink because of your ibs."

minjeong felt y/n stiffen, and for a moment she thought that the younger girl had seen the devil herself, but when she turned, y/n was staring at her... giggling.

"it's not ibs." minjeong felt her nose go red. "it's acid reflux, you idiot."

yuri shrugged, moving jiwon towards the older girl. "it still comes out of some hole."

y/n cleared her throat, and although minju was fuming, she couldn't help but let a chuckle escape.

"i'll kill you." minjeong let go of y/n, glaring at yuri as if her eyes were lasers. "minju, please stay with y/n so the yena groupie doesn't get her blackout drunk."

yuri punched the girl's shoulder.

"i think i should go with you." minju tried to reason, minjeong rubbing her arm as yuri stuck her tongue out at her. "jiwon's my sister-"

"i'll watch her." minjeong reassured. "i'm stupid, not irresponsible."

"but-"

"say bye-bye, baby kim."

jiwon grinned timidly, the dimple on her cheek not even showing. "sorry, unnie."

minjeong led the younger girl to the right, passing the keg stand that yena had absolutely failed at and making a beeline to the kitchen.

minjeong's eyes lightened as she ushered jiwon closer to what looked like spiked punch.

handing jiwon a cup, minjeong took a closer inspection at the pletohra of tiny, colorful bags with labels of THC printed on the bottom.

of course, the uchinaga family would have access to oversea's cannabis (not that minjeong minded).

thirty minutes later, the party was finally in full swing, the three-story mansion at full capacity, the bass of the built-in speakers shaking the it lightly.

zico played through the speakers while the smoke was starting to accumulate into a thick fog. the ceiling was covered in a light mist, flowing through the airducts and out to the many vents of the house. the smell of skunk was sure to stain the furniture for a couple of days, but aeri was sure that a couple (dozen) canisters of febreze would do the trick.

gaeul managed to squeeze the door open from the outside, smog immediately exiting as the other girl's entered.

"this is why you don't drink and drive, ahn yujin."

"i know." yujin blushed, closing the door with a sheepish smile. "we got it fixed though? plus the repairs are less than six hundred thousand won, so we'll be fine."

gaeul looked at her for a moment, rei shaking her head in the back as wonyoung scanned the area from right to the left.

"are you insane?"

"the road was blurry, okay?" yujin frowned, making her way in front of the shorter girl to push past the sea of people. "how was i supposed to know it was a curb?"

gaeul heard her name, and she waved to one of the girls that she had already forgotten the name of. she looked familiar, most likely from after a game, or practice, or class. gaeul couldn't remember.

yujin looked at gaeul.

"maybe with your eyes, unnie." rei rolled her eyes. she looked at wonyoung. "i hope y/n and them are still here."

wonyoung shook her head. "they might've left already."

gaeul scanned the room once more. ryujin told her she was gonna be here, and the setter wasn't in the mood to see her right now. her focus was on wonyoung, and getting the girl moderately tispy.

yujin bit her lip, looking at the tall girl with a frown. "sorry, wonnie."

"it's okay, unnie." wonyoung sighed, rei's eyes staring at the back of her head. "i don't think she even likes me, as delusional as i am."

delusional. gaeul knows that word too well.

gaeul turned to look at yujin, expecting her bright, puppy-like smile, but familiarity was something that was ingrained in her psyche, and there was nothing more familiar than the girl who ruined her life.

"she's delusional." yujin grinned, looking at the older girl. "right, gaeul-unnie?"

hwang yeji. all she saw was hwang yeji.

yujin stopped, "gaeul-unnie?"

she shouldn't have come today.

"hey, wonnie?" gaeul eyes were dull, just like the first day she met the younger girl. "wanna get shit-faced?"

jimin wanted to go home.

she wanted to feel the comfort of her ikea duvet, and watch the shitty drama that she'd fall asleep to on days when practice was hard. jimin wanted her laptop, where she'd rewatch her gameplay again and again, dissecting every little mistake until it eventually tore into her self worth. she wanted the glare of her phone, her heart fluttering as she texted y/n.

she wanted everything but this, everything but the reminder of yeji.

"jesus, jimin." aeri hobbled the taller girl into the living room, greeting the people she passed. "it's only one and you're already slurring your words."

"she asked me how i am." jimin laughed maniacally. "who does she think she is?"

aeri frowned, her hand patting the small of jimin's back.

"can you sit down?" aeri sighed, leaning over as jimin toppled onto her beige couch. "i swear to god, if you throw up on my carpet i will kill you."

jimin smiled.

"is that a promise?"

"stop it." aeri brushed her hair out of her face, the volleyball player's eyes trained on the dome-shaped ceiling. jimin wondered if she could play volleyball at this state. "i'm gonna get you water. you better stay put or i'll shove a vodka glass up your nostril."

jimin hummed, not hearing a response after.

she wondered if aeri had left, or if she was just staring at the girl in disappointment. it didn't matter. either way, jimin knew she was the latter.

sighing, she turned her head to the foyer, the door opening slightly as a figure managed to squeeze through.

huh.

jimin stood up.

the girl was her height. her face seemed tailored, almost too perfect to be natural but jimin knew it was. and her eyes. she knew them anywhere. the tired, unsatisfied swirl of dissatisfaction was a trait that she too, held.

it was like staring at a mirror.

"hey."

"um," the girl looked innocent, and jimin couldn't help but smile. "hello?"

"you're nakamura kazuha, right?"

kazuha blinked at her. "yeah?"

"yoo jimin." jimin pointed at herself, trying hard not to slur her words more than she should. "i'm yunjin's close friend."

close friend was a stretch that jimin was willing to take if that meant she was going to get laid.

"oh?" kazuha didn't look convinced. "yunjin's never mentioned you."

"i swear, that bitch." jimin laughed as if her and the middle blocker were anywhere near speaking terms. "are you looking for her?"

"yeah." kazuha sighed, tiredly. "is she here yet?"

jimin bit her tongue. she guessed that yunjin's phone had died a while ago, seeing as the girl had been here to help yena and her stupid pack of helpers set up for today.

whatever. her loss.

"not yet." jimin shook her head, the younger girl somehow believing her. "i could wait for her with you if you want. there's some jello shots and fireballs in the sunroom."

the ballerina looked at her, scanning her face and stopping at her mouth. a hunger, jimin deduced, was what she was seeing in huh yunjin's girlfriend.

jimin couldn't help but mentally thank aeri for letting her use her lip gloss.

"i don't think i should."

jimin's dark, hazy eyes captured kazuha's.

"it wouldn't hurt." kazuha hesitated. it took everything in jimin just to push once more, to not leave the girl alone. "c'mon, you're gonna let yunjin have all the fun?"

kazuha looked around. it was wrong to entertain a drunk girl, especially when she was in a relationship. "uh, i don't-"

"kazuha-ssi." jimin smiled, her teeth never showing and neither her intentions. "i'm not taking no for an answer."

jimin watched the girl, and the party roared as kazuha came to her decision.

"just one shot."

"good." perfect, even. "now, stay close. i don't want you getting lost."

kazuha looked at the side of jimin's face, and all she saw was a ballerina's dream. perfection.

"thank you, jimin-ssi." kazuha blushed.

jimin couldn't wait to see how this played out.

"thank you."

yuri had lost minju in the crowd earlier.

usually, the girl would've been aggravated, trying to find her vice president who seemed to like to wander the halls when she was drunk out of her mind, blabbering about her lover or something.

luckily, said lover had taken the girl away, and part of yuri finally understood why minju was so hung up on kim chaewon. the singer was always there, and so was minju. despite chaewon never saying the l word, her constant presence in minju's life was telling enough.

if only her and yena were like that.

yuri stumbled around, going through the pool entrance as a tipsy (drunk) y/n steadied her.

"alexandra!"

alex's face dropped as she talked to yena. "oh my god."

the international student turned to the very drunken girl, yena following her as if she hadn't just puked in the bushes of the uchinaga residence.

"holy fuck."

yena looked at her younger friend, wondering why she had kept this random girl away from her grasp.

she stood up, wiping the spit from her mouth as yuri approached. she needed to look at least put together if she wanted to pull, and not some alcoholic that got held back a year. behind her, yena recognized y/n, her cat-like eyes impossible to mistake for someone else.

yuri threw herself onto alex, as yena scanned y/n.

"aren't you wonnie's ex slash jimin's new plaything?"

plaything?

"unnie."

"what?" yena shrugged. the entire team knew about y/n one way or another, considering that jimin tended to dangle the girl in front of wonyoung like a dog treat. "is she not?"

y/n tightened her jaw. "i'm jimin's girlfriend."

"yeah, okay." jimin did always like them delusional. "that's what they all say."

yuri looked at y/n, part of her sobering up and ready to fight the love of her life if it came to (perhaps it would be a great story for their future kids).

"all?"

"unnie," alex nudged her. "stop it."

"what?" yena whined, tired of getting scolded by the younger girl. "she's not even jimin's type."

alex was at her limit.

"i will sew your mouth shut."

"no." y/n ushered, her brain not fully registering what was happening. jimin couldn't have been cheating on her. sure, she was an asshole, but jimin loved her, right? "let her continue."

alex closed her eyes, praying that yena would keep her mouth shut just for a moment.

"it's not my fault that jimin likes to fuck pretty things." yena muttered, her words loud enough to echo in y/n's brain.

"dude."

"it's not like she's actually jimin's girlfriend."

"are you dumb?" alex closed her eyes, yuri glancing at the younger girl beside her. "she is. and you just told her that her girlfriend is cheating on her."

jimin wouldn't cheat. she loved y/n. she was the one who stayed, the one who was there when wonyoung had left her many months ago. she was the one who held her close and whispered that everything was going to be okay as long as she had her.

jimin couldn't have.

"jimin's cheating on me?"

"um..." alex scratched her cheek lightly, unsure of what to do as yena undressed yuri with her eyes. "jimin likes people... things that look like her. so she can ruin them, i guess."

yena turned to her, frowning.

"should you be airing this out?"

"fuck yoo jimin." alex rolled her eyes, her brown irises glaring at the blue water in front of her. "she ruined my life."

"yeji ruined your life."

"she is yeji."

yeji. y/n had heard that name before, but never from jimin.

she had mentioned it in passing once, and jimin made her swear to never utter the word again. y/n held the older girl for the rest of the night, her thoughts lingering about who yeji was.

jimin told her not to worry about it, because it didn't matter. because jimin loved her.

"jimin wouldn't cheat on me."

"maybe she did, maybe she didn't," alex continued, watching as an exchange student from japan jumped into the pool head first. "but parties are her playground, and she doesn't stop at just one."

yena nodded, "she's like archie in riverdale."

alex turned to the older girl. "are you high?"

"yes."

"wh-" she should've stayed home and studied. "i'm going to strangle you."

y/n felt sick.

y/n turned around, leaving in a hurry to find the girl she was desperately avoiding since earlier. everything was wrong, and she needed wonyoung jimin. she needed her girlfriend.

"y/n!" yuri shouted, too tired to chase after her. she watched as the younger girl's figure disappeared into the crowd. "minju's gonna kill me."

"so," yena started, not caring that yuri's friend just had a massive breakdown in front of her. "wanna go somewhere private?"

yuri looked back at where y/n left, the sea of people erasing the girl's path without a trace.

minju was going to kill her, but she was going to kill herself for letting an opportunity like this pass.

"where the hell is aeri?"

there was something therapeutic about being high and drunk at the same time.

it had the same feeling of a midjump, where jimin's eyes were above the net, looking down at everyone who looked down on her.

she loved it.

"kazuha-ssi." jimin asked, downing another shot. "how long have you and yunjin been together?"

"huh?" kazuha was clearly drunk, her hand placed comfortably around jimin's waist. "a couple months."

jimin hummed, leaning in slightly so the younger girl could hear her better.

"do you love her?" jimin's hot breath grazed the hairs on kazuha's neck.

"i dunno." she didn't. "maybe."

"i see." jimin pulled back, assessing the disappointment that lingered in kazuha's eyes. the opposite hitter moved her hair out of her face. "you're really pretty, by the way."

"so are you."

jimin didn't need to be reminded.

"want some eddies?" she asked, her hand feeling lighter than usual.

"weed?" kazuha's dark eyes met jimin's. "i thought you weren't supposed to take them when you're drunk."

"it's fun when you're not supposed to do things but still do them." jimin said, her hand dangerously high to the ballerina's thigh. "right, kazuha-ssi?"

kazuha looked at her for a moment.

"where are they?"

and everything fell into place.

"let's go upstairs."

minjeong was a thousand percent high out of her mind.

she wasn't sure how much she had taken, but the way her head felt like it was going to explode was enough to say that it was too much. the colors around her seemed brighter, and she didn't know how long she had been lounging in the kitchen, but all she knew was people kept disappearing and appearing in front of her.

she didn't mind though, because jiwon was a talkative drunk, and everything that she was saying made minjeong want to pee her pants.

the girl looked at the five empty packets, wondering why they were all different colors and flavors.

"rei!" jiwon shook her, and it felt like she was getting time warped. "unnie, look it's rei!"

"yeah," minjeong couldn't stop smiling, despite seeing wonyoung. "i can see that."

"i was looking for you." rei frowned, earning a gag from yujin beside her. "it's been an hour."

"huh?" jiwon basically yelled, making minjeong giggle at her theatrics. "that's why my phone was dinging."

rei smiled. "are you drunk?"

"i think so?" jiwon grabbed minjeong by the arms, and the older girl felt them stop working. "minjeong-unnie, am i drunk?"

"yes." minjeong tried to nod, but it looked more like a bobble. "you are."

"where's y/n-unnie?" rei asked once more, wonyoung perking up despite minjeong's distaste.

"um, i dunno." jiwon shrugged. "she was with yuri-unnie and minju-unnie earlier i think."

minjeong leaned up, the weight of her head heavy on her neck.

her eyes made their way to the stairs, where she could see a faint smile on a familiar face, her hand wrapped around the waist of a stranger.

yoo jimin.

"oh." rei hummed. "so they're not here?"

"no."

"wonyoung!" minjeong could hear the taller girl getting called by yuna. still, she didn't take her eyes off jimin. "drink this, and let's go."

"i don't think-" wonyoung tried to protest, but yuna had already shoved the shot glass down her throat.

"drink."

wonyoung was dragged away, presumably to the front where a huge game of cham-cham-cham was happening.

"can you watch her?" minjeong looked at rei, yujin too distracted watching gaeul make out with girl #4 of the night to respond. "i need to see something."

"minju-unnie said to not leave me." jiwon frowned, her eyes wide like a cartoon character.

"then don't tell minju."

"okay."

wonyoung entered the bathroom, both pleased and surprised that there were neither people hooking up, nor a passed-out girl in the bathtub.

she just needed to stay here until yuna had gotten tired and found another person to harrass (most likely haewon, wherever that girl was).

she closed the toilet lid, sitting on it as she grabbed her phone. wonyoung had only been here for an hour and her feet were already killing her.

the door opened.

wonyoung yelped, the stranger covering her eyes. "sorry, i didn't know that-"

"y/n?"

y/n moved her hand out of her face.

"wonyoung?" y/n world slowed for a moment, and it was almost as if her guard broken down. she shook her head. "i can't deal with this right now. i have to find jimin."

"what?" that didn't sound right to wonyoung's ears. she stood up, pulling y/n into the washroom. "are you okay?"

"i-" y/n's face was flushed red, the hairs on the back of her neck clung to her like a koala on a tree. "where's jimin?"

"i don't know." wonyoung said slowly, ushering the girl to sit down on the closed toilet lid. "do you need water?"

"i need to find jimin."

"slow down." wonyoung guided the girl, her delusions pushed aside for a moment. "sit down. please."

"i can't." y/n shook her head, almost vomiting at how quick she did. "jimin-"

"can wait." wonyoung stated, grabbing her purse as she rummaged through it. "water? lipgloss? tissue?"

there was a moment of silence, and wonyoung was afraid she had hallucinated y/n to begin with.

"do you hold everything in your bag?"

"maybe." wonyoung smiled at the earnest chuckle y/n gave her. "so what would you like?"

"water."

wonyoung nodded, handing the girl a bottle of spring water that the volleyball player always had at least one of. y/n couldn't help but smile as the taller girl opened it for her.

wonyoung was the same, and she loved it.

she handed y/n the bottle, the older girl taking a sip before closing it. she could feel the heat from her cheeks emitting against the cold air of the newly renovated bathroom

"did you ever cheat on me?"

"what?" wonyoung's eyes buldged out almost comedically. "no, oh my god. i love you. why would i? did you think i did?"

wonyoung paused for a moment.

did she just...

"no." y/n shook her head, smiling at her in the way wonyoung remembered. "i don't think you did."

wonyoung hummed, pushing the shower curtain aside as she sat on the edge of the golden tub. "do you think jimin-sunbaenim did?"

y/n shrugged. "i don't know."

she didn't want to know, because she knew that deep down, she had hoped jimin did cheat on her.

sensing the uneasiness of the older girl, wonyoung scooted closer to her, the chattering of the other university kids muffled by the bathroom door.

it was almost surreal, if not for the scrubbing bubbles that aeri (or her many butlers and maids) had left on the counter.

