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aplaceinthedark · 5 months

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chapter four: FORGET my NAME

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: mentions of religious sacrifice, supernatural themes

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously, I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know.

If no one was going to tell me what the hell was wrong with the people here and their fascination with some ghost story, I was going to find out myself.

Frustratingly, the camera was a flop. I had tested it out first with Nick, who had been cheeky and flipped it off when he triggered the censor. But my apples vanished at some point in the night without triggering the camera. After a few nights of that, I set it to record regardless of motion. My result was the camera glitching at 3 in the morning, and not coming back online until half an hour later.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was like they knew the camera was there.

By wednesday, I was almost fed up with the whole thing. When Nick and I texted, I vented my frustrations, but there wasn't a lot he could do since he was in Richmond. After his ominous message in his driveway, he wouldn't talk about the subject; stating it was because of Granny and the possibility of her overhearing. Then he would distract me by almost quite literally dangling a cat in front of me.

Honestly, I think Jerry had more to say than the whole town combined.

Thursday, I was practically bouncing off the walls with how bored I was. I wanted to work on the house, but Nick wanted to help this weekend. I told myself I wanted to wait because then he would be over more, and… I wanted to hang out with him.

I hadn't realized how lonely I was until I came out here. Most of my so-called friends had really been Mike's, and once he was… gone, they vanished. I hadn't had my own friend in several years, and now that I had one, I almost wanted to cling onto him. Like he would vanish if I let him go.

But because he wasn't there, I decided that it was time to find some answers. And if no one would answer my questions, maybe some books could.

And I was gonna start with this Watcher creature.

The library…I don't know if it was because I had grown up in a city where there were several libraries, but my first thought was that it was the smallest library I'd ever seen. It didn't even take up a whole block, and it was only one story. I almost didn't go in because there was no way anything could be in here.

But I forced myself to go in. There were only two people behind the front desk - probably the only people who worked here - and a few people in what looked like a computer room. I slipped off to the left towards all the books before anyone would notice me. I found a corner where I could work uninhibited.

Unsurprisingly, it only took half an hour to find all I could about the subject of the local legends. It wasn't a whole lot, but more than I thought I would find. I found a few books - if you could call them that - several news articles, and a copy of some cartographer's journal.

Reading through everything, I soon realized why no one would tell me anything: it was because there was nothing to tell. It wasn't because they were scared to say its name; it was because there was nothing on the subject. Nada. Zip. No concrete evidence.

Sure, there were stories. Tales of odd noises heard or glances of something in the corners of their eyes. But it was just that: bare minimum evidence that was blown widely out of proportion. Mostly, it was tales of white dogs or the sound of a string instrument from deep in the woods.

And the Watcher…

It was all over the place. One tale said that the Watcher of the Woods existed as long as the mountains were mountains:

In the days before men, wild animals roamed unchecked across the land. They were as spirits and had all the power of spirits and were wise and could speak. Among them, the Watcher of the Woods was the wisest, for he alone could attain the valley of the deepest green and seek wisdom from the oaken groves.

"In the early stages of the world, the earth was still learning its shape. The shell of the earth cracked, and the land heaved, and the oceans churned. Great mountains were born at the seams of the earth, and great valleys appeared where the land split.

In ages past, all things living commanded infinite power. Some creatures sought to keep their strength secret and refused to share their gifts. Thus, darkness sought to make all creatures equal and share their power equally amongst all things.

Instead, the craven amongst them concealed their Divinity, and left the world death-like and dull. Their True Names were lost, and no more were they as spirits. O ly the Watcher remembered how the world had been, and only the Watcher could guide the others toward the darkest grove to uncover the wisdom of old."

“After a time, the deer heard the response to its plea. “I can do what you ask,” the ancient tree said, “though there will be a cost.”

There were also a lot of animal tales, and I was surprised to see Granny's name in one of them as an intro. I guess there weren't a whole lot of people to talk to in this town. There was "Journey to the Oaken Grove" about how a little rabbit journeyed to the Watcher to seek out answers. There was "The Fox's Shadow" about how a fox left his family and didn't come back right. There was also a tale called "Lost in the Labyrinth" where a deer begged the Watcher to take away its suffering.

“I will pay it,” said the deer, “whatever it may be, if it means I may be free of fear.”

“You must give your heart to me,” said the tree. “To be truly free, you must relinquish your greatest strength, and only then will you find relief.”

“Is it wrong of me to do so?” the deer asked, worrying that it was its fear alone that drove it to ask this of the tree.

So the deer whispered its true name to the great tree, who accepted it tenderly and wove a spell to set the weary deer free.”

“Not at all, dear one,” the tree replied. “You are very brave to make such a sacrifice.”

But the most shocking thing I found? A ten-year-old news article abbut these cultists, and weirdly, a photo of Nick and Noah was in it.

None of this, however, held a candle to the witness accounts of people who lived near the forest. Tales of half-men cultists from the underworld, and on the summer solstice, they would appear to make a sacrifice to the horned king of hell.

Nick's words from this past weekend came back to me. "People here like to think they care about you... they end up leaving you to the lions." Was this what he meant?

Nick 😺🍌: Noah wants to know if it’s okay if he can come over.

Despite what little I found, I still copied down what I could, until my hand cramped and my spare change for the copier was spent. I was close to leaving, having everything packed up and ready to go, when I got a text from Nick. I felt my heart leap, but when I saw the subject matter, I groaned in frustration.

Well at least he’s asking this time.

A part of me wanted to text back “No, absolutely not,” but instead I hesitated. If Nick was certain that Noah’s and my first meeting was a fluke, then maybe I should give him another chance.

Nick 😺🍌: come on, give him another chance.

Nick 😺🍌: are you busy?

No, but I’m not home right now. I’m leaving the library right now.

Nick 😺🍌: Can I ask you for a favor then?

I’m not stealing any babies for you.

Nick 😺🍌: LOL NO can you drop off a book at Granny’s? She’s feeling under the weather and I don’t want her getting any sicker.

Anything for Granny.

Nick 😺🍌: Ty! I’m almost done with my break, but just text me when you’re done and I’ll let you know about Noah when we’re closing up shop here.

Defeated, I picked up the book for Granny and left the library. With all my papers and books, I couldn't help but think of my old college days. Gauging the time, I decided that the trip to the Heritage Center would have to wait until tomorrow.

Granny was delighted to see me. She fussed over me leaving, preventing me from simply dropping off the book and leaving, so I had to stay for a bit. Which was fine, since that meant seeing Jerry and Lydia. I tried to skirt around her questions about me and Nick. He had been right about the rumors, in a way, and judging by how she was talking, Granny wasn't helping.

"I'm just so glad Nicholas is seeing someone," she said as I tried to pick up Jerry. "He's never been quite the same since Noah disappeared."

I froze, letting Jerry make a bid for freedom. "N-Noah?" I asked. "Aren't they friends?"

"Oh, they were. Noah was always staying over, so much that he had his own plate at the table," she said. I wasn't able to school my confused expression quick enough before she looked over at me. "Oh, he probably hadn't told you about him yet. He doesn't like to talk about the subject much."

My unease was growing by the second. "What do you mean he... disappeared?"

Granny got up, motioning for me to follow. I went with her to what looked like a spare bedroom, or a storage room for a bunch of crochet projects. But my eyes fell onto a framed picture on a table as Granny dug through a dresser. It was of Nick, though he had short hair and small spacers in his earlobes. He was kneeling and gripping the hand of a much younger Noah, who also had short hair.

