#but i genuinely thought i was hallucinating when i was asked what the blue police box was called | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sometimesiwriteangst · 4 years

Text

Soul Mates Are Forever - Prologue

(Shortened to SMAF in the tags.)

Written with @scenecipriano!

Overall story contains: torture, kidnapping, violence, abuse, r*pe, u!Remus, u!Remy, u!Virgil, u!Patton. ...two of these get better. Eventually.

Summary: Everyone wants to find their soulmate. Some people put more effort into it.

TW for chapter: Kidnapping, torture, burns, forced marriage, mystery u!character, forced kissing. General yuckiness...

(This is in first person, rest of story is in third.)

It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered. There’s no way around this. I’m stuck, hopelessly, despairingly stuck. I can barely bring myself to lift my head as my captor enters the room. I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this.

“So, dear, are you ready for today? I thought we’d start with something nice and hot, just for you! I have matches, and some irons, and-”

“Please,” I whispers, straining my throat to speak, “please, no...I can’t…”

He sighs deeply, bouncing on the balls of his feet and drumming his fingers against his leg in irritation. My own feet hurt, still sore from the day before, and two of my fingers are broken, bent at unnatural angles.

“Now, sweetheart we’ve been over this! There’s only one way I’ll stop and you begging isn’t one of them. You know what I want to hear my precious star.”

How could I not know? The words were seared into my brain, but before this I couldn’t, no, I wouldn’t say them, but now… Now I have no reason to fight. Nobody was looking for me, not anymore. My heart drops when my captor sighs in boredom striking a match as he does.

“I-I love you! I-I l-love you and I n-need you m-my saviour!”

He stops, I hold my breath in anticipation. A yelp tumbles from my chapped lips as he jerks my head back by my matted dark hair. Manic green eyes bore into my own hollowed dark ones.

“Care to repeat that my dear?” He asks.

“I-I love you… I-I need y-you my saviour.”

Part of me screams that I’m making a mistake, that I need to stop, but I’m tired. So tired of fighting, I just want this hell to be over. A wide grin breaks out against my captor’s face, making him seem even more demented than he actually was.

I close my eyes tight when he crashes his mouth against mine, trying hard to reciprocate the kiss. It only lasts a couple seconds but it still leaves me winded.

“I love you too, my precious star! But my dear that still isn’t enough… We’ll give it another week, now! What would you like me to use first? The matches or the irons?”

Tears slip down my bruised face, I take a shuddering breath, “T-The matches… my saviour.”

I let my head slump as my captor - no, saviour - strikes a new match. Breathing is hard. I want this to be over.

“Are you going to ask nicely?” my saviour asks me.

“...Please, the...the matches, please, my saviour...please…”

I’m pathetic. I know I’m pathetic. I want this to be over. I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll do whatever he says, say whatever he wants. I need this to be over with, and that’s all I care about anymore.

He kisses the burns after it’s over, murmurs that I look beautiful, and that I’ll look even more so on our wedding day.

“Wed...ding…?” I echo softly, my voice seeming louder than it truly is in the otherwise empty room.

“Well of course! I’ll ask you properly in a week's time, but we both know you’ll say yes!”

Part of me wants to argue, to tell him that it would never happen, but I know better. I force a smile, wincing as a cut on my bottom lip splits open from the movement.

“O-Of course… I wouldn’t dream of telling you no my saviour…”

I’m startled awake when the door to the room I’m in swings open, I squint my eyes when a ray of light shines over my face. ‘What’s happening?’ My thoughts were interrupted when a deep and unfamiliar voice spoke from the doorway.

“My God, the kid was right. Get the EMT’s in here! Mr. Sanders, can you hear me?”

My heart leaps into my throat as I shield my eyes from the light, a man in a dark blue police uniform walks over to me. When the officer gets close enough I immediately reach my hand out to touch his chest, a cry of relief leaves my chapped lips when I touch a solid body. ‘Not a hallucination this time.’

I throw myself at the officer and cling to him desperately, my knuckles turning white due to how tight I held onto his uniform shirt. My body trembles from the sobs that leave me, everything was finally over after all this time.

The officer places a comforting hand on my back, softly telling me that it was okay now, that I was safe and that an upstanding citizen led them to me.

My crying left me tired once more, I struggled to keep my eyes open.

“Go on and rest, you’re safe now.”

I feel myself relax and sigh, unconsciously snuggling into the officer’s chest. I close my eyes and allow a genuine smile to come to my face.

‘It’s finally over…’

“Look at how pretty you are… My precious star sleeping so peacefully!”

My eyes snap open and I’m staring face to face with my saviour, his manic green eyes opened wide and rung in purple eyeshadow, something I hadn’t noticed before until now. I open my mouth to scream only for him to place his hand over my mouth, he gives me a knowing smirk and clicks his tongue.

“Now, star, it’s not nice to scream in a hospital, trust me I know I did it once before and got kicked out!”

I glanced around the room, it was much brighter than the room in the abandoned building. A heart monitor and IV stand was to my left, the heart monitor going off erratically due to my fast heartbeat.

“Do you promise not to scream if I move my hand? Because this kind of gagging is not sexy at all!” My saviour exclaims.

I flick my eyes back to him and slowly nod, he removes his hand. We stare at each other in complete silence for several seconds.

“W-Why?..”

“Why are you here? Simple! I couldn’t just waltz into a courthouse with a known kidnapped victim and get married! No, far too suspicious my dear. That’s why I had to save you first. The town sees me as a hero because I saved you!”

I stare at my saviour, waiting for him to say that this was a joke, but it never came.