"do you like the party?" wonyoung asked.

"huh?" y/n looked over to wonyoung, her eyes glossed over with thought, as if a sheen had covered its entirety. "i guess. it's loud, i'm drunk. you know."

"i do." wonyoung chuckled, her eyes falling down to y/n's hand. there was a slight fidgeting, but it was fading. wonyoung continued to talk. "have you tried yena-unnie's cotton candy shot yet?"

"no."

"it's good." wonyoung had been forced to drink it earlier that week, along with soy soju, apple cider rum and fish sauce vodka. "it tastes like that chocolate we had during first-year orientation."

"i remember!" y/n's eyes brightened in a way they hadn't before. "the one in front of the spanish club sign-up sheet."

wonyoung looked at y/n.

embarrassed, y/n began to fidget once more. "did i remember it wrong?"

"no." wonyoung shook her head. "i'm just wondering how you remembered it so clearly."

safe. y/n felt safe and warm.

the swarm of bees in her chest had morphed into butterflies, and everything felt like a 90s movie, just how she liked it.

just how wonyoung liked it.

"i miss you."

wonyoung stared at y/n.

"what?"

"y/n!" minjeong burst through the door, her eyes red and her stance wobbly. "wonyoung?"

wonyoung looked at the older girl, before minjeong grabbed y/n in a rush.

wonyoung followed them closely, not trusting the inebriated kim minjeong.

"minjeong-unnie?" y/n could feel her wrist starting to hurt. "where are we going?"

"somewhere." minjeong shoved past the swarm, earning curses and complains in her wake. behind her, wonyoung apologized as she continued to tail them.

minjeong turned around. "can you leave us alone?"

"no."

"fucking bitch." minjeong's grip tightened, making y/n wince slightly. "this isn't your business."

"you're high out of your mind right now." wonyoung countered, minjeong's eyes dilated beyond belief. "i don't trust you."

"very fucking original, wonyoung." minjeong laughed, her anger getting amplified by the substance inside her. "you want a medal? or are you gonna trade y/n for that too?"

"unnie."

minjeong turned around, yanking y/n upstairs faster than she could keep up. "let's go."

the older girl turned the first right at the top of the staircase, the lack of people making y/n feel unsettled. she shouldn't be here, this wasn't her house.

before she could protest, minjeong let go of her arm and gestured to the door.

"open this door." y/n could hear faint moaning inside. "open it."

"i don't know-"

"open the fucking door!" minjeong shouted, making y/n flinch into wonyoung.

wonyoung shoved minjeong slightly, but not hard enough to provoke the girl.

"watch what you're saying."

"oh suck me a dick, jang wonyoung." minjeong rolled her eyes.

minjeong hated how wonyoung was trying to play the hero in the story, as if she wasn't the cause of the entire ordeal.

not wanting to anger minjeong any further, y/n creaked the door open, the occupants too lost in their own world to notice a pair of eyes watching them.

y/n had felt this before, the day that wonyoung had left her.

"jimin?"

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

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[tommygrace]

Of the three brothers, Tommy and Arthur are the most affected by the war, than John, that we can see, because SK focused more on the two of them and not so much on John.

But we can also see the violence in him, how he enjoys cutting people's eyes, and he loves to fight. He has no problem cheating on Esme with other women, he doesn't feel guilty, and he started, along with Lizzie, the war with the Changrettas, precisely because of his ex. After the tragedy, he did not feel guilty, and instead of accompanying Tommy, what he did was provoke him.

Likewise, sometimes he had good intentions, and although the relationship with Esme could be a little toxic, I really liked them both.

Arthur is the most affected, of the three, by the violence that he carries inside, from killing the poor boy, and every time they fought, a wild animal that he carries inside would come out. One of the stories that I liked the most in the show was the one between Arthur and the boy's mother. It was shocking and we were able to see up close how the Shelbys affect people, forever, because that mother will never be able to get over losing her son and in that way.

Also the relationship with Linda, at the beginning, we see a woman with good intentions, a Catholic woman, who is sure that she will be able to heal Arthur, and get the violence out of him, by the end of the relationship, we see that it was Arthur the one who changed Linda, bringing her darkness to the surface. From a loving relationship, to a toxic relationship with physical and verbal violence. In the end Linda had no other solution than to point a gun at her husband, wishing for his death.

And then there's Tommy, the war continued on his mind, so much so that he could hear the shovels on the wall. He used the drug to silence his mind, but he still couldn't. A man who is not afraid of death, because he is already dead, and has no reason to live, lives because he doesn't care. Violent like his brothers.

Until he meets Grace, and she changed his life. I really like how Steven Knight and Cillian Murphy talk about Grace, saying that "she is Tommy's savior, even though he doesn't deserve it". "He felt like he was healing with her." Neither the drug nor the family, nor any other woman, could achieve, what she achieved, give him a little of the peace that Tommy had lost in that war. She silenced his demons, he didn't hear the shovels on the wall and he could finally sleep, if she was by his side.

I think she's the only one who reached that point, because neither Esme nor Linda managed to reach that high point with John and Arthur. Tommy did feel, for a short time, what it means to be a normal man again, what it means to have peace of mind.

But she died and so died his peace and the only humanity he had left. Her death was a trauma even greater than the war. Because where the shovels were on the wall, it was now replaced by the sound of Grace's last breath. And sometimes his hallucinations. And that's when we see how little by little he becomes more violent and more toxic.

He marries again, and his marriage is quite similar to that of Arthur and Linda.

Lizzie, like Linda, have the fantasy that they can change them, they believe they are saviors, but it is a fantasy, it is a lie, that they tell themselves, in order to stay in that marriage and for it to make sense. At the end of both marriages, it was them, Tommy and Arthur, who changed them, bringing the darkness they always carried inside to the surface. .The two, at some point in their marriage, ended up pointing a gun at their husbands. That's how dark and toxic the two marriages became.

I believe that we can see the traumas of the three brothers through their marriages. And I think that for Tommy, the death of Grace, and for Arthur, the death of John, were the traumas that led them to increase and worsen the first one, the war.

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

The recent influx of “Jason is obviously a bad person. Look at how many people he’s killed” posts is 2x more idiotic because it runs on the same premise as “Jason is a cop symbol”. There’s an infinitely more famous example right next to him that people ignore entirely.

In the real world killing people is a felony, just as vigilantism as a whole is too. The same way Batman is a fictional character in a fake world, Jason is not part of the real world either. I think if you’re above age 10 you should’ve moved past the stage of trying to point fingers to try to determine a right vs wrong way to do illegal vigilantism in a world like the dcu while pretending it’s a perfect model of a real society lol.

Batman enjoys maiming and crippling people (bad things). Why is he working with cops and throwing drug addicts into prison after beating the tar out of them (bad things). It’s proven in the real world that that does not do anything to rehabilitate them and in fact costs the government billions of dollars and actually worsens the war on drugs (higher mortality & crime rates, and increased spread of infectious diseases). Yet since the authors constantly spoon feed you lines about how heroic he is people just eat that shit up, disregarding the fact that it might be utter horseshit irl and his morals wouldn’t make much sense either.

If ‘character doing bad thing’ is synonymous with ‘character can’t possibly be a good person’, then that should negate the idea that Batman’s biggest trait is compassion (although I think it already does for other in-story reasons lol, re: he tends to be classist and discriminatory towards people who commit petty crimes, calling them degrading names like “trash” and “bottom-feeders”. No amount of donating to charity makes you a good person if at your core you see poor/homeless people as lesser and you get a kick out of mocking them).

There’s far more evidence of Jason possessing all the good traits the authors keep begging you to believe Batman has. He patiently fed and cared for his dying mother all alone as a small baby/child. He literally fed groups of homeless people like a mother hen everyday while he himself was homeless, brain dead, and running on basic survival instincts. After finally regaining higher functioning in his brain and discovering the joker was still alive, one of the first things he cried about was the countless number of other innocent people dead at the hands of his own killer. If the only justification you have for why Jason’s a bad person is that he kills, that’s a weak and baseless argument for obvious reasons.

[catdotjpeg]

LOOK: Multisectoral groups marched along Commonwealth Avenue earlier today as President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. delivered his third State of the Nation Address (SONA) at the Batasang Pambansa to assail his failed promise of a Bagong Pilipinas [trans. New Philippines]. For the groups, Marcos’s Bagong Pilipinas is a grand sham. Amid promises of better living conditions, 46 percent of Filipinos rated their families as food poor—the highest since 2008—according to the latest survey of Social Weather Stations. “[H]inaharap [ng ating mga kababayan] ang realidad na mataas ang presyo ng mga bilihin, lalo na ng pagkain—lalo’t higit, ng bigas,” said Marcos in his speech earlier, affirming bleak realities on the ground. On top of a cost of living crisis are poverty wages that fail to meet the family living wage of P1,190, as estimated by economic think tank IBON Foundation, the P35 wage hike in the National Capital Region (NCR) enacted last week was dismissed as an “insult to minimum wage workers” by Leticia Castillo of human rights alliance Defend NCR. Such wage hike is far from the P150 raise being lobbied in Congress by labor groups under the National Wage Coalition. Castillo also decried the persistence of red-tagging and vilification of activists perpetrated by the National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict. From July 2022 to June 2024, 3,419,044 cases of threat, harassment, and intimidation were recorded by human rights group Karapatan. The number of political prisoners also climbed to 755 as of last month. These human rights violations run contrary to Marcos’s establishment of a Special Committee on Human Rights, which was labeled “toothless” by Human Rights Watch. Marcos’s claim of a bloodless drug war is also inconsistent with the 359 drug-related killings—34.3 percent of which were committed by state agents—recorded during his second year in office by research project Dahas. Moreover, despite claims of an independent foreign policy, the Philippines under Marcos remains dependent on the US and its unequal treaties, said Liza Maza of MAKABAYAN. Last year, Marcos announced the creation of four new US military bases in the country under the Enhanced Defense Cooperation Agreement with the US. Such treaties with the US have been criticized for intensifying tensions with China and the broader Indo-Pacific region. Clarice Palce of Gabriela and Ronnel Arambulo of Pamalakaya raised their worries of the Philippines being dragged into a stand off between two global superpowers which will only worsen the poor living conditions of Filipinos. The program ended with a symbolic destruction of the effigies of Marcos and Vice President Sara Duterte. The broken UniTeam will be challenged by the Makabayan Coalition which will field a complete senatorial slate including ACT Teachers Party-list Representative France Castro and Gabriela Women’s Party Representative Arlene Brosas in the 2025 midterm elections. Photos by AJ Dela Cruz, Marcus Azcarraga, Audrey Sanchez, and Sarah Gates

-- Philippine Collegian, 22 Jul 2024 9:45pm PHT

[xmalereader]

Miles Miller X Vampire! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors note: Finally! Posting again 😭 been so busy and I’ve been full of inspiration to write for many characters but gotta take my time, anyone this shot is semi related to the plot of Bad Times At El Royal. I recommend watching it, a little slow but huge twists here and there and wanted to change some thing up to make it interesting so enjoy!

Summary: Miles works at the hotel El Royale after the war in Vietnam. He’s finding a way to cope through the trauma so what better way then to bury yourself in work? Let alone in a hotel full of vampires and with him being the only human.

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of blood, slight angst, PTSD, mentions of Vietnam war, 1960’s, Vampire reader, Vampire OCs, hotel clerk, Miles is Shy and submissive, hints of possessiveness, reader is the boss, slight NSFW 18 +, mentions of biting, masturbation, pet names.

Word count: 2.5K

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Miles can see the snow sticking from outside the hotel window. He’s been working at the Hotel Royale for two years now and he’s grown used to the weather change, knowing that the winter season is the most popular for customers to rent out rooms in order to give themselves the chance to ski on the storm dies down.

He also knows that he’s to expect some important guests that he’s been taking care of during his time at the hotel. For years, Miles has been look for a distraction from his time serving in the Vietnam War, after he return back home he turned to drugs and alcohol like many others soldiers who returned.

It was the only way to keep himself grounded, but after some time the drugs only affected him more and worsened the situation and instead turned to keeping himself busy with work. Miles was lucky enough to get hired at the El Royal hotel.

A hotel set between the borders of Nevada and California a very popular location for many guests visiting and looking for a place to stay. The first time he arrived the hotel was low staffed, not many stayed for long and Miles ended up handling many different positions.

He worked the front counter, did the cooking, cleaning, made sure that everything was ready for the next customer. It wasn’t until the hotel was purchased by a man he didn’t know much about.

All he knew is that the hotel was purchased and under new management.

Miles expected himself to get fired or let go due times management but instead was allowed to keep his job. Many others were let go or replaced with new people. It reached a point where Miles was the only staff member who didn’t get fired and was allowed to stay.

He didn’t know why the new management wanted him, he never asked and instead did his job. He made sure guests paid or their stay and signed the ledger.

It wasn’t until a year later that Miles found out the truth about the new management.

—

Miles had finished checking in a new couple who were staying in a room in Nevada, providing them there key and letting them know about there breakfast hours.

His soft smile soon faltered when the double doors up front are pushed open, revealing a women wearing a long black coat and a large hat that covered her face, but enough to see her smirk as she approached the front desk where Miles stood.

Miles swallows nervously. “Veronica.” He says softly towards the women in a soft greeting as she removes her hat and sets it aside, both hands on the counter as she leans forward.

“Miles, the usual please.”

Miles gives a hesitant nod. He’s worked with the women for months now and should be used to her presence but each time she made an appearance he always found her intimidating. Holding out the ledger he provides her the key to her room.

“Room 6 in California.” He says as Veronica pays him the twenty dollars, enough for an entire week.

Miles watched as she signs her name on the ledger, setting the pen down and taking the key from the counter and giving him a sweet smile. “Miles, I’d appreciate if you could bring me a drink to my room.”

“Of course,” He nods his head, giving off a bashful smile before watching her leave, her long coat swaying as she makes her way outside.

Miles gives himself a few minutes to collect himself before letting out a deep sigh. Veronica stayed at the hotel during the winter due to her work in fashion. Miles knew very little about her but knew that she was famous in the fashion industry and there were times where they only spoke a few times, slowly becoming a regular at the hotel to the point where she speaks to him like a friend, even though he still fears her.

Before he could close the ledger the front door is pushed open causing him to look up to see another one of his regulars.

“Sophia.” He gives the dark skinned women a smile, getting the women’s attention as she approached him with a smile on her face. “Miles! It’s been so long.” She says with a kind voice.

Sophia cups Miles cheeks and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead in greeting before letting go. “My, look at you.” She coos at him, her long slender fingers fixing his curls as he blushes softly at her actions.

“Have you been sleeping?” She questions, noticing the bags under his eyes as Miles chuckled softly. “Winter season keeps me busy, ma’am.” His soft accent showing.

Sophia’s smile slips away into a frown. “That’s not very good, I’ll talk to Y/n about it and make sure he finds an extra counter boy—“

“No! I—that won’t be necessary. You know that Mr. Y/n only trusts me with our guests and with regulars too.” His voice shows a hint of determination. His boss, Y/n, who he’s only met once had placed his trust on Miles to take care of the hotel. He couldn’t lose the man’s trust after working hard on keeping things well hidden.

The women before him sighs deeply, getting his attention before nodding. “Very well, if it gets bad you tell me.” She reminds him before signing her name on the ledger and handing him a twenty.

“The usual?” Miles questions, earning a sly grin from the women. “You know me.”

Miles blushes softly, heading towards the cabinet to collect the room key and handing it over to her.

“Room 8, Nevada.”

Sophia takes the key from his hand. “Thank you, darling.” She gives him a wink before walking away she turns back to Miles. “Oh! I forgot to mention, Y/n should be arriving soon and he’s not in a good mood.”

Her last words cause Miles to freeze in panic. “You know what to do, it’s that time of the year.” She reminds Miles, giving him one last wink and leaving to her own room.

Miles appreciated Sophia’s heads up, he’s known her the longest before Veronica. She was the first women to ever be kind to him, always showing her worry towards him and making sure that he’s healthy. Sophia was an actress, her beauty and her way with words swoon the crowd. Every time she entered a room all eyes were on her and she knew it.

After she lets him know about Y/n coming he’s quick to clean up, locking the cabinet and putting away the ledger along with cleaning the counter. Even though he’s been working here for two years he likes to stick to his schedule and tasks in order to keep his boss satisfied.

When he first met Y/n he felt fear for the first time in years. The man always wore a stoic expression, wearing a fancy suit and only talking when someone was asking him a question, he was never one to start conversation from what Sophia has told him, but each time him and Miles meet it’s like his boss has changed.

The stoic act changes the minute he steps through those double doors. Miles didn’t know much about Y/n, only that he bought the hotel and that he was using it for special occasions, usually during the winter which is why Miles was always nervous when the season approached.

