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spicykiwiis · 3 years

Text

Late Night Café (pt. 1)

Summary: The streets of New York seem to change at night, and Bucky gets drawn in to the little café with strange work hours during a heavy storm. Lucky for him you really don't mind that he's drenched head to toe.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warning: None :)

Word Count: 2k

Series Masterlist

New York City completely changes at night.

Maybe it’s the lack of sunlight. Although these past few days have been pretty bleak, with rain forming puddles that cover the sides of the road and splash onto the sidewalk anytime a car drives by. Not that the sidewalks weren’t already wet though, this heavy rain hasn’t been forgiving, and not an inch of outside New York remains dry. Still though, even when the city hasn’t seen sunlight for what feels like forever now, the ambiance still shifts when it gets fully dark. It’s not that there’s a lack of people keeping it lively, no. I don’t think there’s ever going to be a point where the streets of New York have no people on them. Maybe it’s the type of people that are out. Surely that girl that walks by every early morning with her dog wagging its tail beside her is not the same girl that walks by at four in the morning with her heels in one hand and a beer in her other, bumping shoulders with her friends as they walk back from a night out.

You’d think with all the people that are out and about during those late nights in the city, some type of noise or chaos would follow them, but no. At some point in the night it always gets quiet, almost like a sense of stillness that slowly creeps up on you as the moon climbs up higher in the sky. And with that sense of stillness comes a sense of peace that covers the little café that lits up the dim streets of New York.

There’s a small sign on the door that says open 7am-6pm and then again 1am to 5am. It’s a weird schedule for a small local café to have, but still the little bell that hangs at the top of the door doesn’t cease to chime during those dark hours. It’s normally students that come in so late at night, looking for a caffeine boost that will help them get through those assignments that they’ve left for the last minute. There’s the insomniacs too though, and those always seem to be the same regular customers that have their orders ready for them when they stop by, like a sort of routine that gets created over time.

It’s been more quiet than normal the past few days though - heavy rain really seems to stop people from leaving the warmth of their apartments, no matter how sleep deprived they might be. The clock’s already at 2:34am, and if it were a normal day you would’ve already made and served at least 5 coffees. Even old Mike hadn’t shown up like he usually did every night at around 1:40, and now his mug stays empty and unused in the shelf, making you extremely aware of the absence of customers. You understand though, the rain is hitting extra heavy tonight, and the water that cascades down the windows makes the streetlights look distorted and blurry. No sane person would think to be out on the streets with this weather, but still you leave the small café open, busying yourself by wiping down a few tables and cleaning a few mugs and dishes Alfie from the dayshift had probably forgotten to clean.

The playlist you always played during these late shifts played quietly in the background, the smooth 40s jazz making you sway slightly side to side as you set the now clean dishes aside to dry. As much as you love serving customers, these rare empty nights are always appreciated from time to time, even if sometimes you can slowly feel loneliness creep up on you. You pushed those feeling down though, and right as you were about to step foot on the kitchen the small chime of the bell you had grown to appreciate over the years stopped you, catching you slightly off-guard.

It was a tall man that had just come in through the door. His short hair was completely drenched and was sticking down on his forehead, water droplets falling down his face. The black leather jacket he had on was completely wet, but lucky for him the impermeable material probably stopped the water from getting to the shirt he had underneath. He brought up a gloved hand and pushed back his hair, careful to not get anything wet.

“Sorry I- I don’t want to make a mess. I don’t have an umbrella and this was the only place open” his voice caught you off-guard, it’s softness making you relax your shoulders. You hadn’t noticed how tense you’d gotten, but a man his size coming in at almost 3 in the morning during a night like this would get anyone on edge. The hard look in his eyes had completely disappeared when he noticed and spoke to you, and you were glad about it.

“Oh please! Don’t worry, come in. Weather’s rough tonight. You can take a seat wherever.”

A small smile appeared on his face and disappeared as soon as it came, but you didn’t miss the look of relief on his face as he took a seat on one of the stools placed behind the main counter. You still took notice of how careful he was of not getting anything else wet, which was nice.

“What can I get you?” you smiled as you grabbed the little notepad clipped to your apron, ready to take his order.

“Uh- just a black coffee’s fine. Thank you.”

You nodded and walked over to the coffee maker, making sure everything was in order before making his coffee. He kept his jacket and gloves on, which slightly concerned you since he was drenched in water and probably freezing. You waited for the coffee to be made and watched from the corner of your eyes as he looked around the small café, stopping to look at all the doors in it for slightly longer periods of time. He seemed to be alert, but after a couple looks around the place he finally settled down completely.

The coffee machine came to a stop and you grab one of the mugs you had just cleaned, filling it to the top and grabbing a clean rag along the way as you went to serve it to him.

“Here’s your coffee. And here’s a clean rag if you want to dry yourself off a bit. Sorry I don’t have any towels on hand right now, I’d give you one if I did.” You placed the coffee in front of him and the rag next to it, smiling as he looked up to meet your eyes.

“Thank you.” He took the rag and brought it up to his hair, rubbing it to get rid of the excess water. “I’m sorry again- about the mess.”

You reassured him it was fine, that he didn’t even make a mess. It was only the entrance that had gotten wet, nothing a couple swipes with the mop could fix.

He still kept his gloves on even when holding the hot cup of coffee between his hands, but you decided not to question anything and went back to working. Most of the customers that came in during the late nigh shifts weren’t there to have a conversation anyways, just there to have something to drink and think about their lives. It was always interesting to see. There’s a lot of characters that come in so late at night, and working there you end up learning how to read people very well.

This guy though – he was hard to read. His mind seemed to be elsewhere, but you could tell he was still alert about what was going on around him. It was safe to say you hadn’t gotten a customer like him in the years you had been working here, and yet there was something weirdly comforting about his brooding presence. With the smooth jazz paying in the background, he seemed to belong there.

“Weird time for a café to be open.”

His deep voice catches you of guard again, he certainly didn’t seem like the type to come in and make conversation.

“Weird time to be drinking black coffee.” You replied back with amusement, both of you turning to look at the clock hanging on the wall to the left. 3:22am.

“Touché.”

He took a sip of his coffee and watched as you grabbed another clean mug and a tea bag, turning on the kettle that was next to the coffee machine. He seemed to be up for some distraction, so you spoke up again.

“So, what’s a guy like you doing walking around under pouring rain? With no umbrella too.”

“A guy like me?”

“I asked first. You can’t answer a question with another question.” You smiled in amusement, watching as he sat up on his stool. He looked at your face, and stayed silence for a few seconds. It was as if he was taking you in, deciding whether or not he wanted to have this conversation with you.

“Apartment felt crowded. Got too far out before I realised it was raining.”

“Wow. Must’ve been really deep in your thoughts if you didn’t notice yourself getting drenched.”

He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee, eyes wandering to the side. Taking in the empty tables that were scattered along the place. The café was small, so there where only three tables along with the six stools that were placed in a row along the counter. Plants covered most of the place, and if you paid close attention you could smell the fresh and somewhat sweet scent they gave off. He changed the subject.

“I am curious though. I’ve never seen small cafés like this open so late.”

“You’d be surprised at the amount of people that stop by. Some people just need an escape late at night that sleep can’t give them.” The corners of his mouth turned up at this, almost like he knew exactly what you were talking about. “And students. Sleep deprived students that leave their assignments to the last minute sure do keep the business alive.”

He let out a chuckle at this comment, and for a second your breath got caught on your throat. There was no denying this man was extremely handsome, and something about his laugh gave you a weird feeling at the pit of your stomach.

“Late Night Café. It’s a fitting name.”

“Funny enough there were no night shifts when we started. Figured we should stay true to the name though, and here we are.”

It seemed like the rain was slowly starting to cease now. The loud noise of the water hitting the window glass was slowing down, and the streets were starting to look clearer now that the rain was not constantly washing down the glass.

“You’re in luck, it looks like the rain is starting to slow down.” You nodded to the glass and he turned his head, taking in the way the once pouring water turned into water droplets that slid down it. He let out a hum in response.

Now that the rain had slowed down, a couple other customers appeared through the door, bell chiming each time they walked through the door. You could see him taking in the people that came through, listening to their orders and watching as you moved around getting the orders ready. He had asked for a refill in the middle of this, and you smiled as you poured more hot coffee into his empty mug. As much as you liked the empty nights, there was something about serving the people that came through that made you feel peaceful. It was like second nature to you.

“You really seem to be in your element.” He spoke again as you cleaned the mug of a customer that had just left, and you smiled in content.

“Been doing this for a long time now.”

You took in his state now, noticing how his hair was completely dry now and his leather jacket no longer had water droplets sliding off it. He seemed to be less alert now too, maybe because he had taken in the whole café now. As you went to set down the mug you just cleaned he looked at the clock, noticing it was already almost four in the morning. You watched as he stood up from his stool.

“I should probably get going. Thanks for the coffee. And the shelter too.” He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table besides his coffee mug and gave you a small smile getting ready to leave.

“Woah- wait. Coffee here’s definitely not that expensive. Let me get your change.” You went over to the cash register, but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, keep the change. Consider it an apology for getting the place wet.”

“I can’t let you do that; you didn’t even make a mess-”

“Really it’s okay. I won’t take the change if you give it to me.” He smiled once again, placing his hands on his leather jacket pockets to stop you from trying to place the change in his hands.

“Okay fine – but let me at least give you something for the way back.”

He wanted to say no, but you were adamant on this, so you grabbed one of the savoury pastries that you had on display and placed it on a takeaway bag for him, smiling in achievement when he took the small paper bag. He smiled at you, saying a quick bye as he left through the door, bell chiming and leaving the café feeling more quiet than ever.

You soon realised that you never got his name, and part of you wished that you had asked, even if that was something you never asked to new customers. Besides, who knows if he’ll ever stop bye again. You were grateful for the heavy rain now, and little did you know he was too, because thanks to it he found out about the little café lighting up that dark street of New York.

******

A/N: Hey! I haven't written anything in what feels like years, let alone post anything. I hope yall like this, i might turn it into a series, i'll have to see if inspiration hits. Anyways thanks for reading!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #late night café #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #james barnes #james bucky barnes #james barnes x y/n #james barnes x reader #marvel #the falcon and the winter soldier #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier

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cinebration · 3 years

Text

Written in DNA (Booker x Reader) [Part 1]

Premise: Quynh sends Booker to retrieve a weapon that may or may not change his life.

Tagged: @lucy-sky, @city-of-weird

Warnings: violence

Gif Source: captaindelafere

“Do this for me, and you will see Andromache and the others.”

Overcoming his initial shock, Booker had tried to explain the one-hundred-year exile to Quynh, but she wouldn’t hear it.

“There is a war coming. I need you to help me get the weapon to stop it.”

He resisted the idea immediately, even if his whiskey-soaked brain was intrigued.

“All you have to do is retrieve it. You want to protect your family, don’t you?” She downed the glass of water. Pulling a slip of paper from her coat, she set it on the counter and placed the glass atop it. “Decide, Booker, whose side you are on.”

A few days later, a mostly sober Booker found himself searching the address online.

The result appeared on his screen: a military installation.

He had to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Of course a weapon of war would be in a military installation. Had he not been so deep in his cups, he would have come to this conclusion once he saw the address was located in the United States.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the screen, arms folding across his chest. He shouldn’t get involved, not when it would put him back in the group’s path. He didn’t deserve to see them, the exile notwithstanding. That was just a formality for him. The shame is what kept him away.

Or so he told himself.

But if Quynh was right, how much worse would he feel if he did nothing and they were hurt?

Booker rubbed his stubbly face. Quynh. How did she get out? Did the others know already? His shock and his drunkenness had prevented him from asking the questions he needed. She hadn’t even left a means of communication for him to contact her.

Warning bells chimed quietly in the back of his mind, but he heard them only dimly through the liquor fog.

For six months, he had spent his days in the pub and back in his apartment, marinating in whiskey, whisky, and scotch. He was looking at ninety-nine-and-a-half more years of that.

The address beckoned.

He booked a flight to the United States.

When Booker put his mind to something—which, admittedly, hadn’t been often of late, as that required drive and hope, both of which had been lacking—he accomplished it.

Which is how he ended up inside the military installation, following the instructions written underneath the address on the piece of paper. Having lifted a security card from one of the men leaving work for the day, he had access to the floor he needed: deep in the bowels of the basement, some four storeys down.

With the changing of the guard at his time of arrival, he slipped through the security checkpoints with his head bent over a clipboard he lifted off a desk as he passed. He swiped through each checkpoint with the stolen ID and stepped into the elevator, taking it all the way down to the sublevel he needed.

The elevator doors rolled silently open on a long cement hallway with stark overhead lighting. Booker squinted against it, his eyes smarting.

A lone door stood at the far end.

Booker glanced down at it, small alarms chiming in his mind. If the weapon was so dangerous, why was it in a solitary room without extra security? The card reader beside the door seemed like all it needed was an ID.

Propping the clipboard against the wall beside the elevator doors, Booker drew his pistol and slowly advanced down the hallway. His shoes made the slightest squeak against the floor as he moved.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he stopped before the door. He swiped the card through the reader.

The door clicked open.

Readjusting his grip on the gun, he nudged the door open with his shoulder, easing it open slowly and then all at once, the muzzle of the gun sweeping the room.

You sat on a chair in front of another chair, your feet propped up on it. Booker tensed as you lowered the book in your hands a fraction, enough for him to see your eyes—and for you to see him.

Your face lit up. “You’re new.” Your attention slid to the gun. “Really new.”

Frowning, Booker glanced around the rest of the room. An examination table occupied the corner nearest him, though no tools were in sight. An exposed bathroom—a toilet, shower, and sink—stocked with toiletries, stood tucked into another corner opposite a thin cot with a foot locker at its end. A bookshelf overflowed with books beside a small flatscreen TV.

Booker’s confusion intensified as he returned his attention to you. You sat in the same position as before, though the book, your place held by your finger, had moved to your lap. There was no fear or anxiety in your face…only a bright curiosity.

“I’m looking for something,” he said. There wasn’t much he could say. His gaze swept the room again. No cupboards or storage units. The cot didn’t even have anything underneath its metal frame.

He twitched as you moved in the corner of his eye. Legs unfolding from the chair, you set your feet on the floor. Something about the movement unnerved Booker. You placed the book down in the second chair.

“Tell me what and maybe I can help,” you said, smiling.

Quynh had gotten it wrong. Booker took a step back toward the door, hesitated. The look on your face was so earnest, so genuine, it couldn’t hurt to ask…

“I’m looking for a weapon. Someone told me it was here.”

The light went out of your face, disappointment flickering across it. “Oh, that.” Sighing, you stood, rolled your shoulders, and said, “I can help with that.”

Eyebrows arching, Booker lowered the gun. “Thank you.”

You stepped over to him, just within reach, and smiled, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Sure.”

You didn’t move.

Alarm bells rang again in Booker’s mind. “Where is it?”

“You’re looking at it.”

Your hands darted forward, closed around the gun. Twisted.

Booker’s wrists snapped.

Pain lanced white-hot up his arms. He jerked back with a harsh cry.

“Is this a test?”

He glanced up at you, brow furrowed with pain and confusion. You stood beyond his reach, the gun held loosely at your side. Booker leaned against the door behind him, blinked away the pain-induced tears. His hands hung useless from the wrists, dangling grotesquely.

What the fuck was he dealing with?

“Is it?” you asked again.

Booker forced himself to ignore the pain. Already he could feel something at work within him, knitting the bones back together.

“Not a test,” he answered.

His wrists snapped back into place, fingers suddenly back under his control. He glimpsed your look of surprise. But in the split second he saw it, it seemed different than the surprise he was used to seeing. There was something else behind it.

Booker lunged forward, one hand reaching for the hand holding the gun, the other for your shirt front.

But you weren’t there. You were behind him, your hand clamping down on his collar. With a soft grunt, you used his own momentum—

—and swung him across the room.

Booker smashed into the bookcase, skull cracking against a shelf, books scattering around him as he hit the ground. His whole body ached, pummeled and already exhausted.

He saw through hazy vision your feet approach and stop a few inches away.

“Why are you here?”

The hope in your voice struck an odd note in his concussed mind. “The weapon,” he mumbled. God, he could use a drink.

The world fell into darkness.

Booker seized awake, gasping violently. On his feet, he swept the room.

Empty.

The door was propped open a fraction, just enough for him to glimpse out into the hall.

Also empty.

The gun was missing, as was the keycard.

Swearing under his breath, Booker staggered out into the hall and to the elevator, hoping none of the doors he’d come through needed the card to swipe out.

As the lift took him up out of the bowels of the compound, he struggled to understand what had happened. Even with his own momentum against him, it would be impossible for someone to fling him across the room like that.

Or snap his wrists like they were candy canes.

The security guard swiveled away from the camera feeds to face her coworker. “Call General Howzer. We have a problem.”

Years of stealth operations allowed Booker to escape from the compound just as the alarms sounded and everything went into lockdown. He was in his car, driving away, as the teams rolled out to sweep the premises.

He drove calmly, as though nothing was amiss. On the freeway, he disappeared among the evening traffic.

He relaxed only a fraction when he made it to a lonely stretch of freeway some thirty miles away.

A lonely stretch of freeway with a dying strip mall off to one side.

LIQUOR read one of the signs. A beacon.

Booker pulled off the road and parked the car in shadows. Trying to appear as calm as possible, he entered the store, basking for a moment in the familiar harsh glow of its lights—how did all liquor stores have this lighting?—before heading to the whiskey.

He bought two bottles and had hardly stepped outside the door before he was chugging at the first one. He nearly cried as the liquor washed over his tongue.

Throwing himself behind the steering wheel, he took another long swig and squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to get back to Paris, change apartments, dig in for the century-long wait.

Something cold pressed against his neck.

His eyes peeled open.

“Hi,” you said into his ear.

#Booker x Reader #Booker #Booker imagine #Sebastien le Livre x Reader #Sebastien le Livre #Sebastien le Livre imagine #Matthias Schoenaerts x Reader #Matthias Schoenaerts #Matthias Schoenaerts imagine #The Old Guard

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

When the Weight Comes Down - 1

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark! (biker) Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Your father’s a drunk, your mother a recluse, and you’re just another small town girl in Birch.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown

Note: This series features a very inexperienced and shy reader. Not so mouthy as my usual fare but I hope it’s still fun. I couldn’t resist a hot biker Steve spin-off. Most of this is already written and it’s looking like seven chapters total. Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter One: She Didn’t Know

There's a lot you can see when there's nothing to do

💀

You stared out the window as you stood at the sink, your hands pruned in the lukewarm water as you scrubbed the last of the dishes. You could hear your mother in the hallway, wiping the walls. Again. Five, six times a day, she’d wipe down every inch of the place; gather up your father’s empties, and vacuum the old cigarette-scented carpets.

You didn’t remember a day in your life when your mother wasn’t manically tidying every inch of the place. Even when her lip was swollen or her eye was blackened. It was a religion to her. Cleanliness was next to godliness, after all. One of her many lessons.

She rarely left the house anymore. She had never been eager to go beyond the peeling walls but as you got older, she grew more reclusive. She got her check from the government, your father too, though his was often spent on beer and smokes. Some of hers too.

The old house was ramshackle but someone had to pay for it. You’d worked at the bakery since you were sixteen; more than a decade now, closer to two. An excuse to get out as much as a means to pay for the roof over your head. Babs was like a second mother to you and always let you bring home the stale muffins and cookies.

Your eight hours was a brief respite from the home which had been your childhood prison. The cell without a door. Birch itself was impenetrable. Those born there seemed destined to die there.

You’d dreamt of leaving for years; in that very spot, as you washed the dishes and stared out at the lush grass. You’d float away to a world where you had the strength to walk away; from your paranoid mother and your volatile father.

You belonged there though. You couldn’t leave knowing your father would beat your mother without a buffer between him. You knew one day the beer would push him over the edge. To leave would be to condemn her.

You pulled the plug and dried the plates one at the time, then the cups and the old bowls that belonged on a thrift shop shelf. Well, that’s where they came from. Your mother never bought nice things; your father would only break them.

Finished, you closed the cupboard and found your mother in the living room, sweeping the crumbs from your father’s old recliner into her hand. You straightened the pillows on the sagging couch and stood on the other side.

“Should I leave the leftovers in the stove for Pa?” You asked.

“It’s late,” She checked the old clock. It was broken. She stood and cupped the crumbs in her hand. “What time is it anyway?”

“Almost nine.” You yawned. You would have to wake up at five to get to work to do the opening bake. “I should probably lay down soon.”

“Would you grab some more vinegar tomorrow?” She asked. “And… a new mop.”

“What happened to the old one?” You blinked.

She looked down guiltily. Another casualty to your father’s temper.

“Ma,” You sighed. “Why do you let him break everything.”

“Better than him breaking me,” She muttered.

You hung your head and touched your forehead. You wanted to ask her why she stayed, but you had too. You were little better than her. You were both stuck.

“You didn’t give him any off your stipend, did you?”

She frowned. She had.

“The electricity is due,” You said. “Tell me you held onto at least something.”

“I’ll pawn another ring.” She mumbled.

“No,” You waved her away. “No. Don’t.”

“But--”

“I’ll figure it out,” You huffed. “Like I always do.”

You left her there and went to your room. You closed the door and turned on the small lamp beside your bed. You reached under your pillow and pulled out the cracked copy of Frankenstein.

You remembered when you were fourteen and your mother had found it there. A girl at the grocery store had told you she was reading it for class. You always wondered what they did at the school. Your mother schooled you herself. Times had changed and kids were rotten. She didn’t need you corrupted by the wilting branches of Birch.

Your mother had never read it herself so she confiscated it as filth. A monster! Well, you had sneaked into her room and stolen it right back. You were smarter after that; you hid all your good books as you kept the bland ones on your shelf.

Even when you were of age, well beyond truly, you wondered what other people did. Normal people. Working at the bakery, you made up a story for each customer who came in. And when you walked by the bar with Cleopatra over its door, you dreamt of the Egyptian queen and her many lovers. The world was behind a glass; passing you by as you stood still.

You sighed and opened the book as you laid back. A monster betrayed by his creator. So despised and reviled that his heart turned sour. A monster who was more human than his maker. A being who only wanted love. A soul destroyed by neglect.

You didn’t recall falling asleep but when you woke, the crickets chirped loudly outside your window. You yawned and sat up. The light from the living room streamed down the hall and under your door. You marked your page and tucked the book between your bedframe and mattress.

Your mother was in the living room. She sat on the couch as she held a framed cross-stitch and wove roses into the faded white cloth. You checked the time on the kitchen stove. 1:47 am.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” You asked.

“Your pa hasn’t come home.” She said. “You know I worry for him.”

“It’s not even last call,” You countered. “Go, get some sleep.”

“I’ll wait for him.”

You chewed your lip as you put your hands on your hips. You went to her and stilled her needle.

“He’ll be home in a couple hours.” You assured her. “Besides, you know how he is when he’s drunk.”

She looked down and pulled away from you. You shook your head and crossed the room. As you entered the hallway and headed for the front door, your mother rose from the couch and her soft footsteps followed you.

“Where are you going?” She asked.

“To get him, so you can sleep.” You shoved your feet into your shoes.

“Oh no, don’t do that, sweet pea,” She said as she clutched the wooden frame. “You’ll only make him mad and, oh, I don’t want you in that bar.” She lowered her voice as she came closer. “It’s full of those bikers.”

“So, go to bed,” You turned to her.

She scrunched her lips and you knew she wouldn’t.

“Fine,” She relented. “But don’t talk to anyone. There are dangerous men there.”

You stared at her for a moment before you turned and pulled open the door. Your heart beat furiously as the screen door clattered behind you and you tripped down the front steps. You’d only ever walked by The Asp but never went in. You’d seen the men who went in and out and mounted their big bikes, but you kept to the other side of the street.