“Y-You…”

He cut me off by grabbing my left hand, his touch was gentle and foreign.

“Look, star, I know these past two years have been difficult for the both of us, but I was serious about marrying you. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I had to make you love me. And now you do! So… Would you do me the honour of making me the happiest man alive and becoming my husband?”

My stomach drops, he did say he was going to ask me to marry him properly within a week, had it really been a week? And had it really been two years since I was taken? Every part of me screams to say no, to scream for help and tell whoever would listen that this man was the person who took me, but the tight squeeze told me that that would be a bad idea. I swallow thickly and close my eyes tight to stop the tears from falling.

“Y-Yes… I-I’ll marry you, m-my saviour.”

I stand rigid in a judge's chambers, wearing a plain white dress and a bouquet of white lilies clenched tightly in my hands. I zone out most of the ceremony as the officiator went over sacred passages and then my saviours vows. I come to when my name is said.

“Do you Logan Sanders take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?”

‘Say no! Tell them the truth, don’t do this! Protect yourself!!’

“I do…”

Tag List: @samuel-the-gay @alik-gl

#smaf #tw abuse #tw kidnapping #tw torture #tw burns #um #tw forced marriage #tw noncon kiss

45 notes · View notes

singledarkshade · 4 years

Text

New Old Friend

Summary: Rip finds himself in a town full of geniuses. To his surprise he’s already got an ally, which will be helpful, as his shard is in a top-secret research facility’s highest security section. Part Eight of Rip Hunter – Unstuck in Time and Space. Sequel to Unstuck In Time And Place, Under The Sea, A Mother’s Advice, Abydos Vacation, Connections, Perfect Day and Detective Hunter. Author’s Note: I probably shouldn't be posting this yet as I have only a vague idea of the story. I've never written for any of the Eureka characters before so I hope they come across okay. Anyway, hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. Enjoy Part One The smell of wet earth surrounded him as the light faded. Pulling himself up off the ground, Rip looked around. There were trees everywhere and the road he was standing on went on as far as the eye could see in both ways.

“Where the hell am I now?” Rip sighed.

With a grimace he decided to start walking. The one thing he’d learned since he’d began bouncing through dimensions was that he was usually either near the shard or to someone who was.

“Gideon?” he called, waited for a few moments before sighing again and turned to his left.

It was as good a direction as any.

Rip had been walking for about an hour when it began to rain, a few drops hit his hand before a torrent of water suddenly fell from the sky.

“Bollocks,” Rip snapped, moving to shelter under one of the millions of trees and watching the rain fall.

A horn honking made him turn to see a jeep with the words ‘Sheriff’ emblazoned on it drawing up beside him.

“Hi there,” the man leaned out the window, short blond hair, blue eyes, he had what could only be described as an ‘everyman’ quality to him, “Are you lost?”

Rip took a breath, “Possibly.”

“Car trouble?” the man Rip deduced from the uniform to be the Sheriff asked with an amused grin on his face.

Shrugging, Rip replied, “Something like that,” an idea struck him, “I was hoping to get into town and get a tow.”

“Well, I’m heading back now,” the man told him, “I can give you a lift.”

“I would appreciate that,” Rip smiled, and climbed into the passenger seat.

“Jack Carter,” the man introduced himself, “Town Sheriff.”

“Rip Hunter,” he reciprocated, unable to stop himself adding, “Current vagabond and drowned rat.”

Jack laughed and started to drive.

Jack looked at the man sitting beside him, the accent had instantly given away that he wasn’t from these parts. His hair was soaked and plastered to his head, although the long coat he was wearing appeared to have saved the rest of his clothes from the worst of the rain.

“There’s a clean towel in the gym bag on the back seat,” Jack told him, “If you want to dry off.”

“Thank you,” Rip replied sincerely turning and stretching for the bag.

Jack studied him for a moment before asking, “So what is your specialist subject?”

“Sorry?” Rip asked as he dried his hair.

Jack chuckled, “What do you have your Doctorate or PhD in? Mathematics of the Mind? Gene Manipulator? I’ll even pretend to understand.”

The man looked at him a little confused before replying hesitantly, “I work with Artificial Intelligence.”

“Sounds fun,” Jack said, “My house has an AI.”

“Really?”

Jack nodded, “Are they all bossy?”

Rip smiled softly, “The ones I know definitely are.”

Reaching the edge of town Jack watched Rip look of interest. He remembered the first time he walked into the insane asylum he now called home, how it had seemed so normal at first but then he saw the weirdness.

“You get used to it,” Jack told his passenger who was staring in bemusement at the people they passed.

Rip stared out the window at the perfect small town he was being driven through, something was niggling at his brain about it and finally he saw what it was. A kid on the pavement was writing a complex mathematical equation in chalk, while another sat on the ground surrounded by books of advanced biochemistry. Jack’s question about what degree he held made some actual sense now and Rip began to wonder even more where he was.

Jack turned onto what looked like a main street and parked in front of the Sheriff’s station.

“Thank you for your help, Sheriff,” Rip said as he climbed out the car, “I appreciate it.”

“It’s Jack and you can pay me back,” Jack told him, “I have some boxes I need to unload from the trunk. I could use some help. I can offer some coffee and donuts. You look like you need to heat up a bit.”

Rip hesitated, trying to work out if he should just run but Jack seemed genuine and he did owe the man.

“Of course,” Rip smiled.

“Thanks,” Jack opened the trunk, “They dumped the swap meet collection on me, well I sort of volunteered,” he pulled out a box and passed it to Rip before grabbing one for himself, “No one mentioned it would mean doing so much heavy lifting.”