The young man moves around the lobby quickly, making sure that everything is cleaned and cursed under his breath when he remembers Veronica’s request for a drink. There regular cook wasn’t in today and won’t be in until tomorrow, giving him the chance to enter the kitchen and towards there large fridge where there regular guests food is stored.

Upon opening the fridge he’s met with a shelf full of blood bags, gently reading the labels and making sure that he provides Veronica the one she enjoyed the most before taking it into his hand and grabbing a wine glass on his way out. He makes it to Veronica’s room, giving the door a soft knock before she’s yanking the door open.

“The usual?” She questions, stepping aside to let Miles enter the room.

“Fresh, just how you like it.” He answers, setting the glass down and pouring the blood into the glass. The first time Miles did this he wanted to vomit but after some time he grew used to it.

Once the blood bag is empty he sets her glass next to the bedside table and sets a napkin next to it.

Veronica sits on her bed and smiles. “Thank you, pretty boy.” She takes the glass between her fingers and inhaled the scent, exhaling in satisfaction while Miles shuffled in place nervously.

“Enjoy, if you need anything else I’ll be at the lobby.” He gives the women a nod and heads out of the room before she decides to keep him busy with her work stories, pouring her stress onto him, which he did not have the time for.

Miles moved onto his next task, keeping the human guests from leaving there bedrooms. The winter season was his busiest, not with humans but with Vampires.

The hotel was used during the winter by various vampires who came to relax and enjoy a drink or two without having the human race exposing them to the world. The hotel wasn’t just used for Vampires but humans too, which Miles handled.

His boss, Y/n, purchased the hotel as a safe heaven for both vampires and humans. He knew that humans could easily find out about them if see drinking blood during dinner or small parties that were hosted. Y/n wanted to keep the peace with humans and tasked Miles to make sure that they are to keep there guests indoors and away from the lobby.

So, every winter Miles would enter the back room where he has access to walking behind the walls of each hotel room where he switched on a sleeping gas that released into the guests bedroom at a certain hour. The gas kept their human guests asleep for the rest of the night while their real guests enjoyed their night.

Miles wasn’t proud of his work, but it was the only way of keeping them safe from the hands of vampires.

Y/n was strict towards his rules; if any Vampire laid hands on a human guest he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. Miles hasn’t seen that happen, yet and hopes that it never does.

Miles is busy cleaning the bar that the sound of slamming doors startled the poor man, eyes wide as he watched Y/n step inside the hotel lobby with a glare on his face. He knew that the man wasn’t in a good mood.

He’s quick to abandon his work and make his way over to Y/n.

“Uh…Mr. Y/n, sir?”

His voice gets the man’s attention, his glare directed towards Miles until it slowly softens. “Miles.” Y/n breaths out, earning a small smile from the clerk boy.

“Sir, Sophia told me that you weren’t doing well. Would you like me to get your room ready and perhaps something to drink?” Miles offers.

Y/n sighs deeply, removing his coat and hanging it on the coat rack near the entrance. “Please, make sure that extra pillows are provided.” He adds on while Miles nods at his words. “Anything planned tonight? Would you like me to prepare anything else?”

“Not tonight,” Y/n lets Miles know as he walked around the lobby with Miles following behind him. “No special occasion?” The clerk boy wonders with a raised brow.

“Not this year, I’m not in the mood to deal with some old friends.” He grumbled out, too upset to even talk about it. “Are Sophia and Veronica here?” He suddenly asks, getting Miles attention.

“Yes, sir. Veronica is staying in California and Sophia is in Nevada. Would you like me to get them?”

Y/n sighs. “No, I can deal with the two for now.” He makes his way to the bar, finding an empty seat and slumping down while Miles makes his way around the counter and sets a glass out to serve Y/n a drink, blood bag in hand as he pours it into the glass.

“Anything else you’d wish from me tonight? I’ll make sure to provide you those extra pillows you requested.”

Y/n takes his glass in hand and drinks it down, blood dripping past his lips and chin when he’s finished, using his own hand to wipe away the blood that smears his chin. Miles can’t help but stare at the man before him, watching him closely before clearing his own throat.

“I’ll go ahead and make sure that your room is ready.” He stammers out, lowering his head and making his way towards Y/n’s suite. The room is always cleaned after everyone leaves but Y/n’s room was personal and only Miles had gained the privilege to enter without any trouble. Y/n trusted Miles with his personal space that the young man only cleaned areas that needed to be cleaned while the rest he left in its same place.

Miles made sure that he brought extra pillows for Y/n, making the bed and setting the pillows in a way that look comfortable. Miles doesn’t notice Y/n standing behind him, watching everything from the doorway as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as his own eyes roamed up and down Miles body.

The amount of times that Y/n wanted to pin the man down and have a taste of his blood, he could hear his heart beat from miles and knew how fast it increased the minute he made an appearance. The times that Miles would whimper from nightmares in his one room when he was alone.

Y/n had wanted to pull the man close and reassure him that he was safe that he could keep him safe that he could give him what he wanted to please him to pleasure him.

The Vampire growls at his thoughts, avoiding them as much as possible. He couldn’t do anything that’ll frighten Miles even more, poor kid was still getting used to the fact that he was working in a hotel full of Vampires that lusted for blood.

“All done.”

Miles voice brings Y/n back to reality, looking up to stare at the man before him, shifting his eyes towards the made bed and smiling softly.

“Thank you Miles.” He steps inside the room and approached his own bed, sitting on the edge and working on removing his tie. His sudden actions gets Miles flustered as he stutters out.

“I will attend to the others, please get some rest and if anything is needed—“

“I’ll make sure to call for you.” Y/n finished for Miles who smiled at his words.

“Uh—have a good night.” With that Miles closed the door behind him, leaning Y/n at his own devices while the older Vampire huffs out a chuckle at the sound of Miles heart beat increasing from the other side of the door.

[tightjeansjavi]

Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Boston QZ: Part 14

“Chest infect me, waste my days”

Joel Miller x f!o/c

A/N: well, here we are! I made it (fucking finally) this chapter turned out to be a LONG one. Second longest one I have written, thus far!

Summary: After finding out Robert sold the battery you and Joel needed for a truck to find Tommy, you hunt him down. The day takes an interesting turn when you, Joel, and Tess run into a spitfire teenager, named Ellie.

~word count: 8.5k~

Warnings: implied age gap, established relationship, angst, more angst and oh, even more angst! canon typical violence, triggering themes, may be disturbing for some viewers, physical violence, being held captive, death of a minor character, trauma, PTSD, depression, brief suicidal thoughts, mentions of drinking, drug use, explosions, depictions of graphic wounds, swearing, anger, rage, arguing, cluster fuck of emotions, (+18) minors dni !

Songs for this chapter :

“Hourglass” by Catfish and the Bottlemen

“I’m a Mess” by Ed Sheeran

“Pirate Song” by Mehro

“Disarm” by The Civil Wars

“Blood In The Cut” by K. Flay

Summer, 2023 : Boston QZ

Believing that Robert was just going to hand you, and Joel, the car battery you so desperately needed, without spilling a little bit of your blood, was truly laughable.

This was by far the stupidest thing you agreed to thus far. You didn’t have much of a choice as Joel’s nightmares, overall mood, and attitude were worsening. Why he also decided to trust Robert's word, was beyond you.

It came as no surprise when you found yourself being jumped by two of Robert’s goons in broad fucking daylight. This was definitely not the way you wanted to start your morning off. The only positive? Perhaps you would soon find yourself getting some decent fucking sleep again.

One blow to the head was enough to knock you out cold. You were awoken by someone snapping their fingers in your face. Your head painfully throbbed and you could taste copper on your tongue from your split upper lip. So, Roberts goons had roughed you up a bit. You couldn’t really blame them for it, considering you and Joel had killed their friends.

“Ah, there she is. There’s the pretty little bitch.”

Robert. Of fucking course.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you lolled your head to the side, refusing to look at him for a moment. You took a deep inhale, then exhaled as you turned your head, looking him dead on with a smirk plastered on your lips.

“Took you fuckin long enough to come after me. Pretty predictable of you. So, what’s gonna happen next? You gonna kill me? You’d be doing me a solid favor if you did honestly. Haven’t had a solid night of decent fucking sleep in months.”

“You think this is funny, sweetheart?” Robert was not expecting you to laugh, let alone suggest that he kill you.

“Oh, I find this to be fucking hilarious. You wanna know why?” You leaned forward in the chair, as you spoke, “doesn’t matter what you do to me. Beat me up, torture me, kill me. Do your fucking worst. I just know you’re a dead man regardless. Cause as soon as Joel finds me? He’s gonna know exactly who to go after. It’s gonna be you Robert. So again, go ahead. Take your revenge on me. I know how fucking badly you want to.”

Robert had leaned down to your level, gripping your chin tightly between his grimy fingers. “Is that a threat, my dear Gwen?”

You laughed, spitting a mixture of saliva and congealed blood on the bastard's face. “How the fuck can it be a threat when it’s a known fact that you’re a dead man Robert. You and I both know Joel well enough that he’s not going to take this lightly.”

Robert had released his grip on your chin, using that hand to wipe the blood and saliva from his face. You didn’t even get a chance to open your mouth to speak before his fist collided with your face, your nose made a sickening crunching sound as the soft bone tissues were broken.

Ouch.

There was fresh blood leaking down your nose, over your lips, chin and neck, staining your shirt crimson. Robert’s face was slightly horrified when you laughed again.

“Damn. That must have really fucking felt good, huh? You gonna do it again? C’mon, is that all you really got?”

He couldn’t get under your skin if he even tried. You had absolutely zero fucks left to give and frankly, the soothing sensation of blood leaking out of your body, felt pretty nice. You were eerily calm.

“I meant what I said y’know. You’re crazier than him.”

“Oh please, tell me something I don’t already know.”

He chuckled taking a step back as he admired his ‘handy work.’

“I’m feeling generous today sweetheart. Consider us even. You had to already know that I wasn’t going to give you the battery, right?”

“Oh I’m fully fucking aware that you weren’t going to give me the damn battery. Joel insisted, and I trusted his word. I deserved to get my blood spilled a bit. Although, I’m thinking maybe I went too easy on you. Maybe I should have twisted the knife a little fuckin deeper—“

He backhanded your face then. The motion nearly gave you whiplash as your head twisted to the side.

“Did Joel ever fuckin tell you that mouth of yours is gonna get you killed one day sweetheart?”

You turned your head, looking right at him once more with a smirk.

“Oh, he’s told me about 1000 times already, Robert. You aren’t special.”

Robert had brushed his grimy thumb against your cheek and you grimaced, fighting the urge to bite his fucking thumb off right then and there.

“What’s gotten your panties in such a twist, sweetheart? Miller not giving it to you the way that he should be?”

What was it with men assuming that women were pissed off just because they weren’t getting “fucked” the way that they deserved. Why did it always come down to sex? Maybe you were fucking pissed because your ass got jumped by these goons, and your nose was fucking broken as a result.

Fucking grimy ass excuses for men, always thinking with their dicks.

“He’s giving it to me just fine. Thank you so much for being concerned about my sex life Robert. You’d never get the fucking chance. I’d bite your dick off in a heartbeat.”

Robert let out a soft sigh as he snapped his fingers once and the two guys that roughed you up in the beginning, released the restraints from around your wrists.

“I know you’re his killing machine, dearest but you could also become mine. The offer still stands.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken, Robert. I’m my own killing machine, and right now? I’m done with your shit, and I would very much like to go home and drink till my face stops fucking hurting. So are we done here? I’ll tell Joel some idiotic teenagers jumped me and roughed me up. Your name will not leave my mouth, I assure you.”

“I’m choosing to trust you, just this one time sweetheart. You go on and run along back to Joel now.”

Just as your wrists were finally free, you heard a collective yell, followed by a loud explosion. You were sent tumbling to the ground, your ears ringing and there was a good chance you had a concussion from the impact. You could feel warm blood dripping down the new gash on your forehead.

Fucking awesome.

You struggled to pull yourself up from the concrete, grabbing ahold of what was left of the wall closest to you for support.

Both of Robert's goons were dead on the floor beside your feet but Robert? He was gone. Motherfucker always had his ways of escaping death. He was like a fucking cockroach. Cut its head off, and the body still moves.

You stumbled outside, the sunlight blinding your vision as your ears continued to ring. Your head throbbed painfully but you were still sharp enough to hear gunshots whizzing past you.

“Free Boston now, mother fucker!” A firefly had yelled. Of course this was another firefly attack.

All citizens must clear the surrounding area immediately. Do not return until FEDRA authorities permit.

When you saw FEDRA soldiers marching up the street, guns drawn, you backed up slowly, with your hands above your head.

“On your knees!” One of the soldiers had demanded

You said you weren’t a firefly, but they didn’t believe you.

You were shoved down to your knees and then it was lights out for the second time that day. Hey, at least you were finally going to get some decent fucking sleep.

Ellie Williams was like most typical teenagers. She had a bit of an attitude problem, she had gotten into fights, she was defiant, had a mouth to her. Ellie was also a devout friend, and she loved hard. What made Ellie unique, and valuable, was something that she viewed as a burden. Ellie was immune.

If she was so fucking valuable, then why the hell did Marlene have her chained up like this?

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

“Eight”

“Fuck…you.” The teenager spoke with a bored, and annoyed expression on her face. She raised her middle finger up at the medic, who didn’t even look amused by Ellie’s actions.

“Hold out your hand—”

Ellie already had her hand raised.

“State your name, slowly and clearly.”

“Veronica.” Ellie deadpanned.

“Same as yesterday..and the day before and the fucking day before that..I think you get the picture.”

“People are going to come looking for me.”

“People from FEDRA! You hear me?”

“Let me out or you’re gonna pay motherfucker!”

“I’m not supposed to be here!” She yelled.

The medic had already left and the door was slammed shut as Ellie sank down to the ground, in frustration.

On the wall across from her, written in red paint (or even possibly blood) were the words, “When you’re lost in the darkness”

It was late in the evening, sometime after curfew when you were thrown out of lockup.

Your body hit the concrete with a harsh thud as you rolled onto your side, letting out a groan of pain.

You waited until the FEDRA fucks had pulled the steel door shut before you slowly pulled yourself up onto your knees, leaning over, with a mix of blood, sweat, and dirt covering your body. Your eyes were squeezed shut as the dull throbbing in your head began to intensify.

For a split moment in your agony, you thought about how nice it would be to go home, go to sleep, and never wake up again. It flashed through your mind before your heart reminded you that it wasn’t your time yet. You couldn’t leave Joel. You couldn’t do that to him. He was far too entangled in your soul. The thought of leaving him in this cruel, godforsaken, shit fucking excuse of a world, sent a wave of pain right through your heart.

You would not be dying today.

The walk back to yours and Joel’s apartment felt like it took days. By the time you reached the stairs, you were winded and seeing stars behind your eyes.

All you hoped is that Joel was asleep already. You were too wounded, too exhausted to deal with his impending interrogation. All you wanted to do was have a few drinks, and knock out.

When you quietly unlocked the door, you were met with silence, sans the static of the radio by the window. You let out a sigh of relief, your shoulders drooping in as you stumbled inside.

Joel must have only gotten home a little before you did because there on the table was a bottle of whiskey, with your name on it.

Sweet-sweet relief.

You sunk down into the chair, letting your head rest back against the worn wood. The blood from the gash on your forehead had stopped bleeding hours ago. It was crusted over, the blood congealed but it was still painful to the touch.

You wasted no time to snatch the bottle up and take a deep, long swig of the amber liquor. It burned down your throat deliciously.

You took a few more swigs, hoping that the liquor would ease your worries, and lull you to sleep.

You set the bottle back down along the table, and that’s when you noticed the residual powder from the pills that Joel would smuggle in for ration cards. You dragged your finger through what was left, observing it before you let out a deep sigh.

The tears came shortly after. They raked through your body, sending chills and shivers down your spine as you silently wept. Your tears were heavy and flowed down your cheeks like a babbling stream. Your breaths came out shallow, jagged, and you tried desperately to regain your composure.

You wept for Joel.

When your tears finally did cease, you dragged yourself up from the chair and padded down the hall to yours and Joel’s bedroom.

That’s where you found your lover, laid on his side, his back facing the door. His arms were crossed over his chest, almost as if he was hugging himself, in place of your warm, familiar body. He often would sleep with his body facing the door, with his good ear uncovered. You knew it was a particularly bad day when his back was facing the door, as if he didn’t care who the fuck would come into his space.

Your movements were silent as you sank down onto the old mattress, careful to not disturb him in his slumber. You brought your arms around his middle, gently coaxing his back against your chest. You knew your wounds needed cleaning but at that moment, you didn’t care. You just wanted to hold him.

Your face comfortably rested along the crook of his neck, breathing in his natural musk. A mix of pine, gunpowder, and whiskey. You felt him stir at the slightest when your arms had so gently wrapped around him.