Granny pulled out a manilla folder, drawing my attention away from the picture. "Nicholas was once obsessed with trying to find Noah, but then a year had passed, and he stopped. He threw this away, but I kept it in case he would regret the decision." She then pulled out what looked like an old newspaper clipping.

And above it, in big bold letters..

I didn't want to look, but I knew I was going to have to. The first thing my eyes were drawn to was the picture: a young man, obviously older than the previous picture, but with long dark hair and big dark eyes, smirking at the camera. An exact mirror of the man who had shown up on my property a week ago,

MISSING RESIDENT PRESUMED DEAD

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens au #noah sebastian fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #jolly karlsson fanfiction #nick folio fanfiction #horror au #paranormal au #tag: non binary character #fic: lost in the labyrinth #series: lost in the labyrinth #cw: supernatural themes #cw: ritual sacrifice

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nadjaofstatenisland · 11 months

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My former best friend had this baby daddy who was absolutely out of his mind and unstable and she left him when their son was like 2 months old and then eventually moved 1000 miles away and part of the reason was to be far away from him and then years later then he reached out to me and my family and any random person connected to her and sent us his go fund me where he was trying to raise money for a lawyer to get his son back which was crazy because he never even signed that kid's birth certificate or paid a cent of child support so WHAT did he think he was doing and anyway he came up tonight so my husband decided to look him up and he found a new go fund me where he is raising money to fix his car and he posts the invoice from the shop where you can see part of his address but mainly the zip code which is the zip code where my mom lives where I grew up where my ex best friend grew up where her family still lives and you can see the last three letters of the street name so me being insane I opened up google maps to look at the zip code line and combed every single street and the only one that ends in those three letters is dun dun dun THE STREET HER FAMILY LIVES ON and like it's a small street although it does have a ton of apartments and multi family houses but literally how would he even end up there did he rent a place because he knew her family lives there or did he somehow make nice with her family despite everything that happened between them and moved in and like I really wish I could talk to her about this and ask but she's either still 1000 miles away where she moved to or back in her home country which was where she told me the last time we ever spoke or like is she back here and just hasn't told me and I know I could just suck it up and reach out but I was also always the person apologizing and mending fences for 20 years while she was the type who wouldn't even tell me why she was mad or what I ever did wrong and like idk but this is going to drive me nuts half because I want the tea and half because I really do miss her

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mamawolfblood · 2 years

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Baicardi chapter one

Alessandra Rossi

Age 21

Eye color blue

Hair color honey brown

Skin color pail white

Height 5ft9

Weight 135lb

Occupation-Designer shopkeep.

2nd occupation-Executioner for the Mafia.

Outfit when she is in the shop.

Blue blouse with black jeans and flats.

When on a mission she sports a black body suit with green snake scale marks in random spots.

She excels in hand to hand combat.

Her stand known as pufatter has the appearance of a humanoid snake. Its ability constriction, Hallucination,poison haze.

Alessandra was born to the infamous Rossi family. It has always been rumored that they are Mafiosi. Even though Alessandra or Alessi is a kind hearted woman, She will reck your day if you threaten the people she cares about.

She enjoys the smell of roses after a spring rain. The sound of rain fall at night and a good Baicardi. She hates drugs and the Mafia men that kill for fun.

Chapter 1

The warm sun rests on my shoulders as I carry a bag of groceries to my apartment. "Those look heavy let me carry them for you." I turn to see Bruno Bucciarati a light blush on his face. "If its not to much trouble. I wouldn't want to burden you." I said nervous making him chuckle. He takes the bags from me. The walk home was nice. People were watching and talking about us. Some of the old ladies would ask if I was dating him. I say no of course but it would be nice if I could say yes. Once we reached my apartment I offer him a drink. But in Bucciarati fashin gets right to the point. "I know its sudden to ask but PoPo is dead ,and you and I are the only ones who know the location of his money. I need your help Alessandra Rossi the silent death." He wouldn't use my code name if it wasn't important. "You know I could never say no to you." I said pouring a glass of Baicardi for both of us. I place his on the table before walking away. He grabbed me pulling me into his lap. His head resting on my chest calming silence over took both of us.

"Se solo tu sapessi quanto significhi per me. Sposterei l'inferno e la terra per te. Mia Alessandra amore mio." He whisperes before kissing me though it was sudden I melted. When he pulled away his eyes never leave mine.

"You should have done this sooner." I said before being pulled into another kiss. "You are the only one Alessandra." He said before getting up.

I change into my body suit so many times I thought of throwing it away. I just couldn't bring myself to and now I know why. "One last mission before I settled down." I said putting my hair in a ponytail. "As long as your with me Alessandra. You will have no need to dirty your hands with filth. I will protect you no matter what." Bucciarati said hugging me from behind. "If only you could walk away too." I said turning to face him. "You know I can't but I will always come home to you." He said before leading me out my apartment. He takes my hand in his as a sign I am his no one better not look at me. He will zip their eyes shup.

#romance #jojo smut #bruno bucciarati #original characters #fanfiction #jojo's bizarre adventure

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zot3-flopped · 2 years

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After the news of Zayn's drugged out tantrums broke it made me think about how he, Liam and Louis are crap parents. Yes they foot the bills and the kids will want for nothing. But money really isn't a substitute for stable presence in a child's life.

Zayn's clearly been using drugs for years (eating disorder my ass that 2014 weight loss was coke based) in addition to being a self sabotaging puerile chump. An intoxicated, emotionally unavailable parent that's constantly having violent outbursts and rage-filled rants is so toxic for poor Kai. Even an infant is affected by this kind of abuse; just because she's small doesn't mean she isn't aware.

Louis does genuinely seem to love his son, but he's in another country 99% of the time. Call it what you want, but that's neglectful. I wouldn't want a drunk jackass around my kid! Much less an absentee father. That's sure to cause separation anxiety for Freddie. He just seems to be more interested in partying with the losers he keeps on his friend payroll then rushing to see his son whenever he's able. This is pre and post pandemic travel restrictions.

Liam is at least in the same zip code as his child recently but he seems like such a messy buffoon. I feel as if Cheryl were to leave him alone with Bear he'd lose him within minutes lol. He's got the emotional IQ of a 12 year old. A child picks up on their caregiver being incompetent. Again, frightening.

They're all deadbeat dads as we say in America. Typically that means they also dodge child support so it's not technically accurate. But I can't help but think it's more true then not. They're hurt children who will hurt their own children with irresponsible behaviors. Selfish, the lot of them.

Hilarious then that these mouthbreathing terminal virgins accuse someone like Olivia of being a neglectful parent. She co-parents amicably with a creep who cheated on her and sticks to a consistent schedule. These hateful stalkers KNOW HER SCHEDULE but still insist she's a bad mother. If she's truly such a bad Mom wouldn't she have ignored Halloween with her kids to stay with her boyfriend in NYC? It's comical. The double standards are shameful. No one ever asks men how they "do it all" as Dads. The internalized misogynistic bile is so telling. It breaks my heart but it also makes me really fucking angry. She does it all, parent, artist, loyal friend, ethical business owner, philanthropist, industry change advocate, and yes, unapologetically sexually active adult. Harry doesn't date pretty but not clever women as grown-up. He's matured. I wish these other 3 would for the sake of their kids.

👏👏👏👏👏

Now Khai is at the wobbly walking and grabbing stage, she definitely shouldn't be left alone with Zayn who probably has his drug paraphernalia scattered everywhere, and God knows how much passive smoking poor Freddie does in the course of his dad's visits.

#zayn #louis tomlinson #liam payne #harry styles #freddie tomlinson #khai #bear payne

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maximumninjavoid · 3 years

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Mining for unobtanium

chapter 40

I know. I've lost my damn mind, right?