Following the other man inside, Rip tensed slightly as he was now in a police station. Looking around he saw the cell and worked out three ways to release himself from it there and then.

“Henry,” Jack said making Rip turn to see a man standing waiting, “What are you doing here?”

The man, Henry, grinned, “I’m here for Rip.”

Ice filled Rip’s spine and he forced himself not to demand how the man knew who he was.

“You know Henry?” Jack asked before rolling his eyes, “Of course, getting a tow.”

“Dr Hunter is joining us for a few days to help me with a project,” Henry continued, as Rip became more confused, “All his credentials should be in the system.”

Jack sat at his computer, typing with the one finger technique which drove Rip crazy instantly, “You should have told me you were here to work for GD.”

“He’s not really,” Henry said before Rip could reply.

Jack shrugged, “As long as you don’t blow anything up or accidentally nearly end the world, I’m happy to have you in town.”

Rip chuckled, still confused but replied, “Thanks, Jack. And thanks for the ride into town.”

Henry tapped his arm, “Let’s go get some lunch and then I’ll take you to where you’ll be staying for the next few days.”

Rip walked out the Sheriff’s station with the man introduced as Henry, waiting till they were on the street before demanding, “What the hell is going on? How do you know who I am?”

“Let’s get to Café Diem first,” Henry murmured as he nodded to people greeting him, “I’ll explain once we’re there.”

Unable to argue as Henry started across the road, Rip followed. He wished Gideon were here for her opinion. Wondering if she just hadn’t found him yet or if she was busy with the Legends and hoped whatever she was doing, she appeared soon.

The café was cheerful, it only had about half a dozen people dotted around the dining area but from the smell of the food it would fill soon.

“Henry,” a man who Rip assumed was the manager walked over to them, “What can I get you?”

“Need to use one of the booths, Vincent,” Henry said, “And lunch.”

Vincent’s eyes lit up, “Something important happening?”

Henry laughed, “Just catching up with an old friend. Rip,” he introduced, “This is Vincent, he runs Café Diem.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rip nodded politely before asking.

“And you. Whatever you want to eat just tell me,” Vincent told him with a smile, “Our motto is, ‘You want it, we’ve got it’.”

Rip smiled amused, “Give me a few minutes and I’ll let you know.”

“Booths are just back there,” Vincent smiled before leaving them to talk to someone else.

Following Henry, Rip slid into the booth across from him in the very back corner.

“Who are you?” Rip demanded softly, “And how do you know who I am?”

Henry reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, “My name is Henry Deacon and I know who you are because you told me, the last time we met.”

“The last time we met?”

Sliding the piece of paper across to him Henry smiled, “This might help.”

Picking up the paper, Rip unfolded it and read the note.

You can trust Henry, Spaniel, Broad, Tricycle. Rip.

“I wrote the note,” Rip breathed.

Henry nodded, “About six years ago. For me anyway,” he shrugged, “I don’t know how long it will be for you.”

Rip let out a sigh of relief, “Then you know who I am?”

“And what can I get you gentlemen?” Vincent appeared at their table before Henry could explain any further.

“I’ll have the linguini,” Henry ordered, “And my usual coffee.”

“And you?” Vincent turned to Rip adding when Rip hesitated, “Whatever you want I can make. What’s your favourite meal?”

Rip shook his head with a chuckle, “One of my favourite meals is Fish and Chips.”

Vincent laughed, “And I thought you were going to make things difficult. What about a drink.”

“Tea please,” Rip replied, “With lemon. And yes, I know I’m reinforcing a stereotype with both orders.”

With a smile Vincent left them alone again. Henry waited until he was sure the other man was far enough away.

“Is Gideon with you?” Henry asked, seeing the same shocked expression Rip had worn several times since they’d met up.

“Ah, not at the moment.”

He grimaced, “Well, let me know when she does appear. I have something I want her to advise on.”

“Wait,” Rip rubbed his temple, “You need to tell me what’s going on because I am very confused.”

Henry chuckled, “About six years ago for me, and some indeterminate time in your future, I was working at Nasa and a bright light filled the lab I was working in. When it faded, you were there. It was three in the morning, so I did think I was hallucinating, but you knew who I was and told me we would meet again in Eureka.”

Rip frowned but remained silent.

“The thing was I had literally just received the offer to come here that morning,” Henry explained.

“And that is why you trusted me?” Rip asked.

Henry shook his head, “I trusted you because you told me something specific that I told you to tell me.”

Before Rip could ask Vincent reappeared with their meals.

“For Henry, the chicken and mushroom linguini,” Vincent slid the plate in front of him before turning to Rip, “And for you, beer battered cod with twice cooked chips, freshly shelled garden peas, blanched with a small knob of butter.”

“Wow,” Rip said surprised, “That sounds…fantastic.”

“And since I had some batter left,” Vincent placed a small bowl on the table, “I made you onion rings as well.”

Rip nodded at the chef, “Thank you.”

“Enjoy,” Vincent bustled away.

Henry smiled, “We can talk more once we’ve eaten. I’m guessing it’s been a while since you’ve had something.”

Gratefully Rip turned to the plate in front of him and began to eat.

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

Alison Blake knew today had been too quiet as she marched through the corridors of GD Section 5 to Lab 53 where Nathan was standing waiting for her.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded.

Nathan grimaced, “Not sure if wrong is the word for it.”

“Nathan, you called me down here urgently,” Alison reminded him testily, “Why, Dr Stark?”

He grimaced at the use of his title instead of his name before opening the door to the lab. He stepped out the way so she could see in, “To show you this.”

Alison looked in and gaped seeing a strangely shaped object stuck in the centre of the floor, a soft golden glow emanating from it.