“Baby?..” he whispered, eyes still closed as he brought his hands around yours, interlocking your fingers over his tummy, as he let out a long, peaceful, exhale.

“Shh..” you softly cooed. “It’s just me. Go back to sleep lover. You’re safe.”

He let out a low hum, drowsily bringing one of your interlocked hands up to his lips, brushing them over the outside of your hand, and against your knuckles before his body relaxed again.

You awoke sometime in the middle of the night to a presence looming over your face. You knew it was your Joel by the way he was ever so tenderly holding your face between his calloused hands. His thumbs were lightly brushing against your cheeks. They were splattered with dry blood and grime. Your eyes were still closed, but you could picture the furrow of his brows, and his clenched jaw in your mind. His thumb had softly brushed against the dried blood against your hairline, eliciting a wince from you.

He was furious. You could sense it coursing through his entire being as he carefully assessed the damage inflicted on your beautiful face. You were hurt; someone was going to pay for it.

When his thumb brushed across the scabbed skin of your split upper lip, your eyelashes slowly fluttered open.

“Who did this to you?” He spoke above a whisper. There was a slight strain to his voice as you looked up into his deep brown eyes.

“Joel—”

He spoke firmer this time. There was no way in hell that he was going to let you dance around this.

“Who.Did.This.To.You.” He asked with a low growl emitting from his chest as he spoke every syllable.

“Robert.”

There was a moment of silence between you, you could feel his warm breath fanning your face, his eyes locked on yours. His features hardened. You could only imagine the millions of ways Joel was thinking of killing Robert in those moments.

“Did he—did try and?” Joel couldn’t even form the complete sentence and by the way his face constricted, you knew he was seeing red. If Robert ever— you remembered the unpleasant chill that slipped down your spine when Robert had brushed his grimy thumb across your cheekbone.

“No, baby. He didn’t. I promise.” You reassured him.

You could see a brief moment of a relief wash over your man’s beautiful, weathered features. It was gone as quickly as it came. Hidden from your view and replaced with hardness once more.

“I’m so sorry Gwen. I should have been there. Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Thought maybe the fucker was scared into intimidation. Thought it would be safe. My sweet girl, I’m so sorry.”

You let out a deep sigh as your eyes fluttered shut once more. You were exhausted, physically, and mentally.

“It’s not your fault Joel. I should have been more cautious. Two of his guys knocked me out in broad daylight. I wasn’t watching my back and that’s all on me.”

“No. It’s not your fault. I insisted that we trust him and that he’d give us the battery. I got you fuckin’ hurt dammit. Don’t start this shit with me okay? You coulda been fuckin’ dead in alley. He could have—” He insisted.

“Joel, please. I don’t want to argue. I’m tired and I got thrown in fucking lock up for the rest of the day. This was a collective fuck up on both our parts. I’m not going to let you take all the fucking blame. I won’t allow you to do that to yourself.”

“You got fuckin’ thrown in lockup?! For what?” He harshly spoke.

“Another firefly attack. Bombed the building next to us. FEDRA had me down on my knees and I insisted I wasn’t a firefly, but they didn’t believe me.”

He shook his head, grinding his teeth together as he thought about the hell you had just gone through.

“I don’t care what you say, Alright? I should have been there as your backup. Was fuckin’ stupid of me to let you go in alone. Shoulda known that you were goin’ to get set up.”

“Joel. It literally doesn’t fucking matter right now, alright? I got my shit handed to me and I made it out alive. Can’t you just for once focus on that? You can’t always be the hero there to save me every fucking time I’m in trouble—”

“Like hell I can’t.” He spat.

“You could have fuckin’ died. I ain’t about to brush over that fact. This happened because I’ve been blinded by the fact that my brother could be dead out there. Fuckin’ careless of me.”

You let out a deep sigh as you slowly sat up so you were more level with him. Your hands were gently holding his face now as you tried to bring him back down to earth. He was fuming. His chest was rising at a fast rate, his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated.

“Joel, listen to me alright? I’m right here. I am alive. I am breathing. I’m injured, sure but c’mon, you and I both know I wouldn’t go down without putting up a fight.”

Joel took a deep inhale through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment as he relished in the softness of your hands holding his face. No amount of your softness could keep his anger at bay. It was there, it was simmering, and it wasn’t about to go away.

“Do you have any fuckin’ idea what I was put through when you nearly died on me the first time? Do you have any idea what I felt, sweet girl? I don’t care that you made it out alive. You could have fuckin’ died and I wouldn’t have even known! I would have found you in a ditch or a fuckin’ alley—” his voice broke as his tears began to freely fall.

Fuck.

“Joel, stop it. Please stop! Listen to me. Please just listen to me. Listen to my voice. Do not allow yourself to go to that place, okay? For fuck sakes, baby. I’m right here. I am holding your fucking face in my hands. I’m breathing, see? Do you want to feel my heartbeat?” You pleaded with him, grabbing his hand and placing it against your chest, where he could feel the steady thrum of your heart beat under his palm.

“You don’t fuckin’ understand. You’re alive, you're breathing. You’re here right in front of me. You’re right here, but how do you expect me to just fuckin’ act like there wasn’t a possibility that you coulda been dead? That possibility is always fuckin’ there and I can’t—I can’t lose you.” He admitted.

“Joel, do you hear that? It’s my fucking heartbeat. It’s my blood pumping, my lungs producing oxygen. Please, I’m begging you to just focus on that. Can you just try, for a moment?”

“I understand that there’s always going to be the possibility that you could lose me, I get it baby. It’s scary. I get afraid of the possibility of losing you too, every goddamn day. I try my best to not let it consume me. Sometimes the thoughts win, sometimes they don’t. I don’t focus on the times that they win, I focus on the times that I persevere.”

Joel let your words sink into his core, to his very soul. He knew he was getting himself worked up. Instead of minimizing his fears, you helped him work through them. He didn’t realize that you shared the same fears as he did. The fear of losing each other.

“I’m sorry.” He finally spoke, letting his head hang between your hands.

“Joel, you have nothing to be sorry for, okay? Please, baby. Look at me. I know you were scared. Hell, I was too, okay? I—almost thought of what it would be like if I had fucking died today. Whether it would be from the injuries I sustained from Robert or Fedra knocking me around a bit. When they threw me out onto the concrete and I was just laying there? The thought crossed my mind.”

Joel was silent as he slowly lifted his head to look back up at you, he spotted your fresh tears and then his arms were around you, pulling you into his broad chest as your legs found their home around his hips.

“No, my sweet girl. Please tell me this isn’t true. You didn’t have those thoughts. You were just..you were in pain and confused. Maybe the heat came into play? You weren’t thinking clearly, that’s all.” He tried to convince himself.

He was clutching you so tightly to his chest, you felt like you almost couldn’t breathe. He was afraid that if he let you go, you’d turn to dust before his very eyes.

“I’m sorry. I wish it weren’t true. It was a moment that briefly washed over me as I laid there. I thought of you Joel. I thought about how I couldn’t leave you like that. I wouldn’t. This is why I understand you, okay? I have my own set of fears, just like you. The only thing we can do is try and not let them win. We’re survivors, remember?”

His fingers were under your torn shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin against the pads of his fingers, his hands splayed out across your lower back, feeling you naturally lean into his touch.

You had managed to sneak your hands back up to his face, letting your fingers stroke his coarse, wiry beard.

He spoke finally.

“I got you, you got me, always.”

“You got me, I got you, always.” You repeated it back, pressing a soft kiss to his jawline as he held you.

“I take it, he sold the battery as well? Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have trusted that bastard.”

“He did. I also gave him my word that I wouldn’t tell you this was his doing. Told him that I’d tell you some teenagers roughed me up.” I also promised Robert you wouldn’t hurt him, but I would very much like for you to hurt him.”

Joel scoffed under his breath at Robert’s stupidity. “He actually fuckin’ believed you? I'm gonna do more than just hurt him, baby. I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him. He’s gonna answer to me for what he’s done to you.”

“I know you will Joel.”

“What the hell are we gonna do about the battery? We need it for the fuckin’ truck. It’s the only way we’re gonna get to Tommy at this rate.”

“We’re gonna get the battery back before you kill him. We’ll figure out who he sold it to. Then we’re gonna track this motherfucker down, get our battery, and our truck, and then we’ll go find Tommy. Alright?”

“Alright.” He agreed.

Joel did not allow sleep to welcome you with open arms, till he had helped you out of your tattered clothing, bathed you under the gentle stream of the shower, and tended to your wounds. You nearly dozed off in his arms as he held you in the shower. He had to coax you awake with soft touches, squeezes and feather light kisses to your cheeks.

“C’mon, sweet girl. Keep those eyes open for me. I’m almost done honey, and then you can rest, okay? He whispered against your damp hair as he washed the blood and grime from your skin.

He helped you out of the shower, wrapping you up in a towel before he had you sit on the edge of the sink, while he comfortably stood between your thighs, tending to each one of your wounds. He had the first aid kit resting on your lap as he used a bit of rubbing alcohol on a rag to disinfect the gash along your head. Once he was finished, he soothed the sting from the alcohol by pressing a soft kiss to the tender, healing flesh. Once you were both tucked safely away in bed, with your head against his chest, and his arms draped around your waist, did you finally slip into a peaceful slumber.

It didn’t take long for you to figure out where the fuck Robert was hiding. His “loyal” followers wasted no time on giving him up when you offered one of them a small stack of ration cards. You were good at doing the sweet talking. Joel was close by, leaned up against a wall, with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He was watching the exchange go down intently. When you looked over your shoulder at him, giving him a small nod, he returned one back.

“Hey, friend. Don’t worry, I don’t want anything.” A QZ resident spoke as they approached Joel.

“But if you’re feelin’ lost…”

Joel didn’t even look over at the man. He was too focused on you. His head turned only the slightest, his jaw clenched as he muttered, “You tell me to “look for the light” and I’ll break your fuckin’ jaw.”

The guy held his hands up in defense, quietly backing away from Joel just as you were approaching.

“Well, it cost us a couple of cards, but we got him. So much for his “loyal” followers huh? Gave him up just like that.”

Joel’s hand had found its way to your lower back, gently grazing his fingers across the sliver of exposed skin beneath your shirt.

“No surprise there darlin.’ So, where’s the fucker at?”

“Said he’s taking the battery to a red-tagged building. At the corner of Stillman and Cross.”

Joel nodded, letting you walk alongside him. His fingers were still splayed against your lower back. Normally, your man wasn’t one for PDA. After what happened to you yesterday, he wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.

“The one that Miguel used to use?” He asked.

“Bingo.” You grinned up at him, using your hand to shield your eyes from the sweltering sun. Your face was discolored from the bruising. The swelling from your black eye had slightly gone down along with your split upper lip. The gash along your forehead would take longer to heal. To put it simply, you looked like hell.

“We’ll take the subway tunnel under Haymarket, get into the building from below, and take Robert by surprise.”

“Pay this fucker back.” Joel swore to you.

The two of you headed back to the apartment, making it up the stairs before you noticed Tess, leaned against the apartment door with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Jesus fuck, when Joel told me you got beat up, I didn’t realize it was gonna be this bad. You look like hell Gwen.”

You punched Joel in the bicep lightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You really just had to go and tell her huh?”

He stifled a chuckle. “She was gonna find out either way. Besides, she’s got her own reasons for wantin’ to get back at him.”

“Yeah, okay. Fair enough.”

“So, what’s the plan then?” Tess asked.

You and Joel gave her the rundown of the plan, step by step. The three of you were back at it again. It felt like the good old times, even if it was just for a brief moment.

As the three of you set out, after reloading your supplies, you had no idea that your lives would drastically change in a short amount of time. All thanks to a spit-fire teenager, named Ellie Williams.

“Well, the battery’s no good.” You spoke while standing over Robert’s deceased body, gun drawn. “He still tried to sell it, twice. You greedy fuck.” Hope you rot in hell.

There were other deceased bodies other than Robert’s, lying on the tarnished wood. A shootout had clearly taken place and Joel instinctively took the lead, stepping in front of you, and Tess, his own gun drawn. His eyes and ears focused on the sound of a human grunt, and whispers.

You and Tess came up behind him, guns drawn, focused on the sound, as Joel peeked around the corner, taking a small step down the hall.

He had briefly recognized Marlene’s face, just as his attention diverted to the door next to his side opening. In a fury, a girl had thrown herself out of the door, letting out a yell with her knife drawn. Joel wasted no time to body slam the kid into the wall. He was acting solely on reflexes, and what he believed to be an apparent threat.

Ellie had fallen against the floor pretty hard, slightly winded from Joel throwing her into the wall. She slowly pulled herself up from the ground, her breath staggered as she looked up at the barrel of the gun, and the threatening, brooding man that possessed it.

You could see the fear strike the young girl's eyes from where you were standing. You knew Joel wouldn’t shoot a kid. His thumbs were nowhere near the trigger.

“Joel?” Marlene asked, clutching her side where a bullet wound had penetrated the skin tissue. She was in disbelief that he was there.

“Marlene?” He answered back, the barrel of his gun still pointed directly at Ellie.

Ellie had tried to grab her knife from the floor, but Joel immediately slammed the toe of his boot over it just as she reached for it. He gave her a warning look, a stern one.

You and Tess stepped around the corner, your guns at your side. Neither of you saw the situation at hand as a threat.

“So this is who Robert screwed us over with?” You asked, stopping a few feet behind Joel. “The Che Guevara of Boston? I mean, war must be going pretty fucking shitty for you to be buying from scumbags like him.”

“Yeah, it obviously has been.” Marlene quipped back. She had never been a fan of yours, and you weren’t the biggest fan of hers either. Not when the stunt her and the fireflies committed yesterday, resulted in you being thrown in lock up.

“The merch was bad,” Marlene continued, “and he obviously didn’t take “fuck off” for an answer.”

Joel’s boot was still firmly pressed down on Ellie’s knife, his gun now pointed at Marlene.

“Gimme my knife.” The teenager demanded.

“What do you need a car battery for?” Joel asked, not even paying attention to Ellie’s request.

Ellie went to grab her knife from under his boot and as soon as she did, Joel’s gun was trained back on her. A mix of annoyance and displeasure crossed his face.

“Don’t.” He warned.

Marlene and Kim immediately raised their guns at Joel. Yours and Tess’s quickly followed.

“Not at her. Point it at me.” Marlene requested and by her expression alone, and the strained tone to her voice, you could tell this wasn’t just some other kid. There was always something more to the story.

Ellie’s arms were raised up against the wall, she had fear deeply rooted in her dark brown eyes.

“Joel.” You calmly spoke, stepping around him, placing your hand on his arm, coaxing him to lower his gun. He begrudgingly obeyed, looking over your shoulder at the terrified teenager with a raise of his brows.

Marlene let out a visible sigh of relief when Joel had lowered his gun away from Ellie.

“To answer your question, I need the battery for a better reason than you do. No offense Joel, but Tommy’s just one man.”

Joel didn’t like her answer one bit. Not one fucking bit. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean Marlene? That’s my fuckin’ brother you’re talkin’ about. You’re the cause of it. You turned my own fuckin’ brother against me.”

Your eyes were focused on Ellie as she slowly brought her arms down from the wall. She briefly made eye contact with you, and you gave the teenager a reassuring nod to stay put. Don’t move. Stay where you are. You’ll be safe.

“We were gonna move Ellie outta the zone tonight. I know what I did Joel. This goes further than Tommy, than you and I. Than all of us combined here.”

“Yeah? By the looks of it, you aren’t gonna make it far with a wound like that Marlene.” You scoffed under your breath.

Marlene gave you a disapproving look, focusing her attention back on Joel. “So now I’m thinkin’…you’re gonna do it.”

“The hell we are—” Joel was cut off by Ellie’s immediate rebuttal.

“I’m not goin’ with them!” Could you really blame her? You wouldn’t want to go with them either if you were seemingly held captive, with a gun pointed at you like that. She was just a kid. You seemed to be the only one at the moment who recognized this.

“Who is she?” Tess asked.

“To you? She’s cargo.”

“We don’t smuggle people.” Was Joel’s immediate response.

Ellie looked around nervously, her eyes locking on yours once more. You seemed to be the only friendly face to her at that moment.

“There’s a team of fireflies at the old State House. I know what’s out there. We were going with an entire squadron for that exact reason. Now I don’t have a truck, and I sure as hell don’t have a squadron.” Marlene sarcastically gestured to the dead fireflies on the ground in the hallway.

“FEDRA’s five minutes away. They surely heard all that gunfire, Joel. What I do have? Is you. I know what all three of you are capable of. For better, or for worse.”

“Joel.”

He turned slightly to look at you, shaking his head. “No. We don’t smuggle people Gwen. We fuckin’ don’t. This ain’t the time to be the hero, alright? We’ve wasted enough fuckin’ time already. We’ll just have to get a battery another way.”

“What are they capable of?” Ellie asked, uncertainty in her tone.