The walk wasn’t very long, like any in Birch. The spotlights illuminated Cleopatra’s breast and the snake at her throat. You stood on the curb as you thought of crossing the street. Just do it. You’d just get your father and go. That was it.

You hesitated and nearly fell as you stepped down onto the road. As you came up on the other side, a shadow moved and you flinched. A man in leather stood beside the door with his thick arms crossed, a bandana over his thinning hair. You stared at him and then door as you stopped before it.

“Well,” He said. “You going in?”

“I, uh, yeah, I’m just… getting my father.” You explained.

“Right,” He scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck.”

You pursed your lips and pushed through the door. Inside it smelled of alcohol and sweat. There was a group of men at one of the round tables and a couple around the pool table. Your father sat along the bar, two other drunks not far from him. He sucked on a brown bottle as he grumbled to himself.

You swallowed and made yourself step away from the door. You neared the bar and a woman looked up. She didn’t look very happy as she asked you what you wanted. You shook your head. You’d seen her before. You were sure she worked at the diner but you must have been wrong.

“Pa,” You leaned on the stool next to your father.

“Huh? What’r’you doin’ here?” He slurred.

“I’m here to take you home.” You said.

“Sure,” He laughed. “Got ‘nother bottle then I’ll go when I feel like.”

“Ma’s waiting,” You insisted. “Come on.”

You tugged on him and he knocked over his half-finished beer. You stepped back at the splash and he staggered to his feet.

“You little brat, I tol’ya leave m’alone,” He snarled. “Fuck’s sakes.”

“You’re drunk. You’ll be lucky if you make it home,” You argued. “I’m trying to help… you got beer at home.”

“And you,” He sneered. “I dun’ wan’ drink there.”

He wobbled on his feet and caught the edge of the bar.

“Beer,” He ordered the bartender who looked over his shoulder. She didn’t move. “S’matter, I got money.”

A man with dark hair shifted in his seat as if to stand and another nudged his shoulder and rose instead. He was tall, a thick beard to match his light brown hair, and blue eyes which sparked as he rounded his table. His jacket was marked with the badge of the club. You grabbed your father’s elbow and he shook you off.

“Looks like you’re done for the night,” The man said as he stopped in front of your father.

“I don’--”

“Excuse me,” The man interrupted his argument. “It’s not a request.”

Your breath was caught in your chest. You’d never heard anyone speak to your father like that.

“I’ll… I’ll get him home,” You said meekly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” The man looked at you. “You don’t need to apologize for him.”

“Come on,” You whispered and grabbed your father again.

He followed you. Barely. He stumbled halfway to the door and swore as he fell to his knees and nearly took you down with him. You bent and tried to pull him up and he batted you away as he rolled onto his back. His eyes were almost entirely closed as his hand fell to his stomach and he gave a loud snort.

Two boots came up on the other side of him. You looked up. It was that man again.

“I’m sorry. He fell. I’ll get him up.” You pulled on your father but he was too heavy. You could barely get his shoulders off the floor.

The man grabbed him and lifted him easily. He stretched his arm around your father and you stood.

“I’ll help ya, doll,” He smiled. You couldn’t.

“Really, it’s fine. He’ll wake up and--”

“Let me help you, doll,” He hushed you. “You’ll never get him home by yourself.”

“I can’t--I--” You gulped. Your mother had told you not to talk to anyone. You looked at your father. The man was right. You’d never get him home. “Okay. Thank you.”

He nodded you out the door and followed as you scurried ahead of him. Your father’s feet dragged heavily and you cringed. As you came out into the cool air, the man stepped up beside you, your father on the other side of him. You turned him in the direction of your house and he dragged your father along.

You were quiet. You didn’t know what to say. Perhaps it was better you said nothing. At the bakery, it was easy. You just had to ask people what they wanted. At home, neither of your parents said much; least of all, your father.

“So your Dorritt’s daughter?” He used your last name. “Old man ain’t very talkative.”

You nodded and kept your eyes on your feet.

“Your name?” He ventured. You cleared your throat before you found your voice to answer him. “I’m Steve.” He offered in return.

You were silent again.

“I don’t know you,” He said. “I know everyone in Birch.”

“Well, I… I don’t go out much, I guess.” You replied.

“Oh shit,” He scoffed. “You were the girl who was home schooled.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

“We were always jealous of you,” He chuckled. “Hated going to school.”

“I still-- I still had class.” You said. “Just… my ma was my teacher.”

“Ha, wouldn’t expect him to be teaching grammar,” He gestured to your father. “You still live with them?”

You scratched your neck and nodded.

“Nothing wrong with that. Just curious.” He said. “Kinda… respectable. Helping them out and all.”

You were too ashamed to tell him that if you didn’t, no one would. That if you didn’t, your mother likely wouldn’t be able to keep up much longer.

“You’re like your pa,” He mused. “Not much on talking.”

“Sorry,” You said softly.

“But you’re a lot more considerate,” He said. “Apologizing for nothing.”

“So--”

“There you go again,” He laughed. “Look, doll, it’s fine. You don’t gotta talk. Don’t gotta apologize.”

You continued on and your house came into sight. Your father’s old mower rusting in the moonlight as the broken Ford loomed in the driveway. You helped Steve get your father up the front steps and opened the door for him. Your mother appeared in the hallway and gasped as she saw your father and the man who held him up.

“Ma, he’s just helping me get Pa home,” You assured her. “You know how he drinks and--”

She nodded frantically and backed up into the front room. You waved Steve through and directed him to drop your father on the couch. Steve looked around and his lip twitched. His eyes returned to you, clung to you, and he smirked.

“Well, you have a good night, Mrs. Dorritt,” He nodded to your mother then you, “And Miss Dorritt.”

“You too.” You breathed as your mother squeezed your arm.

He turned slowly and you both were still as you watched him go. The front door shut and your mother rushed down the hall. She locked the door quickly as you peeked around the door frame. She turned back and pushed herself against the door.

“I told you not to talk to anyone,” She said.

“I didn’t mean to. Pa, he just, keeled over, and Steve--”

“Steve!” She stormed towards you. “That man was one of those bikers. You better leave him alone. Pray he leaves you alone.”

“I didn’t--”

“Bad enough your pa goes down there,” She slipped past you and looked down at your father. “He’s better off drinking on the porch. No one to knock him one.”

“I wouldn’t blame them if they did,” You hissed. “It wasn’t me, ma. It was him.”

“I told you not to go,” She snapped.

“Yeah, I know,” You sighed as you turned to head back to your room. “You told me.”

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #biker!steve rogers #biker au #when the weight comes down #au #fic #series #limited series #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years

Text

Blossoms in Flight

Estelle is having trouble working on her next book, so a visit from Rita was more than welcome - and possibly give her a solution to her writer's block.

Fandom: Tales of Vesperia Characters/Pairing: Estelle/Rita Mordio Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: So here’s a 3 month late bday gift for @taco-night-frenzy ! Please forgive. :) Enjoy some lesbians trying to fly together and it (mostly) turns out okay!

Inspiration just wasn’t striking.

Estelle put her pen down, heaving a sigh that traveled from the very pit of her lungs until it left her mouth. She had been at this for a solid twenty minutes, having cleared her schedule to give her some well-needed writing time. And yet, as the blank piece of parchment before her told her…the words wouldn’t come.

She just couldn’t understand it! She had all the essentials down for a productive writing session; a recently cleaned-up desk where a simmering teacup was set next to her right, flowers placed on the windowsill to give her room a pleasant fragrance, a locked door so that no well-meaning knight (Flynn) could come in and ask if she needed anything, and she had even put up some nice pictures on her wall, a few paintings depicting landscapes and wildlife. Many of them were so pretty that she found herself staring at them for quite a while… or was she just finding an excuse to not do the task at hand?

Estelle shook her head, even tapping her temples with her fingers. “Focus now! You can do this!” She had the habit now of talking to herself when she tried to get into a creative mood, though always making sure her door was locked before she did. “You’ve written one book, now it’s time to write another! So…let’s get started!”

Another breath, taking back the quill pen in her hand. She could hear the children from town playing outside, but she had made sure to lock the window to minimize outside distractions. It was the best way for her to concentrate! Although even just thinking about the outside got her curious to maybe leave her room for a break… Wait, no! This was the problem!

“Focus…” Estelle whispered, taking another deep breath, staring daggers at the page as if to will her words into existence. “Focus…”

The children outside were being quite loud though – sounding as if they were just at her room, knocking their hands against the wall! But she was on the second floor, so that was clearly impossible. It must have been just wishful thinking anyway… She liked to ta her walks outside and read her latest book to the group of children. In some ways, that had been her own source of inspiration as well-

“ -elle! Estelle!”

Oh, sometimes they’d shout her name like that too, especially when she was lost in thought, looking over the great tree of Halure, with its pink petals that floated over them all. She had only moved to this town a few months earlier, along with a few trusted knights, including Flynn, for protection. But she had never felt safer. Never, except when with-

“Estelle!! Open the window already!!”

A sharp gasp left her throat, prompting her to stand up. Her chair was knocked on its side from the motion. “What? Who’s- who’s there?” Was it that ghost that the children sometimes spoke of again…?

“I’m right here!!! Hello?!”

Oh, wait, someone was actually at her window. And going by that voice…

A smile lifted her face as she turned. “Rita? Is that you?”

Her home in Halure wasn’t too tall, but with her room on the second floor, only birds and the like would make it to her window. Often she would open it to the see the town outside, along with the pink petals that floated on the warm breeze, sometimes catching onto her hair. (And with her hair the same pink shade, she would rarely notice the petals until someone such as Flynn helpfully pointed them out). But instead of the town, she saw a sight that was even more heartwarming and exciting.

Rushing to the window that she nearly stumbled, her hands pressed against the glass to push it open – and nearly Rita along with it.

“Agh! Careful!” Rita flailed a bit but latched her fingers onto the windowsill, her brown hair a bit frazzled. She struggled with the action, especially as she seemed to be carrying a sort of mechanical contraption on her back.

Estelle stared for a moment before she realized to grab onto Rita’s hands to keep her steady. “I had no idea you were here! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t have to worry that much.” Rita sighed, gripping back Estelle’s hands. But she didn’t move to go through the window, at least not completely. The window was tall, enough to take in Rita’s entire height, so she deftly placed her feet on the windowsill, looking down at Estelle. “I was just out here knocking on your window for the past ten minutes…”

Estelle gasped. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. I was just so busy trying to… well, focus for a while.” She shook her head, pushing away such worries. “But, I didn’t know you’d visit me!”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Rita frowned at that. “I told you I’d see ya again, just after I finished my latest project.” With that announcement, she jutted a thumb to the machine strapped to her back. “In fact, I used this to go and visit you!”

Estelle’s eyes widened with awe. “Wow… is that a new backpack?”

“It- It’s more than just a backpack! See the fan blades here?” She gestured to the things, currently very still, numbering about four blades altogether, seeming to stick out from Rita’s back like metal wings. “It’s my new flying machine. I told you that I’d show it to you.”

A memory jogged within Estelle. “Ah, that’s right! You did tell me that. I apologize. It seemed to have slipped my mind…” Still, she looked at the flying machine, how compact it was, fashioned from metal. “And all without any blastia?” Always she was impressed by the girl’s genius.

“Of course! It’s utilizing the law of physics anyway. Aerodynamics and such, so you just need to determine the lift, the weight, the drag and the thrust. Though mine works a little differently because of the shape of this, but I still have to calculate how the force of gravity affects it, and if enough thrust from the propellers can lift me up…”

Estelle nodded very slowly. She was impressed! Even with all the information making little sense to her.

Rita noticed. She blinked, cleared her throat, then crossed her arms. “Anyway… I was just in town… wondering if we could get tea together, you know…”

“Oh, that would be wonderful! I know how busy you are with research.” Estelle clasped her hands. “And I have plenty of honey this time!”

“Well, good! Tea is only good with honey, so you should always have plenty!” Rita was really quite adamant about this, which Estelle well-remembered. And if honey made Rita came by for tea more often, she would always make sure to have enough on hand.

The girl remained standing up on the windowsill though, occasionally adjusting the straps wrapped around her torso (perhaps trying to get it off?). Sometimes a rotor blade hit the sides, but Estelle didn’t mind the noise of it. In fact, she found herself a little in awe of the sight, Rita’s silhouette against the backdrop of the sky, where the stray petals of cherry blossoms floated in the breeze. They fluttered all around Rita, who didn’t seem to notice them in the slightest, too preoccupied with her machine.

Estelle must have been staring for far, far too long. “Uh, what is it?” Rita asked with a raised eyebrow. “I-I almost have this done so just get the tea ready!”

Estelle flushed just then. “Oh, Rita it’s not that! It’s just, um…” Recently, the words always seemed to escape her, not just from her pen, but just through speaking. It was as if anything significant thoughts she had just seemed to flitter away from her mind, like frightened birds. But Rita was right in front of her, so at the very least, she could keep track of what she wanted to say… “It’s just, you look really heroic standing up there right now!”

It was clear right away that Rita had no idea what she meant. “Huh?” Although her face also seemed a bit red. Flying must have taken a lot of energy and exertion, which made sense as to why she wanted tea so much. “I don’t…well… I mean if you think so…”

But the longer Estelle looked at Rita, the more she believed the image before her to be true. “Yes! Especially with the cherry blossoms falling around you. Like something out of a novel…” At that, she paused, blinked, then clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s it! The new protagonist should be someone like you!”

Rita seemed to get even redder, and Estelle wondered if maybe the heat of the day was getting to her. “W-what? Estelle, can you make sense please?”

Ah, that’s right. She hadn’t explained it at all to Rita. That was rude of her.

“Sorry. Actually… you caught me at a weird time.” She finally decided to move, going over to a side table in her room where a teapot and some cups were placed. Luckily, the water inside was still hot, and she carefully arranged a chosen tea bag for Rita’s own cup. “You see, I’ve been trying to start my new book for the past hour, but nothing’s coming to mind. It feels like I’ve hit a roadblock, so to speak.” She sighed, pouring the water into the cup. Oh, and of course added in some honey from a small dispenser nearby. “My first one came to me so easily, I just don’t understand what the problem is…”

“…Huh. Can’t say I relate much to that.” But once she turned to Rita with filled teacup in hand, she saw the girl scratch her head, looking at the floor. “Sorry. That was thoughtless to say.”

“Oh no! That’s alright.” Estelle shrugged, once again looking up at Rita against the window. She still looked so heroic, and also just so very cool. She wondered if it was possible to have a painting like this… It was just too bad Estelle couldn’t draw very well. “Maybe I just need to do something a bit differently… I’ve already tried so many different tea brews already.”

“…You really think the kind of tea you’ve been drinking is the issue here?”

“Well, this one time I accidentally switched out my chamomile tea with the ginger one, and it had me up all night!”

“Hmm…”

For a while, Rita seemed to have not heard her, preoccupied with thinking, which happened sometimes. Estelle would usually just let her go through it before interrupting her with anything else. But whatever her musing was, it didn’t last long.

Rita turned her head just over her right shoulder, looking out into the sky. The sun was just beginning to set, casting hues of orange light against Rita’s hair. The petals continued to float around, doing so in such intricate patterns, it seemed that they danced about her. Even the wind picked up, gently rustling Rita’s clothes, including the yellow ribbon wrapped around her arm.

Once again, Estelle could do nothing but stare.

“Well, if you need more inspiration for your book…” Rita said, before fully turning back to her with a smile, one that was full of confidence. “I think I know a way to help with just that.”

Estelle still held onto her teacup, blinking occasionally. “Really?”

“Yeah! The thing is, you’re going about this all wrong.” Rita then finally jumped from the windowsill onto the hardwood floors of Estelle’s room. She did so without any thought to what she still wore on her back, which must have been lighter than it looked. “Just sitting around waiting for inspiration isn’t gonna cut it. You have to go out and look for it! If I waited for inspiration to go and continue my research, I’d just get nothing done. And if something still isn’t working out, I move onto something else. It’s as simple as that.”

Estelle nodded along, fascinated as Rita paced about her room, spilling out advice that was truly so inspiring. “But then… where can I find my inspiration?” she asked with a bit of reservation. “I’ve tried taking walks around Halure, speaking with the children… but I keep having trouble just writing down a few words at most.”

“That’s routine, Estelle. And while routine is nice, it gets boring and expected.” Rita stopped her pacing, facing Estelle with crossed arms. “I only write for academic research instead of any creative writing, but it sounds like you need a new perspective.”

Maybe here was where Estelle got a little confused. She tilted her head. “A new perspective?” How could she do that?

Rita apparently read her mind then. She asked her question so matter-of-factly. “Ever saw Halure from above?”

This was the only time Estelle ever felt just a bit unsure around the genius researcher that was so dear to her.

“Are you sure this is the best way?”

“I told you that it’s fine! You don’t think I’m strong enough, is that it?”

“Oh no! I just worry I’ll hurt you if we’re not careful…”

But as Estelle looked up at Rita from above, she saw the determination in her eyes, the way she pouted cutely like so when she was being, perhaps, just a little bit stubborn.

The reason she was above was because Rita had instructed her to lay down, so that way it would be ‘easier.’ Estelle didn’t question it, and so she complied, using the bed in her room as the best place for her to lay down straight. Rita stood by her bedside, eyes hard, arms crossed.

“…Am I laying down wrong?” Estelle questioned. Sometimes she didn’t always understand directions very well…

“No no, it’s alright! Just… thinking how to do this right.” Rita took a deep breath, then uncrossed her arms to stretch them out. Her face was still a bit red, and Estelle wished she had served her the tea a bit earlier. But Rita had declined, determined to help her find her inspiration, as she had said.

With the flying machine still strapped onto her back, Rita stretched out her arms, then nodded. “Okay! Just be sure to hang onto me once I got you up.”

Estelle, slightly nervous, nodded. “Got it!” Still, she worried. Rita was a bit shorter than she was…

Could she really carry her that easily?

Rita had sounded excited at the idea she herself proposed, and Estelle couldn’t help but be caught up in that same excitement. But, now that the prospect was happening, a few doubts popped in her head – mostly concerning herself. For one thing, her dress was probably not the easiest thing to deal with for the person who would carry her…

But before she could voice any more concerns, Rita brought down the goggles she always wore on her head, placing them over her eyes, effectively hiding them away. Then she was bending down, arms slipping underneath the other girl’s back and legs. “And… okay, just, gotta use my knees…” Rita paused, her face a bit near Estelle’s, the heat from her cheeks a bit apparent. “Uh…”

“Are you alright?” Estelle asked, feeling ashamed. “We don’t have to do this if you changed your mind-”

“I didn’t! Don’t assume that!” And with a pout, Rita slipped her hands further so that she got a better grip on Estelle. “I’m just preparing! Okay… one, two…three!”

She lifted Estelle up so quickly that she almost tripped.

“AAAH I-I mean! I have this, don’t worry!” Rita re-balanced herself, holding up Estelle much more securely. She stood up straight, legs trembling slightly, taking deep breaths every so often. “Hurry and…hold onto me…”

“Oh, right!” Estelle wrapped her arms around Rita’s neck, head leaning into her shoulder. “This good?”

“Y-yeah…” Rita turned to look at her, mouth half-open as if to say something. It was hard to see her expression with those goggles on… But then she turned away again. “Anyway, let’s get going.”

Estelle nodded. “Okay!” Still, she hoped she wasn’t too heavy for her…

But she knew better now to make any mention of it. So, she stayed cradled in Rita’s arms as the girl marched over to the open window, careful to keep her back straight, all while muttering, “All in the knees… Just like Karol said, all in the knees…”

Estelle’s lower half of the dress practically engulfed Rita’s arms, at least from what she could tell from her angle. Maybe I should say something… But the thing was, she liked being carried this way.

Rita then hopped back onto the windowsill. The suddenness of the motion made Estelle squeak. Rita’s arms shook, but only for a bit. And then it seemed as if she ran straight off the edge out into the sky. “Keep your eyes open!”

Because Rita told her so, that was exactly what she did.

It wasn’t the first time she had been up in the sky – far from it in fact. Back when she traveled with everyone, they would ride on Ba’ul and the ship he carried, over towns and cities, over the sprawling grasslands, the oceans that seemed to lead forever into the horizon. She’d feel the wind in her hair, raise her head up to the stars, drawn to the brightest one.

But it was different now.

Held close to Rita’s chest, and hearing the whirr of the rotor blades of her flying machine above them both, Estelle felt something much more different now. Her legs dangled in the air, the petals flying close to her face, bringing with her the scent of the cherry blossoms… and she couldn’t help but keep her gaze on Rita’s face, the goggles covering her eyes to protect her from the wind.

Rita seemed to notice, and though she couldn’t see her eyes, she had a feeling the girl had been caught off-guard. “I-I didn’t mean keep your eyes open on me!”

“Oh?” Estelle half-shouted, the wind carrying away both of their voices.

“At Halure! Look at Halure! Y-you can look at me later!”

Estelle did worry excessively that she had done something wrong then, but with Rita’s insistence, she finally did so, following the petals that drifted around them, to the houses that lined the pathways of the roads, to the trees themselves that extended so high above the town and into the sky. Rita flew around the branches, moved along with the wind currents, all as children shouted excitedly from below.

“Told you I could carry you easy,” Rita announced, eyes straight ahead, the rotor blades continually whirring behind her. “Now you got a new view! Is it helping?”

And though Estelle did look all around her, in awe at the height they were at, at how even with Rita’s arms, there was always that faint sense of precariousness, one that sparked something wonderful in her heart. It was exciting and wonderful, and with the setting sun, the town had never looked so beautiful just now.

But even with all of that, her eyes kept going back to Rita, who had always been so, so inspiring to her.

She had to let her know. “Rita!”

A little shake, Rita turning to Estelle in surprise. “Huh?! Don’t just scream in my ear!”

Estelle was too happy, wrapping her arms around Rita’s neck even tighter, hugging her close. “You just look so very cool right now!”

“Estelle, wait! I’m gonna lose control of my flying-!”

Too late. A brief tilt in the air, messing up the already uneasy momentum that they had, and soon enough, were flying right for that same tree, pink petals flooding both of their sights.

When the great tree had been dying, its leaves wilted and its branches drooping low to the ground, so many had lost hope for it. Estelle had felt a desperate wish in her then, one that she could barely bury down, and didn’t want to. Even as monstrous blood infused with the roots, she had begged, she had pleaded, and that alone had been enough to bring it back.

If only she could do such a thing for her very own self so easily, with just a wish. I want to feel like I can do something again. But sometimes, she realized, one had to look outside of one’s own self to find that inspiration.

As Rita and Estelle flew haphazardly, they landed against one of the branches, with a blanket of blossoms cushioning their fall. Rita flailed, Estelle now effectively on top of it. “Agh! I got cherry blossoms in my throat!”

Still, Estelle couldn’t let go of her. She nuzzled her head against the others, feeling so giddy. “You’re just… so great, Rita…”

“You could have hugged me at any other time!”

Her smile hadn’t left, even as the rotor blades now whirred a little less effectively, their mechanisms a bit clogged from all the petals that went into its crevices. If this solved her creator’s block, she wasn’t sure just yet – but she wouldn’t trade this experience for anything else.

#tales of vesperia #rita mordio #estellise sidos heurassein #ristelle #fanfiction #oneshot

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quinn-tessence · 4 years

Text

Nocturne for a Clown

Part 3

Summary: you're tormented by the realization Arthur is the killer clown on the news, yet no bone in your body feels any different for him. Not even Casanova's advances could sway your from wanting to hold Arthur in your arms and alleviate his sorrow. He's had a bad day, and retreats on your couch, broken and confused.