The usual warnings. if you're under 18, go AWAY.

There's no smut in this chapter. I know, I know......

@indigosaurus @fishcustardandclintbarton @tinareher and all the rest of you lovely mad persons who are with me on this ride.....

He was sitting in first class, reading scripts or something. I was sitting in business class, dressed like an eccentric American, and engrossed in my notebook. I couldn't sit near him and concentrate, and I was damned sure going to do my fucking job. I was poring over pages of notes, scribbling in the margins, piecing together every little nuance. His role models, his friends, his family, the past relationships, what worked, what didn't, my theories on why, all of it.

I read it. Reread it. Highlighted parts. Color-coded if you must know, trying to unlock the secrets. I was not; AM not a puzzle person. Problem-solving? Oh, I'm your girl. I had room to spread my notes, looking at data files, investigation reports; he'd shit if he saw those, but I was given a free rein after all.....I saw the commonalities, and finally, the pattern emerged. We're all just slaves to our inner selves, aren't we? And just as I had my inner asshole that wound up and ground me down, sure as God made little green apples, I could see or hear, rather HIS inner asshole. The brother that's super military, and what path Henry would have taken if acting hadn't worked, the order of his birth, the Fat Cavill bullshit, it was RIGHT THERE.

I almost yelled "Eureka!"

He didn't see himself the way the rest of us saw him. Not even a little bit, and the travel and the shooting schedules gave way to loneliness. It was then he was most vulnerable to the types of women that wanted something from him and he didn't understand that his reach could well exceed his grasp. Smug as a motherfucker I closed my notebook and just let my brain run with its new discovery. We had a few more hours in the air, and I was charged up like a superconductor. Goddamn, I wanted a cigarette.

He wants a partner. He wants the kind of family he knows he had growing up, what his married brothers have. He wants a good girl who'll be naughty just for him. He can't deny or dismiss the bends in his sexual desires, not long term anyway, and when he rushes the process, that's exactly where it explodes, every time. If you're too willing to overlook deal breakers, then of COURSE you'll mistake all those red flags for a carnival. Every single time.

She'd have to be smart. Ideally a bit of a geek. Able to hold her own, with a career, not a job. But not a fan girl, that wouldn't work at all. Understanding what his demands are and willing to work through them. And she'd have to love dogs. Dog parks. Art museums, sci-fi cons. Cosplay. Not an actor, and certainly not someone in the business. And by the business, of course, I mean the industry.

If radio still existed.....ah well, that was my nostalgia. Maybe not even an American. Beautiful, of course, but just as lovely inside. Like he is. A little old-fashioned, not 1950's housewife, but maybe sometimes, for fun. A writer maybe? I scribbled some more furious notes. A designer perhaps.

I wrote some more. Substantial. In shape but not too in shape. Still feminine, curvy. Great tits and an ass he'd want to smack or grab. Someone who would love ALL of him. Even the small insecure parts.

I put all my files back in my Zero Halliburton briefcase, locked it and with the key on a chain between my boobs, I put it back in the overhead and sat back, feeling accomplished. He wanted what I had laid out, but got distracted by easy conquests and settled. There would be no more settling.

He would get precisely what he needed, what he deserved. And I would see to it personally.

At arrival, I assume he zipped through customs and into a waiting car. Stars do that sort of thing, and I insisted he not hand around waiting on me. I had quite a bit of baggage and customs was less than fun. God I REALLY wanted a smoke. Luggage piled on the trolley, briefcase handcuffed to me ( I said eccentric, remember) hair spiked up and bright white, shoulder pads out to here, and thank the maker for impeccable travel knit. I saw one of his staff and waved.

" Hi Ellen! " we hugged and she asked about the flight. I grumbled and she led me to where I could smoke. " I swear, I'd almost hump your leg for this," I said inhaling half of a 100 in a single drag. She threw her head back and laughed. "They told me you were something else!" She handed me a set of keys, directions to where my car was parked, and said the GPS had my address already in it. I told her I wanted a shower and some food, she said the groceries were already there and waiting. I bid her farewell and headed off to parking.

When I got to the spot my car was supposed to be in I spent a good fifteen minutes looking for the cameras. This was no car. It was a FERRARI.

And not just any Ferrari.....it was a GTC 4Lusso. Twelve cylinders. Zero to 60 in three-point four seconds, and a seven-speed automatic. They also hadn't made any since 2016. And, it was a hatchback. Well, a Ferrari hatchback.

Ok. I squealed. Panoramic roof. aluminum brake calipers. Just enough carbon fiber to make me wet, and I swear, when I fired her up, I came. All the bags fit right in, I punched a few buttons on the nav and headed out. I called my new boss.

" I should tell you that you shouldn't have, but I'm deliriously happy you did!! Where did you find her? She's perfect, you know!"

"Talking AND driving. Very American. "

"Thank God it’s an automatic.....I'm touching myself you know...."

An exasperated sigh from the other end.

" Thank you. You're way too good to me."

“ You deserve it………..and don’t even think about arguing with me”

“ Oooh NOW who’s being cheeky? And the steering wheel is even on the proper side…… but right turns are going to be weird……..”

He hung up on me.

If I knew where I was going, I would have taken the long way. I hadn’t had THIS much fun driving since I got my first Miata or the time I drag raced some guy who said “ you’re just a chick, you can’t drive…”Remind me to tell you that story. It’s a doozy. The car in question got 15 tickets standing still. Wasn’t even close to street legal.

I pull up to this I don’t know what to call it. It didn’t remind me of the mews house that Henry had, but it wasn’t the hotel I stayed in either. Marleybone. Whatever THAT meant…… the information said it was a duplex apartment and I had the key code, so in I went and wow.

Mid Century Modern, Clean lines, nice kitchen, a terrace so I could go smoke! I mean I HAVE my priorities. The bed looked HUGE, big enough for me to sleep like a starfish, and two trips and I had all my stuff dragged in. I went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. When she said that groceries had been laid in, she wasn’t kidding. There was a whole shelf of vitamin water and oh my STARS! There was a coffee maker on the counter! That HAD to have come from Amazon, right? Surely I must be the only coffee drinker in where was I ? Marleybone. That was going to make me giggle for a minute. There was a study in the second bedroom, so I would have space to work, a whiteboard the size of one wall, this was perfect!

I grabbed a beverage and set about unpacking and hanging up all my things and putting other things in drawers. Wifi connected, I found the Spotify playlist I was looking for and began to putter about. My watch was still on US time and my fit bit was on local time so I knew I was going to crash, hard, but the longer I stayed up the better I was going to adjust.

After unpacking I still had energy, so I grabbed the briefcase and spread my notes out on the desk. Markers in hand I began diagramming on the whiteboard. It helped me to be able to SEE what I was thinking. Graphing out his stated values and needs, and then listing the attributes he SAID he wanted versus what he actually fell for and where the disconnects were, in color, of course. Dotted lines, arrows, I was dangerously close to eight by ten color glossies with a circle and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one……. Alice’s restaurant…. No? Ok, never mind.

I started a quick list of where the train jumped the tracks, going all in too soon, not really taking the time to get to know them, having divergent interests and no commonalities, incompatibilities in career, work ethic, at least what *I* could identify from my assessment. I made a note to do the core values assessment and make certain I hadn’t missed anything.

#henry cavill + reader #henry cavill fanfic

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hot-wiings · 3 years

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The One Where After Your Grandfathers Death, Breakdowns Happen And Christmas Tradition Dies.