“She’s just a kid Joel. What’re we gonna fucking do? Just leave her here?”

“I fuckin’ said no. That’s final.”

Marlene tried to reason with him one more time. “You get her there safely, and they’ll give you what you need. Not just a battery. The whole fuckin’ thing. Fueled-up truck, guns, supplies, all of it. I swear.” To your ears, it sounded like too sweet of a deal. To Joel, it sounded like the best news he had heard in awhile.

He looked down at the kid then, seeing that she might be the ticket to finding his brother. He kicked her knife off to the side, far from her reach.

“Asshole!” She looked up at him, annoyance written all over her face.

You were already reaching down to help the teenager up from the floor, Joel had grasped your arm, tugging you back up, giving you a warning look.

The three of you briefly discussed it along the wall. It was clear then that Ellie would be coming with you.

“Okay, here’s the deal. We’ll get her to your crew at the State House. However, before we hand her over, they give us everything we want. If not? We kill her. Right there and then.” Tess spoke.

“Deal” Marlene agreed with zero hesitation in her tone.

“Really? That fucking fast?” Ellie spoke in disbelief. You could see the distrust she immediately felt for Marlene. For throwing her now to some complete strangers. You sympathized with the kid for that reason.

“Go and get your backpack. Now, Ellie.”

Ellie pulled herself up from the ground, grabbing her backup from the other room. On the way out, she shoulder checked Joel, bending down and grabbed her knife before she continued down the hall.

“Joel, don’t fuck this up. Please.” She begged him.

Joel gave Marlene one look, with no response before he turned on his heel, and headed down the hall.

It was pouring outside as the four of you left the building. Joel walked behind you and Ellie, while Tess was in the front. You walked back to the apartment in a haste, opening the door before ushering the kid inside, closing it behind her.

“Was it really necessary to say that we’re gonna kill her? C’mon. She’s just a fucking kid. We’re not gonna kill a kid. That’s fucking ridiculous and you both know it.” You spoke, leaned against the outside wall with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Didn’t I tell you back there that this is no time to act like the fuckin’ hero? Can you just listen for once in your life?” Joel spoke, annoyance in his tone.

“We’re not fucking killing a goddamn kid Joel.”

“Fine. What’s the plan? There’s the short way, or the long way. We’re gonna have to stop at Bill and Franks to reload on ammo and supplies, after we deliver the kid to the fireflies.”

“What if Marlene was bluffing? I’m not saying she was, but that was an awful big promise she made back there. If she’s lying, and there’s no fireflies at the State House, then what are we gonna do?”

Joel let out a deep sigh, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Guess we’re just gonna have to figure that out if it gets to that point. Huh darlin’?”

“Just think it would be smart for us to think of all the possibilities.”

“That’s why you’re the brains of the operation.” Tess chimed in. “Marlene seemed too desperate to be bluffing. This kid is obviously important to the fireflies for whatever fucking reason that may be.”

“We’ll leave after dark. Take the old route out of the QZ. I’ll tell you both one thing right now. I will not be fuckin’ riskin’ my life for this kid. You got that? Not a fuckin’ chance.”

Tess rolled her eyes while you let out a low scoff. “Yeah, alright Joel. No one’s asking you to risk your life for anyone. Don’t go and get your panties in a twist Texas. Now listen, you guys stay here. I’m gonna go home and let Bea know I’ll be gone for a few days. She can meet us at Bill in Franks. I’ll radio her when we get there.”

“Sounds good. We leave at nightfall then?”

“Nightfall. See you in a bit.”

Tess headed down the stairs, and out of sight. Just as Joel was grabbing the door handle, you stopped him, backing him against the wall.

“Hold on there now cowboy. Before you go in there, can you please try and be fucking nice? I know you’re pissed as all hell that Robert sold the battery, and now we’re in this. You gotta remember that’s a kid in there. Not an adult. A fucking kid. Don’t be an asshole.”

“Here we go again.” He grumbled.

“Do I have to fucking repeat myself Joel? Be fucking nice.”

He scoffed under his breath, letting his hands grab your waist firmly, pulling you flush against his chest. “Fine. I ain’t gonna enjoy doin’ it though. I want you to know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, grumpy. Whatever you say.”

“Cut that attitude before I do somethin’ about it.”

You shut him up quickly then with a surprise kiss to his cheek, before you slipped out of his grasp and opened the door to the apartment.

You could hear him mutter distinctly under his breath, “fuckin’ minx” before he followed you inside, closing the door behind him and locked it.

Ellie had already been snooping through the apartment, she looked slightly guilty as she held a thick book in her hands titled, “The Billboard Book of Number 1 Hits.” you gave her a reassuring nod before heading down the hall to gather up some things. Leaving the teenager with Joel.

“So, who’s Bill and Frank?” she asked curiously as Joel strode past her, throwing his backpack down as he sank down onto the couch.

“The radio’s a smuggling code, right? ‘60’s song, they don’t have anything new, ‘70’s they got new stuff. What’s ‘80’s?” Man, this kid was pretty sharp.

Joel didn’t respond as he rose from the couch, walking over to her and snatched the book, slamming it shut, and threw it down on the table with a harsh thud.

He wasted no time to head back to the couch, flopping down on it without a care in the world. This kid, this cargo was already a fucking nuisance in his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Killin’ time.”

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out.” He spoke with his eyes closed.

She picked the book back up from the table, walking past him. “Your watch is broken.” Ellie stated the obvious.

You and Joel had the same idea of taking a quick power nap. Conserving your energy was a smart move.

Joel awoke to Ellie sitting alongside the chair by the window, looking out at the street below.

“You mumble in your sleep. Just thought you should know.”

Joel grunted in response, slowly sitting up as he rubbed his shoulder.

“I’ve never been on the other side of the wall.”

Ellie felt like she was talking to a fucking brick wall. She sensed some form of comfort. Anything she could find at that moment.

“You guys go out there a lot?”

He sighed, leaning back against the couch. He had no particular interest in engaging in any sort of conversation with this kid, but he’d do it for you.

“I guess.”

“When was the last time?”

“Maybe a year? What’s it matter to you?”

“But you know where to go. So we’re going to be okay.”

He finally looked up at her then. He could sense her uncertainty just by the way she looked at him. His face softened, just for a moment. “Yeah. We’re gonna be okay.”

“What’s the deal with you anyway? You some bigwig’s daughter or somethin’?” He asked.

“I guess you could say I’m something like that. Sure.”

Silence.

“Oh, the radio came on when you were sleeping.” She casually stated.

This caught his attention immediately.

“What? What was the song?”

“He kept saying something like, “wake me up before you go-go?”

“Shit.” He whispered under his breath, looking down at the floor.

Ellie looked over at him, a smirk spreading across her face. “Gotcha.” she spoke in victory. ‘80’s means trouble, code broken.” She whispered the last bit.

Just as Joel was standing up, clearly not impressed with the kids' antics, and very much annoyed, you emerged from the bedroom, backpack slung on your shoulder, and the front door of the apartment unlocked, revealing Tess.

“Relieved to see you didn’t kill each other.” You mused.

Joel let out a huff as he grabbed his own bag, slinging it over his shoulder as you tossed him his coat. “You’re hilarious, darlin’”

“That’s cute and all guys but we really gotta get goin.’ If this all works out, Bea is gonna meet us at Bill and Franks, three days from now.”

“Anything for love, right?” You spoke, looking at Joel.

“Jesus Christ. I thought by now you guys would surpass the whole honeymoon stage.”

“Shuddup, Tess. I know you agree with me.” You walked over to Ellie. “We gotta take the underground system to avoid FEDRA. You got a coat in your bag kid?”

Ellie nodded.

“Good. Put it on.”

The four of you crept out into the night. The rain had let up some but there were still low rumbles of thunder in the distance.

The tunnel system was dark, and musty, but the three of you had used it many times. You knew it like it was the back of your hand.

Joel was the first to emerge from the ground, helping you out, then Ellie and Tess.

Ellie was shook to her core that she was actually outside for once as she stood up, looking around in childlike amazement. “Holy shit. I’m actually outside.”

In a flash, you grabbed her arm, bringing her back down to the earth. “Hey. Don’t be stupid, alright? You want to get yourself killed?” Ellie shook her head. “That’s what I thought. You stay low, alright. Stay close, and follow my lead.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She spoke apologetically.

You gave her a reassuring nod. “Alright, let’s go. We’re not out of the woods yet. Last thing you want is to get thrown in lock up, kid. Trust me.”

FEDRA was on full patrol tonight. Armored trucks, helicopters whirring above. It would actually be a goddamn miracle if the four of you weren’t caught.

Just when it seemed like you were all safe, you turned a corner, seeing a FEDRA officer urinating on a concrete wall.

Fucking fantastic.

Once the officer turned around, zipped up his pants and pulled his visor up. He was shocked to see you, Joel, and Tess.

“You gotta be fuckin’ shittin’ me.”

“Okay, let’s talk this out. Lower your gun man. Ain’t no need to be pointin’ that at us. We can talk this through.” Joel spoke with his hands raised.

“Turn around. Get on your fuckin’ knees. Get on your fuckin’ knees!” The officer demanded. The brightness of his flashlight shined painfully in your eyes.

“Hold on. Take it easy—”

“What did I fuckin’ tell you, man? I said stay the fuck home. Get on your fuckin’ knees!”

You grabbed the sleeves of Ellie’s jacket, gently pulling her down onto her knees beside you.

“Listen, you let us do this run? We’ll split the cards with you. I swear on it.” You spoke, turning your head to look over your shoulder at the officer.

“Oh, will you? That’s fuckin’ rich comin’ from you Gwen. Shut your fuckin’ mouth and turn around. Put your hands on your head, eyes forward.”

The four of you obeyed, and when you could feel the coolness of the device used to check residents for the cordyceps infection along your neck, you turned around, looking up at the officer. “You fuckin’ serious right now? Is this really necessary?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart. We’re doing this by the book.”

He had scanned the three of your necks, one by one. Just as Joel started trying to reason with the officer again.

Once he got to Ellie, it all went by in a blur. She had stabbed the officer in the knee in one swift movement with her knife.

“Fuckin’ bitch!”

Joel was already standing protectively in front of Ellie, his hands raised as the soldier pointed the barrel of the machine gun at him.

“We can fix this!”

“Get out of the fuckin’ way. Move!” The soldier demanded

Joel could already hear the ringing in his ears, his heart rate quickening. Sarah’s distant screams filled his mind. The bullets, her body tumbling, her blood, the bullets, her body tumbling, her blood, the bullets—the bullets—the bullets—

Suddenly, Joel lunged, tackling the officer to the damp ground with a loud grunt. His fists collided into the soldier's face, over and over again. The bullets, her body tumbling, her blood, the bullets, her body tumbling, her blood, the bullets, Sarah—baby girl, I have to get you up—Tommy, help me!

Joel continued to throw punches, he had completely blacked out from rage. The trauma of the night he lost his baby girl, took over his senses. There was no stopping him. Each time his fist collided with the soldier's face, you could hear the sickening crack of bone, blood spurting, the soldier’s pained grunts.

You knew what your man was capable of. It came as no shock, but you hadn’t seen him this feral before.

Ellie stood behind the scene, watching in disbelief. Her eyes held no fear. Each punch Joel threw, awakened something in her. To see someone go this far in lengths to defend her? It was something she had never experienced before. No one had ever protected her like this before. She loved it.

When Joel finally came to his senses, he was breathing heavily over the deceased soldier. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated. His knuckles were severely bruised and coated in thick crimson. He looked over his shoulder at you, then at Ellie and Tess.

The device on the ground had turned red. Ellie was the last to be checked—no, it couldn’t be. She wasn’t infected. Why the fuck would Marlene entrust you with an infected kid? There must be some mistake.

“No no! I’m not sick! I’m not sick! Please, I’m not sick!”

“JOEL!” Tess yelled, holding up the device.

“I’m not sick! I’m not sick!” Ellie pleaded, pulling the sleeve of her shirt up to reveal her bite mark. Even in the dark, it looked different than the typical bite marks you had seen.

“Look! Look! This is three weeks old! I swear! Nobody lasts more than a day!”

You moved in front of Tess, grabbing the teens arm as you quickly inspected her bite mark in disbelief.

“When did this happen?!” Tess demanded.

“It doesn’t fucking matter! You have to trust me! Please! Please trust me!” Ellie begged.

“That’s enough, Tess! That’s enough! We have to get going, right now! They’re gonna catch us if we don’t run!”

You looked over at Joel, who was observing his bloodied up knuckles, you could see his trembling from where you stood. “Joel? Joel! We have to move, now!” You walked over to him in a haste, placing your hand on his shoulder. “We have to go right fuckin’ now, baby! C’mon!”

He snapped his head up towards you, understanding what you were saying. He stood up, grabbing the deceased soldier's machine gun, and strapped it over his shoulder, using his good hand to urge you forward, towards the opening in the perimeter fence. “Go, baby! I’m right behind you darlin’! Right behind you!”

A loud crack of thunder boomed overhead as the sirens wailed in the distance. The four of you had slipped through the hole in the metal fence, just as the skies opened up once more. Blinding you with a torrential downpour from the heavens.

Radio turns on, static. “Never Let Me Down Again” by Depeche Mode starts playing.

80’s mean trouble; Bill and Frank.

The four of you quickly ran through the fallen city, Joel by your side, and Ellie and Tess in the front. You glanced at each other momentarily as you ran. Even through the pouring rain, and whipping wind, you held eye contact for a fleeting moment.

Chapter 15:

[beautiful-basque-country]

Drugs as part of Spain's dirty war against Euskadi

In 1982, the proliferation of syringes on the streets, young people wandering around with withdrawal symptoms, and small-scale robberies in stores or homes were evidencing a problem that would leave a trail of deaths in that decade that was impossible to calculate anymore. Heroin was going to mark an entire generation at a very politically turbulent time.

Citizens' perception of the impending catastrophe would become official in some way with the Basque Government's Plan against Drug Dependence was introduced on February 9, 1982. It included some figures for the first time: there were already between 6,000 and 10,000 heroin addicts aged 14-25 in Araba, Bizkaia and Gipuzkoa. Something else was pointed out: "Police action in this matter has been weak" and "public authorities have neglected it." The plan warned especially about Gipuzkoa, where drugs flowed with absolute freedom, to the point of being the place in the Spanish State where the most heroin was consumed after Barcelona.

Man doing heroine on the street in Bizkaia.

Why Gipuzkoa? To the purely geographical elements (possibility of entering by sea, proximity of the border to another state) were obviously added the political ones: it was the region in which there was the most political agitation - which the youth was most involved in - and in which ETA had the most strength. It was also the epicenter of police action against the insurgents, with the Intxaurrondo Guardia Civil barracks as the main reference.

Heroin coincidentally punished the areas very close to Intxaurrondo: the neighborhoods of Altza and Herrera, Pasaia, Errenteria, Hernani… But also Arrasate, Elgoibar, Bermeo or the capitals: Iruñea, Gasteiz, and Bilbo (some estimates put the death toll at 400 in Otxarkoaga [a neighborhood of Bilbo] alone).

People protesting before the Intxaurrondo barracks.

The widespread conviction that it was actually the police using drugs to politically demobilize Basque youth increased with two relevant press reports: after the seizure of large consignments of cocaine in Irun and hashish in Hondarribia, it turned out that a large part of the shipments had "disappeared" and/or returned to the market. The second one, the publishing of a report where the chief prosecutor of the Court of Gipuzkoa pointed to connections between the Spanish Security Forces and the spread of heroin in the Basque Country.

Report that was never seen again after being transferred to Madrid.

The issue today still constitutes a file to be opened. It has not been possible to put the exact dimension of the human drama that entailed and we have no actual number of deaths. The effects were not just deaths and illnesses, in a Russian roulette game that would worsen with the almost parallel emergence of AIDS. They also caused an economic drain on many families. The situation also left its mark on the artistic world in many of the songs of the so-called Basque Radical Rock, also shaken by the scourge.

Drug addiction was also associated to the increase in unemployment among youth, completing a picture of punishment and an eventual -and much wanted - political demobilization.

[x]

[narrators-journal]

How would the Zoldyck family feel about seeing Future Killua, y'know future Killua is all powerful and all but they also see with KIDS and his wife, but his wife is powerful like POWERFUL POWERFUL, and so are his kids but Killua and his wife don't agree on the kids being assassin's. And the kids don't want to be either. But despite all that, they're like a powerful family that can't be touched. How would the zoldycks react to this? Like headcanons of each Zoldycks reaction😳

This was so goofy for me to write, I hope you enjoy! Sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted, but I think it covers the vague scenario at least.

Kikyo

Kikyo absolutely adores Killua, in her own way, so the fact he'd even dare to get married without letting her know or vet her daughter-in-law would break her. Finding out he had a kid, let alone multiple? She'd keel over like a goat.