Length: 5k words

Warnings: mentions of murder, lack of remorse, guilt and grief, seeking comfort where he'd never had it from. Smut with dear Arthur that could cause a rush of tremors, be warned. 🤭❤

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You sat and watched. Then watched and watched some more. There were no words, no voice, no sound coming through your gaping mouth as the skin on your lips almost started to crack. It made sense. The blood, the bruise, the liberating sex, the wretched guilt. Oh God, what has he done?, you repeated in his voice over and over, that impossible puzzle putting itself together before you as you hid your gouging eyes underneath heavy, sweaty palms in a much too similar reflex to his own.

What has he done? He'd been beaten down surely, given his frail nature you could see how he'd be fluent in being at the receiving end, but as grievous as the thought was, it made it no less valid. This was bad, he’d land straight into Arkham if you picked up that phone to call the authorities, the way a considerate citizen would, as if Gotham deserved any at all. But you weren't one of them, were you? Never had you really fit in, yet you tried for the sake of appearances, it had become so burdening of late, only the thought of Arthur could provide the comfort you'd been seeking.

The news reports kept blaring, yet all your compassion overflowed for the clown, had you been able to see things objectively you'd still think he was hero. Three fewer assholes in Gotham, only a million more to go, you heard an inner voice say, even if you knew that was enough reason to throw you into the depths of Arkham Asylum. You'd sadly known that place from family, and you never wanted to set foot in that Tartarus again, but perhaps the apple didn't fall far from the tree. You couldn't stomach the thought of Arthur sitting opposite the glass wall from you, so dozed up on sedatives he'd hardly even recognize you. No, no, no. You wouldn't let that happen, and yet he'd need his own time and space to process.

You resisted the urge to bang on his door and ask for a full account, it felt as if you were a passenger on a derailing, speeding train. Regardless of how breathtaking the turquoise water under the rails, your gut wrenched at the thought of plunging into it head first. You were a decent swimmer, but you knew you’d be incapable of fighting those waters from swallowing you whole. You'd just given yourself to him, entirely and shamelessly, and regret was nowhere in sight. Had you been the forth prey of his killing spree, he would have killed you already. Yet he did the exact opposite, in distress and quivering like a leaf, but it was your door he opened after his rupture. He trusted you to keep this secret for him. And you welcomed the trust.

Within a few days you noticed you'd returned to your bad habit of unconscious nails biting. As if the deafening tumult between your temples wasn't enough, you also had to self flagellate as you desperately waited in silence.

You were busy enough at work, and the newest addition to your team had become daring enough to invade your private space little by little. Tall. Lean. Broad shouldered. Curly caramel hair and eyes of obsidian, winking at you shamelessly each time he passed by you. Patrick was a force in his field, yet he rolled his eyes and tongued his cheek whenever you'd call on him for a task, as if wanting to taunt you. Quite quirky and unprofessional, but restrictive enough to question yourself if you were merely projecting. Not once had he failed to deliver, on the contrary, yet that sly attitude never left him. Hm. The distraction was welcome, but it was nothing more. You'd catch yourself staring through him, picturing sparkling emeralds and cocoa, having to snap yourself back to reality before he'd think it was him you were aching for just like all your infatuated colleagues.

He must have checked with your giggly girlfriends before casually slipping in an invitation to your favorite bar after hours, casual drinks with a few colleagues, of course. Perhaps you should have politely declined, but you needed the respite from the heart wrenching torment, even if just for a few hours.

As empty as the venue was, he insisted on strolling in your visual field, intriguingly charming, maybe a bit too charismatic. It was time to maintain a level of dignity with your colleagues and remove yourself before getting into a state where you'd find yourself in Arthur's apartment, this time fully conscious. Yet Patrick gallantly offered to drive you over, posing a certain concern for your safety alone in the streets with a murdering clown on the loose. HA! You giggled at the joke being on him, silently talking to yourself. No thank you, you rascal, protection from that clown is the last thing I need. He insisted on paying for the taxi at least, and you’d had two drinks and wanted to be home already.

The thunderstorm washed the streets rapidly as you entered your building. You loved ravenous thunderstorms, especially as they traversed the sky over your cozy apartment bathed in lily scent. You took comfort in the hot shower and the chilly air in the room, lightning bolts clearing up the sky for a flash of a second as you wrapped yourself in the bathrobe, ready for Murray's dry humor.

Oh God! Your heart leapt to your throat as a soaked silhouette bathed your floors in cocoa flavor. At last.

‘Arthur! You scared me!’ he lay motionless, your words passing through him as if he wasn't even there. ‘Is everything ok?’

His damp fingers absently traced a faint line over the glass of your coffee table, his body slouched and stiff, the edges of his hair dripping on the couch.

‘I had a bad day.’

The words had come from a deep dark pit inside his chest, a wretched misery draped across his face as you kneeled next to him, cupping his cheeks. You'd ached to see his sparkling jades, yet you'd met them covered in a thick coat of tears, on the edge of dropping.

‘Arthur, what happened, sweetheart? Talk to me, please' He was so tired and withered, not even the wicked cackle would surface in this state.

‘I had a bad day…’

‘You said that, sweetheart, tell me what happened. Are you hurt?’

‘Kitten. I've done something… I…’ for seconds he tried to articulate, but the cackle fought its way up his throat.

‘Arthur shhhh. I know it was you. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, I won't force you… I won’t judge you for it, I promise. Just sit with me for a second’ his head already leaning on your chest, your palm caressing his piercing bones, even through sets of clothes. He sat sedated, limbs heavy, flesh trembling, voice cackling in wrenching anguish for what felt like minutes on end.

‘You do?’ he asked between ruptures as if to steer his initial subject into whatever you'd conveniently brought up.

‘I do. I knew it the moment I heard the news after you stormed out. I saw the blood and the bruise on your face. You won't find any judgement here, I promise. I know you needed time to process, but you’re here now. Shhh' you almost cradled him in your arms, the most powerful instinct to protect him even from himself overbearing. He was all bone and sinew, like a hungry lone wolf, but there now was a sinister vibe to him.

‘Good. I'm glad you know. I lost my job that day, and then they attacked me in the subway, beating me to a pulp. Hm. Now you'll know that killing them hasn't bothered me at all. How's that for casual conversation?’

An unnerving tremor slid down your spine at the tone of his voice. You'd known him for a while, yet this resentful sneer was far from something you'd expect from timorous Arthur. Dreadful it's what it was, spine-tingling, intriguing, you were utterly mad to clasp this deranged man to your bosom when another prince charming just waited for one damn look from you. Who cared, you thought, Gotham’s gonna claim all of us sooner or later.

‘All I want is for you to be safe, Arthur. I won't tell anyone, but you need to be careful, sweetheart, you can't be saying things like those to anyone, please'

‘I have no one to tell, Y/N. And you’re not just anyone. You know. I’m still here, although you could have thrown me in police custody for the past few days.’ The cackles had given him a short respite, even if still lingering on the edge of bursting. He wheezed heavily before speaking. ‘My whole life I didn't even know if I really existed. And today, I feel… hollow…’

You'd asked and asked again as you touched his face and held it close to yours, his forehead as cold as the thunderstorm outside this comforting protective bubble.

‘My mother had a heart attack. She's in the hospital. Hah. My mother…’ a late instinct turned your skin to prickles hearing him speak from a different octave, a thick air of mustering resentment filling the room. ‘I had a few days to myself and I decided to deliver a letter to Thomas Wayne from her, seeing how he never bothered to write back. I'd told you she worked for him 30 years ago, and I read it although I shouldn’t have. I'd never known my father, but the letter said it was him. I confronted my mother and she told me everything about the two of them. But… instead of some warmth or a bit of decency, he told me my mother was insane and that I had been adopted. That and a punch to the face is what I got. Hm. Who am I, then? You tell me'

Your own eyes on the brink of overflowing, your soul coiled. You couldn't do much, but he needed comfort. Where would you even start, though? His tone of voice, the grief weighing him down, the droplets off his wet hair disintegrating whatever pieces were left of him, a question mark in stead of whomever he thought he'd been his whole life. Yet he didn't expect comfort. Such a foreign concept to him, as if reserved only to an elite he was not part of and would not dare intrude upon. You could easily hear how he'd just laugh it out into his pillow at night, his cries stifled, lacking a corner of privacy and personal intimacy where he could really build up that forced smile he'd put on every next day. You’d go utterly mad if you were in his shoes, no comfort and no expectation of it. So used to being overlooked, deep down he knew he was alone, and that filled him with fear and hopelessness. So you shushed and nuzzled him to your chest, hoping the warmth of your body would be soothing enough for the chaos that he was.

‘I don't know who I am, kitten. So I went down to Arkham and stole my mother's file just to find that he'd been right. The… horrors… she subjected me to as a child had gotten me locked up in Arkham years ago, but now I think I was just trying to hide from her, from this rotten city, from this world. I felt safe in that white room, ironically. When they released me, the heavy medication was supposed to make me feel better, instead it suffocated even my most basic impulses.’

Laughter ripped at his throat and pulled his face into a grimace, your palms clasping him so tightly you were afraid you might smother him. How much pain and grief could a man take, his poor soul must have been bound to an eternal rock, forever pecked by hungry vultures.

‘How can you even welcome me into your home if I don't even know that much? I’m so sorry I dragged you into this. I should go, no need to burden you with any of this' he meant every word, as he kissed your hands with teary lips and dragged himself half upright.

‘Don't go' you close to begged. ‘Please stay.’

The grooves in his forehead you loved, just as the distinctive scar on his upper lip and the deep dark eye bags crowning his jades, his state of mind added another couple decades to his age. As you took him in through your pores, you remembered the shy clown peering through the shelves, and how the makeup would do the exact opposite of its intended purpose. Somehow he'd been unaware of how the makeup brightened his eyes to a clarity and sharpness you could cut yourself into. It was endearing how he'd stared at you when you'd first seen him wearing the costume, thinking he could hide under that mask when really it only brought him to life, his facial expressivity more riveting than ever. Yet he was here with you, more Carnival than Arthur even without the paint, as broken as a mirror in infinite shards.

‘Will you still have me here after this?’

‘I would. Please. I'm glad you came here after all this instead of going back home.’

The thought he'd ever been intimate with a woman before you had dissipated in an endless pool of murky turquoise, the genuine surprise in his eyes cutting you to your bone. There was no question, you knew.

‘Thank you, kitten. I'll stay, if you want me here'. There was no hiding anymore, you'd made it sparkling clear by being an accessory after the fact.

‘I do, Arthur, so much. I wanted you here… since you held that elevator for me, yet somehow we always missed our moment. No need to thank me…’

Had it not been for the roaring thunder, he'd probably hear your galloping heart, yet his composure betrayed just that acknowledgement. Every fiber in your body ached to touch his soul and mend it. The erotic tension you couldn't deny, but that wasn't anywhere near the reason why you'd willfully allowed yourself to become his accomplice. He sat back down, timidly reaching for your hand with his own smooth fingers, to place it on his cheek, now as warm as to ignite all the fires inside you with only one touch. Regardless of the endless torment of his life, it was so effortless to feel safe in his presence, even if he'd just killed three men in cold blood and joggled his life as he balanced on a thin string.

‘But I want to. Will you... let me thank you?’ his eyes had meekly turned to yours with a restless heeding for that glimpse of complicity you'd joined in a few times before.

‘If you insist, sweetheart, I guess you already did. You're welcome.’ And through that smile you could feel your body radiating as intensely as a candle flame in the dark. You’d tripped and fell into feelings for him, and nothing could brush them off.

‘No... I really want to thank you, kitten...’ Painfully slowly, he drew himself closer to you, a cocktail of demureness and ardor shaping his beautifully chiseled face into one that you'd missed your whole life, without even knowing. ‘I want to... put my mouth on you...’

Oh… He'd shown you a short, blissful glimpse of this other Arthur, the less tense, less uptight, more daring when he'd taken what you both wanted. There was always a limit to his courage, and yet he’d usually fall back into the timid, maiden like demeanor that he was. This felt different though, as there was a glimpse of unbridling in the way he inhaled, in the twitch of his contoured eyebrow, his whispering husky voice demanding consent. He needed this. Perhaps it would help deafen the torment for a quiet minute, and you were willing to let him try. Oh, who were you fooling, your heart had leapt at the thought of this since you saw him motionless on your couch, albeit in your mind the roles had been reversed. You'd bitten your lip instinctively, a most nonverbal cue of compliance to his plea, and within a short second he was tasting it, sucking it, biting it gently, as his nimble fingers strolled so tenderly through your hair to uncover your face, your eyes already deeply sunk behind fluttering eyelids.

‘I want to feel you shiver in my mouth' he whispered with a faltering voice, taking in all of your scent through avid nostrils. ‘You always smell so good, so clean… I want to taste you…'

So tender he was, you'd forgotten what it felt like to be wished for, body and soul alike, yet his palms willingly showed you a striking contrast to the tenacious Arthur who'd barged in days ago, as if your skin was porcelain and he wouldn't want to break you. He uncovered your naked skin underneath the fluffy bathrobe and smoothly tasted the growing prickles with curious fingertips, lowering himself towards your thighs at a painstakingly slow pace that would soon have you beg.

Pulling you to the edge of the couch where he’d slid himself, he finally broke the jarring tension of his eye contact just to move his head lower, descending decisively. The instant his curious lips parted, a shiver jolted through your flesh and your heart leapt into a marathon, you let yourself fall into his mouth without any control. How beautiful he was, you reminded him over and over as your fingers slicked his damp hair back, curling it around his ears, uncovering his furrowed forehead and perfect chiseled jawline. The sight of him between your thighs was no stranger, but you’d only seen it from afar until now, deep within the corner of each of your fantasies. Such a kind soul he was, but that mouth a wretched devil… oh my…

For a second he looked as if he'd forgotten all his sorrows as he strolled his tongue over your petals, tasting your skin one inch at a time, gently exploring to test your every reaction to his laps, his eyes fascinated with each of your whimpers. The throbbing love button he'd unveiled, a curiosity he had to touch with his tongue to feel the pulsation, your purrs a source of the validation in an endless sea of self doubt. Taking his time, curiously exploring this newfound medication for his sorrowful blues, he quickly grew hungry and greedy as an addict for a stronger fix, yet somewhat cautious to not overdose. His dilated basil eyes etched onto your contorted face, delighting in each tiny reaction he drew from you with his mouth, yet the catalyst to set you fully ablaze were his own moans as he enjoyed himself enjoying you. Oh God, what is he doing to me, I never want him to stop…

You’d thought you'd be the one comforting him, but it seemed as if he was doing it for both of you. His eyes moved around maniacally, taking in the shape of your naked breasts, of your nipples hardened at the thunderous air in the room, your moans guiding him into a delicate rhythm that could make you climb walls, even with the clumsiness that came with tasting a new person. He couldn't be a novice, although his curiosity was striking and enticing. Regardless of all that sorrow he'd brought with him, he curled a satisfied smirk under his scar and an impertinent twitch of his eyebrow sent you into a frenzy. His jades dilated at seeing your lips bitten, your eyebrows furrowed, close to crying in ecstasy, unable to move at the pleasure he gave and gave some more.

The mercury in your thermometer jumped at knot speed towards one big show of fireworks whose fuse got consumed by his kindling flame at a slow pace. Thoughts of his recent killing spree rushed through your mind, yet you were as high as a kite. You didn't care. So you let them ooze out to leave a hazy emptiness behind to be filled with all this spectacle of indulgence.

The pleas were whimpering whispers as you arched and etched your fingers in his smooth cocoa hair to anchor him, the other palm clenching a poor throw pillow to deformation. You hips guided by the rhythm of his palms on your waist, your moans deepening as he'd made you move onto his face, using it as a fine tuned instrument to orchestrate the crescendo of both your pleasure. Now that all your 8000 sensory nerve endings could light Gotham for Christmas if visible, his tongue flickered around your pearl, feeling the climax building up towards that overwhelming rapture. Moans turned to shrieks, toes and fingers clenched in reflex, his eyes and mouth on you as he winked from under long dark eyelashes. You combusted so powerfully into his mouth, within a few blissful seconds you'd left him glistening in traces of yourself.

Only as you quivered your last drop of pleasure in his mouth did you realize why he'd needed this so badly, he craved the validation of being a man even if his identity in shatters. It was one thing to have no identity, but another to not even be a man. Pleasuring you was one damn win that would hold his feet on the ground if he did it right, and that he could control. He had been scrutinizing you as you gasped for air, your eyebrows furrowed almost painfully, your flushed delicate muscles still throbbing under his tongue.

‘Oh, Arthur, that was… amazing…’

Still lingering his lips onto your inner thighs, he kissed tenderly as your flesh still twitched. You wanted him even more now than you did before. But tonight should be about him, even if he'd taken the lead so gracefully, so skillfully, so deliciously.

‘Yeah…’ the shyest smile draped across his tinted face, 'I felt that, kitten. I've… never really done this before…’ You'd known, deep down, and yet hearing him say the words was the most tender of piano nocturnes to your ears, so you latched at his mouth to taste him through your flavor, one that if you could bottle up, it would drive mankind rabid into destructive adoration.

Come here, Arthur, you whispered as you pulled him next to you, the puzzlement over his arching eyebrows an absolute delight you'd dreamt of relentlessly. He didn't fight it, yet the stiffness in his bones betrayed an urge he'd palmed away many nights without resolution, anxiety creeping over him at the realization it was now staring him in the face.

‘Wh… what are you doing?’, you shushed him as a response.

‘Kitten, please, don't feel like you need to give me anything back…’

‘Who said anything about giving back? I'm taking this for myself, Arthur. Let go, baby, let me take care of you'

‘Kitten… ohh' his eyes went straight to the back of his head, heavy eyelids covering his jades, his lips parted as your fingers traced the bulge straining his pants to suffocation. ‘Ok…’ he exhaled anxiously, a timidly bouncing knee betraying the rush of emotion flowing through him as you dragged his clothes over his head, his pants crowning the floor within a few seconds, leaving him naked to your hungry gazes.

The flickering light of the candles reflected over his protruding ribs as if a part of his body had caved in under the weight of his shoulders, his palms on your face strolling and tasting the reality of your flesh, he must have thought you were a side effect of his medication. Yet the prickling shivers traversing his body as you trailed your fingers over it were not. You reached for his lips as you lay him across the couch, your breasts invading his chest, the warmth of your body soothing his anxious trembling. That defeated look on his face, so vulnerable he'd made himself to you, he had nothing to give yet you still wanted him. He was mystified with even the remote possibility, let alone you giving him that adoration he'd chased endlessly, but never caught.

‘You are so beautiful, Arthur, let me show you, please…’ He was your paradise lost in the depravity of Gotham, a villain in itself, weighing down on each of its residents and having chosen Arthur to crush mercilessly under its own lack of a well defined identity, ready to teach us all lessons in humility that could lead to desperation.

He nodded shyly, his jades coated with an acute layer of yearning over something he'd never been given before. His body was a withered Stradivarius, abandoned in the corner of a cold, damp world, subjected to years of weathering and painful lack of any care, no wonder he was so feeble in between your fingers. But his strings were steel, and steel doesn't weather. It would naturally respond to external factors just like anything else but no amount of forcing, pushing, suppressing would bring out the brilliant austere sound it was designed to bring. Had he been less frail, you'd relate him to a cello, one that needs to be held tight to one's chest before playing it, where its resonating chamber rests upon the artist's heart as she moves the bow on the saddest of instruments. Yet he was so fragile, the wails of his chords almost bringing you to tears as you ghosted over them, testing what amount of pressure would bring the vibration, how to explore the potential of the sound and bring it closer to perfection. You were there to give him all that, to polish all the dust away, his wrinkles, his chiseled edges, to practice on his strings and validate his worth until he felt himself a Stradivarius for the first time in his life. He'd been blessed with a beautiful instrument that could bring such intense sensory bliss if only he'd find the right hands, and you longed to play him through the night, to tear your fingers into his chords and to sing his melancholy away.

What a trembling mess he'd become as soon as your lips strolled down his neck, the smell of rain and cigarettes off his skin intoxicating you into indelible addiction. The farthest you went, the more you saw how little he expected that you'd turn your full attention to him, as if never daring to expect anything other than what you'd allow him to take. You kissed your way down from his chest, palms exploring and fondling every bony texture, every inch of soft skin until reaching an extremity that felt to your fingertips as both together. Trembling, he slicked back his hair and sunk deeper into the couch, scrutinizing your face in detail and feeding you those micro expressions of Arthur and Carnival together, the twitch in his eyebrow a give away that you'd be playing for an audience of two tonight.

So immersed in the overflow of sensation he was as you took him into your mouth, his only verbal response a muffled ‘F-fuck, kitten', but his whole body screamed a different story of twitches at the touch of your tongue and lips. How demure the sounds he made as he shivered over and over, his eyes shut tightly, his mouth half open, heavy breaths raising his chest, quivering lips alternating silent approvals or four letter curses, as if careful to not be caught. So painfully expressive, all you wanted was to see him melt under your touches like silver over a burning flame without a hurry in the world, your tongue tracing a tale more evocative than any words could ever express.

With each stroke of your lips, he let go to all but that intense pleasure, as if your mouth held the power to oust the very fabric of reality, offering him an escape into a wonderland he'd been denied entrance all his life. He wants to be wanted, needs to he needed, lusts to be lusted for, his quivering lips more than enough validation for that thought. As you felt his muscles unwind, his fingers tremoring, his breath traversing his trembling body, you'd made him float in an isolation tank of indulgence. When you stopped, his voice would growl and whimper in reflex, the purring sounds begging for more. Some would call it schadenfreude, you called it your tiny overdose in hearing him say 'please' as you teased and inflamed him. His taste in your mouth, his smooth texture, his delicate skin, you wanted nothing more than to lock that door and trap him in this perpetual state of bliss. For eternity wouldn't be enough to put together all his broken pieces, but it would be a start.

The meekness in his jade eyes was wrenching, yet as he looked into yours, you quickly understood why. You couldn't hear his silent whispers, yet you knew he was begging for more as the throb in your mouth intensified and his whimpering green eyes slid to the back of his head, his palms clenching the couch so forcefully he could tear into it. It mattered no less as you felt him completely let go throb after throb, his body convulsing in spasms, the taste of him ambrosia hidden from all other mortals.

His head sunk deep in the couch pillow, his arms and body heavy and immobile, breath ragged, he giggled for the first time that day, a laugh so genuine it felt foreign to both of you, a rattled stranger you both wanted to welcome in and nurture back to his feet. As he lay sprawled on your couch, naked and ecstatic, you wished he was happy, for once. You needed a minute to freshen up, and as you returned to shut the windows and lay a blanket over him, he'd almost dozed off from exhaustion.

You sunk next to him as slick as a cat, laying him onto your chest and fondling your fingers in his damp cocoa hair, his limbs latching at you rendering you almost breathless with the radiating warmth of his body.

‘Kitten, I… I don't know how to thank you…’, he whispered in the nook of your neck, asleep had his flesh not sweetly twitched him back to a half awake state. ‘I've been off my medication for a few days, but I might have found an endless supply of pure morphine…’. His body had finally rested its convulsion, his limbs falling heavier, his breath slower, within a few seconds of his thought his eyes already moved spastically under heavy eyelids.

He was right, he'd found pure morphine, and so had you. It would consume you both, but him in your arms was that feeling humanity had sought since its birth. A once in a lifetime adventure they'd write sonnets about in the past, one that was yours to experience and live through with Arthur. That morphine had just kicked in for both, and you were floating on a cloud high above the thunder slowly roaring away in the night.