Edited: 12-3-2020

Hitoshi Shinsou walked into your dorm room. He hadn't knocked but opted to use the key you had given him. Normally he would have been forbidden from going into the girl's dorms, or at the very least scolded, but being Christmas eve, most of the teachers had left home for the holidays, as well as the students. Those who hadn't left would be leaving today.

“Ready to go?”

You zipped up your bag that held Christmas gifts and a Christmas dress that you recently acquired from the mall. You were going home for Christmas so you didn't need to pack any clothes. You looked over at Hitoshi who stood in your doorway in a sweater, holding a bigger bag. You weren't ready to go, not today. You didn't want to go, not this year. Not when he wouldn't be there with you. You tried your best to smile at Hitoshi, to smile and not give away what you were feeling. A smile that hid your pain.

“I was thinkin’ what if we went to your house for Christmas instead?”

“Kitty, we always go to your house for Christmas, it's a tradition at this point.”

“I know, but doesn't your mom get lonely on her own?”

Hitoshi walked over to your bed and picked up your bag for you. He hoisted it onto his arm with his bag and pressed a chaste kiss to your temple to sway your concerning worries about his mother.

“My mom will drop by for Christmas dinner anyway, so really, it's pointless to go to my home. Besides, we already told your mom we were coming.”

You let out a little sigh as you latched your hand onto Hitoshi's hand. You leaned against him as he led you out of the dorm rooms and out of the dorm building. You buried your face into part of his coat as the cold winter air hit your body. With your body leaned into him, he couldn't see your frown. He couldn't see the look of monumental disappointment and unhappiness, but how could he see what you were trying your best to hide. How could see your negative feelings when you tried your best to make yourself look positive. How could he know when you did your best to hide your cries at night. How could he know when you did your best to cover it all up.

Once you approached Hitoshi's car he headed to the back to put your bags in and you headed to the front. You plugged Hitoshi's keys in and turned the heat on, making sure to turn Hitoshi's seat warmer on, then you turned the radio to a Christmas station. Something happy, something for the holidays, something you no longer found comfort or joy in but something you had to listen to keep up your facade of happiness.

“All set?”

"Yup."

Hitoshi buckled himself up and looked over at you briefly to see you nod at him with a smile before adjusting his mirrors. He didn't see, he didn't notice that you looked out the window and watched the passing roads with a numb expression on your face. He couldn't feel how much you were hurting with the passing of every street you could remember going with him. Every grocery run, video store trip, walk to the candy store. He didn't see, he didn't notice how you were hurting. His quirk was mind manipulation, not reading.

Hitoshi nearly drove past your house. It was dark and bleak, no lights were up, not even the sidewalk was shoveled. He was so used to seeing your house lit up over the holidays. Solar-powered candy canes, glass color-coded bulbs on the roof, the railings, the fence, the door, the trees, and god did you have so many wreaths. Hitoshi parked the car in the driveway with a frown and you helped him fetched your bags from the back to help him escape the cold faster.

“I almost didn't recognize your house. It looks sad without lights.”

“I don't know why no one put them up...”

You bit your lip as you kept your focus on your hands. Once you and Hitoshi grabbed your bags you slammed the door shut and walked up the front lawn with your hand in his. You leaned against each other to help create warmth until you reached the door and briefly broke away so you could pull out your house keys and unlock the doorknob. You pushed the door open and walked in but not before stomping to get the snow off of your boots. The house was bare and empty, like the lawn, the lights were dimmed and no decorations were put up. You and Hitoshi kicked your wet boots off, leaving your bags by the door. With your hand in Hitoshi's, you went in to search for the kitchen.

“Mom?”

“Oh, hey sweetie. You're here early.”

“Well, Toshi’ wanted to get here early, he likes coming here for Christmas, likes to eat our cookies.”

"Oh I..."

Your eyes glazed over the counter and observed the cans and dishes your mother was prepping for Christmas eve dinner. It was mostly store-bought and canned goods. Your heart panged as you watched her throw away the storebought containers and platters, trying to pass off this dinner as her own. Usually, she and your grandma made everything homemade. From bread to pie, to the stuffing and meat, it was homemade. You had an inkling feeling in the back of your head that she wasn't going to put the effort in.

As you saw the alcohol bottles on the counter your chest hurt. Your mother was constantly drunk when you were a child. He was the only reason she stayed sober, constantly encouraging her to stay sober, sober for family, sober for her kids. With him gone you supposed, she fell off the wagon. He was the only reason she stayed sober, making her bearable. He was the only reason your siblings came around for the holidays. You wouldn't be surprised if they didn't show up this year.

"I'd hate to disappoint Hitoshi, but I didn't make any cookies."

“No cookies, great. Why didn't anybody put the Christmas lights up?”

“All the lights are in the basement in your grandfather's workroom. I didn't want to go in and look for them. Quite frankly, I'm too busy to put the lights up anyway.”

With one simple sentence, a small explanation, your heart broke. You knew this year was going to be different. No one put lights up, no one made cookies, your mother, slightly dunk, was serving a store-bought meal and your siblings probably weren't going to show up. Your grandpa held the family together. He kept everyone coming home for the holidays, he went all out with decorations and dinner, but he was gone now. You couldn't do it anymore. It was like all your emotions came crashing down in one swinging motion.

“You didn't put Christmas lights up because you couldn't handle going into his workroom? That's fucking bullshit! You're a grown adult, you have to do things you don't like!"

"Grandpa's gone and you need to accept that, hows that for doing things you don't like? I'm sorry to disappoint you, [Y/N], but grandpa is gone. Your sisters texted and said they weren't coming, I figured you'd bail too, so I didn't bother with a homecooked dinner and lights."

You ran your hands through your hair roughly as the tears made way down your cheeks in hot salty streaks. Hitoshi, from behind you brought his hand up and grabbed your shoulder, thumbs rubbing comforting circles. He had been to the funeral with you, he had been there while you grieved. He went through it all with you. Slowly, your nightmares and crying seemed to lessen, he thought you were handling it better, processing and healing, he hadn't realized you were hiding your pain.

"Grandpa would be so fucking disappointed in you. He would have hated this, he would hate this so much!"

"He would be so disappointed in the fact that you can't grow up. How are you going to be a hero if you can't face his death? I'm going to work, like an adult, with a practical adult job. I'll see you later, if you decide to a stick around."

Your mother grabbed her bag and stormed out of the house without another word. You knew it was the alcohol talking, but it hurt so much. Hitoshi came in front of you and pulled your body against his. He was worried about you. He didn't know you had been hiding your feelings, hiding your pain for so long. If he had known he would've tried to help you through it.

"Your mom's hurting too. She's just reacting to grief differently."

You couldn't stay and listen to Hitoshi, instead, you took off upstairs but Hitoshi ran after you. Even when you slammed the door, he didn't let it deter his determination to get to you. He walked into the room and pulled you against his chest. He didn't care that you were sobbing, he didn't care that you were soaking his sweater. He didn't care. You were hurting. You were hurting and he wasn't there for you. You were hurting and he didn't notice. You were drowning in a sea of pain and he couldn't see. He should've seen. He should've seen through the facade, saw through the fake smiles and laughs.

"[Y/N], it's okay to cry."

"No, it's not, it's not! He's gone Toshi'! He's gone. If I grieve I'll get better, if I get better and I'm happy, it'll be like he's really gone."

"Grieving doesn't mean he's gone. Getting to a place where your happy doesn't mean he's gone. He will always be in your heart, he'll always be watching you."

"He would be ashamed. This is his favorite holiday. Every year we'd put up lights and we'd have a Christmas party. We'd have homemade food and cookies. It wasn't about presents for him, it was about family and my fucking siblings aren't even coming."