Illumi

On the topic of Killua getting married, Illumi's hurt he wasn't invited, but otherwise he wouldn't exactly care. He's not controlling anymore. Killua has made his boundaries clear, Illumi's a good brother, and he respects that. Plus, if Killua gets married, the pressure on Illumi to carry on the lineage goes away! So, he's happy for Killua. He's fine. He's happy he found a loving partner. And has children who won't become assassins. He is. So happy for his baby brother.

Milluki

Unlike Illumi, I don't think Milluki would honestly give a single crap beyond agreeing with his mother for praise. His only hat in this fight is being pissy Killua's family can't be drug into the fold, his kids won't be up for inhumane torture, and his wife is 'ugly'. But, of course, Killua's marriage and his spouse being trash will not spare her Milluki sliding into the dms to try and get nudes and then call her names for not cheating. A fact sure to become fodder for Kikyo

Kalluto

Kalluto is fairly young, so their main concern would be the jealousy. They'd hate that Killua's kids won't become assassins, won't go through that training, and won't be around to play with them because Killua would murder his family if they tried. Other than that, like Milluki, they'd only really agree with Kikyo for acceptance and to not annoy her. Kalluto doesn't strike me as being particularly controlling yet, they just do as they're told.

Alluka

Alluka would get to visit her nieces or nephews, and she'd adore Killua's family. So long as he's still sure he loves her, Alluka is honestly and truly happy for him. She'd want to grant his family wishes, but Killua would probably dissuade that due to the cost, but he'd appreciate it and that would also make her happy.

Silva

Silva would be moreso pissed that Killua would not let his family near the Zoldycks, and would make sure they had no chance to break in or anything extreme. Then you add onto that disrespect of getting no notification of the wedding, let alone childbirth, and Silva is pissed. He only wants what's best for his family, and Killua is supposed to be the next head of the house, so he needs to integrate his wife and kids into the family business, he needs to quit being so hostile to them. But, of course, he'd try to keep his emotions level. There'd be no point in worsening their chances of reconciliation. Plus, despite how infuriating it would be, there's a shred of pride in Killua getting himself to a point where even the Zoldycks can't get him.

Zeno

Zeno is by far the most amused out of the group. Killua went off and got married and had kids without them knowing? Impressive, if a bit upsetting that he cut them out so much. And, he got himself to such a point that they can't retaliate or kidnap the kids? Another impressive feat! Good for Killua for managing that. In all, Zeno seems like he's too old to exactly care about the lineage. Silva's got other kids, it's above Zeno's pay grade to angst over Killua not wanting his kids to become assassins like he did. Zeno's more interested in the war he started when he got out of the zoldyck's reach.

[gravedigg]

Six Song Soundtrack Playlist

Tagged by @ferindencadash (thank you!!)

I'm filling this out for Angel, I'll write up a little list of explanations for each and link his playlist below <3

1. An event that defines your character's past

Bad luck never leaves Your jinx just floats around Like the taste inside your mouth Or the sound when your skull cracks Feel the growing pains It means you're growing up too fast While you were sleeping I was blood red Sharp as a knife inside your stomach I'm squeezing tight, don't let the light in No medicine Daydream tendencies had you smiling soft and sweet Keep those blurry memories somewhere safe You may need them You can make a wish But there's no rabbit out the hat Realize it's never coming back Realize it's never coming back

2. How your character sees themselves

Waiting for the train In the dead of night I howl We all have our evils We're told just to keep calm Curled up and feeble Plagued by our brains, the internal sinking pain I wish I was equal, if only that simple I wish I was people (I WISH!) The train it now arrives, I plead just take me home

3. How others view them

Driving faster in my car Falling farther from just what we are Smoke a cigarette and lie some more These conversations kill Falling faster in my car

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

Well, prove to me I'm not gonna die alone Unstitch that shit I've sewn To close up the hole that tore through my skin Well, my trust in you is a dog with a broken leg Tendons too torn to beg for you to let me back in You said, "I can't prove to you you're not gonna die alone But trust me to take you home To clean up that blood all over your paws

5. A major fight scene

As it fell on Job's eyes, this water of doubt, he said, "I'm wading in lies, it's wearing me out. But if you want it, all right. I'll buy it." Blood too dirty for mosquitos, I hope that you die soon. Pray to any god you believe in. Those people, they had families. Their families don't have them. You're not any god I believe in. I hope the rain ruins the work you did.

6. End credits song

It's okay, I don't even cry all I think about is a memory and the dream when you kissed my arm as I look away, don't hear what I say That maybe when I die, I'll get to be a car driving in the night lighting up the dark. something in your voice it sparks a little hope I'll wait up for that noise your voice become my home

All of these are from Angel's playlist which is organized as a timeline of his life, from his childhood in foster care, to enlisting in the army at 18, serving in the Gulf War and losing his leg, to the ensuing depression while he recovers and relearns how to walk, to his lengthy bender of sex & drugs when he moves to the city and finds out about gay bars, to him trying desperately to pull some semblance of a life together with what scraps of himself he has left.

As a bit of a guide;

An event that defines your character's past

This ones in reference to Angel's injury while serving in the army, an explosion tearing through his leg and shrapnel ripping up his shoulder and face. He spent a good amount of time bouncing between hospitals, from field hospitals to Germany and back state-side, and had to come to terms with the reality and severity of his injury.

2. How your character sees themselves

I think in many ways its always been this way, but it definitely worsened after being disfigured; Angel has always seen himself as less of a person and more of a monster, which is why he's always felt a sort of kinship with the Monster in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. I think its a potent cocktail of autism, self esteem issues, and the endless, clinging isolation of growing up in the foster system.

3. How others view them

I think from an outside view Angel comes off as really mysterious and cool, he's very serious and quiet and drives a motorcycle. But in reality hes just autistic and terribly uncomfortable and would rather be at home.

4. Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic)

It takes so much patience and soft love to get Angel to unravel his layers and layers of bottled up shame and pain and desperation. He learned from a young age that to survive he needed to keep as much of himself hidden as he could, and he's clung to that sentiment his entire life. He struggles so much expressing when hes suffering and asking for help, will keep things bottled up even when he knows hes sabotaging himself.

5. A major fight scene

This one's the climax point of his experience with war, having whatever faith he clung to shaken hard when he saw sheer cruelty and mindless violence of it all.

6. End credits song

This is the last song on his playlist, to me it symbolizes this feeling of hope for a future that's really new for Angel, he's spent so long trying to just get through each day. Having someone by his side that he can dream of a future with is more than he could have ever asked for.

Also im tagging @nullshocked, make this for Jules pls.

And if you're reading this, you should do one for your oc :-)

[mariacallous]

Two years after Russia’s invasion, Ukraine and its Western supporters are at a critical decision point and face a fundamental question: How can further Russian advances on the battlefield be stopped, and then reversed? After capturing the ruined city of Avdiivka, Russian forces are moving forward fitfully in other areas along the front. Russian advantages in manpower, materiel, and defense production have grown in the past year, whereas U.S. ammunition deliveries have been throttled and are at risk of being curtailed almost entirely because of an impasse over funding in the U.S. Congress. Supplies of critical munitions for frontline Ukrainian units are dwindling, and soldiers are being forced to ration. Some units are experiencing significant manpower shortages.

The current battlefield dynamics have no single cause; they are mostly rooted in decisions that were made since the fall of 2022. When Russia mobilized its war economy, the West did not, and Ukraine could not. When Russia constructed a network of defensive fortifications hundreds of miles long and multiple layers deep, Ukraine did not. Russia obtained more than a million (by some estimates, three million) artillery shells and thousands of drones from its partners, including Iran and North Korea. The West could not match that, having already reached the bottom of the barrel of similar resources. Moscow has gone to great lengths to regenerate personnel and replenish its forces, whereas Kyiv has yet to fully mobilize.

Without a surge in Western military aid and major changes to Kyiv’s strategy, Ukraine’s battlefield position will continue to worsen until it reaches a tipping point, possibly by this summer. On the present course, in which Ukrainian ammunition and manpower needs are not met, Ukrainian units are likely to hollow out, making Russian breakthroughs a distinct possibility. But this is no time for despair; it is time for urgent action. Russian forces have vulnerabilities that can be exploited and advantages that can be eroded over time, but only if Ukraine gets what it needs now.

DAMAGED BUT DANGEROUS

To create an effective strategy that capitalizes on Russia’s weaknesses, Western policymakers and observers need to see the Russian military for what it is now: not the hapless, broken, depleted force that many wished it would be by now but a still dangerous organization advancing in Ukraine. Understanding the current state of Russian combat power means processing contradictory information and answering a number of complex questions. Is the Russian military in decline, reliant on Soviet-era equipment, conscripted convicts, troops who abuse methamphetamines or other drugs, and foreign-supplied drones and artillery shells in order to push forward at high cost? Or is it an increasingly adaptive and well-resourced organization, able to overpower Ukrainian positions all along the frontline?

The trouble is that both descriptions are partly accurate. Perhaps the clearest and most practical view of the Russian military is an anecdote told by Ukrainian soldiers and recently shared with The New York Times: the Russian army is neither good nor bad, just long.

In the opening months of the war, the Kremlin was reluctant to admit that its initial blitz on Ukraine was a failure. By August 2022, damaged Russian units had become brittle, and when tested by Ukrainian forces they collapsed in Kharkiv and retreated from Kherson. But Russia has since come to terms with the requirements and costs of a prolonged conflict. Realizing that its war effort was in peril, the Kremlin did what it had not wanted to do previously: it mobilized 300,000 men, dramatically increased defense spending, and purchased essential weapons from its partners to bridge gaps.

Kyiv now finds itself in a sustainment crisis similar to what Moscow experienced two years ago. But unlike Russia, Kyiv cannot mobilize its defense industry and quickly scale up production; it must rely on Western military assistance. Ukraine also has a smaller population than Russia, which means its casualties are felt more deeply.

When Ukrainian forces are sufficiently manned, supplied, and entrenched, however, they have shown that they can inflict high costs on Russian forces and frustrate Russia’s ability to convert its on-paper advantages into decisive gains. The battle for Avdiivka is the most recent case in point: using frequent airstrikes and committing up to 30,000 men across a dozen units, Russia still needed five months to capture the ruined town. Russia wanted Avdiivka badly, and it got Avdiivka … badly: in the course of the siege, it lost more than 600 armored vehicles and likely thousands of soldiers. The heavy losses underscore that Russia’s offensive capabilities are still deficient when trying to overwhelm prepared Ukrainian defenses.

There are few locations left across the frontline, however, that are as heavily defended as Avdiivka was, meaning that future Russian advances may come more easily. Furthermore, Russian weaknesses will matter very little if depleted Ukrainian units can no longer mount a defense, or if they cannot rapidly replicate the types of defenses that were constructed at Avdiivka over ten years.

THE LAST RIDE OF THE SOVIET ARMY

Russia’s two main advantages are its remaining weapons and manpower, though even these are not as strong as the Kremlin would like its enemies to believe. Take Russia’s vast reserves of armor: since 2022, its forces have lost at least 14,000 pieces of equipment. The Russian general staff has offset some of these losses by exhuming the grave of the Soviet army and refurbishing for use thousands of mothballed tanks and armored vehicles. In 2023, Russia revived 1,200 tanks and 2,500 armored vehicles that were previously in long-term storage while producing only 200 new or modernized tanks. But these stockpiles are not infinite. Some researchers have noted that Russia has already removed between 25 to 40 percent of its strategic reserves depending on equipment type, and the best equipment was probably pulled early on. What remains is likely to be in worse shape or even unsalvageable. If Russia continues at this rate, its remaining inventory will dwindle in the next couple of years, and its future options will be constrained as a result. This depends, of course, on whether Ukraine is resourced to mount an active defense and regenerate its own combat power.

The West has not kept pace with Russia’s ammunition production. Although Russia draws from its older ammunition stockpiles, it has also accelerated new artillery production. It is on track to produce two million 122-millimeter and 152-millimeter artillery shells by the end of this year, and has purchased an estimated one to three million rounds of artillery from North Korea and Iran. If the United States and the European Union hit their production goals, they intend to collectively produce about 2.6 million rounds, and not all of that will go to Ukraine. In early March, the Czech Republic announced that it could broker 800,000 artillery rounds for Ukraine from third parties, but delivery timelines are closely guarded.

Ukrainian air defenders have also had to ration their interceptor missiles. Russian missile attacks have grown more experimental and complex since late 2022, and Ukraine’s interception rates have declined as a result. In early January, Ukrainian officials said that lower-altitude air-defense systems around Kyiv could withstand only a few more large attacks.

The erosion of Russia’s equipment and ammunition advantages will matter very little if Ukraine is not resourced to defend itself in 2024. It will not matter if Soviet-era tanks are less capable and survivable if Ukraine is not given the supplies to destroy them. It will not matter if foreign artillery shells have a higher “dud rate” than domestic versions, if Russian forces can maintain a firepower advantage of around five to one, and Western production and delivery delays continue. It will not matter if Russian long-range precision-strike missile production has reached its zenith—or if, as Ukrainian officials say, Western sanctions are reducing the quality of Russian missiles—if Ukraine is not equipped to defend its skies. In this worst-case scenario, Russian heavy bombers could be used to destroy Ukraine’s cities and critical infrastructure.

HUMAN RESOURCES

Russia’s initial mobilization in 2022 was chaotic, with untrained personnel rapidly deployed to plug holes in frontline units. In the months that followed, however, the Russian military set up a pipeline for regenerating units at training ranges in occupied Ukraine and Belarus. Russia is now regenerating enough manpower to keep its lines stable and launch limited offensive operations through at least the rest of the year. After fending off Ukraine’s counteroffensive last fall, it introduced more troops into occupied Ukraine. For instance, Russian and Ukrainian forces in occupied Donetsk were roughly equal in September 2023; by February, Russia had a two-to-one advantage.Ukrainian commanders noted earlier this year that some Russian forces appeared better trained than they were last year; others still use crude tactics to simply overwhelm or exhaust Ukrainian troops.

Despite Russia’s capacity to recruit more soldiers, manpower is still a constraint on the Kremlin’s ambitions. Russia cannot easily translate its greater supply of men to superiority on the battlefield without risks. Although Russian military officials claim to have 25 million personnel available, they have in practice only what they can generate through volunteer pipelines. Out of concern for domestic stability and regime security, the Kremlin prefers not to call for another round of mobilizations if it can be avoided. Even if the Kremlin wanted to occupy larger swaths of Ukraine by 2026, it is far from certain whether it would be willing to accept the risks of staffing a force large enough to accomplish this aim.

Ukraine and Russia are both having difficulty enlisting sufficient troops in their 20s and early 30s, the preferred age range for infantry. For Kyiv, it is a matter of policy; only men who are 27 and older are mobilized. Although Russia has a larger overall population, its military-recruitment challenges are compounded by labor shortages and the emigration of hundreds of thousands of men since 2022. If Russia were to expand the scope of its offensive operations through 2024 and 2025, its pipeline of volunteers would be insufficient on its own, and the country would likely need more rounds of mobilization.

Russia uses cash incentives and expensive social guarantees to attract volunteers. To meet quotas, authorities also use coercive methods such as conducting raids on factories, dormitories, and even restaurants looking for men to enlist, and pressuring immigrants and inmates. Russia is recruiting foreign fighters—and soon possibly foreign felons—into its ranks as well. Recruiting convicts may have already passed the point of diminishing returns. Before the war, the population of Russia’s prison system was stable at around 400,000 to 420,000. By 2024, that number had declined to 266,000, almost certainly as a result of recruiting by the Russian military and by private mercenary companies such as Wagner.

The remaining convicts may not be available to enlist, either, because Russia typically employs around 100,000 prisoners at any given time to help with persistent labor shortages across the country. Russian authorities estimate a shortfall of 4.8 million domestic workers. These shortages extend across multiple industries and a majority of Russian regions. Labor pools that were tapped to resolve past shortages—migrants, prisoners, students—are now needed for the war or for conscription. Unfortunately, Russia’s looming manpower challenges in 2025 and beyond will matter very little if the brute-force tactics of Russian troops exhaust and overwhelm Ukrainian units in 2024.

HOW SOON IS NOW?

For much of the past five months, Russia’s strategy was to conduct multipronged attacks to deplete and exhaust Ukrainian forces along the frontline. Then it made Avdiivka its main target. Once the city fell, in mid-February, Russia immediately intensified its attacks in that direction and elsewhere. Russian forces have very few reasons not to continue their assaults. By persisting, they maximize momentum before the ground thaws and mud returns, take advantage of understrength Ukrainian forces as they ration equipment, and engaging Ukrainian forces before they have time to fully dig in, all while American aid is stalled in the U.S. House of Representatives.

Overall, it is a bad sign for Ukraine and its supporters that Russia has enough confidence in both its own abilities and Ukraine’s precarious position that it is accelerating attacks in the run-up to the Russian presidential election, in mid-March. These offensives would likely not be authorized if the Kremlin were uncertain about its prospects for success. In other words, Russia is forecasting more battlefield wins.