------------------

Thank you for reading this far! ❤

A special thanks to a few of the lovely people in this community that inspires me to keep putting my odes to Arthur on paper:

@wuika @iartsometimes @impulsiveclown @arthurflecc @littlebird92 @life-or-something-like-lt @jokers-puddin-pop @arthurfleckownsmysoul @jokersdoll @bananabreaddough @paperorigami @ransomguest49 @daydreamhustler @arthurjokersgirl @forever-fleck @sweet-nothings04 jokerlicious @ajokeformur-ray @shaw-2000 @jaraysha1121 @jofic059 @shit-i-love-clowns

#joaquin phoenix joker #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck #joaquin phoenix #joker #joker fanfic #joker x reader #joker x you

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justniaaa · 4 years

Text

Unravel Me (3)

Rating: 18+ NSFW

Work Count: 3.8k

Pairing: Christopher “Rio” Martinez x black!oc

Warning: Panic attack, anxiety, self doubt, swearing, use of the “n” word

A/N: Hey loves! So excited to finally share the third chapter with you all! Forgive me for the late posting, I wanted to be a post once a week type of writer but that seems to be not the case, especially with my semester starting soon and a new job being in the works. But please bare with me, I will try and make sure you guys get content even if it’s not consistent. Thank you for reading my story and please like, comment and reblog. Alright enough of my ramblings, Enjoy and happy reading! <3

Summary: Toni forms an unsuspecting friendship with Christopher that turns into something more. As her feelings towards him continue to grow she starts to unravel the secrets that surround him and in return, he unravels her completely.

Chapter 3: Welcome back

“Finally,” Toni said with relief as she pulled up in her Honda Accord at Lux. She made sure to get to the bar early and was happy when she got there with five minutes left to spare. Taking a moment to herself before going in, she tried to occupy her mind with checking her hair and makeup in the rearview mirror. Try as she must, doubt began to settle in the forefront of her mind, in if she was making the right decision.

Toni felt her heart begin to beat faster and faster. Out of breath, and body hot she turned her AC on at full blast, Dr. Simone’s instructions ringing in her head.

--------------------------------Flashback------------------------------------------

Now Antonia if you ever feel like you’re going to have an anxiety attack, I want you to try this breathing exercise called “Calming Breath”.”

Toni listened to her therapist Dr. Simone with rapt attention, “Honestly doc, I’ll take anything to just stop this shit, excuse my french.”

Dr. Simone chuckled, amused by her slip up. “No need to apologize, Antonia. How many times do I have to tell you this is a place where you can express yourself freely without judgment?”

“I know, I know.”

“Now like I was saying before, I want you to try an exercise called “Calming Breath.” What that entails is you taking a long, slow breath through your nose, and holding your breath to the count of three then exhaling slowly through your lips. It should help you relax your muscles in your face, shoulders, and stomach. We can practice a couple of times if you would like.”

Toni shook her head in understanding, “Thanks doc, but I think I got it.” After a few seconds of silence, Dr. Simone gave her a knowing look. “But just in case I don’t have it, can you repeat the steps again?

----------------------End of flashback-------------------------------------------

Hearing Dr. Simone’s directions, Toni began her breathing exercises, breathe in, hold, breathe out. She did the steps a couple more times until she slowly felt her heartbeat go back to normal. Softly smiling Toni was proud of herself for getting her anxiety in check until she looked at the clock on her dashboard.

She had two minutes until her shift started.

“Fuck, I can’t be late when I’m literally sitting right in front of the place”

Toni made sure she had all her belongings and shut off the ignition, quickly hopping out and closing her car door. Walking to the entrance, she took in the building, like every bar it looked mediocre in the daytime, with its red brick and black awning. But at night that’s when it’s beauty really shined especially when they turned on the fairy lights outside that gave the establishment a welcoming shine. She reached the entrance and was debating if she should walk-in or call Avery, but before she could decide the door swung open, almost hitting her in the face.

“Woah!” Toni said, quickly jumping back and almost breaking her neck in the process from her heeled boots.

“Oh, shit my fault ma!”

Toni heard a low voice apologize as she was looking down at her scuffed boots. Anger and embarrassment flooded through her, she was angry because her boots had white marks all over them and embarrassed because of course, this would happen to her of all people.

“Shit, you not crying right? Your shoes are fire but they not worth your tears.”

Is this nigga for real?

Toni finally looked up to show the man she wasn’t having a breakdown, “First of all, I’m not crying, I'm pissed and second of all the door is literally glass how did yo-?!”

“Oh shit Antonia?!”

Startled by the interruption, she stared confused at how he knew her name. A few seconds passed until the realization set in after she took in his dark skin and short box braids. He’s had the same hairstyle since college.

“Sean?!”

“Yoo! I can’t believe it’s you!” Sean came in for a hug as Toni stood there in shock, her hands came up awkwardly to hug him back. “It’s good to see you girl! How you been?!”

I’m emotionally damaged, I haven’t had sex in months and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

“I’m good, and I go by Toni now mostly. How are you?”

Sean shook his head, “My fault, my fault.”

Her question wasn’t answered as Sean took a step back, eyes roving over her body. He had a smirk on his lips as he took in her black sheer top, fitted black jeans, and her slightly damaged snake print block heeled boots. “Damn Ant- I mean Toni, you look even better than you did in college.”

Toni was grateful that he caught himself and at the same time she sucked her teeth. “You are so full of shit, reminds me of back in the day when you would flirt with all the girls in our Humanities class, and Honey would get pissed at you for it.”

His smirk noticeably dropped, showcasing that her sister was a sore topic. Trying to lighten the mood Toni bumped him with her hip, “Anyways, I can’t believe you still work here, looking cute with your all black ensemble on.” He was wearing black, from the t-shirt to the jeans and even his Vans.

It reminds me of a certain someone.

“You know how I do.” He told her, popping his faux collar, “My I.T hours are slim to none sometimes, so a couple of months ago I asked Avery for work to keep me above water.”

Toni let out a harsh breath, “That’s why I’m here too, I just hope I can remember my orders, hell even how to make drinks properly...”

Sean nodded and wrapped his arm around Toni’s shoulders, noticing her growing unease. “Hey, no need to be nervous. You know this bar like the back of your hand and from what I remember I know you would’ve brushed up on your skills before you even thought about calling Avery for a job. I got your back, with whatever, so stop worrying about stupid shit.”

Toni looked up at him and saw the sincerity on his face. When they met freshman year he always treated her like a sibling, making sure to help her out if she ever needed him.

“You getting soft on me nigga?” Toni asked, breaking the sappiness between them. She lightly punched his stomach, making Sean playfully wince in pain. She laughed and wrapped her arm around his side, “Damn, you really are soft Sean.”

“Shut up killa, before I tell Avery on you for being rude to his favorite employee.”

“Now that I’m back, I think that title comes back to me,” Toni gestured to herself.

“Fuck out of here.”

They both chuckled as they walked to the entrance, the joking continuing between the old friends.

********************************************************************************************

Toni had been at the bar for hours, and like Sean said she quickly got back into the swing of things. When she walked in three minutes late because of her small catch up with him, she was worried Avery was going to wring her neck especially since it was technically her first day. But all he did was yell out, “Toni, baby welcome back!” His New York accent prominent.

The Italian man looked mostly the same if not a little gray on the edges of his once all black hair. The last time she saw him he didn’t have crinkles near his eyes when he smiled but Toni thought they fit him perfectly. Avery had a small belly now and wore a red dress shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves, showcasing his tattoo of his favorite pinup girl Bettie Page on his forearm. After all these years he still hadn’t strayed from the black slacks always saying, “The color never shows the stains of a bad night.” After introducing Toni to the rest of her coworkers he went to the backroom to meet with some associates, letting her know he would be back to help out later.

It was ten o’clock and Rihanna’s Work was playing in the bar, making the mass of people sway to the music and talk with drinks in their hands. The crowd seemed to not be getting any smaller and Toni was taking people’s drink orders as she was making other customers drinks. She didn’t remember it being this busy on just a regular Wednesday night, but she could guess as areas started to get more gentrified the crowds began to change.

The hanging lights gave Lux an intimate glow but provided enough light for people to see each other. Stools were lined up in front of the bar, and they were all filled with customers, laughing and drinking, some of them eating onion rings and french fries or whatever other bar snacks that were served. The wooden booths that were along the wall, gave patrons the option to be more personal and away from the crazy that was the bar counter.

“Hey Toni, I need a pitcher of Budweiser,” Rosa, her coworker, stood next to her, her voice was slightly raised because she was trying to be heard over the volume of the chatter.

“Gotcha babe,” Toni got out the plastic container and put it under the spigot, pulling the lever. As the brownish-gold liquid poured, she looked out into the mob, watching individuals coming in and out of Lux. Sean was vaguely seen from where she was standing, checking ID at the door. Toni stopped the stream of beer and turned to Rosa, handing her the pitcher, “Thank you!” The blue-haired woman said with a smile, leaving to go tend to her customer.

Toni was about to put her hand out to stop Rosa before she got too far. Wanting to let her know she was going to take her fifteen-minute break, when she heard, “Can I get a Jack on the rocks?”

Toni frowned, in confusion at hearing the deep voice that had been on her mind for the past several days. Was she thinking about him too much, that she conjured him up somehow? She slowly turned to the individual that never failed to give her goosebumps whenever she laid eyes on him. In his usual calm demeanor, Chris was sitting at the bar, looking at her with a raised brow and smirk playing on his lips.

And he looked good, really fucking good.

He had on a black button-up and a chain around his neck that made the eagle tattoo on his neck stand out on his tan skin. She didn’t know if it was possible but he looked even better than when she saw him last.

Fuck me.

Toni bit her lip from her sinful thoughts and got a glass from behind the bar, beginning to make his drink. She glanced up and saw him watching her with his dark eyes, making her downcast her gaze. Not wanting him to notice her slightly shaking hands as she got ice out of the chest, Toni finally spoke, “Well, look who's back.” she said while she poured the liquor into the chilly glass.

Chris looked amused as she put the drink down in front of him and in the process of releasing it his hand came up, holding onto the glass as well, making his fingers come in contact with hers.

“Missed me?” He asked both of their hands still on the drink and unmoving as they checked each other out.

Toni shrugged, “Hardly.”

“I think my feelings would be hurt if I actually believed you ma.”

Toni grinned at his words, “How was work? I didn’t think you would be back so soon.”

“Cut ties with some of my partners for fucking up the numbers, but shit is all good now.”

Toni went to reply when suddenly Avery came up next to Chris, he put a broad hand on his shoulder, “Toni I didn’t know you knew Rio.”

She moved her hand away from Chris’s touch and picked up the rag that was on the counter, cleaning up the sticky bar top. Toni felt like Avery caught her hand in the cookie jar and from his knowing look, it seemed like Avery might have the same sentiment as well.

Toni cleared her throat, “We just met, actually.” She didn’t really understand where the hell “Rio” came from when she had been calling him “Chris” for the past several weeks.

“Well let me introduce you two then, Rio this is Toni my returning employee and one of the best damn bartenders, I’ve ever had and Toni this is Rio, the co-owner of Lux and your boss,” Avery said making introductory motions between the two.

Toni’s eyes widened and she stopped fake wiping the counter. My boss?! How many businesses did this man have?

“That shits all semantics Avery, you're the real boss of this place. I’m just here to be a helping hand,” Chris said, giving Toni a pointed look, showing her that it wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

“I suppose.” Avery patted Chris’s shoulder again with a grin, then turned to Toni once more, “I think it’s time for your fifteen Toni the crew and I can handle it if another wave comes in.”

Toni nodded, “Thanks Avery, and nice to meet you, Rio,” she said sickly sweet. Toni left the rag on the counter and squeezed behind Rosa, leaving from behind the bar. She took a look behind her and saw Chris and Avery talking and her usually chill boss didn’t seem all that happy. Toni walked outside, seeing Sean sitting on a chair, his fingers moving quickly on his iPhone. He looked over when he saw her walk out, and gave her a smile displaying his pearly whites. “I was right, wasn’t I? Shit was like you never left.”

“Yes negro, you were right.” Toni said leaning against the window, her feet becoming achy.

“You can take my seat sis. I need to be standing anyway or Avery will have my ass if he catches me sitting again.”

Toni laughed, “Thanks.”

Sean got up and let her sit down, standing in silence. He kept glancing over to her while opening his mouth and closing it like he wanted to ask Toni something. After the third time of this, Toni sighed, “What Sean?”

“Nothin, Nothin…”

She gave him a sour look until he finally broke, “What’s with the name change?” Sean put his hands up in mock surrender, “Don’t get me wrong Honey and some of your friends called you Toni but you’ve never told anyone that they had to do the same.”

Toni went for nonchalance not wanting to alarm him, “I just thought Toni was better, it definitely helps with the awkwardness of people calling me Antonio all the time until I corrected them.” She thought that would be enough for Sean, because what she said made total sense but Toni was very, very wrong.

“Bullshit,” Sean said, making her mouth fall open.

“What do you mean, bullshit!?”

“You loved watching people get red in the face when you corrected them, so whatchu sayin’ is bullshit. We haven’t seen each other in a minute but I still know you, so give me the real reason before I call Latoya.”

They both knew her mom couldn’t hold water sometimes and even if she didn’t know the real reason, Toni didn’t want Sean talking to her and possibly unearthing secrets that she tried to keep buried for as long as possible. She took in a breath and crossed her arms. At first she didn’t know what to say to appease her old friend, as he waited for an explanation but she decided to stick to the truth as close as possible.

“I just wanted a change, I went through a hard time and to completely be rid of it, I made the decision to have people just call me Toni rather than Antonia. It really cemented for me that I was a different person than I was before.” Toni fiddled with a loose string on her jeans, “I mean my parents still call me Antonia and there are certain family members as well that do it too, but in my everyday life, I stick with Toni and the solace it gives me.”

Sean appeared satisfied with her answer, but Toni noticed there was a little squint to his eye like he knew that wasn’t the full truth but he let her statement stand.

“So, I’m probably hella corny for this and I know you won’t let me live this down but..”Sean outstretched his hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Toni.”

His expression was sincere and comical at the same time and it made Toni grin, “Nice to meet you too, Sean Puff Daddy Combs.”

Sean sucked his teeth, “Here we go with that Puff Daddy shit.”

A party of people came walking up as they were laughing, making Sean check their ID’s ending their conversation.

For a few minutes, Toni was scrolling through Instagram readying herself to go back inside soon when she saw Chris walk out of the bar. He was standing at the threshold and he seemed to be scanning the parking lot. When it appeared he didn’t find what he was looking for he went to turn back around, but he suddenly stopped when he saw Toni sitting in the corner.

Toni waved her hand, “Sup, Rio.”

Chris snickered and walked towards her, getting close enough that Toni could smell his cologne. He looked down at her as she looked up at him. “I can start calling you Rio if you prefer. I mean I have my own hang-up with my name, so it’s really fine,” she said.

“Nah,” He said, a matter of fact.

He didn’t supply any other explanation so Toni gave a soft “Okay,” and leaned back into the chair. Sean gave Chris a head nod as he kept doing his job and telling an apparent drunk couple, that they couldn’t come into the bar, much to their dismay.

“I didn’t know you had a problem with your name, I’ve been calling you Antonia since we met,” Toni turned her attention back on him, taking notice that he had a blunt in his hand and was lighting it up with a skull covered lighter. His gold rings glimmered from the lights coming from the windows of the bar.

“It’s my own personal shit, but shockingly I don’t mind hearing it from you.”

“Is that right?” Chris said. He took a hit and held in the smoke until he released it into the cool air, through his nose and mouth. Toni was mesmerized by the tendrils of smoke, she didn’t understand how he made even smoking attractive but everything Chris did turned her on. He offered her the blunt, probably thinkings that’s why she was staring but Toni declined, not really into smoking much like she used to because of a bad trip she had years ago.

“You probably think I’m weird as hell, that I pick and choose what people can address me as.”

“Nah I get it, some believe knowing a person’s real name makes you have power over them.”

Toni knitted her brow, “Do you believe that?” she asked him. Chris took another hit and rubbed his beard like he was mulling over the question.

“I tell my associate’s my name is Rio ‘cause I don’t want them to get to close, too familiar. When they start to get too comfortable and start to think we friends or some shit than that interferes with my business and I can’t have that.” Chris began playing with his rings like it was a tick of his that he probably never noticed he had, “So yeah I think having knowledge of someone's name can have some sort of power.”

She sighed and crossed her leg, “I think I agree with you, but if you don’t mind me asking, why don’t you care about me knowing your real name? It's not like we’re exactly friends.”

“Oh shit, we not?” Chris said feigning shock, “ Damn mama that’s fucked up.”

Toni rolled her eyes, “Oh please.”

Chris grinned at her and licked his lips, throwing the finished blunt on the floor and ashing it under his black and white Converse. “You’re different and if you gonna be my girl, I think it’s best if you know who I really am right?”

“Your girl? You haven’t even taken me out on a date, so how in the hell am I going to be your girl?”

“Right, Right,” Chris said. His phone began to ring and he took it out of his dark blue jeans and muted it, his eyes never straying from Toni. “So let me take you out this Friday.”

Toni snorted thinking he was joking but stopped short when she realized that he didn’t even crack a smile, “Wait you’re serious?”

“Dead ass”

Chris’s phone rang again and this time he did look at it, with an evident scowl. Abruptly he said, “I gotta go Antonia, but I’ll text you the details,” Chris kissed Toni’s cheek and turned to leave, in the process he took his keys out of his pocket.

Toni’s eyes were wide as hell at what just happened. She blinked a couple of times to get out of the fog that took over her mind and noticed that he was almost to his Range Rover.

As he walked further away Toni yelled out, “Wait I don’t even have your number!”

He took a look over his shoulder, “It’s straight, I got yours!”

She went to nod then paused, “Wait, what?!”

Toni heard Chris laugh as he got into his car, turning it on. He sped out of the parking lot, leaving her to watch his taillights disappear into the LA traffic. Sean came over to where she was sitting and heavily sighed fatigue, and annoyance relevant in his form. “Got damn, did you see how fucked up they were? Imma have to tell Avery I need help ‘cause I can’t take ID’s and pat them down while babysitting grown-ass adults. Fuck that shit.”

Toni didn’t say anything, her thoughts still on what transpired seconds before. Sean took notice of the silence and softly elbowed his friend, used to her having a sarcastic quip. “You good? What did I miss?”

I’m going on date,” Toni said, feeling a glimmer of happiness.

Tag list: @aria725 @kikilovesdankmemes @briannab1234

#rio good girls #rio x oc #rio black!oc #rio good girls imagine #manny montana #manny montana imagine #myfic #chapter 3 #unravel me #interracial fic #rioxoc #rioxblack!oc fanfic #nbc good girls

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goshikitsutomusmommy · 3 years

Note

hi, im so excited for your matchup event!! if its not too much trouble, id like a male matchup please.

top 3 traits:

i’m really good at academics which is helpful bc i want to become a med student and doctor eventually. success in my career is my greatest and arguably most important motivation

introvert who sometimes enjoys hanging out with friends but that rarely happens. idk if it’s because i get social anxiety from being around people, especially new people, but i don’t enjoy it and i’m always super aware of my actions/appearance and i rarely speak. my voice is naturally quiet so that doesn’t help either (i’m a leo surprisingly)

i’m a very agreeable person but that might just stem from my fear of disappointing people. i have a hard time saying no and usually will prioritize someone else’s wants before my own

flaws

damn there’s a lot uh

the best way to hide any insecurities is to slap a superiority complex over them 😎

very little of my self worth comes from myself. it’s always academics, appearance, and others’ opinions of me that make up my confidence

AVOIDANT ATTACHMENT STYLE

but once i am attached, i suck at letting go and probably forgive more easily than i should

growing up, appearance was something i always struggled with so now i’m always super conscious of it. its probably not obvious at first because i love to say “oh the reason _____ happened is because i’m hot isn’t it” since i love projecting confidence and it’s so much easier to do that than actually self reflect on what im doing wrong

ANYWAYS, moving on 😀

likes:

caffeine (monster energy, coffee, whatever)

cats

the adrenaline rush from roller coasters

online shopping

doing makeup/planning outfits

sleeping at 4am

spicy stuff that hurt so badly to eat

grocery shopping

hanging out with friends in the middle of the night

dislikes

spending too much time outside

loud people (sometimes)

public speaking

my glasses

bugs. i don’t care if it’s a butterfly- those are just normal bugs with pretty privilege >:(

having bad skin/not wearing makeup

DEHYDRATION. i literally drink 11 cups of water a day

turnoffs:

being rude to waiters. that’s a one way ticket to getting ghosted

clinginess. i need time to myself sometimes and i really hope my partner would understand that

too much commitment. i’ve been told i love you after talking to someone for 2 weeks (apparently they’ve known me for longer but that’s a different thing entirely) we no longer talk

any use of the 🥺 emoji especially when paired with “haha yeah i get why u don’t like me. no girl likes me. i guess nice guys finish last” 🤢🤢🤢🤢

hobbies:

logic puzzles

baking

spotify playlist making

candy crush type games

exercise

any type of self care

reading random, specific stuff. for example, i got super into the language of flowers before

there’s a lot uh

thank you so much for doing this!! i appreciate all the time you put into writing, to make people smile, and i look forward to anything you come up with!!

I Match You with Shirabu;—

When I read your first trait, I already thought about Shirabu, and the more I read, the more your compatibility grew!

Shirabu is extremely academically intelligent and plans to become a medical student as well! His intelligence is always overlooked due to his peers and their volleyball talent, but it’s canon that’s he’s the only one of them that got in Shiratorizawa without a sports scholarship. I doubt he’ll be with someone that isn’t academically gifted.

Again, he’s also introverted, just like you! He does get along with people and all but he prefers sitting in his dorm and studying, education is very important to him after all.

Though Shirabu may seem as a rude person and someone that doesn’t care, that’s far from the truth. The only person he’s mean to —at least outwardly— is Goshiki, he’s very well mannered and respectful to his other peers. That being said, he’ll never joke about your appearance even if he clearly doesn’t mean it, he thinks you’re gorgeous and wouldn’t want you to think otherwise.

He’ll be disheartened to know how you actually feel about your appearance, even though he had a hunch judging by the way you constantly try to make it seem as if you’re confident. He’ll send daily reminders to you, telling you how breathtaking you truly are and to never let anyone make you think differently.

I headcanon Shirabu as a cat father so he would love to feed into your cat addiction LMAOO. Just imagine you and Shirabu going to a cat cafe and petting the cute cats as they nuzzle into your palm. It truly is an adorable sight!

He’s mostly quiet so no need to worry about him accidentally giving you a migraine with his voice, it’s quite soothing actually! And he loves your glasses, he wears glasses himself and knows how insecure he feels with them so he tries to give you extra compliments whenever you wear them <33!

Concerning your deal breakers, Shirabu is literally the exact opposite of all that LMAOO! He’s aloof at times —he is soft for you in his own way though—, mannerly, and chill.

Once he finds out you like puzzles, he’ll buy many puzzles just for the two of you to solve— he purposely gets them difficult just so you would spend more time with him (my heart </33). Like the two of you holding small puzzle pieces trying to mix and match them with other pieces. He loves your concentrated face so that’s just a plus for him <33.

Overall, you and Shirabu are a seemingly distant couple but you’re the softest ever when you’re alone. You’re also intelligent as hell! Your future kids are lucky to have that gene running LMAOO😭😭.

Author’s Note : HIII SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE, also tysmmm for making it organized, it was fun to match you <333 hope you’re happy with this result and thank you for your kind wordsss

#susss. events

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chazz-anova · 4 years

Text

My official Far Cry 5 fanfic!

Alrighty everyone! After a LONG time, I’ve finally finished the first section of this fic and I am so excited to start posting it everywhere lmao, so please feel free to leave your comments in the replies I’d love to hear what people think! Now without further ado; here’s chapter 1!