“What is that?” she breathed.

Nathan sighed, “I’ve no idea but the energy it’s giving off is immense.”

“And considering the last time we encountered an unknown object giving off a massive amount of energy,” Alison grimaced.

“Then this could be trouble.”

#fic #crossover #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon #eureka #henry deacon #jack carter

5 notes · View notes

hellzyeahwebwieldingreviews · 4 years

Text

Untold Tales of Spider-Man 15: The Stalking of John Doe – by Adam-Troy Castro

A pretty good story but...

“In Manhattan, stormy nights are crazy nights.” Dr. Gwendolyn Harris is “working the second half of a fifteen-hour shift at the Emergency Psychiatric Unit of the Midtown Hospital and she’d seen more business in the past three hours than she’d expected to see all day.” The cops bring in a number of crazies including “the ranting little man who’d attempted to smuggle a gun into a Rick Jones concert, in what was an apparent attempt to become the next Mark David Chapman.” (You may recall that Rick Jones, former companion to the Hulk, Captain America, and Captain Marvel, was, at one point, a big deal rock star. If you don’t recall, Adam-Troy certainly does. Mark David Chapman, of course, is the man who killed John Lennon.) Shortly before nine PM, Bill The Security Guard motions Gwen over and tells her, “Cops just called. They’re bringing in another John Doe. One they say they don’t recommend placing in the general ward.” He elaborates, “he’s totally out of his head, strong as a moose, and…it took more than a dozen cops working tag-teams to wrestle him into a pair of straitjackets.”The police bring in the John Doe, “a wiry Caucasian male in his twenties, with short-cropped brown hair and eyes that could have been inviting were they not crazed…wearing nothing but a sodden pair of blue tights,” and it takes five of them to contain him.

Suddenly, the John Doe goes berserk, yelling, “He’s after me, he’ll track me down, it’s what he does, it’s what he knows, he’ll find my trail and get me,” and the cops are about to lose control of him when Gwen steps in to calm her patient down. The John Doe looks at her and calls her “Gwendy,” which takes Gwen by surprise. However, when he says, “You can’t be Gwendy. The Goblin killed Gwendy. I saw him kill Gwendy,” she knows he isn’t referring to her. Finally “John” tells her, “the Hunter, that dart he shot me with, it’s some kind of rare psychoactive snake venom derivative, making all the nightmares come back, I’m f-fighting it but…I can’t seem to focus my thoughts…is it really you, Gwendy? Please tell me it’s really you.” Gwen lies, saying, “It’s me,” and the John Doe kisses her wrist and begins to cry.After “John” is strapped on a bed in a “padded isolation cell,” police Sergeant Monaghan tells Gwen that her patient was rambling on about “lizards, vultures, tarantulas, pumas, cobras, rhinos, black cats, octopuses.”

He reports that the “psycho came out of that alley stripped to the waist, wired like all the crackheads you ever saw, screaming about the monsters. Attacked a whole bunch of folks lined up at the Cineplex, calling ‘em murderers and villains, tossing ‘em side to side like it was bowling night or something. Even jumped a poor far guy, calling him the Kingpin. When Stanley and I showed up, he almost tore us to pieces.” Stanley, one of the other cops, disagrees, saying, “He’s hallucinating, sure, and from the way he goes on, he sees enemies everywhere he looks, but even with his strength, even in a state of panic, he’s managed to resist doing anybody any serious harm…For what it’s worth, I think he’s telling the truth. I think he was dosed with something.”

The cops leave and Gwen prepares to examine her patient but she asks Gordy and Flack, two beefy security guards, to stand by.She finds John Doe muttering about Mary Jane, monsters, Felicia and the Hunter.” “[T]here was something about the way John Doe presented it, something about the conviction behind his words, that hit all three of them (Gwen, Gordy, Flack) at the base of the spine.” “John” again recognizes Dr. Harris as “Gwendy” and she tells him she needs to take a blood sample. “I wouldn’t even be in this mess if not for my blood!” he says, “That spider, messing up my life – take it all, why don’t you?...Call Morbius and have yourselves a kegger!” She takes the blood and his vital signs. He starts to tell her his name but changes his mind. When Flack tells him he’s safe from the Hunter, “John” laughs, “You don’t know what he is. He’s coming. And you won’t even slow him down.” Gwen takes the blood sample to Willie the lab tech to be analyzed for “alcohol, crack, PCP, all the other usual psychoactive agents – and one other thing. Snake venom.”As the night goes on, the weather gets nastier with destructive winds and flooding. Gwen is overwhelmed by psych cases entering the emergency room even as “the cops were besieged by screwball reports of a half-man, half-lion spotted on the rooftops.”

At last she gets the lab report on “John’s” blood. Negative for everything except snake venom. But also, Willie adds, “positive for another factor, that had screwed up all the tests until he compensated for it; a factor that was like nothing else he’d ever seen.” The blood is also “superoxygenated.” Gwen returns to the padded cell and finds “John” sitting up on the bed, having gotten out of his restraints. Instinctively, she enters without Gordy and Flack. She finds “John” more coherent but still crazed. He recognizes that she isn’t his Gwendy but also rambles on about the hunter, revealing that he was jumped and dosed and then fled to an alley where he removed his mask. Howling, “Oh, my God! My face! My face! You can see my face!” he covers it with his hands. Gwen tells him, “I don’t care who you are…I don’t care what you look like. I just want to help you.” Realizing, “the Hunter’s coming,” “John” gets up and opens the locked reinforced door “with one annoyed tug,” taking a “fairly large piece of wall” with it. He runs smack into Gordy and Flack but they are unable to stop him. Unexpectedly, however, “John” turns rather than flees, and “made an odd gesture with both hands: hands out, middle two fingers of each curled inward to tap the palm…He seemed genuinely astonished when nothing happened.”