Russia’s current objectives appear to be advancing to the boundaries of Donetsk and rolling back the results of Ukraine’s 2023 counteroffensive in Zaporizhzhia. In Donetsk, they may be trying to reach the city of Pokrovsk in order to secure key road and rail networks and seize the remainder of the Donetsk oblast, or province, from which they could eventually attack the remaining Ukrainian strongholds near Kramatorsk and Sloviansk. Russian forces will likely try to make headway in the Zaporizhzhia oblast as well, particularly around Orikhiv, where the terrain is open and fewer Ukrainian defensive positions have been prepared. In the north, Russian forces are trying to approach Kupiansk, which could act as a toehold in the Kharkiv region.

A full reoccupation of western Kherson seems unlikely given the difficulty of the terrain there, Russian manpower and force availability notwithstanding; furthermore, the destruction last year of the Kakhovka Dam now limits paved routes over the Dnieper River in Kherson. Nor are there signs that Russia is amassing the forces required to reoccupy the Kharkiv region by the end of 2024. For Russia to attempt a new offensive on the entire region, the rest of the frontline would need to be stable—with Ukrainian forces fixed in place or unable to redeploy—and Russia would need to generate at least another combined-arms army but probably more (50,000 to 100,000 men, depending on the status of Ukrainian defenses). These circumstances do not exist today. But if conditions on the battlefield do not change, and if Russia generates sufficient force, this could be Ukraine’s future.

To hold their positions in 2024, Ukrainian forces need urgent replenishment of ammunition and manpower. If reinforcements are coming, Ukraine can defend the frontline this year and regenerate combat strength while the West’s industrial base ramps up for 2025 and beyond. Western military assistance—specifically American aid—must be approved quickly to sustain critical ammunition supplies and to maintain existing combat systems. Next, Kyiv must generate and train personnel to replenish frontline units. Unfortunately, finding more soldiers will most likely require an unpopular mobilization. Aid delays make Kyiv’s dilemma even worse. Finally, Ukraine must accelerate the construction of prepared defensive positions.

Without these urgent steps, Ukraine’s rationing of ammunition will continue through the spring and summer. Facing continual Russian attacks, undermanned units could become increasingly hollowed out and lose the ability to defend themselves. Unless immediate changes are made, this is the path that Ukraine and the West are on.

The Russian military’s long-term weaknesses will not matter if Ukraine is not supported this year. Ukrainian frontline soldiers are in mounting jeopardy—not because they lack the will to fight or do not know their enemy’s weaknesses, but because of shortfalls in ammunition and manpower. If the West, specifically the United States, does not want to see the frontline in Ukraine continue to bend or—even worse—break, it must urgently approve aid. And if Kyiv wants to sustain its efforts, it has to make difficult choices about how to generate more manpower. Time is running out.

[lala1267]

Cocaine Candy

Summary: A young girl named Candice (candy for short) has a criminal lifestyle all thanks to her gangster bf, drugs, alcohol, you name it. Her mother, Kathy, sings for Elvis Presley. Ever since Candy was 8, she has known him, but as the years flew by and her behaviour worsened, Elvis noticed. He couldn't let this happen.

Warnings: drugs, mentions of guns, doing illegal stuff at a young age. Age gap between Elvis and Candy.

Sweet like candy and sour like toxic waste. Her toffee coulered hair and her emerald green eyes. Candice, she was. But she was known as "candy." She was a good girl. She had a healthy household and a good mentality. She was a kind eight year old girl who would never break any rules. She was a daisy fresh girl that would parade around in pink summer dresses as her caramel hair was decorated with pearl white bows. She would send a bright light into her mother's eyes as she would dance and sing around the house. Her purity was precious, and her softeness was fragile. Whoever was in her presence would feel her heavenly energy radiating from her golden heart like a force field. She would sit in the garden, buried in the floral flowers and thick grass. She would return to her house after a day of playing with the neighbourhood kids. She would smell like the fresh summer air, and her hair would be messy like medusas. Her mother would have to spend a good half an hour every night, picking little flowers and twigs out of her hair.

Her mother, Kathy, was one of the background singers for Elvis Presley. She was known for her high-pitched singing. This meant that candice would often see and stay with Elvis if her mother was busy. They would have Christmas dinners every year and bbq's every summer. She would spend nights at Graceland with Elvis's daughter, Lisa. They would play together every day. Lisa was five years younger than her, but that didn't stop their friendship. If only she stayed little forever.

Candy's innocence was preascious, but she would soon unfold the hidden and dark truths of the outside world. It was only a matter of time.

Candy was now fifteenteen. Her life was great, she was still pure and happy.

She walked in the school corridor. Her black school shoes clicking against the shiny floor as she held her books over her chest. She was very pretty, but she remained in the shadows. She stopped once she got to her locker. Her fingers fiddled and twisted the lock until it clicked and opened. She placed her books neatly in her locker before shutting it.

She was startled when she felt a large hand lay on her shoulder. Her body turned, and so did her head. To her suprise, she was met with Miles. He was one of the most handsome guys in the school. He was seventeen. He was dark-skinned. He had dreads that hung over his forehead, and his body was inked out with tattoos. He was a gangster. He was in a gang, a pretty famous one. He was a Blood. His gang had been having a war with The Crips for the longest time. It wasn't unusual to hear occasional gunshots coming from Miles's housing estate. He always carried a gun with him, so it was no suprise that Candy could see a huge bulge just above his belt line.

She felt her face heat up as she looked at his figure. She had always liked him, but this was the first time that she had spoken to him or even been this close to him. His dark brown eyes shot her down as an alluring grin plastered over his face. His cheeks dimpled at the sight of her.

"Well hey lil mama."

He said with his deep raspy voice. Candy tried her best to regurgitate a word from her cherry red lips but her body kept on denying her. He looked at her up and down with the same grin.

"You don't talk much. Don't worry, imma make you scream my name tonight, I'm throwing a party. You better not miss it."

He said as his eyes turned dark and menacing. He placed a peice of white paper in Candy's hand with the info for the party scribbled onto it. He walked away and disappeared with his group of gangster friends. Candy was just left gobsmacked as her bambi eyes stared at the note in her hands in awe.

The evening

Candy was standing infront of her mirror, holding up two party dresses that she had found. One of them was a bright tropical orange that was studded with shiny fake diamonds. It was quite short in length but it was pretty. The second one was a baby blue that had white glittery trims. It was thrilly at the bottom and almost childlike. She turned around and threw the blue dress on her bed before getting changed into the orange one.

She looked at her reflection with a smile on her face. It hugged her figure perfectly. It tucked in her baby fat and exentuated her pre-mature hips. It travelled to the middle of her thighs, making her sun-kissed legs more prominent and sexy. She sat down in front of her vanity before doing her hair and makeup. She went for a classic 60s double winged eyeliner with pastel orange eyeshadow. Her hair was in a beautiful blowout, making her look godly. She began to pack some things in a small handbag that she had 'borrowed' from her mother. She put some spare makeup into the bag and some other random things. She looked into her reflection one more time. She knew that her mother wouldn't let her go to the party, especially dressed like this at her young age. But that's why she wasn't going to tell her.

After successfully sneaking out and arriving at the party, she walked up to the entrance. It was a house, bright neon lights shot out of the windows and music blared. She walked in, and her eyes widened. Many teens from her school were there. Some of which were aggressively grinding on eachover. Ew. She pushed and shoved past the hundreds of intoxicated people as she pulled a face. She soon saw Miles, he saw her too. His tall figure made its way towards her until he was towering over her. He was wearing blue jeans that were kept in place with his designer belt . His plane white t-shirt added to his handsomeness. Without warning, he bent his head down until his alchohol drenched lips met with her pretty red ones. Her eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. The smell of his cologne and the taste of the alchohol only made her want more. He pulled away and looked at her pretty pink cheeks as his hand was kept secure on her small waist. Candy looked up at him with a gleam in her eye. Pink love hearts fluttered around him in her vision.

"Glad you made it, I was boutta go out lookin' for you."

He said before taking a puff of his hydroponic weed. Candy smiled at him before her wandering eyes watched him blow a cloud of smoke from his plush lips. It smelt very earthy yet strong. He looked at her as a smile formed on his lips. He stook his hand out, holding the spliff, waving it in her face.

"You want some?"

He asked. Candy looked at it and then back up at him.

"Oh, uh."

"I'll take that as a yes."

He said before shoving it between her lips and watching her inhale it. It left a slight burn as the smoke travelled through her throat and spread across her lungs. She breathed it out smoothly. Suddenly, she felt her tense muscles loosen and her crossed arms unfold. She smiled at him, her eyelids dropping ever so slightly. Miles looked down at her with a grin.

The night unfolded, and so did Candy. Her layers pealed off like pretty fragile petals. She sat on Miles's lap on a sofa, away from the other drunkards. She was smiling and laughing, talking and giggling. The neon lights felt like epileptic as the music sounded like white noise. She could feel her blood rushing and her heart beating as she chatted with Miles. His hands stroked her thigh as she threw herself over him like a ragdoll. Her lipstick was smeared, and her eyes were bloodshot. It was truly a euphoric feeling as the weed dripped into her brain gradually. This was the day when she knew that Miles was the one, her one.

She stumbled into her house, barley retaining her balance as she did so. She kicked off her heels. Her bloodshot eyes scanned the house before she stumbled to the stairs. She was on all fours as she tried to climb the stairs, which seemed like Mount Everest to her. She finally made it to her room and threw her body onto the bed as she turned numb. Her eyelids drifted shut as her body powered off. All of the neon lights, music, kissing. It was all gone. Everything was black.

From that day forward, she would go out every night and become one with the druggies and drunkards. She would run away until the dark night with Miles. She wouldn't go one weekend without plastering her ass all over miles as her intoxicated brain shut down. She would give men butterflies as she batted her cartoon eyes. They would smoke, drink, and steal. She was scandalous and evil. She would look for trouble and get high for free, street walk at night and a star by the day. Candy had turned into a monster, all thanks to Miles.

Candy walked to school with Miles, of course. She hugged his waist as his had slung over her shoulders. She looked down at the gun that was tucked into his belt. Her eyes shifted back up to him.

"I like how ya carry that gun, its sexy."

She said with a cheeky grin. He looked down at her with the same grin.

"I need it. Anyone could shoot me right now, I gotta be ready."

The thought of him getting shot and dying never really occurred to Candy. It was always overshadowed by her love for him. On occasions, he would have to dress himself in all black and grab his gun before leaving a party. He would say,

"It's just business that I need to fix."

Candy knew what he was doing. She just pretended not to hear the gunshots that echoed through the cold, damp streets.

She looked at him.

"Well, let's hope they don't shoot ya-"

She said before she was interrupted by a car honking. Both of their eyes shifted to the expensive cadillac. Candy's eyes scanned the inside of the car. The window rolled down to reveal Elvis. He was dressed rich as always, and he was wearing his signature sunny's.

"Get in this car, Candice."

He said sternly. Candy looked at him through her furrowed brows.

"I'm clearly busy. Sorry."

She said with a slight sass in her tone. Miles and Candy carried on walking until they were stopped again.

"Candice, I said get in car, now."

Elvis said, slightly raising his voice.

"Ok, gosh."

Candy said as she rolled her eyes. She got on her tiptoes and placed a sweet kiss on Miles's lips before getting in the car. Elvis began to drive at a fast speed.

"So are you gonna tell me why I'm in your car, or what."

She said. Elvis looked at her before shifting his eyes back to the road.

"We need a little talk at my place."

He said. His voice was hauntingly raspy. She decided to shut her mouth as she could see his fury building.

She walked into Graceland as Elvis followed. It was amazing as usual. The diamond chandler and the pure white carpet gave life to the house. Elvis escorted her over to the living room. He pointed his finger towards the sofa, urging her to sit. She did just that.

Elvis pulled a stool out and sat directly in front of her. His eyes shot her down as she was left confused and a little intimidated.

"Ok, so."

Elvis said. Her bambi eyes stared at him in curiosity as she sat put on the comfy sofa that wasn't so comfy under Elvis' glare.

"I need to talk to you about your behaviour these last few months."

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him through her eyelashes.

"You've started to become one of those naughty kids. It ain't a good look, doll."

She looked at him and pulled a face before crossing her arms.

"Don't be like that, you know I'm right. You've been doing some bad things, don't think I don't know. I see you with that gangster boyfriend of yours smoking. He's a bad influence on ya, doll."

Elvis said as his head moved from side to side in disapproval. She looked at him, her jaw wide, and her feelings offended.

"My boyfriend is not a bad influence!"

She snapped like venom.

"He is. Ever since you met him, you've been drugged up or doing some stupid shit with him. It's not healthy."

She swallowed harshly at his words. Her crossed arms relaxed as her brows downturned. Her fingers entwined with eachover, like a knot.

"He is a good guy. He just likes to have fun."

She said quietly as she broke eyecontact. Elvis leaned forward, his eyes scanning every small detail of her face.

"It won't be very fun to see him shoot someone with that damn gun that he carries. He's in a gang goddammit! You ain't safe with him, sweetheart."

Elvis said harshly. His breath hit her face.

"He loves me, and I love him. That's all that matters."

She said as her eyes looked into his. Elvis' head shook once more as he kissed his tongue.

"I'm just trying to help you. Your mother is worried about you, and quite frankly, I am too."

Elvis said softly. His tone was much more relaxed. She looked up at him, her words ripped from her voice box. She didn't say anything. She knew that he was right. She couldn't fight the truth.

"I want you to stop seeing him."

Her heart shattered like glass as her veins burst, making an opening in her little grey heart.

"No! You ain't my momma!"

"Your momma is the one that wanted me to say this to you. Listen, if you don't leave him... then you're coming to live with me. That's final. Don't even try to argue because your momma has agreed to this."

She was too stunned to speak. A single tear rolled from her doll eyes and down her soft cheek. She looked at him in disbelief before standing up and leaving. The door slammed, and Elvis was left in the empty house. No noise, no people, just him. He stared at the spot that She had previously been sat in. He felt bad for her, but how else was she gonna change her ways.

The following school day

Candy walked hand in hand with Miles. Making sure not to let him go. Miles kissed her forehead as they walked. She looked up at him with a shimmer in her big eyes. Her eyelashes batted as she admired her boy, her gangster. He smelt of weed and alchohol, but that was the smell of love. She loved him, and no one was going to come between that, not even Elvis. She loved him with every inch of her cocaine heart. She loved his white powder lines and his collar greens. She loved his money and his gifts. She loved his AK-47s and his pistols. She loved him. They walked out of the school as the bell rang. She was following him like a lost puppy, as usual. She was like his shadow. He gripped her hand tightly as they walked along the sidewalk. A big smile was plastered on her delicate face. That same smile that lightened the sky up when she was a little girl. She looked up at him before placing a candy sweet kiss on his cheek that had a teardrop tattooed onto it. He looked down at her, his head bent down towards her face.

They were both suddenly interrupted by a loud car engine, moving dangerously close to them. Their heads turned to face the Cadillac. Candy's eyes looked the driver in the eyes. It was Elvis. She rolled her doll eyes and crossed her arms as she watched him get out of the car in a fit of rage. He looked scary. His fists were clenched, and his teeth were grinded. Miles looked him up and down before chuckling.

"Get in this goddamn car. Now."

He grunted as he took a step closer. She looked at him before looking up at Miles.

"No!"

She said as she stepped closer to Miles. Miles looked at Elvis before letting a laugh escape his mouth.

"Calm down, old man. You ain't gonna talk to my girl like that."

He said. His laugh was overshadowed by his anger that was slowly building up. Nobody was going to talk to his baby like that, not even Elvis Presley. Elvis scoffed before grabbing Candy's arm tightly. His grip was harsh, almost bruising. He dragged her towards the open car door. Miles looked at him in shock before reaching for his gun that was hidden in the waistband of his pants. But it was too late. Elvis had already shoved her in the car and sped off. Miles looked at the car as it drove into the distance. He felt a piece of his heart plummet into the depths of his soul. He let out a sigh as he stood there alone.

Meanwhile, in the car, Elvis was raging at Candy. His loud menacing voice was almost deafening.

"I told you that you aren't allowed to see that fucker again!"

His voice echoed around the car.

"You can't just stop me from seeing my boyfriend!"

She shouted back as tears escaped her glassy eyes. The salt water glistened on her cheeks, illuminating her face in the hot sun rays. His large hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. Long veins coursed through his hands.

"Well, you know what's gonna happen now."

He said through his American white teethe. She looked up at him, her brows furrowed and her lip pouted.

"You can't just make me live with you. You can't just take me away from my family!"

She shouted.

"Oh yes, I can. Don't you know, your family are the ones that agreed to this. I'll teach ya a goddamn lesson."

She looked at him with her puppy eyes as warm salt water fell from them. Elvis always cared about Candy. He always had a soft spot for her. But she needed to be taught a lesson, and Elvis was the right person to punish her.