Hitoshi pulled you tighter against his chest as a sob escapes your lips. It hurt him to see you in such pain, it hurt him to not be able to relieve you of your pain. He felt like he should've noticed everything you were experiencing and going through earlier. He should've gotten you help. He should've been there to help you through this.

"We can still do some of those things if you want, we can bake and cook, I'll go to the store, find what we need."

"He's gone Toshi' it's not the same. My siblings aren't here, he's not here. Tradition is ruined, Christmas is ruined. I- I don’t want to do anything, I just wanna lie down... Will you lie down with me?”

Hitoshi kissed the top of your head and led you over to your bed. He pulled the covers back and tucked you in the bed before climbing in himself. He let you lay your head against him as you closed your eyes and tried to keep the tears in. The sudden outburst of emotions was taking a toll on you, but you needed to grieve. You needed to grieve rather than just shutting it all down as you had originally. You needed to let yourself cry it out, you needed to let yourself finally process he was gone. That's what you did. You let the tears out as Hitoshi ran his hands through your hair. He let you cry, weep, and sob. He let you be emotional until you didn't have the energy to. He held you with no judgment, but comfort and love. A word you had yet to say to each other.

"Don't leave me Toshi'."

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I'll always be here.”

You had only been asleep for a couple of hours when you felt your body being shook awake. The feel of the hands on you were familiar, familiar, and comforting. All you could bring yourself to do was keep your eyes closed as you nuzzled into the pillow you had your head resting on.

"Wake up. [Y/N], wake up. It's important."

"What is it?"

You rolled over to the edge of the bed and peeked your eyes open to peer up at Hitoshi. You blinked your eyes a couple of times until they were able to fully handle the bright lights. Your eyes felt heavy, heavy, and sore from crying. You were glad to finally get some of it out in the open. Hitoshi was right, grieving felt good, crying it out felt good. You felt light, but that part of you that deeply missed your grandfather felt guilty for trying to process it and move on.

"Put your shoes on, I wanna take you somewhere."

With a light huff, you complied with your boyfriend's wishes. You pulled yourself up out of the bed and grabbed your socks which you must have kicked off in the middle of your sleep. Hitoshi quickly grabbed your hand and tugged you to the front door where your boots were. You let go of his hand and slipped your feet inside of the shoes. Deciding you were taking too long with tying up the laces, Hitoshi started tying your other shoe. You gave out a little laugh, a genuine one.

"You're so impatient. Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise."

You huff again, but none the less you button up your coat and let Hitoshi wrap his scarf around your neck tightly before he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards his car. You noticed that the sidewalk had been shoveled, and it looked like someone put the solar-powered candy canes up. It was dark out, making them glow prominently and making you wonder how long you had been asleep. You supposed Hitoshi put them up because you mentioned how it bothered you during your outburst. A small smile fronted your face, the lack of other lights meant he must have gotten tired and quit, but he still tried. It made you feel partially guilty for hiding your feelings for so long. He just wanted to help you. Hitoshi only ever wanted what was best for you.

"Can I put some Christmas music on?"

"Go for it."

You fiddled with the channel knob until you found the right station, the Christmas station your grandpa always listened to. The car ride was slow and long, filled with awkward silence. You wanted to go back, go back, and not let yourself break down and cry in front of him. You hadn't let Hitoshi see you cry in your relationship. As heroes, not crying equaled strength. Crying and showing weakness meant you were weak. While no one taught you this, it seemed to be a rule every pro and hero in training followed. You hated the idea of being so sad and weak in front of Hitoshi, it made you feel like a bad hero. It made you feel so weak, but Hitoshi never made you feel bad for it.

"I put a lot of thought into what you said earlier. I know nothing but time is gonna make you feel better, nothing I say can help your pain. I can't heal your pain, not completely, but I'm gonna try to lessen it."

Hitoshi pulled the car into a parking lot and you looked out of the window to see where you were. It was dark out and the parking lot was practically empty but the mall was still lit up and open. You furrowed your brows and turned to look at Hitoshi, confusion was written on your face.

"Why are we here?"

"I'll show you, c'mon."

You got out of the car with Hitoshi and entered the mall through the target entrance. A decent amount of the store was sold out and there seemed to be no people. Everyone had finished their last-minute Christmas shopping and were sitting at home with their families. You grabbed onto Hitoshi's hand unsure of what you were doing here with him.

"What are we doing?"

"Last year, your grandpa told me that when you were younger he would take you and your siblings out to donate a gift, take a picture with Santa, and go get a treat. He said you always did that until you and your siblings stopped going."

Hitoshi pulled you further in the store, leading you by your hand, he took you down by the dolls and toys so you could pick one out. Your eyes glazed over with tears, remembering the tradition you had been doing ever since you were born. You had been doing that up until a couple of years ago when his health started to decline, your mother wouldn't let you go under the pretense you were too old, out of fear that it would make his health decline worse by going out in such bad weather. She told you it was too strenuous on him, and while you understood her worries for her father, it just made you hate her for taking away the time you barely got with him.

"You said moving on meant your grandpa would be gone, but that's not true. He wants you to be happy, but happy doesn't mean forgetting him. That's what we're doing here. we're gonna remember him [Y/N], we're gonna do everything he used to do with you."

You grabbed onto a Ken doll and grabbed some extra Ken clothes. Your grandpa would buy extra clothes because he was always peeved when he played dolls with you. Your Ken dolls clothes would go missing. Ken wasn't like Barbie who came with a dozen outfits, Ken only ever came with a pair of shorts and if you were lucky a shirt.

"If you're getting Ken, I'm getting Barbie."

Hitoshi leads you to the cash register and places all the items on the counter. The cashier scanned the items and placed them in a bag for you. Before you even had a chance to pull out your phone to use google scan and pay, Hitoshi was handing cash over to the cashier. With the now paid for bags in his hand, Hitoshi leads you to out of the store and towards the giant donation, dropbox painted like a huge present.

"You want to drop it in?"

Your face flooded red, embarrassment rode your skin like a disease as you nodded your head left and right for a no.

"I can't."

"[Y/N], this is good for you. Think of it as letting go of the pain, and remembering the good memories. I-"

"Toshi' I want to, but I really can't. I want to grieve properly. I want to grieve and get better and be happy. You're right, it doesn't mean he's gone, he's just not here... I can't reach it. I never have, I don't think I ever will."

"Shit, here."

Hitoshi grabbed your hips from behind and lifted you up. You could supposed the extra lessons he was receiving from Mr. Aizawa were paying off. With an extra foot off the ground, you tossed the plastic bag inside the container with a smile on your face. He wasn't gone forever, he was still in your heart.

"Thanks, Toshi'. I- I shouldn't have hidden how I was feeling. You're right, he would want me to be happy. He's was the reason I decided to be a hero, my mom discouraged it, but he... He said I could do it. Death doesn't change anything. I want to be the kind of hero that shows people it's okay to be weak, that it's okay to cry and still be strong."

"He'd be so proud of you [Y/N]. He's probably waiting up in heaven, watching you grow into the hero he knows you can be."

"Thanks, Toshi'. I'd like to say he'd be proud of you too. You were my only boyfriend he ever liked."

A smile crossed Hitoshi and filled him with pride as he took your hand again.

"Let's go get a picture with Santa."

"Can we find matching sweaters first?"

"Definitely. They've gotta have cats on it, and we'll get rootbeer floats afterwards."