This allows Gordy and Flack to tackle him. A third orderly joins them. “John” is still on the verge of getting away when Gwen yells “Stop!” and he does. Again warning her that “the Hunter’s coming,” he faints.This time, they restrain “John” with every device that they have. Gordy and Flack stand guard duty outside. Gwen worries that “John” may be speaking the truth. She knows, “if it weren’t possible to get reasonable people to believe the rantings of the insane, then a fair percentage of cult leaders and politicians would have been out of work.” But even knowing that, “she couldn’t stop thinking about the Hunter.” Later, she asks the lab tech if the John Doe could be “a paranormal.” “You mean like the Thing?” he says, “Or Captain America? Or one of those guys?” then follows with, “If he was a mutant…you’d need DNA tests for a definitive diagnosis If he was paranormal in some other nonphysical way, there’s usually not much you can do to tell.” This conversation is interrupted when Bill the Security Guard tells them, “Some crazy off the street” has entered the hospital. “Tall, muscular guy, Russian accent, wearing leopard-skin tights and a skinned lion’s head for a vest, if you can believe that…He said he was the hunter and said he’d go wherever he chose to go.

The cops who tried to detain him for questioning are now being worked on in the emergency room. So’s some poor guy in the elevator who gave him a lecture about the evils of wearing fur.” Gwen knows the Hunter has arrived. She has Bill barricade the door to the Psych Unit and tells him to prepare to shoot anyone who enters. From his cell, the John Doe starts screaming and pounding on the door, without anyone telling him about the oncoming danger. Gwen sends Gordy and Flack to help Bill. Then she hears “John” ripping the padding off the walls, in order to eliminate its blow-suffusing effects. Gwen, who knows “John” is her only hope, wishes they hadn’t assisted in weakening him. Soon after, “John” tears the door away and, weak and feverish, he confronts Gwen. He tells her he needs gauze to conceal his face from the Hunter. “His eyes were wide, pleading…and sane.” Gwen acts without hesitation, helping him to the supply room where she wraps his head. Then the Hunter arrives.“John” goes out to face him and Gwen follows soon after.

There she experiences the full force and power of the Hunter. “It would have been impossible for any living thing to look at this man and not consider itself his natural prey.” She notices that Bill, Gordy, and Flack have already been disposed of and she sees “John” “facing the Hunter in a position midway between a crouch and the confrontational stance of a boxer.” The Hunter carries “curved jaguar tusks…both dripping with something black and foul.” He lunges forward at “John” and the battle continues, their movements impossibly fast. “Then they sped up, moving with such superhuman speed that Dr. Harris found herself unable to follow it all.” After a protracted battle, the Hunter gets “John” into position for a killing blow. But Gordy “charged across the room and piled into the Hunter with every ounce of his three hundred pound musculature. Gordy had been a star quarterback in college. He’d almost made it to the pros. He didn’t even budge the Hunter.” But he does distract the Hunter long enough for “John” to disappear.Gwen feels herself lifted off the ground, “up near the ceiling…and she found herself flying back down the corridor.” She soon realizes that “John” is carrying her as he runs along the ceiling. “John” tosses her into the storage room. She sees the Hunter pass by the room and hears him catch up with “John.” She can tell that “John” has lost.

She grabs some items from the supply room and follows, only to find the Hunter “holding John Doe off the floor by his neck.” Since “one of the first things she’d ever learned was that with great power comes great responsibility,” Gwen plunges two hypos full of Thorazine into the Hunter’s neck. The Hunter knocks her across the room and growls, “Stupid woman! When I’m done with him, I’ll break..your…neck!” “John,” who still thinks of Gwen on some level as his Gwendy reacts to this. “No! Not again!” he yells and becomes an “engine of destruction.” “A new expression entered the Hunter’s eyes. Helplessness. Terror.” And eventually, the Hunter flees. “John” stops to ask Gwen if she is all right, then he follows the Hunter.In the aftermath, Gwen asks for and gets the day shift. “The fingerprints and photographs taken of the perpetrator known as John Doe quickly disappeared from the filing room at the precinct house where he’d been booked – a locked room three stories up, with a single window that did not happen to be equipped with a fire escape.” Two weeks later, Gwen finds a dozen red roses in a vase on her desk with a note taped to it.

The note reads in part, “It was one of the worst nights of my life, which is saying a lot. I’ve had some bad ones, Doctor; you’ll never know how bad. But this was one of the worst. And you were there for me. You kept me hanging on even when there was nothing to hang on to. And though part of it was your accidental resemblance to a friend long dead and gone, even that wouldn’t have been enough if not for your strength, your courage, and your compassion…Thank you.” Gwen sniffs the flowers and a spider moves from the vase to the back of her hand. “As she studied it, the little thing froze in indecision, unsure which way to run. Tsking with sympathy, she took it to a window and set it free.”

If taken wholly in isolation this wouldn’t be all that terrible. it sort o combines two typical types of super hero stories.

a) the ‘everything you believe has been a product of delusion’

And

b) the hero is locked up in an asylum

In the ways the story works it works due to ‘Gwen’ being the POV character.

But that’s also it’s weakness. I find it a little difficult to believe that a NYC resident like Dr. Harris would honestly not deduce that ‘John Doe’ is Spider-Man. Part of that is her and the other staff dismissing ‘John’ mentioning his rogue’s gallery. Surely the Goblin’s implication in Gwen’s death and ‘John’s super human strength would be enough to put two and two together.