Veronica glanced lazily at the clock, which read 3:28am. She'd gotten off work about 4 hours earlier, but couldn't seem to lull herself to sleep no matter how many drinks she had or smoke breaks she took. Lately, the young sheriff's deputy had felt unsettled, like she was stuck in a rut. Ice clinked in her Crown Royal glass as she raised it to her lips, finishing it with a swig. "What's wrong with me Olive?" She asked the calico cat that padded silently into the room. The cat replied with a dainty mew and climbed into Veronica's lap. While petting her companion, she glanced around her modest townhome.

It was a tastefully furnished two story home with a balcony and a neighborhood pool. She sat on a powder blue couch that was joined by an armchair off to the side. The TV screen in front of her read 'Are you there? Press X to continue" Answering the question aloud, she muttered "Sometimes I wonder if I am still here" She lifted Olive off her lap and replaced her with an engraved silver tray, a baggie of weed, and a Cherry Dynamite flavoured Swisher. She may be a deputy, but some vices she was reluctant to give up.

A few moments later- Veronica stepped out onto her balcony, blunt in hand. She slowly took in the familiar scenery, living right on the outskirts of Hope County afforded her one of the best views. The Whitetail Mountains towered over the town beyond, the neon lights of various restaurants and gas stations glowing upwards and framing the tall peaks in a surreal glow. Her gaze turned up to the stars, dazzling like diamonds on the velvet black sky. As she lit up and the lighter illuminated her balcony, the atmosphere shifted a degree 'Everything will be different soon.' The thought flew through her mind without warning, and she shivered as though possessed. "Jeez..." She murmured and took a long drag of the sweet smoke, shaking her head and praying for rest to come quickly, after this she’d go and try to lay in her bed until sleep overtook her finally.

Running. Feet pounding the ground. Lungs shriveled and screaming for a full breath. Tears welled up in Veronica's eyes as she wind cut at her skin. In front of her, millions of faceless souls reached their hands out; grasping for her as she ran, seemingly suspended between them and what she ran from. The group was insistently whispering "Help. Help us." Veronica turned around, slowing a fraction. Behind her there was a plume of green smoke billowing out of an unseen source, threatening to take her mind and steal her heart if she got too close. The entities in front of her were murmuring "Please help us" "We need you". With each pleading moan their voices grew; louder and louder until their words were a guttural, rasping cacophony of screams. And just as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone and replaced by deafening silence. The air seemed to be holding its breath, and Veronica turned to see the smoke gone as well, leaving her alone in the blackness.

Upon waking, Veronica gasped and clutched her heart, which was fighting to escape her chest with each beat. “Fuck!” She exclaimed and looked around her room. In the darkness she saw everything was normal, her desk and computer stood in front of her and no one occupied the chair in the corner to her relief. She took her phone from the nightstand and saw that it was only 6:20am. “Man, screw this.” She burrowed back under the black covers and pulled them over her head.

The next time she awoke- gentle sunlight streamed in through the half open curtains and her eyes fluttered open. Checking her phone, it was now 10:42am, and relief filled her. Looking underneath the time she saw a message from her co-worker and good friend, Joey Hudson. It read “Come to your shift ready for some bull today!” Veronica sighed, typing out her response “Always do!”

Soon enough, Olive jumped onto her bed and sat, giving her an impatient look. “Alright you little beast, I’ll get up.” She smiled at her furry friend and swung her feet over the side, striding into the kitchen and grabbing the cat food while also setting her coffee pot to brew.

In about 20 minutes- she was sitting on her balcony with a hot cup of mostly cream and sugar with a little coffee, and a quickly rolled joint. ‘Please let today go by quickly...:’ she prayed to no one in particular. Her work outfit looked creased from not being washed recently, and she knew Sheriff Whitehorse would have something to say about that. ‘After this joint I should probably get going.’ V thought, looking through the balcony windows at the clock.

Veronica stepped into the grey/white walled sheriff’s office; seeing Nancy at the front desk on the phone, examining her long nails disinterestedly. She gave her a quick wave before heading back to Sheriff Earl Whitehorse’s office, where a commotion could be heard.

“I don’t care how scared of him all you backwoods hicks are, where I’m from we get shit done!” An aggressive man declared, venom dripping from his words. ‘This must be the aforementioned bullshit Hudson mentioned.’ Veronica sighed before pasting a professional smile over her frown and stepping into the room. “You’ve got no right to just come in here like-” Hudson’s confident voice was absorbed by the same angry voice that had started the yelling, “Oh I’ve got every right missy. Know why? Because I’m a federal marshal, and what I say goes.” The tension in the air was malleable. Between Hudson glaring daggers at the stranger and Whitehorse’s dejected look, Ronnie knew she had just walked into a shitstorm. “Woah, let’s take it down a notch okay?” She said, directed at the man in front of her. He was of a bulkier build, and his stance said he was used to having things his way or the highway. “Oh great, another dumbass deputy to deal with! Sheriff, get your team and your shit together.” The man pushed past Veronica and Joey, shouldering his way out of the room. “Nice to meet you too!” The youngest deputy called before turning back to Hudson and Whitehorse. “So, who pissed in his cheerios?”

Hudson just shook her head angrily, as Whitehorse replied grimly “Joseph Seed.”

“That pastor who’s been causing trouble in Hope County?”

“That’s the one. He’s formed some kind of militia and is kidnapping folks… I’d get yourselves ready, because as soon as the judge fills that warrant we’re all going to pick him up.”

V met his words with an incredulous look, retorting “He’s bad enough that we all get to join Captain Sunshine there on a simple warrant like that? I mean, every time we’ve had to deal with him and his followers it’s never seemed that severe.” Hudson spoke up, pulling her phone from her pocket and presenting a video “Look for yourself. Someone sent this in a couple days ago.”

Grainy footage showed a tall, shirtless man in aviators preaching to a flock of similarly dressed people. The video zoomed in on the man’s chilling blue eyes; and the camera suddenly fell to the ground, showing the owner of the device being dragged forward and put on his knees before the preacher. In a casual manner he reached forward and placed his thumbs against the man’s eyes, pressing while his victim’s screams grew louder and more pained. Soon the man fell to the ground, and Joseph flicked the blood from his hands as though it were water. Veronica’s eyebrows raised in surprise as the scene was cut off and a new image appeared on the screen.

The recording was now taking place outside. There was a sizable wooden stage and Joseph stood in the center, a large curtain obscuring what was on a stand behind him. “My children, we must repent for our sins!” Joseph called while pulling the curtain down with some flourish. Veronica gasped in shock upon seeing the man from before who’d had his eyes crushed. He was lifted up onto a wooden pole, his eyes had been replaced by a white flower in each eye socket. Looking down his body- it was clear someone had mutilated his chest cavity as well, carving out space for a bouquet of the same flowers. On both sides of his head antlers had been impaled into his skull, where dried blood decorated the base of each antler in grotesque detail.

When the video finally faded to black, Veronica handed the phone back to Joey. “Wow, I’m glad I didn’t have anything heavy for breakfast.” She deadpanned, shaking her head. “This is a mistake, we need more people.” Whitehorse murmured and walked out of the room with an exasperated look. “Old man’s taking this real hard… I think he saw something real messed up on the last call out to Joseph’s compound.” Hudson looked after him with worry clear on her face. The other deputy nodded, unable to clear the images from the video from her mind. “Even though he’s clearly an ass, maybe the Marshal is right and we’ll just go snatch him up real quick.”

“Hopefully..” Hudson murmured and left the office as well, leaving Veronica alone.

The rest of the day- Marshal Cameron Burke holed up in a back office making heated phone calls, trying to find a judge to sign his warrant. V spent most of the day riding with another deputy, Staci Pratt. Veronica couldn’t stand Pratt, so every call they went on was a chore. However, the shift was finally drawing to a close as the pair pulled up once more at the station.

As soon as they walked in the door, Burke was on them. “You two, I suggest getting some rest tonight, because I found a judge. Once I’ve gathered everything I need, we’ll be flying out to Joseph’s compound.” Veronica checked the clock in the lobby, nodding “Well it’s 9 now, when are we leaving?” The Marshal sighed, as though responding was a chore, “We leave when I call and tell you we’re leaving.” V narrowed her eyes while crossing her arms, “You know, I’m not sure what your problem is, but don’t talk to me like that. You’re an adult, not a petty child, act like it.” The federal marshal was shocked someone had stood up to him, and unsure what to say. Seizing the opportunity to make her escape before her mouth got her into more trouble, Ronnie rushed past the man, shaking her head. ‘What an asshole!’ She thought as she punched numbers into the timeclock, hurrying out of the building without further incident.

About 20 minutes later, Veronica was speeding down the winding country roads in her beat up Mazda Miata. The roads were entirely empty, save for a deer she saw on the side of the road while taking the next turn. Upon rounding the corner- a large flare of light and an earth-shaking explosion caused her to slam on the brakes. “What the hell…” She peered out of the window. “Guess I should go check on that.. being an officer of the law and all…” Her murmured words were enveloped by another explosion, causing her to jump. Some days the job of a deputy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Ronnie had finally reached the area where the explosions had been coming from, after breaking several traffic laws to get there. Stepping out of the car, she drew her gun and took a preliminary look around the clearing. There were almost cartoon-worthy scorch marks on the ground that had wiped away any sense of greenery on the ground, but no one seemed to be around. V kept the gun at her side and started her sweep of the area. Right as she was going to start heading back to her car to report this to the station, she heard someone walking through the woods to her left. “Note to self, don’t light the fuse before you’re ready to have it blow up..” She heard someone mutter to themselves before she yelled “Freeze! Who are you and what’re you doing here?” A man of medium build walked out of the treeline, holding his hands in the classic ‘I surrender’ style. He wore a green sweatshirt, and a matching ballcap. “Charlemange Victor Boshaw at your service ma’am, I apologise for the bother-”

“You describe an explosion as a ‘bother’?” Veronica interrupted, gun staying trained on him.

“Well yeah. It sure bothered me that it exploded.”

“May I ask what you were exploding?”

“So my totally awesome cousin Hurk gave me some dynamite that he made himself, and of course being a good buddy I told him I would try it out! Well, silly me I didn’t realise that Hurk only knows how to make short-fused dynamite! So when I went to light it, it exploded preemptively so that’s why there’s those scorch marks… ma’am.”

Veronica cocked her head to the side, giving the man an incredulous look, “Would you be offended if I said that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard?” He thought about it for a moment before responding sincerely “Nope.” The deputy nodded, saying “Well I appreciate the honesty! Unfortunately, I’ve gotta call the station for this one.” She fished her badge from her pocket. The man crossed his arms, asking “Well what exactly are the charges?”

“Uhm… detonation of an explosive device and illegal possession for one.”

“I supposed I can’t argue with that.” He said amiably, watching Veronica reach for her radio off the utility belt she still hadn’t removed after work.

The pair sat on the curb together, one handcuffed one not. “So you’re the Sharky Boshaw?” Ronnie asked, giving him a mischievous smile. Sharky grinned and shrugged modestly “The one and only!”

“You’re a legend around the station, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before! Out of curiosity… why choose this spot for blowing shit up?”

“Well I was actually on my way to the store when I saw this spot and thought to myself ‘That would be a good field to set off some fireworks’. Then I remembered Hurk had put his stuff in my backseat, and that dynamite is just a less pretty firework, so here we are!”

When his story was finished, V gave him a look that was part amused, part withering glance. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.” He shrugged with a lackadaisical smile. Before either of them could continue the conversation, a light brown Crown Vic pulled up and the sirens on the roof let out a quick whoop before one of the night shift deputies stepped out. “Hey Veronica! Boshaw, the backseat’s ready for you!” He said, helping Sharky stand and turn towards the car. Veronica stood with him, and gave a curt nod to her coworker, “Thanks for coming out, Sam.”

Finally after that detour, V was almost home. It was a relatively long drive back and forth, but she didn’t mind it. Working with Sheriff Whitehorse was worth it since she’d known him almost half of her life. Veronica and her mom had moved to Hope County when she was only 12, her mom found work as an officer and then an office administrator for Earl until Nancy came along and gave her mom the chance to take her pension, and start a new job as a conservation officer at a small national park nearby called Polebridge.

The actual sheriff’s office was in Missoula, about two hours away from Hope County, making Veronica’s drive home take about an hour since she lived practically in between the two.

Keeping her eyes on the road, she dug one-handed through her purse for her phone. Once it was in hand she said “Hey Google, call Mom.” and a soft chirp came from the device, processing the demand before dialing. Three rings in- a cheery voice answered. “Hey sweetie!”

“Hey, mom, I just had a question?”

“Sure what’s up?”

She paused, rethinking her request for a moment. In that second, her nightmare from last night danced through her thoughts and her mind was made up. “Oh um, well I’m going out on a warrant tonight, and I was wondering if you could watch Olive for me? It’s probably nothing, I just had a weird feeling.”

“Of course! I’d love to see my grandkitty! I’m glad you know when to listen to your gut.”

“Well I learned from the best! I just got home now, can I pack her up and head over?”

“That’s fine! I’ll be here for a bit. Can I plan on you staying for dinner?”

“Uh… yeah that’ll work, I don’t have any plans. I’ll see you soon, love you!”

“Love you too!”

The line disconnected with a click as Veronica pulled into her driveway and stepped out of the car, fetching her keys from the caribinger she kept it on. As she approached the door, she heard insistent meowing on the other side. “I’m comin’…” She chuckled and pushed the door open to reveal Olive, who immediately rushed to hug her legs as she stepped over the threshold. “Hey monster, ready to see grandma?” She asked in a baby voice and grinned at her, reaching down to pick her up. As soon as she did- the cat clambered up to her shoulder and balanced precariously “Why are you like this?” She joked, removing her before making her way to the hallway closet and pulling out the cat carrier and a half-full bag of cat food.

Once she’d put a few more odds and ends into an overnight bag, she took out her decorative, pink bong and loaded a bowl. The water bubbled and pure white smoke filled the center chamber as she lit the greenery in the bowl. After coughing her lungs up for a few moments she set the glass piece on the table and stood up, “Okay, now we can go!” She declared and bundled Olive and all her things into the Miata.

In a quick 15 minutes- the two of them pulled up in front of her mom’s. It was a tidy ranch style home, painted robin’s egg blue with crisp white shutters. V knocked on the door, Olive’s carrier in one hand.

Her mom answered the door with a sweet smile on her features, immediately wrapping the deputy in a tight hug, “Hi Ronnie!” She exclaimed before pulling back. “Hi mom!” She responded and stepped through the door, setting Olive down. Sarah Rook looked like an older version of Veronica except her hair was a chestnut brown as opposed to V’s dirty blonde; they shared aquamarine eyes and a light spattering of freckles.

The younger woman pulled the zipped and freed the hyper cat, who immediately jumped from containment to survey her surroundings. “Someone’s impatient!” Her mom chuckled and watched the cat sprint off into the hallway. “She takes after me I guess.” Veronica smiled and inhaled deeply, “Is that steaks and mac and cheese I smell?”

“Well I thought I’d at least fatten you up before you leave tonight.” Her mom said and ushered her into the dining room. There was a round white table there that was joined by a tall china cabinet filled with memorabilia. The places had already been set, two red and white checkered table mats sat across from each other at the corresponding seats and the silverware was laid out neatly. “Sounds good to me, I’m starving!” Veronica took a seat and watched her mom buzzing about the kitchen as she put the finishing touches on their meals.

Once everything was done, the table was filled with food. A bowl of salad in the middle, with a basket of rolls to the side. Their plates were adorned with juicy t-bone steaks, mac and cheese, and potato salad. “I knew there was a reason I hadn’t put you in a nursing home…” V joked as she savored a bite of the rare steak, just how she liked it. Her mother scoffed, and took a sip of water, “As if you could.” They both shared a smile and then turned to see Olive padding into the room, her head in the air as she scented the air. “What a brat.” Veronica said as she jumped up on the table expectantly. “You did say she took after you!” Her mom retorted, picking up the naughty cat and setting her on the floor. “So, what’s this warrant you’re going on?”

“Mom, you know I’m not supposed to divulge any details...”

“Oh please, I used to be in the game, and still kind of am. I worked for Whitehorse long before you did, I don’t think I need to be counted as a citizen.” She said, rolling her eyes. Veronica looked uneasy as she considered it for a moment, then relented; “It’s some doomsday cult leader… Joseph Seed. Something about him really freaked me out.” She confessed, almost hanging her head. Being freaked out was not the norm for this deputy. “Why’s that?”

“I think it’s just his ability to brainwash all of these people… anyone who can do that has too much power. Also Earl is scared of him, which is weird. He’s usually so gungho about catching the bad guys, but he doesn’t even want to go on this warrant.”

“That’s certainly odd. I’ve never seen that man back down, there must be something seriously bad going on.” Her mom looked off, her brow furrowed in deep thought. “Hopefully this mission will just be in and out. That way I can get back to my baby!” She said the last part in a higher pitch, directing it at the cat, who was sitting in the window behind them. “I hope so too sweetie. People like him are the reason I’ve got a bunker.” Ronnie smirked, saying “Yeah you and everyone else in Hope County, it seems like.”

“It never hurts to be prepared!”

“I guess so.” She relented, standing and grabbing their dirty dishes.

After all the dishes were cleaned and hugs were shared, Veronica stretched and glanced at the clock which showed 10:45pm. “Man how’d it get so late so fast?” She mused and stroked Olive’s soft little head. “Hopefully a late dinner won’t give you any nightmares.” Her mother thought out loud and wrapped Veronica in another suffocating hug. “It was nice having dinner with you baby, I love you!” She smooched Ronnie on the cheek before pulling away and giving her a loving grin. “I had a good time, and the steaks were amazing. Thanks for having me over, I love you too!” She returned the kiss on the cheek and put her hand on the doorknob. As she stepped out her mother wished her luck on the warrant later, and then she was in her car once more.

20 minutes later, V was brushing her teeth, staring at herself in the mirror wearing a simple black night dress that fell to her thighs and was fringed with lace at the bottom. Long day… who knows when that asshole Burke is gonna call me.’ She thought, spitting out the toothpaste and wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. As she flopped into bed, the black sheets felt cold without Olive’s presence, but she felt it was for the best. It was 11:11pm as she glanced at the clock. “Make a wish…” She murmured while her eyes shut, the feeling of a full stomach lulling her to sleep.

A blaring ringing tore through the dark silence in Veronica’s bedroom. It was her phone, blasing her generic android ringtone. Her eyes snapped open and she grasped for her phone, having to blink the bleariness away before seeing that it was Hudson calling her. She looked at the clock for the second time that night to see only two hours had passed, making it around 1am. She slid the green answer icon across the screen and answered, her voice thick with annoyance, “Hello?” Instead of Joey’s pleasant voice, she was met with Marshal Cameron Burke’s gruff one, “Rook, get your ass up and get dressed. We’re executing this warrant now.”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yeah, time to arrest that asshole Joseph Seed.” Burke practically shouted, and then Veronica was met with a dial tone. She scoffed, pulling the phone from her ear to look at it and see only her lock screen, a photo of Olive in a taco costume. “Guess I’m getting ready.” She grumbled and turned on the lamp sitting on her nightstand. The light flooded every corner of the room, forcing V to squint as she flipped the covers off and walked over to a chair in the corner of the room that was covered with clothes and blankets. She snatched her green work button up before finding a tank top and some jeans. On top of her dresser, she eyed her jewelry box and plucked out a rose gold heart-shaped locket with a matching chain. It was engraved ‘To Veronica, Love nana’ Once she was dressed, she buckled her utility belt and hurried down the stairs to the front door.

Something forced her to stop and take a look at the open plan townhome. All was calm and nothing stirred in the living room, yet she felt eerie as she left. Almost like she was abandoning her castle. She shook her head, shaking the thought off and stepping through the door to lock it. As she was walking to the car she pulled out her wallet from her back pocket, it was a replica of the one used in Pulp Fiction that said ‘BAD MOTHERFUCKER’ on the side. She opened the zippered secret pocket, pulling out a faded scrap of paper. On it was written ‘Good luck on your first day! -Mom’. She’d slipped her that on her first day at the sheriff’s department. At the time, V had laughed and said “I’m not a kid!” But stowed it away nonetheless as a good luck charm. A sudden, bone-chilling breeze whipped across the land, forcing a shiver to wrack her body. Veronica stepped into her car, feeling like this was going to be a long night.

The deputy’s hands clenched the steering wheel- frustration written all over her features. She’d already been to the station only to get redirected to some field by Nancy, who was the only one not joining this adventure. Apparently the sheriff had asked her to come in and man the scanner, just in case things got out of hand and they needed to call reinforcements. Ronnie shook her head as she saw Hudson, Whitehorse, Pratt, and Burke standing in front of a matte black helicopter that had a badge on the side. Upon walking up to join them, Veronica called “Well this is fancy!” Staci stepped up next to the marshal, exclaiming “Yeah, the feds decided to help us out on this one!” He clapped Burke on the shoulder- earning him a heated glare. “Anyways… everyone pile in. Hudson, you’re flying us.” The grumpy man got to the point, motioning everyone into the copter.

In no time they were in the air, flying to Joseph’s Compound on an island in the middle of Hope County. Veronica looked at the screen of the gps in the front, searching for the time. She found that it was 2:37am, and asked “So what exactly is the benefit of going to get him so late?” Cameron replied- his voice dripping with unearned confidence “The benefit, Rook, is catching him by surprise.” As Ronnie was about to speak up, Pratt cut in with, “You don’t catch men like Joseph Seed off guard.”

At that moment Joey spoke up, “Crossing the Henbane now.” Everyone looked out of the wide windows, only to catch sight of a perfect rendition of Joseph Seed’s face captured forever in stone in way of a towering monolith. “Crazy motherfucker…” Burke murmured, his gaze held by the monument. “Jesus Christ.. we’re officially in peggie country.” Hudson shook her head before looking back to the skies. “You know, they call this Angel’s Peak. It’s a holy place for them.” Pratt said, sounding almost wistful.

“How much longer?” Cameron asked.

“Just long enough for you to change your mind so we can turn this bird around.” Whitehorse insisted. “You want me to ignore a federal warrant, sheriff?” Burke scoffed.

“No sir, I want you to understand the reality of this situation. Joseph Seed… he’s not a man to be fucked with. We’ve had a few run ins with him before and it hasn’t always gone our way. Sometimes.. sometimes it’s better to just leave well enough alone.”

Burke scoffed, lifting up the warrant. “Yeah, well we have laws for a reason; and Joseph Seed’s gonna learn that.” Instead of replying to that, the sheriff radioed Nancy to make sure she was still there, and told her that if she didn’t hear from them in 15 minutes to call backup. V looked down and saw a white church surrounded by other smaller buildings, she was mystified. The whole situation didn’t even seem real. ‘Maybe it’s just because it’s late and I haven’t gotten any good rest lately.’ She thought, trying to comfort herself. Somehow it didn’t help.

“So what’s with calling them ‘peggies’? I’ve never heard anyone at the station call them that.” Veronica asked, hoping to lighten the mood. “Project Eden’s Gate. P. E. G. It’s what the locals call them.” Earl explained. Somehow she knew he was trying to distract himself as well.

As they got closer, it was obvious there were people everywhere. “So much for taking him by surprise.” She muttered, shaking her head and thinking ‘I could be asleep right now.’ The helicopter jerked slightly as it landed on the ground, the blades whirling to a stop. All of them exited the bird, taking in their surroundings. Peggies surrounded them on all sides and the compound had as many as 12 buildings; dorms, a barn, and various other houses. The cult members regarded them suspiciously, casting daggers their ways and muttering insults. Ronnie looked to her left as they walked down the main path, there was a man wielding a flamethrower and keeping a pire of fire sufficiently lit. “They don’t fuck around…” V commented, her brow furrowed.