Holding Hitoshi's hand you knew it was going to be okay. Your grandpa was up there watching you, and his death was just going to push you to be a better hero. A more inspiring one. Someone a kid could look up to and say, 'I can be emotional because [Y/N] does and she's strong'. Someone who could show people it wasn't a weakness. As Hitoshi pulled you along with him, you knew it would be okay. He'd never leave you, he was going to be there encouraging and pushing you along as your grandfather did.

"Hey, Hitoshi?"

"Yeah?"

It was going to be okay. It would be okay. You'd be okay. Hitoshi was with you. He never made you feel bad once in all your tears or outbursts. He held you tightly at the funeral and he hadn't left your side since. Even if he didn't see you hiding your emotions, he wasn't leaving or shaming you, he was trying to help you. You stopped your walking for a moment to smile up at him.

"Thanks for dealing with my emotional ass. I- I love you Toshi'."

Hitoshi let go of your hands and cupped your cheeks. A smile was grinning on his lips. It was the first time you said those words to each other. It wasn't the most romantic setting, but he wouldn't rather have it any other way. His thumbs skimmed the skin under your eyes. Smooth clear eyes compared to his.

"I love you too. You might be an emotional mess, but your my emotional mess."

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kuramirocket · 3 years

Text

Sonia Gutierrez dreamed of returning to her hometown of Denver as a television reporter for the city's defining news station: KUSA 9News. When she finally achieved it, however, it came at too steep a cost, she says.

Gutierrez says she was told that she could report on immigration, an issue about which she cares deeply, but only if she were to state her own immigration status on air in every story on the subject.

"I was put in a box simply for who I am," Gutierrez says.

She had never tried to hide that her parents had brought her as a baby from Mexico without documentation. But Gutierrez, 30, says she balked at the station's directive. She was told she could continue pitching stories about immigration, but, she says, she was asked to pass off her ideas and sources to other reporters.

Gutierrez is no longer with KUSA. Nor are two other Latina reporters. One had pushed editors to involve Black and Latino colleagues in more decisions about news coverage. The other's contract was not renewed five months after she had returned after having a stroke. She, too, had challenged station leaders on how they cover issues affecting Latinos in Colorado.

Over the course of a year, from March 2020 to March 2021, KUSA allowed each of the women's contracts to lapse without renewal, the way television stations typically part with their journalists.

"It is racist to require a Latino reporter, a Hispanic reporter, to disclose their own immigration status [to viewers] before reporting on immigration," says Julio-César Chávez, the vice president of National Association of Hispanic Journalists.

The outcry has focused an unwanted glare on Tegna, one of the nation's largest and most prominent owners of local television stations, just as the company faces claims of racial bias from a dissident investor.

"9News is the market leader in Denver and has been for decades," KUSA news director Megan Jurgemeyer says, "Having worked at another station in town, it was always viewed as the top competition and who we wanted to beat."

9News is unusually woven into the fabric of its parent company. Tegna's CEO Dave Lougee used to be the station's news director. KUSA's general manager, Mark Cornetta, is also the executive vice president of Tegna Media, the company's local television division. And Patti Dennis, a Tegna vice president and director of recruitment, is herself a former KUSA news director who still works out of the station's main building in Denver. All three are white, as are Jurgemeyer and Ryan.

Parent company faces its own issues with race

Tegna faces its own allegations of racial bias. An activist hedge fund, Standard General LP, recently nominated rival directors, saying it wanted to diversify the company's largely white board.

In an April federal securities filing, Standard General accused Tegna of racist practices stretching back years.

In 2019, a sports anchor at the company's Phoenix station accused its general manager — recently promoted from a job as KUSA's sales manager — of making "loud and unwelcome racist and sexist comments about coworkers" at a baseball game, in a civil complaint reviewed by NPR

Jamie Torres, a Denver city council member, was among the Latina state and local public officials who met twice with KUSA executives following the dismissal of the three journalists. She says the meetings left her unconvinced that there would be real progress beyond some changes in language and style.

"The conversation felt just incredibly transactional," Torres says.

And it renewed long-held frustrations: Torres says the three Latina journalists had been hired after an earlier round of discussions between the station and Denver-area Latino officials about representation at KUSA.

"Why Don't You Pitch It To Telemundo?"

While in college, Gutierrez interned at the local affiliate of the Spanish-language network Telemundo. Back then, it was housed inside KUSA's headquarters. Though owned by Tegna, KUSA is an affiliate of NBC, and Telemundo is part of NBC's parent company, Comcast.

As Gutierrez rose at Telemundo Denver, she also pitched stories to KUSA.

She says she often heard back: "That's a great story idea, why don't you pitch it to Telemundo?" Her response: KUSA also needed to serve Latino families — the ones who speak English.

"After a while, when stories wouldn't get picked up, I would just take it upon myself to do the interviews, write up a little [script] and give it to the anchors and say, 'It's done.' To the producers, 'It's done. You want it or not?' " Gutierrez says it was easier to hand off the idea fully baked.

After a stint at a station in Columbia, S.C., Gutierrez returned to KUSA as a reporter. She says KUSA leaders told her that she could be a defining person for the station, someone who would thrive there. By her telling, Gutierrez ignored the little slights that accreted.

Then, Gutierrez says, she was told she had to disclose that she had been a DREAMer, protected from deportation through the Obama-era policy called Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, or DACA, before she became a legal permanent resident through marriage. She didn't see why viewers needed to be told that in each of her immigration reports.

Gutierrez says she received no response when she asked for concrete examples of how her status had compromised her reporting. And when she refused to go along, Gutierrez says, she was told she would have to pass her story ideas and sources on immigration to other reporters.

"It's not like there was something wrong with me or my reporting," says Gutierrez, who left last year. "There was just something wrong with who I was — a liability to them."

Allegations of unfulfilled promises

Aguirre, 34, a Mexican-American who grew up near Midway Airport on the South Side of Chicago, says she had been inspired to become a journalist to tell stories about Latinos that were not simply about crime and immigration.

She came to Denver after being an anchor at a smaller station in Flint, Mich.

Aguirre says she believed her pursuit of community-driven news brought value.

"I can tell a story in a much different way than a female white reporter can because I lived it. I know the questions to ask," Aguirre says.

In April 2019, Aguirre suffered a stroke that resulted in a traumatic brain injury and paralyzed her on her left side; as she built back strength and returned in the fall.

After roughly six months, as new newsroom leaders rotated in she did not return to the anchor's chair. Aguirre alleges in a formal amended complaint she filed with the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission earlier this year.

Aguirre left the station in March 2020. Her attorney, Iris Halpern, says the complaint is currently in mediation.

"Because they're KUSA, they can just get somebody else," Aguirre says. "They can get another Latino who fills that Brown category, who's cheaper, younger, greener and more afraid to ask any questions. Although I was recovering [from the stroke], I was still that woman who would push back. So I'd be in those meetings and I would ask 'Why?' "

"I was instructed not to wear my hair in a bun"

After two years as a reporter in Bakersfield, Calif., Lori Lizarraga says, she was told by 9News that she would be an asset and she joined the station.

Lizarraga, whose mother was born in Ecuador and whose father is first generation Mexican-American, remembers saying, "'My voice will never track this [the word illegal] slew of words." She says she ended up shying away from stories involving immigration.

Lizarraga recalls even having her hairstyles vetoed. She wrote in Westword, "After six months, I was instructed not to wear my hair in a bun with a middle part anymore — a style I have seen and worn as a Mexican and Ecuadorian woman all my life. Not a good look, I was told."