Additionally ending the anthology with a focus upon a random new character we will never see again is kind of...well lame. In theory this could have worked as a third party observer might’ve put some grander perspective upon who Spider-Man is and what he represents.

But since Peter isn’t exactly ‘sober’ in this story it winds up being about Gwen’s gradual discovery of who her patient really is.

And it executes that well but I’m just questioning the point of it. I suppose it makes for a nice full stop for the anthology because it manages to be touches upon Spidey’s broader history. But then again...there is a particular emphasis upon Gwen.*

Again in isolation this sort of makes sense (though much moreso if this was set shortly after her death) but within the context of the anthology it’s retreading old ground. And ground trodden better before I might add (Deadly Force utilized Gwen’s death far more effectively).

Perhaps the most egregious point about the story is that it’s placed in a weird place in the book. The entire anthology is intended to move along Spidey’s timeline but this story must obviously be set before Kraven’s Last Hunt and yet the prior story must’ve been set way later than that. Essentially this should’ve been the penultimate story and the prior yarn the actual final one.

But I suspect the editors recognized that this was the much stronger story and ultimately a more fitting tale to end the anthology on.

Other than that I have little to say about this story beyond

a) The narrator finally delivered a decent performance as Spider-Man, chiefly because Peter wasn’t in his right mind and therefore wouldn’t sound himself anyway.

b) Kraven was done pretty well, in that he was scary and intimidating.

c) Maybe this story prompted Castro’s eventual Sinister Six trilogy

d) For a story called ‘Untold Tales of Spider-Man’ this story doesn’t really take advantage of the concept. This story could’ve happened at almost any time after Peter had met Felicia and before Kraven’s death and it doesn’t really explore anything new. Even the prior story had Jonah react to Alstair’s Smythe’s new body and saw him teaming up with Gargan.

Over all...it’s not a BAD story by any means but I think there are much stronger entries.

As for the anthology as a whole, it’s a mixed bag but that’s to be expected. Anthologies are rarely anything but mixed bags.

But as anthologies go I have to admit this one was superior to Ultimate Spider-Man, albeit none of the stories in this book top the best material from the USM anthology.

*That makes 3 and a half stories that emphasis Gwen and like half a story that emphasises MJ. That kinda sucks.

#Adam-Troy Castro #spider-man #Untold Tales Of Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Gwen Stacy #Kraven the Hunter #sergei kravinoff

4 notes · View notes

seriouslyhooked · 4 years

Text

You Look Good (A CS NYE story)

A/N: Hi everyone! I just want to start by wishing you all a happy New Year! This story is actually one I have been working on for a while, and I had stalled out with writing it. A long long time ago a reader asked for ‘You Look Good’ by Lady Antebellum and I love the song but just couldn’t get inspired, and then today I realized a good way to engage with this song was through also engaging with the holiday. So, this is a CS AU oneshot where Emma and Killian are both on holiday get aways in paradise with their friends. They happen to see each other from afar and… well, you’ll just have to read it to see how it goes. Thank you all for reading and thanks to the very patient reader who suggested this song!

“Now this, right here, is the life.”

The words from his friend Will should have been grating, especially since the rest of the men on this boat were all actually pulling their weight this afternoon on the water while Will was lounging about. But still, Killian couldn’t help but agree.

Being out here on the sea was infinitely better than life in the city, especially in the dead of winter when New York was 25 degrees and covered in ice. There the air was frigid and sharp, and here it was clean, crisp, and glorious. The sunlight that had been gone from the north for so long was out in full force here, and the sand and the waves underneath a clear blue sky were the perfect remedy to anyone’s winter woes.

Even with the frozen temps, at home everything was driven by competition and hectic chaos. Business in New York was cutthroat, something he’d learned as the CEO of his own business. There were no breaks. If you wanted to be a success you worked like a dog and you never slowed down, but out here there was a gentler pace of living that held no less purpose even in its quiet calm. It was easy to get caught up in how much more vibrant the world seemed out in these kinds of open coastal spaces, and how much more possibility floated about in the air out here, but soon enough they’d all head back to reality. That was just the way things were. No matter how much he and his friends may enjoy their annual holiday trip to the tropics, they always returned home, waiting and wishing for the next year to end and call them back again.

This trip was a tradition for the four of them, starting way back when Will, David, Graham and Killian had met in college. David had a friend of a friend of a friend who had a place on a sunny island where summer lasted all year long and the rest was history. Things had radically changed since those good old days, what with all of them having time consuming careers and various responsibilities, but the peace they all found out here on the ocean had never waned. This was a critical time of respite for the lot of them, what with Graham taking time off from his police work, Will leaving the run of his bar to his staff, and David leaving the hospital to the care of other residents. But Killian couldn’t help feeling that each year they were getting closer to the loss of this tradition, or at least a substantial change in the way it came about.

It was only a matter of time before his friends started settling down, and when that day came it was unlikely that their girlfriends or wives would embrace a weeks-long guy’s trip especially during Christmas and New Years. It would no longer be realistic to put their lives on hold for such a long stretch, and Killian understood that. For his part, he would actually welcome such an addition to his life, a woman who would miss him too much to want to be apart at this time of year, but he had to be realistic. So far experience had shown him that finding such a match and meeting a woman who he could truly see forever with was a long shot. It would take a miraculous woman to truly speak to his heart, and only that kind of love would entice him into marriage and the whole happily ever after thing.

“You’ve got that look again, Killian,” David joked and Killian raised his gaze to his best mate who looked smug and all-knowing.