The group made their way into a fenced corridor topped with an arch that said ‘Church of Eden’s Gate’ with the cross adorning the center. As they walked, a creaking then metal clanging could be heard behind them, causing Veronica to whip around only to witness them closing the gate behind them. “Why are they closing the gate?” Joey asked, looking to her partners for answers but receiving nothing. They approached the door to the church and could hear a choir of members singing a hymn as Whitehorse motioned for them to hold up. “Going in there, we do this my way, quietly.” He said sternly, mainly for Burke’s benefit. Cameron smirked and put a hand on Earl’s shoulder, “Relax sheriff. You’re about to get your name in the papers.” Veronica couldn’t help but shake her head, something was wrong here.

As the white double doors swung inward, V took in the scene and was enthralled. Joseph was standing at the front of the church delivering a sermon, “Something is coming… you can feel it can’t you? We are creeping towards the edge, and there will be a reckoning. Because we know what happens next; they will come for us… to take from us. Take our guns, take our freedom, take our faith. We will not let them!” The church patrons were captured by his presence, hanging on every word.

The deputy, marshal, and sheriff made their way to the platform Joseph stood on. White candles surrounded him, casting a holy glow on his features. “We will not let their greed, their morality, or their depravity hurt us anymore!” The preacher’s voice grew as Marshal Burke reached him and held the paper warrant aloft. Whitehorse murmured “Goddammit…” and Cameron said forcefully “Joseph Seed, we have here a warrant for your arrest, under suspicion of kidnapping with intent to harm. I’m gonna need you to step down with your hands where I can see them, and come with us.” Veronica noticed three figures she hadn’t seen practically melting out of the shadows to stand behind The Father.

“Here they are, the locusts in our garden. They’ve come to take me from you, to destroy all we’ve built!” The peggies started to converge around Joseph, their voices joining together as they objected. He parted through them, his calm demeanor quieting their shouts. “We knew they would come. This is what we’ve prepared for. Go…” He sent them off and came to stand in front of the pews, raising his hands up. “I saw the lamb of the first seal and I heard the noise as if of thunder as one of four beasts sang ‘Come, see’-”

Cameron cut him off, “Step forward!” Joseph stepped closer- undertered from preaching, “And I saw and behold, it was a white horse... and Hell followed with him.” He finished while looking from Earl to Ronnie and finally holding out his hands, a worn brown rosary dangled from his wrist. “Rook, cuff this son of a bitch.” Burke growled.

V stepped forward, about to pull out her cuffs when the people behind him caught her eye once more. She recognised them to be his family. From right to left; there was a gruff looking man with scar tissue climbing up his side, next to him a beautiful young woman wearing no shoes and a lacey, floral dress. Veronica’s gaze lingered on her a moment before she took in the last figure- a tall man wearing an expensive looking duster. His piercing stare found hers and she felt as though he was seeing straight into her soul. Ice filled her veins and she froze in place, suddenly feeling like a gazelle who had just realised the lion was upon her but only when it was already too late. There was so much animosity in the man’s eyes, like he hated her for even thinking of taking his brother.

“Earth to Veronica.” Burke’s annoyed voice snapped her from the trance she was in, causing her to shiver before finally producing the cuffs. The metal clinked around Joseph’s small wrists, and right as she was about to secure the second ring, he turned his hand to grip her wrist tightly and V looked into his eyes. “God will not let you take me.” He said calmly without an ounce of doubt. “Good thing God doesn’t get to decide in the end.” She retorted before shaking off his hand and slapping the final cuff on with a resounding click.

As they walked out the church doors with Joseph in cuffs, armed peggies started to surround them. “Back up!” Hudson yelled, taking lead. Burke pushed a woman down when she got too close, and the crowd became more riled up, closing in as they walked to the helicopter. Soon, they started throwing rocks at the group and screaming, trying to defend their Father. The whole time Joseph stayed eerily silent, even as they were getting into the copter. Pratt fired off a few warning shots to the cultists that were trying to mob the vehicle, Veronica and Burke pushed a few of them from the copter as they gained height, yet the peggies continued trying to swarm them.

One of the cultists did something, because the helicopter went into a tailspin, and the engine sputtered. Joseph looked skyward and began singing Amazing Grace, his tone calm despite the chaos. They made impact with a tree, then another and everyone but Joseph was screaming, their lives flashing before their eyes. Upon impact, the whole world cut out and everything was black.

Veronica’s eyes opened, and the world spun in streamers of color. Nancy’s frantic voice could be heard over the ringing in her ears, she was yelling into the helicopter’s headphones. She looked around and saw Burke across from her, dangling by his seatbelt, Earl was next to him, doubled over; and Joey was to her right. She tried to take in a deep breath and sputtered on thick smoke that was no doubt coming from the engine. Before V could swing forward and grab the headset to alert Nancy, she was pushed lightly back into her seat by a battered Joseph Seed. He smiled at her softly, grabbing the headset on his own while maintaining eye contact. “I told you that God wouldn’t let you take me…” He murmured soothingly. “We’ll see about that…” Veronica persisted. He shook his head and spoke into the headset mic, “Dispatch? Everything is just fine here. Call no one.” Veronica scoffed, ‘Surely Nancy will know something is wrong-’ The thought began to cross her mind before she heard her last hope’s response: “Yes, Father. Praise be to you.” Her mouth dropped open in shock and horror, watching the man she came to apprehend smirk before whispering “No one is coming to save you.”

He climbed from the wreckage and met a handful of his flock, reassuring them in a hushed tone. V started to struggle against her seatbelt, which was stuck fast. “Fuck, fuck, fuck..” She muttered and beat at the clip. Her companions began to wake and she turned to see Joseph standing on the hood of a car, his hands raised as he delivered an impromptu sermon, “The first seal is broken… now we must take what we need, for this world will be no more. We must stop all those that stand in our way- including these harbingers of doom. Begin the reaping!” He screamed the last sentence into the night air, his followers cheering.

They swarmed the copter for the second time that night, Veronica, Joey, and the others squirmed trying to get free. Hudson freed herself finally, only to be savagely pulled from the wreckage kicking and screaming. “Joey!” Veronica yelled, reaching after her only to just miss her hand. More peggies ran over and were about to reach in, when a ring of flames surrounded them instead. “Fuck!” V exclaimed, pulling frantically at her seatbelt. Burke was able to free himself and dash out of the small opening in the wall of fire. Heat was searing her skin and desperation made her claw at the restraint harder and harder, finally the belt snapped and she tumbled forward to what used to be the roof of the vehicle. Ronnie caught herself just barely and found herself sprinting away into the foreboding woods.

Branches whipped at her face, scratching her cheeks and forcing her to hold her hands out in front of her. Not far behind, the men who hunted her yelled, “She’s escaping! Grab her!” Emotions overwhelmed her; panic, fear, anger, confusion. “Goddammit give me a break!” She huffed, breath ragged from sprinting. She spotted a soft light in the distance, a campfire. V ducked behind a thick tree trunk- whipping her head around in both directions wildly, adrenaline and fear coursing through her. The angry voices were distant enough for her to turn and survey the campsite.

There were two lawn chairs on either side of the fire, and a cabin beyond that. One of the cultists patrolled the perimeter, both hands on his handgun. She caught sight of a sizable branch in front of the fire, and knew what she had to do. Ronnie crept forward on the balls of her feet, trying to avoid any stray twigs as she made her way to the branch. Finally she was there, taking the worn wood in her hands and feeling the weight of it. ‘This should do..’ She thought with a grim look. The deputy continued forward, waiting for just the right moment to slip behind the guard. Veronica gripped the bat harder and was about to swing when the guard turned around, surprise on his features. She wasted no time slamming the branch down on his head with a crack as he turned his gun towards her. The first blow slowed him- and for good measure she delivered the finishing blow. Through the branch, she could feel his skull give and an initial spray of blood shot from the wound, flecking V’s face in red freckles. She gasped and looked down to see his body twitch twice more before stilling, his heart steadily pumping out his life force.

Veronica felt cold as she watched the light drain from his eyes, shock starting to take over. She’d never actually killed anyone before. The world faded back piece by piece as she grabbed the man’s gun, and more screams came from the woods. She had to keep moving. A small drop off into the woods was her escape, and she crouched in the ferns on the woodland floor. There was another fire in the distance, and her enemies were scouring the area for her and Burke.

Suddenly- her radio crackled, causing her to jump and grab it from her belt to muffle the speaker. “Hello? Hello.. it’s Burke… I think I lost them.. I see a trailer ahead across a bridge and I’m going to try to get inside. If anyone is still alive, if anyone is out there...” The signal was lost and it cut out. “Well I guess that’s where I’m going.” V sighed, and started slowly making her way through the woods. She passed the second fire, narrowly avoiding detection by two guards standing there. From there, she ascended a small hill that led to the bridge the marshal had mentioned. It creaked as she took to the wooden planks, practically crawling her way to the other end. When she got there, a white trailer with a green roof stoof in front of her. There were steps leading up to the back door which she pushed open cautiously, eyes darting side to side straining to catch any movement in the darkened abode.

As soon as she cleared the door Burke was to her left, hands out and ready to attack. Veronica grabbed his arms, stopping him in midair before he regonised her. “Oh my god, Rook… you’re alive!” He cried with relief. “Yeah, no thanks to you, asshole. You left me to die back there!” She scoffed, glaring daggers at him. “I… It was just fight or flight, I was-” He struggled to defend himself.

“It doesn’t matter. Whitehorse told you this was a bad idea, this is your fault no matter what you have to say.” Ronnie cut him off, pointing an accusatory finger at him. When he had no retort she continued, “Now we have to find a way out of this shit show, and to rescue the others. Did you have a plan?” Burke sighed, walking further into the trailer, motioning for her to follow. The walls were wood panelled, and words were scratched into most of the walls; ‘The Father’, ‘Walk the path’, along with other mantras and bible verses. Pictures were also posted all over the spots that had no words. They all depicted the members of the Seed family in various poses and situations. One such picture was a framed portrait of all of them, Cameron grabbed this and stared into their eyes. He looked haunted.

“The plan is to put all of these fuckers in jail. No matter what it takes.” He gathered himself before tossing it on the table and going to point out of one of the front windows. “To get out of here, I was thinking I could try to hotwire that truck, unless the keys are in it. It’s probably only a couple hours back to Missoula, then we’re gonna come back here with the National fucking Guard, and take care of these lunatics.”

“Fine, let’s just get out of here before-” Veronica was cut off by a shot ringing out, and one of the windows behind her shattering into a spray of glass. “They’re in there!” Screamed a man, and more shots were fired at the trailer. “These guys just don’t give up!” She exclaimed, exasperated. Burke took shelter against one of the walls, pulling out his gun to fend off the attackers. V scanned the room and found a gun mounted on the wall, she grabbed it and cocked it before crouching under the shattered window, sitting up to aim outside. There were four peggies firing at them. She took aim at the first, shooting him square in the chest and knocking him to the ground. Burke took out one on the other side then turned to say “Cover me! I’m gonna go get that truck started!” Veronica nodded curtly before turning to shoot out the window twice more.

Even more cultists were arriving at the scene and taking up arms, it seemed almost hopeless. V fired shot after shot, taking out as many as she could until she finally heard the sweet roar of an engine, and Cameron shouted for her to join him in the truck. “Finally, fuck!” She gasped, dashing from the trailer and ripping open the door to the vehicle. “Let’s fucking go!” He yelled while she slammed the door and immediately leaned out of the window to shoot at the peggies behind them. Burke careened down the simple dirt road, Veronica shooting at their enemies as they approached a chain link fence and busted through the gate with no problem, then they were crossing a bridge to the main road.

Burke was gasping, close to panic, while V just felt numb. ‘Shock must be setting in, great.’ She thought distantly. “God, I had no idea Rook. I didn’t know how bad it was, how right Whitehorse was… I wish we’d never served that warrant.” He rambled, glancing between the deputy and the road. “It’s too late for wishes, Burke… they’ve got the road blocked!” She exclaimed at the sight before her; peggies had their trucks and sawhorses blocking off the next section of street. She lifted her gun once more, shooting at them while Cameron swerved wildly to avoid the obstacles. One of the cultists to their right set off a flare, letting the rest of them know where they were.

The pair crashed through another barricade, and Ronnie kept shooting at the people pursuing them that were in an identical looking truck. “We aren’t losing them marshal!” She shouted. “Alright, I guess we gotta try something else.” He huffed before taking the truck off road, almost going airborne as they crashed through a wooden fence. Blinding headlights were blazing behind them as more and more peggies joined the chase. Veronica happened to glance in the bed, and spotted some red sticks. “Oh fuck yeah.” She chuckled, reaching out of the window and grabbing a stick before producing her simple purple lighter that had miraculously stayed in her pocket. She lit the fuse on the dynamite, squinting her eyes as the cord came to life and the flame hissed. V chucked it at one of the trucks behind them, causing a loud boom and fire bloomed from the wreckage. “Shit! That’s pretty satisfying.” She commented, turning to Burke who still looked too scared to be impressed.

After lighting a couple more sticks and tossing them out, causing some major chaos, they found themselves about to go under an overpass. Right before they passed underneath, a sleek white plane flew out of the clouds and began shooting at them, hitting some green crates on the side of the road only for them to explode. Keying into this as they finally passed under the bridge, she fired quickly at the crates scattered around an upcoming roadblock, sending people flying in every direction. “A plane, are you kidding me?” Burke yelled and pounded a fist against the wheel.

A gargantuan bridge waited on the other side of the roadblock, there was a sign mounted near the top that read ‘Henbane River Bridge’. As they raced across, Cameron took a deep breath before saying “Home free, after this we are home free!” Veronica wasn’t so sure as more planes swooped overhead, and suddenly a high-pitched whistling could be heard getting closer and closer, before V yelled “Bomb!!” and orange flames whooshed across the bridge, enveloping their truck and sending them tumbling into the river below.

The vehicle was in a freefall with chunks of concrete, the river’s waters rushing up to meet them. Neither of them had time to say anything before they made impact. Veronica was incapacitated for a moment and when her eyes opened they were underwater, trapped once again. She saw Burke across from her pounding on the window, shattering it on his third try and swimming up to the top, leaving her to drown. Ronnie gathered together her last bits of energy, slamming her elbow into the passenger side window until it finally broke, and she maneuvered her way from the descending car. Her arms flailed as her lungs screamed, daring her to take a breath before breaching the surface, and then it went black.

Not too long later, her eyes snapped open and she grasped at the wet silt underneath her, she was on the shore. On the bridge there were countless flashlights casted down upon the water, looking for her. She heard Marshal Burke yelling off in the distance, and saw a group of peggies pulling him away as he shouted “I am a federal marshal! You can’t do this!” Veronica tried to get the will to get up and run, knowing she was next; but her muscles screamed with exhaustion and wouldn’t cooperate. She was able to lift herself to crawl maybe a foot before collapsing once more, staring up at the sky and trying to accept that this was the end.

A figure came into her field of vision and the barrel of a shotgun was dangerously close to her head, she didn’t even have the energy to protest as the person lifted her over their shoulder with a grunt, and began carrying her through the woods. Her vision faded in and out, allowing her to see them pass by a radio tower and then a cabin, only to walk down some metal stairs. Then she could fight no more; and everything went black.

#my writing #veronica rook #john seed #joseph seed #faith seed #jacob seed #earl whitehorse #staci pratt #joey hudson #cameron burke #sharky boshaw #fc5 #far cry 5 #...and hell followed with him #ahfwh

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studysnooze · 6 years

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i kind of felt like i needed to make this post because i have been stressed out of my actual mind as of late and that isn’t helping me with my anxiety so i thought i would share some tips with you guys- friends in hopes that this helps you and also in turn helps me bc i am s t r u g g l i n g right now haha

If you find yourself in panic attack/mental breakdown situations (during studying, sleeping, whenever):

1. TAKE A DEEP BREATH: this is legit some of the most underrated advice but this is so so so so so important. i often find myself holding my breath without thinking and even if you look stupid forcing yourself to breath between shaking and crying just do it. please. you will instantly feel better because bottling things up is legit the most toxic thing you could do to yourself

2. if the resource is there: talk to someone. talk to a trusted adult like a teacher, mentor, counselor, or even your parents. i know how it is: you might not trust them, believe me- i have had a fair share of adults who have let me down from time to time and trust me, once you find someone that is perfect for you to talk to, you will cherish that person for the rest of your life. I will never forget my first middle school counselor, i don’t know her name mainly because i was having a panic attack when i met her but i’ll remember her face and her hospitality forever. and she was a stranger to me at the time: sometimes you need that outside stranger to talk to you know? that way, you get a less biased? (idk weird wording there but you get it) response

3. FOOD AND WATER: i cannot tell you how bad i am at drinking water like it’s hopeless at this point but its SOOO important for you! pleaseee drink water. i think water tastes like nothing and it’s pointless to drink it but that is really crazy thinking so don’t follow me on that please because i am seriously working on it these days and my skin has started to clear up majorly but i also feel so much better in general? like hydration does wonders i’m serious- you might not even notice but it’s doing something nice at least to your body. food food food food food please eat something. i know sometimes when i dont eat a few meals because i am so caught up in work, i forget what it feels like to be hungry and that is absolutely ridiculous, do not skip that many meals. i don’t care if your grade depends on it tomorrow for chem or that you need to finish your slide for that group project: if you cannot remember what you ate last literally drop whatever you are doing and get a freaking granola bar- not even- get a sandwich, some chips, and a water or a salad or some carrots and hummus LITERALLY ANYTHING put it in your mouth and chew it slowly and savor your food and thank the universe that your food is making you more energetic to complete your work because honestly not eating makes you feel so weak and it shuts you down. and you know what? when you shut down, it gives you more room to be stressed and anxious because that happens to me too many times in my life and it is the worst feeling in the world: being anxious, sleep deprived, weak :( its not okay and i need my people to stop suffering so eat your carrots kiddos❤

4. nap! this is also extremely simple but soooo underrated. literally nap for like 10 minutes and you will feel SO GOOD afterwards. i know it takes me at least 30 minutes to fall asleep because that’s just me but as soon as i feel sleepy, i turn on my alarm. shutting your brain off for a few minutes does wonders: it actually recharges and resets your brain for a little bit and as long as you don’t sleep for too long, you will wake up more motivated than ever before!

4.5 going off of the previous point: if you are truly tired, sleep. sleep. sleep. i cannot tell you this enough. there is absolutely no point and no shame in going to bed if you have a headache, your eyes are closing and you cannot focus anymore. plain and simple: it’s just a major waste of time and you will have to end up studying it again anyways. i try to get to bed around 11 which i know is already pushing the late boundaries but if you go to sleep and really, truly, need to finish your work in the morning, wake up a couple hours earlier and finish it quickly- maybe catch a few more z’s. it’s better to get your hours in earlier and wake up feeling better than going to bed at 4:30 (cough thanks nonso) and waking up 3 minutes before school because you shut off your alarm. i’m only telling you guys my stupid mistakes just so you know there are consequences to not following this advice people- this is first hand experience haha

5. TAKE YA MEDS KIDDOS: that’s literally it, you may have forgotten and now are in deep doodoo with yourself whoops set a reminder

if you have trouble sleeping/resting at night or whenever:

1. i have had trouble staying asleep throughout the night for the past few years now. i’m not sure how it started but my brain is just too hot wired these days to stay put: there are some quick things i do when i wake up shaking, panicking, restless, miserable, whatever in the middle of the night:

listen to rain sounds on spotify

listen to my favorite podcasts (i gotta make a post about this, message me if you want podcasts like asap after reading this something)

watch “planet earth” or “round planet” on netflix- round planet is by BBC so there’s that old british guy talking and i think it’s nice :) overall, it’s super therapeutic i highly recommend

make a warm cup of tea or milk: i usually put honey and cinnamon in my milk or honey in my tea and it’s quite nice i think, it makes me sleepy again

sometimes i wrap myself in extra blankets and cuddle with more stuffed animals to help me fall/fall back asleep. i think there is some nostalgic feeling about being tucked in and being all warm and safe that makes me calm down again i’m not sure why

if you’re having trouble focusing while studying (i got through this at least once a day omg):

1. take a breather! drinks a glass of cold water, stare around the room for a bit, walk around the neighborhood or the house or the library or wherever you are for a bit- get that blood flowing again

2. look at something motivational! i have a motivation tag kind of thing on my page called #feelgood so you can check it out if you want haha but there are tons of motivational videos and posts from the studyblr community so :)

3. study something you are interested first! this is by far the most useful study advice i have ever received because it motivates me to subconsciously focus my brain and keep me in a “grind” kind of mood

3.5 related to the previous point, study in small chunks! also switch up on the subject if you get bored.

4. do a hobby! i LOVE reading for fun during study breaks or when i can’t focus especially when i’m super interested in the book because i get sucked into that universe and after i finish a chapter i want to finish more work in order to keep reading- it’s great. i also love doodling intricate designs on my moleskine to keep my busy and i also like writing poems or editing photos. just find something that is calming to you in order to give your brain a break! once you have that little reset, i promise you will feel better going back to work

5. stop studying? sometimes i burnt out in the middle of studying and you just have to realize when you’ve reached your limit for the night/day so just stop and get some sleep, there’s nothing wrong with sleeping or taking a rest just a reminder <3 and sometimes that means you can get back to your work later or not and that’s okay :)

along with my finals series, i’m going to dedicate an entire post for reasons as to why you should stop comparing yourself so look for that in the next couple of days or so :)

and just a reminder that you can do it! no matter your barriers you WILL overcome them with flying colors and you will have an amazing summer very soon✨

love,

Nonso

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kimberley2021 · 3 years

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Day 3 9th August

We now have 13 on the tour from today(max is 21) plus driver and hostess. 3 are from the tour I was part of in the past 2 days and rest joined today. The group joining are a group of 7 people all friends or related and about 30ish age group. Remainder are in the 50- late 60’s ,1 81yr old and a daughter of one in her early 40’s. A very nice group so far so should be a happy trip. Today we left at 0630 and dove to about 2+hrs to a famous Road House on the way to Derby and had breakfast. It was all set up on a lovely shady lawn area and very pleasant. Even able to buy a real coffee at the road house and of course a toilet. Toilets become a real focus when you are driving distance and don’t have control on stops. However of course there is the Bush wee option if desperate😂. The Roadhouse was very busy with road trains and horse carriers,caravans, cars and tourist buses. Took your life in Your hands to cross from where we had breakfast at one side to the roadhouse door! Apparently the horse transport numbers are due to a big Rodeo and Broome races all occurring the weekend we are away.

Seen lots Boab trees and then the Derby Prison Tree and big trough. Here we also filled in our census online as we are out of reception for several days once we leave derby. There is also very little to no access to power for those days so couldn’t charge if we did have acces😂. Then depends on you provider after that.To do it on the night we would have had to travel 30kms do it by paper and drive back and access to the paper versions closed before we got anywhere close🤔.

We then drove to Derby to Norval Aboriginal Gallery. Beautiful paintings and even had someone sitting outside painting. I didn’t succumb to pearls bu did to a beautiful vibrant painting from the gallery! Fortunately I had it shipped home so no extra luggage. Then as I am told everyone who passes through Derby does we went out to the Jetty.

Now on the Gibb River Road with our destination Windjana Gorge where we’re camping.

Just saw some Brolgas which are apparently harder to see in the dry. Then stopped on the side of the road to collect wood for tonight’s fire (no power at the site). Discovered that collection of wood is another task we do every few days. We all went into the Bush dragged it in and then helped pass it up to Sean (Doc) our driver who was storing it on the roof. We turned out to be pretty fast and good collectors.