"We Would Have Had Reporters On Every Corner"

Lizarraga, who left in March, says she hit an inflection point early last year. Colorado state regulators had just announced a record fine against a Canadian energy giant whose plant had been polluting nearby neighborhoods for years. She read up on it as she raced with a colleague in the official KUSA 9News van to the press conference.

"Ash was falling from the sky onto people's cars and yards and playgrounds," Lizarraga recalls. "Water was impacted."

She was struck by something else: The communities affected were heavily Latino. Yet, she says, state regulators had not consulted with those communities or even put out information in Spanish. And back in the newsroom, she says, producers focused solely on the size of the fine — potentially up to $9 million.

"I was very upset and I said, 'You know, if this were a community in a ZIP code just up the street with a different demographic, we would have had reporters on every corner ' " to interview residents, Lizarraga says. "And because this is a Spanish-speaking, low-income, largely immigrant community, we don't have an interest. We are choosing what is newsworthy based on what you care to talk about, not what is actually newsworthy."

"We have to confront management"

At KUSA, Lizarraga says supervisors resented her for demanding that African American colleagues be consulted on coverage about Floyd's murder and the protests. She thought they had a right to weigh in on questions such as: How much of the video of Floyd's death should be shown? When and if the word "riot" was appropriate? How much coverage should there be of police tactics?

Lizarraga says she rallied colleagues of color to object when the station decided to stage a town hall meeting on race and equity hosted solely by a white anchor. Instead of channeling that fervor, Lizarraga says, it was largely deflected.

"We can't be exhausted, we can't be scared," Lizarraga recalled telling colleagues. "We have to confront management and tell them that we have ideas and that we deserve a spotlight right now."

Meanwhile, she says, she was not recognized for the initiative she showed, such as the data-driven pieces that officials and advocates said (in text messages reviewed by NPR) served as a road map for government agencies seeking to arrange COVID-19 testing in heavily affected Black and Latino neighborhoods.

Life after KUSA 9News

Gutierrez now works across town at Rocky Mountain PBS. Aguirre is a local news anchor and reporter in Asheville, N.C., part of a television market that is about half the size of that of Denver.

Lizarraga returned to her family home in Dallas. In late March, she published her allegations against KUSA in Westword. "What Lori Lizarraga did took a lot of courage and bravery," the NAHJ's Chávez says, singling out Gutierrez and Aguirre for praise as well. "Journalism is an industry where a lot of people are mistreated, a lot of employees are mistreated, and discriminated against, and then people simply go quiet.

"For Lori to actually tell the world how bad the situation was, how bad she was being treated and how racist some of the management policies were, that takes real courage. She put her entire career in jeopardy."

In October, the Colorado ACLU will honor the three women for "fighting discrimination in the newsroom."

#🇲🇽#journalism #news reporters #racism #KUSA 9News #usa #united states #colorado #national association of hispanic journalists #tegna #denver #denver colorado #telemundo #NBC #canada

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dyker-farmer · 4 years

Text

More bro fic.... angst fodder kind content.

Take that can away if you can

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event- not 10, jesus-, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

I also put it on Ao3.

[[MORE]]

A bitch bastard man and a bitch walk into a room... Chapter 1/2/3/4

"I think we should talk about this."

If the room was stifled before, this just causes the pin to drop, and the relative lull to shatter with it. I don't want a storm, but we can't pretend the sea's a slightly oversized pond if we want him not drowning in it- again, my mind supplies, unhelpful.

He's zoning out again, blurry eyes pointedly off me, preferring the turned-off TV.

Let's start easy. "Why did you come here, Shane?"

"I-I-" It sounds like an excuse building up and it bubbles out like a shaken can, "I don't- I shouldn't have-" he goes to up and leave, and we just can't have that.

I scrape my chair closer and grab his shoulder, same as before. Hopefully it's more placating than caging. "No, you should have. You did good. Seeking out, remember?"

He doesn't answer but stills.

"Like Dr.Campbell and Harvey said." I try again.

"Yeah… Yeah." Deep breathing. "I. Don't know." He searches for my face, not quite past the nose. I nod, ushering him on. "It's. Stupid." I frown and my eyebrow goes higher than before and he immediately doubles down. "I know- positiv' reinforchment and all that shit! But… It's hard." A tired hand wipes the most of moisture off his face, before it goes back to wriggle with the other on his lap. "It's so fuckin' hard. Didn't even last two seasons!-"

I cut him off. "Two seasons is a lot! One and a half too. Last time, you'd tried to go cold turkey on the spot. We know what that got us." Sea foam in the mouth and a shared cold in the early spring, on top of a Joja lawsuit. "Shit's hard, like you said. You lasted one and a half this time. Next time-"

"Why the fuck do you always think there's gonna be a next time."

This time, I still. My laidback demeanor mirror his, but so does the cold anger creeping in and tensing both our backs.

"Because. There is going to be a next time. And another after that. And another. Same way there's been next times before this one now."

What's left unsaid we don't touch.

All irritation floods from him like it's just pointless to keep it in anymore, and his forehead goes to thunk softly against the wooden surface he leaned on before. The table muffles his next words a little.

"I can't… keep doing that." I don't peep. "I can't keep rolling back down and then up and down, and up, and down. I- I just can't, Garcia- Uidel-"

"I'll drag you there." I shrug.

"But you shouldn't have to!" His voice raises and make the boards vibrate where his skin's still pressed. "You shouldn't have to-to fuckin'-" he sniffles, the following words drowned out in held-back sobs. "Fuck damn it, you- I said I- I wouldn't be a burden anymore!"

He's crying out loud now, open sorrow and no walls left. Out of all the things you could stick on the not-so amiable man sulking straight from bed to Jojamart to Stardrop Saloon to bed, you probably wouldn't think of "extreme scare of bothering anyone". Yet it's all here in how he collapses silently in the mattress, wake without a sound, keep his head down the whole time he crosses town, tries to merge himself in the fake-nice blue of the shelves at work, then corners himself right between the chimney and the bar on Emily's side, stuck in-between two sources of warmth that can never touch him unless he swings one way or the other. And he doesn't a lot, still keeping to himself strictly. You probably wouldn't think either of how dreamy he gets, hidden in his alcove but seeing everything from there.

When Harvey nerds out about classical, jazz and electro swing music down the bar to me, trying to catch me up on my fuzzy memories of arts history and the implications of breaking codes in the tempo and the leisure of each instruments; of how each note gets a specific response from the brain if done right, and can make up for caffeine deprivation in miraculous ways, when there are no more chances to push back the dread of midterms season at doctor school.

When Elliott, boisterous and drunk, arm-on-arm with an equally inebriated Leah, calls out to the whole place to hear out his latest soliloquy, and drags on the words too much, but with a voice that carries it well, all flamboyance and no limits, as his hair floats around him in a crown and he reigns over the room like a kind lion- Description all intoxicated words from your chicken man truly, not mine. I always get too caught up in the pendulum of Leah's braid and her crooked smile to quite appreciate his theatrics. But the recital rings clear, and everyone applauds the performance- because hey, you applaud a drunk guy showing off the prowess of not tripping a single word in a ten minutes tirade, but also because it really is that good! Everyone, even Shane, whose hands zipped to under his armpits the moment our eyes crossed and I met his pink cheeks with a clairvoyant smile.

Hey, what can I say. Dude's a sapiosexual. Hence why we'll never and cannot bang. That, and, uh, the being lesbian thing.

But all this is closed off and not for anyone to see behind see-through fogged windows, like those kitchen cabinets, when you can make out the piled plates all resting against the cold surface precariously, bound to crash and shatter the moment you open them.