“I haven’t got a look,” Killian responded, prompting David and Graham to laugh.

“Sure you do,” Graham quipped. “The dreamy, brooding one. That one women eat up because they think you’re grappling with the universe’s big questions.”

“Maybe I am,” Killian quipped and after a moment they all laughed.

“Nah you’re just worrying,” David explained. “You’re thinking that this might be our last run out here, and you’re probably right, at least the way we do things now.”

“He’s right?!” Will asked, his genuine concern manifesting as a shriek. It was like a banshee, and the harsh tone was so shrill Killian winced.

“Well, yeah. Next year’s gonna be different. I don’t know about you all, but I’m finding my girl. I’ve got it all planned.”

“You’ve planned it out?” Graham asked with a smirk. “And how exactly did you do that, Doctor Nolan?”

“That’s for me to know and her to find out.”

David’s adamant refusal to elaborate prompted some more ribbing from the others, but it only reminded Killian about how sure and true his instincts were. He sensed that this tide was shifting, and he believed David was right. Not about the having a plan to find the woman of one’s dreams– that was bull shit. There was no way one could plan to find a love strong enough to build a life around. But when he said this year was going to be different, Killian found he genuinely hoped that would be true and that hope carried him through the rest of their afternoon out on the water.

By the time they pulled back into port, docking their sailboat in the marina they’d come to know well, Killian was no closer to answers about what he wanted and when it might come. He tried to take solace in the beauty that was the sky at this time of day, with sunset silhouettes dancing, painting lazy, wayward clouds that hung over this seaside place. The shades of pink and orange and gold could never be recreated back home, but while he appreciated the sight, it did nothing to truly calm him. He was restless still, but he supposed that was normal for the last day of the year, and the final few hours before a brand new start. People had a tendency to get antsy in these final moments, and even in paradise it seemed that was to be his fate.

“Well lads, it’s time for the age-old question – Captain Jack’s or Odie’s Place for New Year’s this evening?”

No one answered Will’s eager question as they got into the jeep they’d rented for the two weeks, and that was likely because they didn’t care. Either place would suit their purposes. They wanted a decent meal and a few drinks to get them through to the new year. Other than that, there was little consideration to be had.

“All right then, driver’s choice,” Will responded, hopping into the vehicle and hardly waiting for any of them to do the same before he tore off onto the main road and raced towards their vacation villa.

Absentmindedly Killian watched the scenery around them, noticing the way the docks gave way to the bustling town beside it. The island was particularly busy this year, a sign that perhaps their secret haven might not be so secret after all. Years ago it felt like they were the only foreigners here this time of year, but alas it seemed to be a new and wide-spread trend. Some people were here with families, others on trips that mirrored theirs, but none of these people really mattered to Killian. At least until…

The first thing he noticed about her was her golden hair, which reflected the iridescent light of the year’s last sunset in an almost ethereal way. It was pulled back, likely from hours spent at the beach, but soft and wavy tendrils hung loose, shielding parts of a face so stunning it made Killian’s heart skip a beat and then another. In the three seconds that they were passing her, Killian swore he took in every little detail of this woman – nay, this vision – memorizing her like she was the answer to his every prayer. Her lithe form, her perfect face, the way the smile she was wearing met her eyes and the essence around her that was light and happy. She was an angel dressed in a yellow sun dress, an impossibly gorgeous woman the likes of which he’d never seen, and in an instant he knew that he’d regret every moment he lived from this point on if he didn’t get a chance to know her.

“Stop the car!” Killian yelled as he finally got his wits about him. His eyes stayed on her as Will braked a bit but kept driving.

“What the fuck -?”

“Pull the car over, Will. Now!”

David’s intensity matched Killian’s and if he were able to think of anything outside this girl Killian would wonder why his friend was so animated too, but as the car slowed down, Killian hopped out of the side, and raced back down the street. She was only a little while back, but this place was packed with people and there were hotels and storefronts all around. She could be anywhere, and the realization that she was lost to him damn near gutted the sense of hope he’d suddenly found.

“What the hell is up with you two?” Graham asked, appearing beside Killian and Killian shook his head.

“I thought I saw her,” Killian confessed and he continued to look out through the stream of people, but she didn’t reappear.

“Saw who?”

“The one.”

“The one?” Graham scoffed. “Wait are you serious right now? This isn’t just some sort of sun-induced hallucination?”

“I don’t know,” Killian whispered, fear clinging to him that maybe that’s what she was. Surely now that he thought of it no one could be so perfect or call to him so quickly. Maybe Graham was right? But then he saw her again, this time across the square from where he was. He started moving towards her, and as if she could feel his attention she stopped, looking at him and halting him in his tracks. God she was incredible. She was stunning and remarkable and every other good thing and when he saw her he forgot to breathe. All he could do was stare and enjoy the rush of adrenaline that came in realizing she was doing the same. She was caught too, snared in by this connection between them, whatever it may be.

“That’s her!” David said and Killian looked over, suddenly feeling very territorial and jealous. It didn’t matter that this was his best friend. This woman was off limits. She would be his, at least he hoped. God did he hope.

“Back off David.”

“Not the blonde, dumb ass, her friend.”

Cursing from David? Wow he must be just as caught up as Killian, and when Killian looked back over to the woman who captivated him he saw she had a girl beside her. She was brunette and petite, with a blue dress and the same beach-ready look, but she didn’t hold a candle to his girl.