We went to Windjana Gorge and camped. Very remote and unpowered site again. Your headlamp is definitely your friend on this trip🤣. There were showers and toilets all set out individually but only about 6. This night we had swags and our sleeping bags and could put up our own little tent if we wished. However it was recommended to sleep in the swag under the stars which I did. An unreal experience. Even had a wallaby sniff around me and the swag next to me. We had a bit of a laugh when one of the younger men complained of being cold overnight and turns out he slept directly in his swag, no sleeping bag! We also had a drama when both men lost their mobiles, everyone mobilized and found one still in the pocket of the stored tent and one had been put in his wife’s bag for safety but he forgot to tell his wife🤣. Has become a bit of a joke all trip.

The stars that night were spectacular because no light pollution.

In the late afternoon we went for a walk into the gorge which is incredibly pretty with lots of water and lots fresh water crocs! One pool is ok so we had a swim in that.

We of course had a fire pit fire that night which was lovely as we all sat around had dinner and chatted.

We couldn’t do Tunnel Creek due to a rock fall a few days earlier.

Notes 10th

Notes Bells Gorge

Very rough nearly 3 hr drive there, stopped twice for photos and included a Bush wee,King Leopold Ranges magnificent. Once arrived it is a km walk downhill over rocks and pebbles, very rough and includes a slight water crossing. When you get there a number of smallish pools or upper pools greet you and a big view down to the bottom of the gorge where there is the lower pool and a waterfall. The upper pools are cold but the lower ones are freezing! After all that work to get here all I wanted was a swim! Pragmatism won and I decided to stay at the lower pools, one person went straight back after the walk and the rest went on to the lower pool. The lower pools are freezing, the access into the water is mossy and slippery which is fine getting in but I noted they had some problems getting out. They now need to walk 20mins to get back to me and then we walk the km out. We both got a swim. I have had a lovely time dipping into the water then walking and now under the shade where my back pack is I am sitting on a rock seat I made for myself with available suitable rocks so I don’t have to sit in the sand writing this waiting for them to get back.

More scrambling over rocks and swimming! Very rough roads at time in after dark at Manning River site. Tents fixed but showers and toilets as usual distance away and hot water turned off 8pm along with lights! They turn the generator off! Will see how I go getting to the toilet my usual 4 times. Another 5.30am up breakfast at 6 and walking to Manning falls which included swimming a river and climbing over more rocks! Will see how far I go! Then another walk and swim after lunch!

Wednesday 11th

Freezing this morning and the usual 0530 wake up. Decided not to go to Manning Falls. Not keen on the cross river swim in the cold plus a rocky walk for. Km to arrive at the steep decent to the falls and swim pool and I can’t do those steep rocky descents so would have done all the hard work and no swim! . Also seen gorges and swim holes and another (easier to get to one that doesn’t require rock climbing skills 🤣) this afternoon.

The area of the Manning river here at this campsite is just a few hundred yards walk and is stunning. Wonderful to have a gentle swim and explore and even has sandy white beach! Spent a wonderful morning in the water chatting to people crossing the river to start the Walk to the Manning falls. Probably the most relaxing start to a day yet. We have been going from early to sundown every day and apparently will do for the whole trip! Whole trip is physical activity heavy and along with setting up and taking down camps, helping with meals, firewood and any other jobs. We are up before 0530 every day and finish and to bed between 2000-2100. We have had a fire pit last 2 nights and last night had roast lamb and Veges cooked in The camp oven on the fire. After dinner we usually sit around the fire for a while and get tomorrow update. We also sit around the fire in the period while dinner is cooking and have a drink. Yes we were able to order alcohol at Broome(we paid for it) and it was loaded into the truck in big eskies which we keep iced during the trip! Restriction is that drinks need to be in tin or plastic as the vibration would break glass in the sky and has been known to cause tins to break! We also went to Adcock Gorge (ok but not exciting but a truly terrible road to get into it!) and Galvins Gorge which is spectacular and I got photos of that!

Thursday 12th

Longest drive of the trip from Manning River (Mt Barnett) to el Questro over about 8hrs all bone rattling on the Gibb!

We have done a lot of driving on the Gibb river road and rough in places with some bitumen some graded and some not. The closer you get to El Questro end the rougher it got. It is bone rattling especially after a couple of hour! On the way to El Questro we stopped including at Ellenbrae Station whose claim to fame is its scones and cream! The part of the Gibb going this way was surprisingly winding in parts and the whole area is mountainous so you are going up and then down. EllenBrae is Real oasis and also does a small campsite. Apparently all the stations make their money on the tourism but are Obliged according to the lease arrangements with the state to run at least 2,000 head of cattle all the time. They all do it but just let the cattle run free with pretty much no fences or care unless the cattle prices go up (every few years) then they get them herded by helicopter and employ the bull grabbers(or some such name) who drive fast with a contraption on the vehicle which somehow grabs the bull. Sounds dangerous! The station manager and his wife are friends of Doc’s so they gave us a bit of an over view of life on the isolated stations. We had some drama when we went to leave to discover we had a flat! Doc was laying in the dust getting it done and the wood he had under the lifter thing kept sinking into the soft earth so he had to borrow more from his mate. Then when the spare was being lowered it didn’t come right down and some judicious application of WD 40 was needed. All round quite an effort but at least it was in relative civilisation with shade for us and a toilet! Again we were very fortunate. We then kept on rattling along the Gibb including a side trip the actual Gibb River, photos at Durack River and crossing and photos at the Pentecost. Earlier we had been able to see some recent rock paintings. Also unfortunately we saw quite a few dead cane toads☹️. Also went to Telstra Hill overlooking the Pentecost River. Then I to El Questro which is a pretty slick operation. The company has tents set up here and camp kitchen and the ablutions are very good and prolific relative to other sites and has hot water and power plus our first phone reception for 3 days! I up graded to a bigger tent with power (read lead with power board fed into the tent and into which are plugged a fan and a bedside light! ) It was 38 and stinking hot in the tent but the fan helped as the evening wore on. Real beds as well and a treat after camp beds and sleeping bags. We went out this morning to Zebedee springs which is a hot water spring of 3 pools, rocky and in tropical setting and easy walk in for a change😂. Spent hour or so there and it was idyllic. The off to Emma Gorge which also has Resort facility’s including a pool, restaurant shop and excellent facilities. I decided not to do the hour walk to yet another waterfall and pool when Doc said it is an ankle breaker of a walk. We have clambered over more than our fair share of rocks on the tour to the extent we are becoming part mountain goat🤣🤣. Anyway I opted for a big mug capacino and a wander through the lush gardens, shop and then laying by the pool waiting for the walkers. It was another 38 day and they were hot and exhausted! Felt I had made the right choice. We have since come back to our ElQuestro which is still hot so sitting by the river pool in the shade doing this blog since after lunch. Coolest place to be at present. 5pm we need to order our dinner as it is the cooks night off, so just pay for yourself pub food, then shower, pack for an early start again to leave for Kununurra and on to Lake Argyle which is our next overnight and to bed. Tomorrow will be a busy start as we are leaving so it is a full camp pack up not just for the day so up about 5am to achieve that! Dinner at the pub and pack. The donkey that lives here and roams free was right outside my tent about 11pm!the pub here has live music every night but thankfully stops at 8.30pm.

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glitterysummerkitty · 6 years

Text

Dr Bombshell & Mr Hollywood

A Jake Gyllenhaal Fan- fiction

Prologue// Chpt 1// Chpt 2// Chpt 3// Chpt 4// Chpt 5// Chpt 6

Chapter 7

Sunday evening was by far the most phenomenal day Candice had, in terms of fun, in a very long time. As soon as the game began Candice fell completely in her zone and she had even managed to impress the hell out of everyone present. At the end of the day Dave had been a proud captain and both Jaylon and Ronnell were all praises with Ronnell even trying to bribe her into abandoning Dave and joining him for the following matches.

Even Mabel was surprised and after the glorious victory of the Omega- 3’s, the first question Mabel had asked her was ‘Where the hell have you been? Jheez Candy! I didn’t even know you were so good at this sport.’ Candice blushed but didn’t think it important to remind her best friend that she had been the captain of her team college team and they had won several trophies. She even won several awards, which were now displayed proudly in a pristine glass shelf at Washington State University.

At the end of the friendly match Pizza’s and beers were ordered and jokes and stories about their spouses and children were shared. Candice kept mum and tried to stay out of anyone’s focus but more often it had been futile since she was the star player of today and so everyone’s attention was on her. Especially Uma. Candice had never thought at the beginning of the evening that she would ever be comfortable with Uma but surprisingly at the end she found out how hilarious Uma really was. Basically Uma was Gemma multiplied hundred times. Candice believed she could handle Uma and her eccentric behaviour.

After such a beautiful Sunday came Monday bringing along with it, its infamous blues. Candice groaned as she reached out and shut the alarm. She tilted her head and looked outside the window. It was still dark out there and although it wasn’t snowing anymore it was drizzling. Candice saw the little droplets of water glistening under the streetlight against the glass surface. Candice sighed. Strange fact check about Candice- she hates rain. Yes, she loves snow but hates rain. Why? Don’t ask because even she didn’t have a reason for it.

With the comforts of her warm sheets and Mr Ruskin’s hot body pressed against her sides, Candice didn’t feel like getting up. But work was work and so she closed her eyes counted from five to one backwards and then hopped out of her bed.

She barely got time to breathe on Mondays as she had three classes to teach and the clinic is almost always full on Mondays, filling up her schedule for early evening to late night. The first class was with master’s student and their class had been on a topic which was more challenging and close to her heart- Maternal Nutrition and it’s consequences. They had discussed and critically analysed some of the studies out there and compared the methods and their varied results. It was fun.

But then her next class was with first year Grads and that wasn’t something she enjoyed especially considering she would have to face Zachary. After that day, when she had kicked him out her class, she hadn’t seen him and it made her slightly nervous. Also, after just having such a challenging class, to have to talk about the process of digestion wasn’t something appealed to her.

Mentally preparing herself, Candice pushes open the door to the large hall and entered it. As she did, the rambunctious class fell to a low hush. As usual, on the very first row at the very centre the seat was occupied by one of her least favourite students Brianna. Candice had observed how the slightly obese girl with a bad case of acne and a harsh expression, never mingled with her other classmates. She always sat by herself and had minimal to no contact with her mates. Candice had also made an observation as to how Brianna seemed to have a problem with her although she would never understand why.

“Good morning class. I hope you all had a great weekend.”, she started as she scanned the class and found it devoid of Zach. She didn’t know if she should be relieved by it or not.

“We sure did!”, someone said but Candice couldn’t point out.

“How was yours Dr Averell?”, a slim, blonde seated two rows up from the front row asked in her sweet voice as she twirled a piece of hair in her finger.

“Better. Thank you Cameron.”, Candice smiled back.

“So... Today I am going to talk about the whole process of digestion, absorption and Metabolism.”, there were some groans, some exited rustling of pages showing eagerness to write down notes while some just sat straight with their nose buried in their phone screen.

“Digestion is the first crucial stage where food is broken down to smaller chemical constitutes for absorption. There are two ways this is achieved- Mechanically and chemically.”, Candice moved to the next slide on her presentation, when the door to the hall opened and in strode Zach. Instantly every girl’s, except Brianna, attention was consumed by him and Candice felt compelled to roll her eyes but she didn’t.

“Sorry I am late, Dr A. I was eating breakfast and went in deep thought about all the things I could do during the time I waste during your class and lost track of time.”, he smirked as she took to his usual seat. Immediately the class broke out into an “Ooooohh” and “Burn”. Candice gave the entire class a sharp look before finally settling her glare at the infuriating boy.

“Really?”, Candice feigned surprise, “Well from observing Mr Meyer’s performance in class for an entire year one would assume that he’s incapable of deep contemplation but I am glad to know you can.”, with that Candice turned her attention to her PowerPoint. She ignored the snickers and Zac’s stabbing glare as she went on about peristalsis.

Candice decided to grab lunch from the ‘Four Hundred Guild’- a restaurant within the campus that served exclusively to the faculty and staff of Pruitt and Hearst University- before going to her next class. She shot Mabel a text, letting her know where she was and then decided to call Bethany to check up on her aunt. Apparently Aunty Aubrey wasn’t doing so well. Her latest cycle of chemo had left her very weak. It had Candice worried but Bethany assured her that she and a few women from the church were doing everything to help her through this. Candice end the conversation with a promise to send some more money by the weekend and also a request to fill her hospital room with some Calla Lily. “She loves them.”, Candice said.

Over a lip smacking lemon thyme chicken, Candice narrated the whole incident over Zach to Mabel, who was flabbergasted by Zac’s audacity and also found it hard to believe that Candice had stood up against him.

“While I am very proud of you for what you have done, I am also worried. What if he decides to take action on his threat? In my opinion you shouldn’t continue to antagonise him. It’s a question of your career.”, she advised as she shoved a brussel sprout in her mouth.

“I know. It’s just he’s so infuriating.”, Candice grumbled.

At half past three Candice left from the university. Once again she made a stop at Starbuck on her way to clinic and faced the same server as the last time. She placed her order without making much eye- contact and then sat down at the table. This time Candice had time enough to have her drink at the café.

As she waited for her Tarragon Chicken Salad Sandwich and a tall cup of Americano she got her laptop out to check her e- mail. There lay a tiny dose of happiness waiting for her and Candice grabbed it.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 19 Feb 2018, 10:00 am

Dear Lynne,

I have finally got time today and I am determined to spend the day reading and hopefully get to the end of your book. As I am typing this mail, on my desk lies your book, a tall mug of coffee and a lot of snacks. Believe me when I say that I am on a mission to finish this book today.

You can expect to hear from me by tonight on my opinions on what I thought about the book. Until then I am signing out! Xoxo

Regards,

An Avid Reader

Candice grinned. She loved the reader’s enthusiasm and could only hope she felt as enthusiastic once she finishes reading the book. Candice wasn’t one to care much about what other’s opinion. She wrote ‘Love Knows no Bounds’ because it was something she believed and something that she wanted to write about. It didn’t matter if others didn’t buy what she had to sell. But for some unknown reason ‘An Avid Reader’s’ opinion mattered to her very much. She giggled silently to herself at the (xoxo) part making her wonder who the reader could be. Was it a man or a woman? Was he/ she old or young? Which part of US was this person writing from?

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 19 Feb 2018, 3:45 pm

An Avid Reader,

Your enthusiasm towards my work is encouraging. For any artist, I believe, appreciation of their work means above all and they while they can do without it, when a reader like you shows so much eagerness it really gives much pleasure. I hope you continue to show similar gusto until the end and after that too.

I will be waiting to hear from you as well. Until then happy reading!

Regards,

Lynne Brooks

(Author of-

“Love Knows no Bound”)

As she ate she went through some more fan sent e- mails and replied to few. She reached clinic on time and Ashley greeted her with a great news that owing to the bad weather, Mrs Laine had cancelled her appointment and so had two other patients.

“Dr Averell. Do you think I could leave early today? Actually it’s my boyfriend and I seven month anniversary.”, Ashley asked. In the three months that Ashley had been working here this was the first time she had asked for anything so Candice didn’t have the heart to say no.

“Sure. Oh and I probably think it’s a good idea because on Wednesday I need you here late. I want all the patient files organised and prepared for the next month’s audit.”, Candice informed. The red head looked happy.

Candice saw the few patients who had braved the weather while using her free time to update her patient’s information into the software. The said task was mundane and taxing to Candice but something that she had to be done. When only one file was left on the table she opened it and the name sent both, shivers down her spine and anger through her veins. Candice marvelled at being able to experience two varied emotions belonging to different spectrum, simultaneously, at the sight of the same name.

There is a knock on the door and Candice looked up, expecting to see Ancil walk in but it was Ashley.

“Dr Averell your seven o’ clock is here. I just wanted to ask if it’s alright if I leave?”, Ashley fidgeted with her fingers. Candice thought, amused, if she came off intimidating to Ashley.

“Of course you can leave. Thank you Ashley.”, she smiled. Ashely smiled back nervously before scrambling out the room. Candice wondered what she ever did to intimidate the poor girl.

“Good evening Dr Averell.”, that familiar baritone voice filled her room making her tremble in her seat.

“Good evening Mr Dumont. Please have a seat.”, she mumbled as she motioned for him to take a seat. It didn’t matter if Ashley found her intimidating or not but Ancil managed just fine to drain every ounce of courage she possessed.

“You look gorgeous. As always.”, he lowered his voice and by the time he said always it was merely a whisper. Candice squirmed in her seat as she felt her muscles in her stomach and everything south of it clench.

“Thank you... How are you today?”, she said a little out of breath and blushed deeply. She kept her gaze fixed on the file before her.

“Better than I have been in days.”, he replied.

“Good. How much of the plan have you been able to follow?”, she asked as she made notes on her file.

“Hhhmm...”, Ancil trailed off forcing her to look up when he didn’t say anything for a while. Candice watched mesmerized as he tapped his lean finger against his lips. His face looked like he was genuinely trying to recollect. Candice wanted those lips wrapped around her own, she wanted to run her tongue over it, she wanted to...

Candice flushed as she found him smirking at her, apparently having caught her staring at his lips. While she knew her body had its natural cravings, she chastised herself for fantasizing about her patient right in front of him. Embarrassed she turned her attention back to the file and for the rest of the session didn’t look up until necessary.

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal imagine #Gyllenhaal #Maggie Gyllenhaal #prince of persia #prisoners #southpaw #source code #imagine #fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #hot actors #love #romance #not a real story

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scandinaviacroatiaengbergs · 5 years

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Monday: A Full Day in Zagreb

So, let me start off with a few observations about Zagreb. Overall, it is pretty interesting going anywhere after visiting insanely clean Scandinavian cities. Because of the wealth of those countries and their robust social infrastructure programs, and the money available for city projects (I would imagine), and just habits formed by the people in those nations as pushed byt heir governments (such as about recycling), you don’t see a lot of garbage on the streets or graffiti on buildings in the Scandinavian metropolises. Of course, there is some graffiti (oh! And I forgot to mention, about street art: the unauthorized Banksy museum, which I read about, is in Gothenburg of all places, right off the central square, and we walked right past it), but it is pretty minimal. Now, Zabreb, on the other hand, has a lot of graffiti, some of it more finessed and intended to be public art, but other graffiti is just tagging. There was, in fact, a wall of graffiti on our Airbnb building. Also, as we noticed in the Baltics, the exteriors of a lot of medium-rise (like 10-story) buildings have some, how shall we say, “deferred maintenance.” They look sort of shabby on the outside, but as we learned in Vilnius, most strongly, a place can look really run-down from the outside but be really, really spruced up and fancy on the inside. I wondered whether this was the case in Zagreb, but I didn’t get to find out. Our Airbnb was a two-story square, contemporary house, basically, that had been broken up into several apartments. Ours was on the first floor. We also noticed, walking around in the afternoon (which I will detail below), that people are very social. There is also a lot of smoking going on still. Everywhere you go, if there is a relatively tall building, it has an outdoor seating area outside, and you will often see groups of 3 or 4 older men, sitting there, drinking coffee, hard liquor, or beer, and just chatting away. It seems very “old world,” like I imagine my Great-Grandpa Julius (who I never met) doing in New York in the ‘40s and ‘50s with other men who spoke Yiddish. I don’t know if he did, because from what I have heard he just spent his days in the front of the sign shop, reading the Forward, but it seems like it is that kind of older guy who sits with a group of pals and talks the afternoon away at these sidewalk cafes.

Anyway, enough observations. When we got in on Sunday night, the host met us and showed us the ins-and-outs of the place (not much to figure out). This is an apartment that is only used as an Airbnb; it is not anyone’s home (I prefer Airbnbs that are people’s homes). But, this place was really clean, with nice beds, and everything we needed in the kitchen (with another sandwich maker! I am beginning to think I might need Santa to bring me a panini press).

I went to bed too late, as always, and the kids got to bed pretty late on Sunday night because of our jaunt to Badovinci, as I mentioned. When they woke up Monday morning, Eric had yogurts for them, which he bought the night before during his jaunt to the 24-hour store, which was not a proper grocery but more of a “party store,” as Michiganders say. But there was a really nice bakery next store to that, also open 24 hours, so Eric got some bread and weird seeded pastries, as well. So, breakfast Monday was yogurt and bread. Rowan go the special treat of having a pistachio Greek yogurt, which I’d bought for him in Zadar, too, but Eric accidentally ate ;) So, after we had breakfast, we walked out for a day of adventuring! Just a side note: it was very hot and humid. First off, we walked down a substantive road and passed a mirrored-glass office building, in which was housed, in part, the Finnish Embassy! Next up, we took a wrong turn and ended up not being able to go over the train tracks., but we saw a cat ambling across the street. Then, we rerouted and went under an overpass and kept on truckin’ toward the city center (“centar,” actually), and we saw a sign (actually many) for a concert by the Cure, but I didn’t make note of the day, figuring it had already passed, and lamenting that we probably couldn’t go anyway, though I’d love my kids to hear, as I did when I was 18, them play a 14-minute-long version of “A Forest.” Anyway, first up, we visited a playground. At the playground, there was one of those spiderweb climbing structures, so of course Rowan checked that out, but this one high the added risk factor of being able to spin, which, when it did, made it look like a Christmas tree. There was also a merry-go-round, which Rowan took to running around really fast and then hopping on. I remember doing that as a kid. Cece thought he was spinning it too fast. This little park/playground also had a small pond/water-feature with a little cherub-boy statue, holding his pee-pee, aiming into the pond. When we were there, the statue was emitting no “pee pee” into the pond, but I figured that a stream of “urine” was the intention of the cherub’s design and his proximity to the little pond. In fact, a man was cleaning the pond when we were there. Later, when we walked back by, after several hours, the statue was doing what it was designed to do . . . We walked down to the central plaza where the Zagreb Cathedral is. Wow, what an amazing structure. It is sooooooo tall and soooooo ornate. It was damaged in the early-20th century during an earthquake and then, during the Communist era, there was little interest in maintaining religious buildings. So, since the ‘90s, there has been a lot of money spent and a lot of effort put in to repairing the Cathedral, and we saw men busily at work, way up high on one of the sides, the day we were there. We continued on from there, and Cece insisted on walking on her own, or “in your shadow,” which was a bit tricky because it was midday, so she was regularly right under my feet. We got to another playground, in a really big park (basically behind the church, but we’d gone around several blocks to get there), and it was full of huge trees, most memorably some beautiful weeping willows. There was also some lack of maintenance at the park, as it appears that lots of people might use it as a place to sit and drink beer, but the playground was a perfect spot for the kids to do some “circuits,” which they did: running up the slides, climbing up the sliding pole (Rowan did this, as it happens to be one of his favorite things to do), walking across the wobbly rope bridge, across every other piece of equipment, a few swings on the swings, with lots of running from piece of equipment to piece of equipment. By this point, we were definitely hungry for lunch, so we walked on, and we had a few spots identified, via Google, as possible targets for lunch, but before we got to any, we saw place that I believe was actually called “Good Food,” and it looked like the kind of yuppie-ish, salad-and-juice oriented place that might just suit us. Sure enough, it was very on-target. You could take a piece of paper with all kinds of salad ingredients listed on it, and tick the boxes for the items you wanted. Eric and I did this, and so did Rowan! Cece chose a sandwich. Rowan’s salad was pretty funny, in that it had no lettuce, but lots of other good ingredients (like red pepper, broccoli, and garbanzo beans) and then something sweet: dried cranberries. We also got a juice called “Hollywood Glow,” which had oranges, apples, and I can’t remember what the third ingredient was. Eric and I both “tested” it, and then the kids finished it off in one turn each. Neither Rowan nor I could finish all the salad we ordered, so we took them to go and walked back toward our Airbnb, because I needed to be on a call at 3 p.m. As we walked, we went down the central shopping street, which I enjoyed seeing (and I popped into a Benetton, because they always have a piece of my heart), and the kids found a sort of nautical-themed playscape in the plaza, and played there for a good 15 minutes. We got home and I had fifteen minutes to spare before my call, and I got a fighting Cece down for nap, and she was *exhausted* -- she made not a single peep after I closed the door to her room and she slept well until I woke her up at 4:15. We were going to go to the zoo next! We drove to the zoo, because, a) we figured we’d put our Peugeot through even more city-driving paces, and b) it was too far to go by foot and we didn’t want to bother to figure out the trams. We got to the zoo around 4:30, and, unlike our Albuquerque Zoo (and I believe many other zoos), they did not close at 5 p.m.! In Albuquerque, the zoo closes at that hour all year, I guess to keep things consistent for the animals and to give them a good break from the human visitors. But, the Zagreb Zoo in the summertime is open until 8 p.m. It was such a nice zoo! Pretty much right away, we went into the reptile and snake habitat building, and we ended up learning that if you ducked around a corner behind one of the enclosures, you went into a network of other indoor exhibits, for all kinds of animals! Maybe because I skip the snake exhibit at the Albuquerque Zoo pretty often so I am not sure how many snakes and lizards and the like we have in Albuquerque to use as comparison, this zoo seemed to have *a lot* -- and they had a young crocodile and its mom, and the young guy was just lying on his mom’s back the whole time, occasionally moving one arm. We left the snake-oriented building and continued on to see critters that are more to my taste. They had red pandas, zebras, three female lions and a male lion – and they were pretty active!, some huge birds, lemurs, lots of monkeys and orangutans, a petting zoo with some eager goats, and a very fun sea lion exhibit, which looked like it had a mommy and daddy sea lion with their baby, who was still a nursling. That exhibit was very popular with the zoo visitors, and the sea lions made it worth our wait! The two adults were playing with and prodding each other – one from the water and the other up on a catwalk. The big one in the water swooped up and snapped/barked at the one on the catwalk, and when it had had enough of that, it dove into the water and they chased each other around, zooming like crazy through the water for a while! They were fun to watch. We got ice cream, went to the play area, and then, finally, when the mosquitos were coming out in the evening, we decided to leave, as it was about closing time anyway. The zoo was like $8 for all of us! It was a really pretty zoo, and they had some multi-animal enclosures, where animals who I guess get along together got to be together in their habitats there. We drove back to the Airbnb and I noticed, from that vantage, that a huge building right across from the zoo was a stadium for Dynamo, which is a very popular Croatian soccer team. That was cool to see! They even sold some Dynamo gear at the zoo gift shop. We got back to our Airbnb at about 8:30 and then we had our leftovers and grilled cheese sandwiches and then, as always happens, the kids became totally unhinged wild creatures (as if taking inspiration from some of the friends they visited at the zoo) before bedtime. This happens soooo often and by the time they finally relent and go to sleep, I am at my wit’s end. They were asleep by 9:30, thank heavens, after Eric read them a chapter out of the 7th book in the Moominvalley series, which we’ve been making our way through over the last year or so, as we sprinkle it in with more books that Rowan can read some of himself. Eric has been really good about working on this trip with Rowan on his “keys,” – a ring of flash cards his teacher made for all of the kids at Kindergarten during the year. He is getting them! Reading isn’t his strongest school area, but we’re working on it and we’re super impressed by his progress. After the kids went to bed, Eric and I got our things organized for leaving the next morning which, I was glad to learn, was a later departure than I had thought! Woohoo! In my next post, I will regale you all with stories of our last Zagreb morning, our flight from Zagreb to London, and our afternoon in London. After that is our big push back home – three flights: London to New York, New York to Dallas, and Dallas to ABQ, all in one day. We’ll all sure be tired after that series!