It took a good wrecking ball of a fake-oblivious polite faced stranger and my incessant, hot pepper poppers-powered pestering, to even just crackles the glass.

The rest was all done out of his own volition. He can't see that because alcohol is a depressant, and guzzling it down leads to blurry concepts made softer always and pretty much lush in brain, and when he's off the thing, and that's rare, he instantly goes from not there to thinking he's everywhere, soiling everything and giving nothing.

His sobbing doesn't relent, and he whimpers issues of "trustworthy sack of shit", "not being worth the fucking shrink's money", "not being worth his aunt's troubles", "not being worth Jas". At some point he goes to grapple with his hair, and tugs brusquely once, then twice, then I have to reach for his wrist to make him stop, which he snatches back as soon as I make contact. But he doesn't grab anything to pull or pinch or punch again, so that's good. I stay on standby beside him, but don't touch him. He rasps more condemnations, struggles to breathe enough through the phlegm spreading in his respiratory system, and I start reenacting the steps to stop a hyperventilation in my head, and the first aid for choking, when he begins to cough violently, his entire frame upset with the movement.

He takes the tissue box i nudge with insistence toward him, and ends up spitting mouthfuls of mucus mixed with some bile in the basin under his feet. Most of it is clear and smells of fruits, not beer, so I'm not too worried. When I go to stabilize him by taking his shoulders, he grasps at my wrists to stop me- but let them stay here, while he clings. The tremors get to me now, and I remind myself that this is good, this is before the cliffs and him finding refuge to burst open, not glassily stare at the weeping clouds as he blabbers on the meaninglessness of his life.

This is… very alive.

I ought to be glad.

I let him come down at his rhythm, counting the pulses of his wrists as I feel mine numb with the blood circulation slowed down under his hold.

When he's back with a mind, I count to three, then let go. His arms flop back down, on his lap and hands dangling between his tighs. He blows his nose again.

"I'm so pathetic…"

"Yeah sure, and I'm a serial prom queen."

Instead of jabbing back and forth, we get interrupted by a soft mewling. Both of us turn to the door, that's opened slightly to let in Eryza, the pitter-patter of her paws on the stone flooring the only sound for a moment…

As we both stare in revulsion at her jaw, a single line of vomit dripping of it.

Shane puts his head down in shame, not even having the strenght to hide further.

"Sorry."

"Nah, 's okay. She's already trash, anyway."

Eryza edges closer and rapidly tour around our legs- going back to Shane's feet twice, her whiskers tickling his exposed ankles. Purring loudly, she completely ignore my chastizing as I threaten to make her diet periwinkle-based to counter-act her literal potty mouth, and she scampers to do who-knows-what in the rooms.

"Your vibes are rancid, do you hear me?? Rancid, girl!" I call after her. "I swear to Yoba, Shane, your aunt might as well have brought me a raccoon."

Turning back to him, I can see the short-lived humor of the situation was, well, short-lived. I sigh.

It's late. We're both tired. Tomorrow is sunday. It's cool. We've got time.

I don't sit back down right away. First, I put a hand down on the nape of his neck, that slides to the top of his scalp, right where he'd tug. My quota, remember?

He sniffles some, a few teardrops make their way to the planks, unheard. We stay like this for a moment.

He doesn't shake me off, but in the slow tandem his body takes, rocking lightly from back to forth, I can tell it's enough, for now.

I sit back down on my chair.

I lean on the hand I'd put in his dark purple strands before, smelling cedar wood and pine trees. I don't assume. My farm has plenty of those to stumble through. And even if he went back to the cliff, another time again. I do that too. With my own cliffs back at not-home, but close. There's a sense, in staring down what couldn't take you.

Like visiting a scene crime that you've narrowly escaped from. And pride too. And the thrill of asking- "what if again? What if this time?"- and okay, I can see why it'd be worrying to have him go there a thrice time on his own late in the evening.

But last time was fine, the one before was made fine, and he might need a bitch for a friend right now, but not a watchdog.

His forehead is back against the table.

Three fingers massage my temple. I don't know how much he'll even remember tomorrow, but it's worth the try, always.

"Shane, dude, look at me." He doesn't.

"Dude."

Still doesn't budge. I knock the wood lightly.

"Yo, punk, my eyes are up here." I joke.

He snorts, or maybe he sniffles, and his chin's now resting on the table, peering through the forgotten drinks to watch me. His hands are hidden, probably still clutching his midsection. If I went on a rollercoaster toasted, I'd probably look the exact same.

"I told you before that you literally couldn't be a burden."

He snorts for sure this time, derisive. I knock wood again. "Don't look away from me when I talk, young man. Rude ass punk."

"Bitch." He throws.

"Bitch bastard man." I send back. "Anyways, as I was saying. If I choose you're my dumb of ass to keep around, that's me, that's my decision. You can't burden me if I choose the hard mode package and roll with it. So stop it. I literally told you before, it's not about you not making efforts or burdening people, it's about people who want to deal with you, out of free will."

"Freaky."

"Oh shut up, you dramatic himbo wannabe."

"A what now?"

"Internet slang. Gotta admit you're closer to a dad bod type, but the energy's here, according to many."

He shuffles, self-conscious. "Y'don't need to remind me…"

"Oh hush you, you're perfectly fine. And Elliott would eat his dumb little lobster and pomegranate toasts off that belly if you'd grow out of your own shell and let him."

He sputters unintelligibly, red as a fecking pepper. Good. Flustered is better than self-depreciating.

But now he's pulled on his hood and the strings all the way out, and resumes to chanting me to fuck off, so that might be a good call for a break.

"I'm gonna change and clean up, you need anything? Do you think you'll go back to the ranch, or stay here for the night?" It's happened before, but you can count them on the fingers of one hand.

A long silence follows and I allow myself a quick look in the mirror. Yeah, we're skipping a shower tonight, but the simple hairbrush will not do. I look like a bird's nest that the birds fought in to know who'd keep the children when bird 2 takes off and bird 1 is left to mourn the empty space that'll never fill up the same again and the good times that won't be- wow, trauma lane much, not now, cowpal. First we buckle up our current rodeo. I walk back to the main room, now pajama-clad.

"I've got the beds for the possible kids up there, don't ask me why Robin put so many there, we're two people in a house, and I can lend you a Tee if you want."

He's anxious, chewing his thumb. "Emily won't mind?"

"She's out, sleeping at Haley's tonight. Girls' night and sisters catching up. It's important for her energy flow and karmic balance. Plus, you know she wouldn't mind, she likes you."

That makes him blush more, covering up the alcohol damage enough. I take note, but don't comment. Things for later. They pile up tonight.

"I- I can't go back to the ranch like this."

"You could. Marnie knows better than act as if you're doing this for fun, now. She'd have to understand. But you don't have to." I reassure him when agitated pupils jump up to me. Let's keep that ongoing panic attack at bay. "Either way, I won't mind."

I sit back. Stretch my arms between us. Catch his worrying hands into mine. Give him a squeeze. Tense appendages don't squeeze back, but don't pull back either. That's half a win. He stops torturing the poor things, and unfold with visible effort, like a crumpled up paper flower put on water. His head shakes, and I can't tell if it's conscious, him speaking with himself or trying to shake off a thought, or just a reflex. He visibly forces his shoulders to relax.

"I'm… not bothering you?" Righteous. Seeking vocal positive reinforcement, like a pro.

"Nope." I pop out the 'p'.

"... I think I'll, uh, stay for tonight."

My hands shoot into the air. "Woo! Sleepover, baby!"

I don't catch his hands curling back on themselves, trying to capture that leftover warmth in the late summer night.

--- to be continued.

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