Graceland

Elvis gripped her arm harshly as he practically dragged her into the house since she was refusing. He let go of her once he closed the door. He threw his keys on the table and walked into the living room. He turned the television on and placed his jacket on the sofa. Candy stood there and looked at him curiously. He turned around to her, and his gaze softened. He slowly walked over to her before wrapping her in a big hug. His cologne lingered in her nose as his delicate touch softened her core.

"Aww, im sorry, baby. But you know that I have to keep you here, it's a request from your parents. Don't be upset."

He pulled away slightly to look down at her. His fingers ran through her soft, feathery hair as a soft smile played on his face. He leaned down and placed a kiss onto her forehead. Leaving behind his love. He held her hand softly before leading her upstairs.

"Come on baby, let's get you to your new room."

He said before opening the door to one of the guestrooms. He stepped inside with her. She looked around in awe. It was so pretty. It was painted pink and lined with dove white. It was girly and meant for a queen, like her. It was almost as if he had this room just for her. She walked over to the bed and sat herself down. She looked up at Elvis, who had a fatherly smile on his face. He sat next to her and draped his arm over her shoulder. He looked deeply into her eyes.

"Look, I know you will miss ya boyfriend, but you're gonna have to get used to it. You ain't gonna be seeing him again."

He said sweetly. She looked into his eyes. A look of sadness washed over her face like a tidal wave. Elvis' finger carresed her cheek softly and tilted her chin up towards him. His touch was heavenly, and his love was unearthly.

"Don't be sad, baby, I'll take good care of ya. I promise."

He said as the pad of his thumb played with her lips. She looked at him, and her eyes scanned his face.

"You're safe with me. Trust me."

He said before he got up. He tucked a hair behind her ear and placed a kiss on her forehead. He smiled sweetly before leaving the room. She watched him leave, and a smile cascaded her face slightly as some of her sadness washed away.

The next morning

Candy's eyes dwindled open as the sunrays played in her luscious hair. A warm summer breeze blew over her face, sending cherry blossoms through her veins. Elvis sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her with a smile. He was in a silk robe that let just the right amount of chest hair escape. His jet-black hair was messy.

"Good morning, doll."

He said. His morning voice was croaky and deep.

"Good morning, Elvis."

Candy said back before she yawned and stretched. She was so cute. Her hair was tangled, and her cheeks were puffy and pink. Elvis smiled.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

He inquired as his fingers played with her hair. She looked up at him with her glistening eyes.

"Can I have some cereal?"

She asked politely.

"Of course, baby."

He said before standing up. He walked over to the door and stopped in the doorway. He turned around to look at the sleeping beauty.

"I'll call you when it's ready."

He said before his shadow disappeared. Candy looked at the empty door way with her wandering eyes.

She sat in the dining room. She ate the rainbow cereal in silence. Elvis sat across from her and ate a pb&j sandwich. His eyes looked at her. She was so pretty in this state. Sun shining on her sun-kissed skin, pearly beady eyes, fresh and clean. She was like a dream.

"Is it good?"

Elvis asked.

"Mhm, very."

Candy said as she continued to eat. Elvis smiled slightly. He watched Candy finish the cereal. He stood up and picked her bowl up. He looked at her before bending down to her and wiping her milk moustache off with his hand. She giggled as he did this. He chuckled before walking over to the sink and placing the bowl in it. He turned back around to look at her.

"I want ya to go get changed. I brought you some dresses since you are staying with me. I wanna see how ya look in em."

He said.

"Ok."

She skipped up the stairs and into her room. She rummaged through the closet and pulled out a short white summer dress. She put it on. It perfectly exentuated her tanned legs and hugged her small waist. She went back downstairs to Elvis. He looked at her before a smile played on his face. His eyes wandered over her body before he commented.

"Ya look so pretty. My, my."

He said as he scanned the dress. Candy smiled slightly. Elvis was always close to her, but something about him just made him husband material to her.

"Thanks"

Candy said as she felt her soft cheeks heat up. Her fingers played with the soft thrilly ends of her dress. Elvis walked over to her until he was just inches away. His big hands found themselves around her waist, slowly wandering down to her hips. His alluring eyes looked down into her pretty beady ones. Candy's heart began to race.

"I don't want ya to ever think about that Miles guy, ya have me."

Elvis said in a raspy, low tone as his hands rubbed circles into her waist. She looked up at him and nodded in agreement. Elvis' face slowly inched closer to hers, almost as if he was going to kiss her. That's exactly what he did. His soft lips met with hers. Candy's heartbeat slowed as the world around her went silent. She felt as if time had stopped, and it was just her and Elvis in the world. Elvis' hands moved up to her face, gently cupping it as their tongues danced around eachover. She felt her eyes drift shut as they carried on. The summer breeze blew through the window and blew their hair back. The floating orbs around them became visible in the sunrays. Candy's hands moved to Elvis' neck, and she played with his black hair tactfully as they kissed. The birds sang a sweet melody, the war in Candy's mind ended, and the knot in her stomach undid itself. She kissed him until she saw stars in her eyes. He kissed her until his lips beckoned to be let go.

[teenagecriminalmastermind]

blue blood - chapter 5 (an aemond targaryen x team black daughter fanfiction)

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chapter 1: prologue chapter 2: the bells chapter 3: the race chapter 4: claw isle

chapter 5: bloodstream.

Sleep does not come easy to her. 

The physicians urge her on the very first night to take some milk of the poppy to ease her pain enough to sleep through the night but she is adamant, shaking her head in dissent. “I will bear the pain, but I cannot take the milk,” she insists. “I cannot let even the possibility that Prince Aemond Targaryen will sneak up on me be entertained.” She knows the Queensguard are capable, but she has seen firsthand just what he is capable of when pushed. 

And now, he has a goal. A single-minded goal to get back at her for her purported crimes. 

“Are you certain, my lady?” the physician asks, his brows furrowed in worry. “We cannot afford another misstep, and not taking the milk of the poppy could lead to serious complications. Your wounds, while they have the potential to heal swiftly, are still serious enough to merit at least a week of rest.” 

“It will not keep you dead asleep,” the maester adds, trying to allay her worries. “But it is crucial to your recovery and the reduction of your pain.” Daella stills for a moment, thinking it over. She wishes to recover as soon as she can, and if the opiate has a dual effect, then she is willing to take the risk. She knows a lack of sleep due to pain will further worsen the chances of a quick return, so she nods warily. She turns to Erryk Cargyll, the loyal Queensguard standing at the threshold of the room. 

“That man cannot be allowed to come even close to this castle,” she orders. “Not as much as for myself as for my mother.” Aemond is after the crown, and he was at peace with almost killing Daella. What is to say that he would not hesitate to kill his own half-sister, to bear the stain of kinslayer in order to secure his brother the victory? “Erryk, that man is dangerous. He is not to be taken lightly. At all.”

A maester walks back into her chambers, passing Daella a medium-sized vial of the drug. “A few drops in your tea every four hours, Your Highness. Try to stay in bed and recover as much as you can. Do not try to walk unless it is absolutely necessary. I will return in a few hours with another physician to check on your progress.” She knows they are placing these restrictions on her to aid in the speed of her recovery and return to battle, but she cannot help but feel aggravated by this turn of events. Aemond Targaryen is out there, loose and dangerous, and she can do nothing but watch from the sidelines until her body is willing to cooperate again. 

“Days,” she mutters darkly under breath. “We cannot afford days. At least not while he is hale and uninjured himself.” Besides her father the Rogue Prince, no one is more than an equal match for the One-Eyed Prince, and the older man is needed here by the side of his Queen. She is the next best option, and she needs to heal as soon as she can. 

“This is important, Princess,” Ser Erryk speaks up, looking at the young girl bandaged up in her bed. “Your mind may tell you you can battle again now, but your body is severely wounded. The gods were good enough to ensure you had no overly severe wounds, by the kind of injuries one must sustain after tumbling off dragonback at that speed must need proper tending to.” Alas, the knight is right, and she cannot refute his words. 

She is lucky that the injuries have mostly been sustained through cuts over her body and bruised ribs, and that the maesters cannot detect any internal bleeding. No matter how vexing, she must stay in bed if she plans to be an asset to the war effort. A battle wages in her mind as she watches the cup of tea be set down by her bedside, Ser Erryk retreating as he closes the door with a soft click. She can either take the drug and rest well, or she can give in to her paranoia and lie awake in pain, anticipating an attack that most likely shall not come tonight. 

In the end, her screaming ribs win, and she adds a few drops of the milk of the poppy to the tea, the liquid swirling into her tea like tendrils of a cloud, of a milky river slowly making its way through the dark brown waters. It doesn’t take long after she downs the concoction, and Daella drifts away to sleep with the sounds of thunder and a madman’s laugh echoing in her head. 

The next few days are nothing short of misery. She lays in bed most, if not all of the time, and every few hours a maester and physician come to check on her, the only good news being that their reactions to her injuries are consistently positive. They frown as they examine her face and hands, cleaning her many stitches as they replace bandages. “Your Highness,” they say, as if gearing up to deliver bad news. 

“What is it?” Daella questions them sharply, dreading the worse. What if infection has set in? What if there is a chance of rot, of gangrene? She cannot take being out of the war any longer, let alone risk permanent loss of faculties or death. 

“These wounds on your palms and across your cheek,” the maester says as he presses the bandage shut across her right cheek with a sealant poultice, “they will scar, Princess. Permanently.” So this is what they had been building it up to? She cannot help but laugh, wincing as the movement makes her cut cheek hurt. 

“And here I was worried you were out to spell my death, Maester Gerardys,” she chuckles. “Scars are of little consequence to me now. My biggest worry is whether I can fight soon. Is that still a possibility? Will my hands heal enough to wield a sword?” 

“Not without bandages wrapped around them, Princess,” he warns her. “You shall be able to wield your sword without breaking your stitches open in a week, but you shall not be able to fight without your bandages.” She takes their words into consideration and lets her sister Rhaena feed her and the servants bathe her, and lets her parents and Lucerys fuss over her, everyone determined for her to heal as soon as they can humanly ensure it. She doesn't like being hobbled and crippled like this, but Daella has no choice in the matter, not if she wishes to be back in the fray as soon as she wants to. 

“Ser Erryk?” She asks the fourth day of her recovery. 

“Yes?” The man perks up, walking to her bedside. 

“Could you kindly send for the Princess Rhaenys? I wish to speak to my aunt.” The man does not question the nature of her request, and Rhaenys Targaryen enters her niece’s room not long after, a worried, matronly look gracing her features. There is an air of authority in the way she carries herself, despite the fact that she only wears a flowing dress rather than armour.

“Your Highness,” Daella greets her, using her elbows to help herself up to a seated position. “How was Claw Isle? I trust you handled him well. I can only imagine his ire towards me was rather severe, and I cannot imagine he made it easy for you or for Lord Celtigar, or tried to see reason.” 

The princess steps forward and leaned against the bed frame, her eyes taking Daella in. “He would love to see you dead, you know,” she mentions, a bitter smile playing upon her lips. The sentiment amuses the younger woman, Daella rather unsurprised at this reaction from Aemond. 

“I guessed as much,” she chuckles. “The man has a near-blinding determination to see my demise through.”

Rhaenys nods, her eyes lost in thought, mouth set in a grim line. “He is a threat to us all,” she says after a moment of silence. “And yet, he is our nephew.” Daella grasps the unsaid implication in those words, the weight of the horror of kinslaying hanging over all of them like a stormcloud. “He cannot be reasoned with, and he cannot be stopped. You were wise to escape when you did, I think, or else you would have paid a visit to the Seven Hells that night. Aemond Targaryen is not a man who lets anyone defy him, and he sees it as the world rewarding you for the wrong reasons.”

“I suppose,” Daella mutters as she runs the back of her hand over the unmarred side of her face. “But the crown aside, I do not understand his grudge against me. It is not as if I am any better than him or outshine him in a manner to drive him to envy. He is one of the sharpest minds I have met, one of the most lethal fighters I’ve witnessed despite his lack of an eye, yet he holds such anger towards me.” 

“A sharp mind, a fearsome warrior and yet, a fool," Rhaenys says, shaking her head. "Intelligence and wisdom do not go hand in hand, and he is living proof. He harbours some form of jealousy against you,” Rhaenys muses. “He believes that you, a bastard, have stolen something from him. He believes that the gods owe him something, not you.”

“The gods do owe him something,” the young princess replies, thinking back to Driftmark. “They owe him recompense over his eye, Aunt Rhaenys. He was robbed of his sight and innocence that night, and he was never given justice for it. And since I am Lucerys' older sister, showcasing the same unmitigated gall with this theft, I suppose it magnifies his anger a hundredfold.” 

At that, the older woman’s face twists into a sympathetic expression, something akin to shame dancing on her features. “I do not discount what happened to him that night. It was not right and it was not just, and I understand why he is angry. But he is also a fool, a fool who will drive himself to madness until he finds an object to direct his anger towards." She crossed her arms over her chest. "And he has found that object in you.”

Daella stills at that observation, a rueful look on her face as she wonders what it would be like to live with that festering in one’s soul for almost a decade, to feel the sting of injustice every time one looks in the mirror, a haunting reminder of what was stolen from them. “I wish I could make him see reason,” she sighs. Rhaenys laughs, shaking her head. 

“My dear, no one can make Aemond Targaryen see reason but himself.” She moves closer, sitting at the edge of Daella’s bed as she looks at her with eyes filled with resignation. “He will never give up his hate, because he has nothing else left.” It makes Daella sad, to see a man that capable reduced to mere seething rage. 

“It was comforting to see you unscathed, Aunt Rhaenys. The man has instilled some fear in me when it comes to him, and I was worried for your safety,” she confesses. The Red Queen’s rider smiles at the injured girl, a look of reassurance and confidence on her face as she places a hand on her shoulder. 

“I understand the fear, my girl," she says. “But together, we shall overcome it. Now rest,” she adds. "You have much to recover from.” Daella nods as the woman leaves, taking another cup of tea with the milk of the poppy as she once again sleeps into the night. By the time the ninth day rolls around, she gains some use of her hands, albeit with some difficulty, and the stitches from her cheek have been removed, leaving an angry, red scar in its wake. 

She wagers she will be able to ride a dragon with not much difficulty and grip her saddle fine, but her greater worry lies in being able to wield any kind of a weapon, which she is not so sure of at the moment. The pain in her ribs has subsided, and she feels more clear headed, but her paranoia has not fully left her. She wonders on the ninth night of her recovery as to when the other shoe will drop, when the man will eventually show up at her door, demanding a payment in fire and blood. 

Daella takes the drug again before bed and lets sleep claim her, but the peace is short-lived, and she is woken up by sounds of rustling by her bedside. 

She doesn’t speak a word as she peers around her dark room, the pouring rain outside filling her room with a comforting hum. As she surveys the place, there is no one there - at least no one she can see. Yet, the feeling of someone's presence lingers. The shadows in the room seem to grow darker as the rain pours outside, and the dim flicker of candlelight casts eerie, shifting patterns upon the walls.

“I must be going insane,” she mutters to herself, rubbing the good side of her face with her bandaged hands, her words echoing in the silence of the room. There is nothing to suggest anyone else’s presence in her chambers, yet the feeling of being watched never leaves her, and a chill of unease creeps up her spine as she glances around the darkened room, the shadows seemingly reaching out towards her in the flickering candlelight.

“I know someone is there,” she breathes out, keeping her voice level. “Whoever it is, let us drop the pretence.” At her words the shadows seem to twist and contort, as if reacting to her challenge. The candlelight flickers, seemingly dimmed by the shifting darkness itself. But as quickly as the shadows move, they become still once more, leaving only the faint sound of her breathing mixed in with the rain. “Maybe I truly am just paranoid,” she mutters to herself, sinking back into bed. 

But that peace too is short lived, and Daella swears she hears the sound of boots near-inaudibly moving on the stone floor of her chambers. The feeling of being watched does not leave her, and she stays awake in bed, her eyes trained on the shadows, the way the lone candle flickers in one of the sconces. Not enough to illuminate the room well enough, save the door. Today is the second night she has been truly left alone by the staff and the maesters, the servants and Ser Erryk waiting outside her door were she to need any assistance. 

Just how badly has Aemond wounded her, if her mind is this fractured still?

As the shadows in the room seem to dance and coil with each shift of light, her eyes strain to make out a form or figure hiding within the void, and every few glances she swears she sees a silhouette. “There is no one here,” she whispers reassurances to herself, “I am simply far too paranoid regarding a reckless man.” The candlelight flickers and dances on the walls, creating shifting patterns as if mocking her efforts to convince herself of her safety and solitude. As the minutes pass, a peculiar feeling of being watched persists, and the silence in the room feels almost oppressive.

“Okay, that's enough,” she tells herself as she gets to her feet, lighting a candle using the one by the door. “I am getting a torch or a sword, but I will stand for this no longer.” The shadows in the room appear to withdraw deeper into the corners, as if retreating from her sudden movement.

But they never fully leave.