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wellimhavinga3outof10day · 7 years

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Lost Lullabies - Chapter Fourteen

Description: Mickey Milkovich, former child star turned action movie star, runs into his old co-star, Ian Gallagher, out on the street in the middle of a winter night. When Mickey takes him in, he doesn’t realize that Ian has the power to completely turn his new life upside down.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

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Filming with Mickey turned out to be a lot easier than Ian had thought it would be. They fell into an easy routine – Mickey picked him up, they filmed all morning, ate lunch together, filmed all afternoon, and then Mickey drove him back to the hotel. Being friends wasn’t as hard as it had seemed a month ago.

But being just friends with Mickey had its downside. It took a serious toll on Ian mentally and physically. He couldn’t sleep – not that he really wanted to – and he found himself making stupid, impulse purchases of things he thought Mickey would like at three in the morning off of sketchy internet sites. He watched a lot of porn. When porn didn’t do it, he hooked up with the nearest guy on Grindr, almost indiscriminately.

Not that he blamed his frustrations on Mickey. He was the one who had wanted just friends. He was the one who had pushed Mickey away. It got harder and harder to see why every day and, more often than not, when the director shot water their way, it landed on Ian’s face.

If Mickey noticed, he didn’t say anything, but Ian started to pick up on other hints. Mickey would smile whenever Ian got sprayed in the face. He was always asking Ian to spend the night at his place instead of the hotel. When Ian mentioned an interest, Mickey almost always came back the next day having read up on it or with some small gift for Ian related to it. Ian, on the other hand, could never get up the courage to actually give Mickey one of the million things he had bought for him.

As Christmas neared, filming started to taper off and Ian found himself more and more lonely. He remembered the feeling of being on the TV show – how every season wrapped felt like a shot to the chest – and wondered how bad it would be to finish the movie. Would he survive it without relapsing completely? Ending a movie was like losing a family. It would definitely mean losing Mickey.

Ian did his best to shake off the feeling of impending doom by accepting every Christmas party invitation thrown his way. He even roped Mickey into a few of them. Two nights before Christmas, on the last day of filming before they broke for the holiday, Christie and Tabitha invited them out for drinks. Ian said yes before Mickey could say no and Mickey, rolling his eyes, agreed to go out with them.

They all piled into their cars and headed for the nearest bar – a dive that was mostly populated with actors filming at other studios. When they stopped outside, Mickey put his hand on Ian’s arm before he could get out.

“Hey,” Mickey said, “don’t slip up in here.”

“I’m fine, Mick. I’ve been fine for just over two months.”

Mickey gave him a look like he didn’t quite believe him, but let his hand drop. Ian slipped out of the car feeling colder than he had in a while. He knew he didn’t owe Mickey anything and Mickey hadn’t told him not to drink, but he promised himself he wouldn’t go over two beers. Not if Mickey was worried about him.

But it kind of bugged him that Mickey was worried about him. He’d been clean since before the movie had started. And Mickey knew what he was like high, how he got. He was pretty sure he hadn’t had a night where he’d made a pass at Mickey or forgotten where he was for a long time.

Ian managed to push his worries back in order to keep up with the conversation. He laughed at all the right points in Christie’s stories, screwed up his face when he taste-tested Tabitha’s too-sour martini, and even managed to make Mickey smile once or twice. He nursed his first beer slowly, watched the others get wasted. Even Mickey drank more than he usually did and near the end of the night, he looked ready to fall off his stool.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Tabitha said, clapping her hands. “We have not played nearly enough games tonight.”

“Drinking games?” Christie replied.

“No! Game games. Like sleepover games.”

Mickey snorted. “This isn’t a fucking sleepover.”

“Humour me.” Tabitha closed her eyes for a moment and managed to open them looking completely sober, even though she was anything but. “Mickey, fuck marry kill. The three of us. Go.”

Mickey shook his head. “I’m not answering that.”

“Come on.” Ian almost nudged him, but thought the action might tip him over. He smiled right at Mickey. “We all know you’re going to kill me.”

“I don’t know,” Mickey said. “The director thinks I’d fuck you so—”

The rest of his sentence was lost in the girls’ laughter.

Mickey held up a hand to silence them. “In all honesty, fuck marry kill, the three of you?” He shook his head. “I’m putting you all in the ground. None of that shit would be good for my career.”

Ian laughed and slipped the beer bottle out of Mickey’s grip. “I think once you’re spewing death threats, it’s time to cut you off.”

“I think it’s time to cut us all off,” Christie said. She stood up and grabbed Tabitha’s arm. “It’s late and I need to get her home before she passes out.”

“Same,” Ian said, squeezing Mickey’s shoulder. He let the girls go first, watched them disappear out the glass door, and then got to his feet. “Can you call the car, Mick? Mick?”

He shook his head. “It’s only a few blocks to your hotel.”

Ian wanted to protest – dragging a drunk Mickey three blocks would be no easy task – but he supposed it was only fair after Mickey had done it for him. So he coaxed Mickey off the bar stool, got him to settle their tab, and then they started down the street. At first Ian didn’t touch him, just let him wander down the sidewalk but after he almost bumped into a couple going the other way, Ian took hold of his arm.

“You going home for Christmas?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah,” Ian said. “Fiona says she misses me. What are you doing?”

Mickey shrugged. “Mandy’s flying in for a few days.”

“She’s not busy?”

“Hasn’t had a part in a while. Figured she’d give it a break for the holidays.” Mickey raised his eyes to look at Ian instead of his feet. “You should stop by. She’d like to see you.”

“Or, you could stop by. You know Gallagher Christmases. People everywhere, no one’s really related, the whole thing goes to shit really fast.” Ian forced a smile. “Having you and Mandy there would really make it feel like old times.”

Mickey smiled back then kicked a chunk of snow on the sidewalk. A few steps later, Ian kicked the same chunk further down. Mickey said, “I’d love to, but I don’t really like putting Mandy that close to Terry, you know?”

“Mick...” Ian hesitated over the words. Mickey looked over at him with curiosity on his face, one eyebrow raised. Ian’s mouth moved, but for a long time the words didn’t come out. He shook his head. “Wow, umm, Mick, he’s... dead. I thought you knew.”

“He’s dead?” Mickey stopped in his tracks.

Ian stopped too and gave a slight nod.

Then, suddenly, Mickey was kissing him. His lips were hot, hungry, and fierce. His tongue dipped into Ian’s mouth for just a moment before he pulled back to nibble at Ian’s bottom lip. He stopped almost as quickly as he’d started, a smile on his face.

“Mistletoe,” Mickey said, pointing up. “Figured I owed you.”

Ian lasted about a second before he started to laugh. “That how you usually react when people tell you your dad’s dead?”

“It’s a definite turn on of mine.” Mickey kept walking and Ian had to scramble to catch up with him. “When did he die?”

“About a week ago,” Ian said. “It was actually the day you picked me up late, so I thought... I thought someone had told you.”

Mickey shook his head. “I don’t talk to anyone back home anymore. Not even my brothers.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I? They’ve never been there for me, never had my back. They rode my fame as far as they could before I dumped them off and they’re all still criminals and drug addicts so it’s bad for my image to go back there.”

“Does that mean you’re still not coming for Christmas?”

“I’ll think about it.”

They walked the rest of the way to the hotel in silence. They got into the elevator, Ian pressed the button for floor eight, and Mickey smiled. “What?” Ian said.

“Just remembering the last time we were in an elevator together.”

Ian made a face. “When was that?”

“When you were blackout drunk and I dragged you home.” Mickey leaned back against the elevator wall and turned his cocky smile on Ian. “You remember what you called me?”

“Do I want to?”

Mickey snorted. “No. God. I wish I didn’t remember.”

Ian laughed.

“Kind of turned me on though,” Mickey said.

“Fuck off.”

“So you do remember?”

Ian shrugged. “I have an idea.”

It was Mickey’s turn to laugh. Ian kept his head down to hide his blush as the elevator dinged open on their floor. He grabbed Mickey’s arm to keep him steady and led him down the hall to his room. While he went for the key, Mickey leaned against the wall looking at him. Ian could feel the heat in his gaze, the want in his eyes. He opened the door as quickly as he could and pushed Mickey inside.

After he’d closed the door, he met Mickey’s eyes again. “You’re drunk,” he said.

“I’m not that drunk.” Mickey took a step forward.

Ian caught the collar of Mickey’s shirt and held him at an arm’s length. “Just friends, remember?”

“That was a stupid fucking idea when we started this movie and it’s a stupid fucking idea now.”

“Do you just get gayer the drunker you are?”

Mickey snorted. “Fuck off.” He batted at Ian’s arm, trying to get closer, and Ian eventually relented. Mickey came in close, his breath hot over Ian’s face, his smile like moonlight. Their noses rubbed together and Ian stopped breathing. “You know,” Mickey said, “I fall asleep thinking about you. Wake up in the middle of dreams about you. You’re under my skin, man.”

Ian looked down into Mickey’s blue eyes and felt his heart stutter back to life. All of him knew this was a bad idea. If it had been a bad idea a thousand times before, it was still a bad idea now. Nothing had changed. Plus, Mickey was drunk.

“We shouldn’t do this when you’re drunk.”

“Shut up.”

Mickey pressed their lips together in a sweet, soft kiss. He pulled back after only a second and Ian leaned in to follow his lips, stumbled away from the door as Mickey moved backwards. Mickey got a hand on his neck and pulled him in to deepen the kiss just before he hit the bed. Ian pressed him back onto the mattress and crawled on top of him. Mickey’s fingers found their way under his shirt and started to pull it up.

Ian broke the kiss to get his shirt off but was back on Mickey a second later. He couldn’t believe that Mickey tasted as good as he did. In all his wildest fantasies, Mickey tasted like he looked – like cigarettes and the bite of alcohol. He’d never adjusted for the man Mickey had become, for the mint lip balm Mickey used religiously and the honey edge of his new favourite beer. He never imagined Mickey would taste like money and stars, like someone who might actually be good for him.

“Ian,” Mickey muttered between kisses. “Ian. Ian.”

It took Ian a moment to realize Mickey was trying to get his attention. He pulled back to look at the sparkles in Mickey’s eyes, the happy smile that had kept grazing his lips. “Mick,” Ian said. He ran his hand back through Mickey’s black hair, pulled it just a little to get a mumbled groan out of the other man’s lips.

“Ian.”

“What?”

Mickey started to laugh, his whole body shaking under Ian. “I can’t get it up, man.”

Ian’s smile faltered. “What?”

“I’m fucking wasted. I’m sorry.” Mickey kept laughing, even as he pulled Ian down for another kiss. He kissed him sloppily and hungrily and with the kind of pressure that made Ian forget how confused he was about the whole situation. “In the morning,” Mickey said. “I promise. As soon as I’m fucking sober, you can fuck me.”

Ian started to laugh too and brought his lips down to kiss Mickey’s shoulder, his collarbone, his neck. He leaned their foreheads together and looked into Mickey’s eyes until they blurred. Then he kissed him soft, sweet, before rolling over to lay beside Mickey on the mattress.

“Wanna hear something funny?” Mickey said.

“Sure.”

“Mandy thinks I’m in love with you.” Mickey paused for a long moment. “I think maybe she’s right.”

Ian opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t figure out what the proper response was. It didn’t matter. Mickey was asleep seconds later, his stomach moving up and down, slight snores leaving his lips. Ian stroked back his hair, kissed him on the forehead, and then started the difficult task of getting Mickey under the covers without waking him.

He managed and then settled down beside him. He watched Mickey sleep for a long time, not tired himself.

<<Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen>>

#gallavich #shameless #Ian Gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #mine #3outof10 updates #lost lullabies #chapter fourteen

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tyleroakley-obsessed · 4 years

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May is Memphis’ monthlong civic celebration of music, barbecue, and ridiculous good times. As is tradition, here are the I Love Memphis ABCs of Memphis in May to help you get prepared for all the festivities, updated for 2020. A is for Art: Every year, Memphis in May releases a fine art poster commemorating that year’s featured country. The honored country for 2020 is the Republic of Ghana. While we wait for the 2020 fine art poster to be released, take a look at last year’s piece by local artist Evelina Dillon. Memphis was the honored “country” last year to celebrate the city’s bicentennial. A is also for app: Memphis in May has two apps that you need to download: the Beale Street Music Fest app (just search “Beale Street Music Fest” in the App Store) and the LiveSafe app, which really, y’all DO download this. The latter is for our safety and is the only way for the organizers to communicate with everybody about schedule changes, weather (the park was on lockdown last year during WCBCC due to lightning), and other concerns. B is for Barbecue: The World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest (commonly called the “BBQ Fest” but it is first and foremost a cooking competition) is a magical time when pit-masters from all over converge on Tom Lee Park to slow cook pork (and chicken and alligator and anything else that can fit on a grill). It’s happening May , 2019 and tickets are $10 per day. C is for Cash: Bring some. You’re going to need it for food, beer, parking and any extras you plan on picking up. In theory, vendors have card machines and there are ATMs, but do not count on those working. D is for Don’t drink and drive: Finding a hotel room might be kind of dicey at this point, but you have several options for getting around safely if you plan to imbibe. A) Make a friend who lives in 38103 and make their place your home base. B) Program this number into your phone: (901) 577-7777 – it’s the local cab company. Pro-tip: If you’re calling a cab, call about an hour before you’re ready to leave since they’re going to be busy. C) Use ride-sharing apps Uber or Lyft. Just prepare for waiting and surge pricing, which isn’t that bad. I’ve walked somewhere downtown to grab some food and let the surge pricing settle out. Easy! There is no reason in the year 2020 to drink and drive, so stop letting your friends risk their life and license because they can’t be bothered to wait 15 minutes and pay about as much as it costs to park your car in most cities to call a car home. /rant E is for Embrace the insanity: Memphis in May is a giant, month-long party, so treat it as such. There’s no point in getting upset about little things (weather, drunk people, waiting, road closures, whatever). Take a deep breath and reach a place of acceptance and tolerance for the festival’s inborn quirks and you’ll have a great time no matter what. F is for food: There are food vendors of all kinds – ice cream, vendor (not competition) barbecue, tacos, funnel cake, lemonade, Pronto Pups – at all of the MIM events at Tom Lee Park. Make it your mission to try one of everything. Check out some of the awesome food vendors from BSMF 2019 here. G is also for galoshes, aka Rain Boots: The weather is unpredictable, and you’re not going to want to walk around in flip flops (or heels – c’mon people, use some common sense) so go with some sneakers you don’t mind getting muddy, or the traditional shoe of Memphis in May: the mighty rainboot. I’d take some plastic ponchos as well. H is for Have a plan: Don’t depend on cell service to connect you with pals, because the last few years it’s basically impossible to get through via text or phone calls, especially during Beale Street Music Fest. Instead, make a plan of when and where to meet or what to do if you get separated from your group. Some folks even bring walkie talkies. I is for International Festival: The “I” in Memphis In May stands for “International”, and each year a country is recognized with events, food, music, educational programs and more. For 2020, Memphis In May will honor the Republic of Ghana throughout the month. Check out the cultural events, performances and eating opportunities and be proud that you learned something during the festival. J is for Judges at Barbecue Fest World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest: It’s a cruel irony when all of Tom Lee Park smells like a barbecue sandwich and you can’t technically have any of it. Due to health department rules, barbecue contest cooking team tents are treated like private parties (meaning they’re invite only, and you can’t just walk in and buy food and eat). The only people who get to sample the teams’ cooking without an invite are the festival’s highly trained team of judges. K is for Know someone on a Barbecue Team: These are the solutions to the problem presented above. a) Know someone on a BBQ team: If you do know someone, though, don’t abuse it. If your buddies are willing to let you in, awesome, but don’t try to bring a pack of friends with you. Also, mind your manners: your barbecue team friend is doing you a favor, so you should be as low maintenance as possible and definitely tip. b) You can also buy “BBQ Alley” tickets in addition to your $10+fees Barbecue Cooking Competition admission ticket. This relatively new portion of the event started in 2017. Read all the fine print and get tickets here once they are released (scroll down to the BBQ Alley section). L is for lineup Is Announced Early: Or at least part of it. After years of making us wait (and teasing us with weird clues on social media), Beale Street Music Festival organizers released some of the bands in December! (Just in time for tickets as holiday gifts, eh?) Sixteen of the more than 60 artists and bands that will grace the stages on the banks of the Mississippi. Headliners for BSMF 2020 include The Lumineers, Lil Wayne, The Avett Brothers, Three 6 Mafia. Check out what else we know so far here. M is for Music Fest: The Beale Street Music Festival (May 1-3, 2020) is the official start of the Memphis in May madness. Check the lineup list here. The times and stages schedule will be shared closer to the date of the event. Adarryll Jackson, Jr. M is also for Mighty Lights: We got fancy lights on our bridges, now, y’all! There’ll be good views of these nightly light shows from Tom Lee Park during Memphis in May events. N is for You Need To Bring Some Things: OK, this is probably not the most clever N phrase, but I wanted to let you know what you’re allowed to bring into the park: Read the rules about what you can/can’t bring to BSMF here. Read more about WCBCC permitted items here. O is for Overheated: You’re going to be outside in a park with little shade in Memphis in May. Even if it’s not crazy hot outside, it’s still easy to get overheated. Drink water, find a cool place to sit, and quit when your body tells you to. P is for Parking: Parking in one of the downtown lots or garages for Memphis in May can get a little pricey, so bring cash. If you’re willing to walk a bit, there might be some free parking to be had on the northern and southern ends of downtown. Usually the trolleys are running late. Better yet, don’t fool with parking and and head back up to letter “D” above for tips on using rideshare apps like Uber and Lyft. Photo by I Love Memphis Q is for Que-related Dance Contest: Don’t miss the Miss Piggy Idol contest on Thursday at the Barbecue Cooking Contest. There are costumes, there are props, there are men in dresses singing songs whose lyrics have been modified to be about pork. I am still laughing about a rendition of Miley Cyrus’ “Wrecking Ball” that became “Beans ‘n’ Slaw” several years ago. R is for Run, Great American: The Great American River Run is a 5K and half-marathon on May 23, 2020 with a course taking you through downtown and along the Mighty Mississippi in all its glory. Learn more here. S is for Shoes, Sunscreen, and Sunglasses: Wear real shoes. Memphis in May is no place for cute footwear. No flip flops, no heels. Think old sneakers, all-weather boots, something like that. The park is a mile long, and I’ve seen many a sad, abandoned single flip flop languishing in the mud. Also, don’t be one of those people “working on your tan” and just go ahead and wear that sunscreen (and sunglasses!) They will have sunscreen stations this year, too. T is for Tip in barbecue fest booths: Barbecue team booths are crazy expensive. If you get a tent invite, the least you can do is toss a $20+ in the jar for the bartender (especially if the drinks are free). U is for Umbrellas not allowed: Wear a poncho or modify a Hefty Bag instead if rain gear is needed. V is for Vendors: Beale Street Music Fest will have vendors of kinds selling festival merch, apparel, accessories, and more, in addition to plenty of food and drink. W is for Water: Dehydration sucks, and it’s easily preventable. Start hydrating a few days before you head to Music Fest or BBQ Competition. During the festivals, a good rule is one bottle of water / big glass of water for every big beer. X is for X-citing to see all those bands: I know I’m cheating with the X on this one, but the point is that the lineup has a lot going on. See the list here. Y is for You’re going to need a break: At some point, you will need a break from the festival. It’s more than ok to leave Tom Lee Park for a little bit and grab a snack (and a seat) at any of the restaurants downtown. You can leave and re-enter the park one time, just be back at least two hours before it shuts down. Z is for Ziploc baggies: Put your phone (and anything else that doesn’t need to come in contact with water) in a Ziploc baggie before you stash it in your pocket or bag. It sounds low tech, but isn’t a bad idea especially if you don’t want to bother with a purse. If you’ve got any other tips, please leave them in the comments. All photos by Joey Miller unless otherwise noted. Are you a home owner in Memphis, with a broken garage door? Call ASAP garage door today at 901-461-0385 or checkout https://ift.tt/1B5z3Pc

https://ilovememphisblog.com/2019/12/abcs-of-memphis-in-may-2018-edition/

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