“Aw shit, not now,” David groaned and Killian looked to see what he meant. Fuck! The end of year festival was happening, and now a sea of people were swarming in, dancing away the bad of this year and ringing in the new one. It was, admittedly, a very cool ceremony, but only when one wasn’t trying to meet the girl of their dreams. Instead the dancing and the noise made Killian agitated, but he couldn’t get around it, and by the time it was all over and they were free to move again, both women were gone and Killian was left feeling stunned and defeated.

“They can’t have gone far,” David said, scoping out the area but there was no sign of them. Eventually they changed tactics, with Graham questioning a vendor selling flowers down below. Killian listened as his friend asked questions about the girls but to no avail and so Killian did the same at other markets and shops. It was crazy, but finally one woman selling bracelets by the beach drive said she’d seen them.

“They came to look at my wears. Fancied a few pieces too, but said they forgot their wallets back at their hotel. They promised to come back tomorrow and get them. Said it would be their last day at the beach. Usually I don’t believe tourists when they say these things, but they had such honest eyes. Good things come to people like that.”

“Did they mention which hotel?” David asked, sidestepping the woman’s local superstitions about ‘honest eyes,’ and the woman shook her head.

“Nah, love. They did say they had to get back to the north side of the island though and there’s not many places out there. They likely at the resort.”

“Which ones did she like?” Killian asked, surprising the woman. Slowly a smile of understanding crossed the woman’s face and she gestured to a woven bracelet with a golden hue and a swan charm. It was unique, even in an array of one of a kind bracelets. “I’ll take it.”

“And I’ll take whatever else they looked at.”

It was a small consolation in all of this, and again, it defied rational explanation. This was somewhat crazy on both Killian and David’s parts, but hell if he could stop it. He wanted to have a piece of her with him, even if it was something she’d never gotten a chance to have. It felt a bit better to have this tiny trinket, and it was even more miraculous to know that tomorrow they’d be at the beach and were planning to come back here.

“So that’s that then. We’ll just be sure to get out here early tomorrow.”

Graham said the words, convinced that everything was now all set, but still Killian felt restless. Tomorrow was better than nothing. He’d been afraid he’d never see her again only a few moments ago, but he also hated the idea of waiting. Now that he’d seen her and he knew she was out there, Killian was eager to meet this woman who entranced him. She had him under her spell and she’d never so much as said a word to him.

“Captain Jack’s,” David said to Will, confusing their friend in the process. “You asked which bar and it’s Captain Jack’s.”

“If you say so, mate,” Will said as they all filed back into the car.

“It’s on the north side of the island,” David said to Killian and Killian agreed it was the best place. It wasn’t a surefire plan, what with the resort being an all inclusive, and them not being one hundred percent certain they were even there, but it made Killian feel better. Upping his chances of finding this girl was all he could ask for and they were doing just that by going north.

The next few hours passed with painful slowness, and by the time they got to the bar Killian was a bit of a wreck. It didn’t help matters that all of this was uncertain. She might not come, she might not like him, hell she might already have someone. That last though in particular scared him half to death, but he had to believe that his instinctive reaction meant something. He’d never felt this way, losing himself at first sight like this. It would be the cruelest trick of fate if she was taken, and if she could never feel the same… God he hated to even think how much that would hurt.

“I feel like my hearts going to give out any second,” David said standing next to him and casing the place with the same intensity. “I know it’s crazy but… she’s just gotta be here, man. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.”

Killian completely understood, and he was going to try and say some words of encouragement, however half-assed they would be but then something caught David’s eye and his friend’s whole demeanor changed. The excitement that pulsed off of him and the adoration told Killian that she was back and his own heart leapt at the prospect. If her friend was here, surely the girl he wanted was here too, right? But when he looked he only saw three brunettes, and the girl of his dreams was nowhere to be seen. This was upsetting in the extreme, but he waited patiently, knowing at the very least David’s girl could tell her where she was.

Funnily enough, the girl who had caught David’s notice was staring at him with almost the same level of intensity. She gazed at him for longer than strangers should, and then she blushed, and that was all it took for David to start moving towards her. Killian followed, noticing the other two women as he did.

“You think he’s the guy?” one of them whispered. “The one from the festival?”

“Oh totally. Look at her, she’s losing it. I just wish Emma was here to see it. Maybe she’d find her guy too.”

Emma – that must be his siren’s name. He heard it and it just clicked inside of his very being, like it belonged with him all this time. He wanted to say it aloud over and over again, to say it in the heat of passion when he’d kissed her senseless or driven her wild with need. But more than that he wanted to see her again.

“Where is she?” he asked, killing David’s attempt at a smooth first greeting and not giving a damn. “Emma, your friend. She was with you at the beach today.”

“Yes, she was,” David’s girl said. “She’s outside. She said she needed some air.”

Completely neglecting his manners Killian rushed off with only a quick, ‘thanks.’ Outside was a loose description of where she could be. At the front of the bar there were people milling around, but his feet took him to the coast, the place where he would go if he needed space. Out here in the darkness there were yellow lanterns and twinkle lights set up, and the pale glow of the moon, but none of it was needed. For there, with her feet in the waves and her hair whipping in the gentle breeze was his woman, radiating her own kind of light that could never be replicated.

Killian stood rooted to the spot, watching her, for longer than he could really know. Any real coherent thought fled the moment he saw her again. Well, the shape of her really, for in the dark, and from the back like this she was a silhouette, dancing at the shoreline, feet bare and hair flowing in the night’s breeze. Killian didn’t know if the music she swayed to was something she could hear from inside the bar or a melody from her head, but either way he stood transfixed, stunned by not only how beautifully she moved, but how freely she expressed herself. This moment was a snapshot into this woman’s very soul, and it was a happy one, a carefree one that didn’t give a damn about the noise or the buzzing all around them. This girl, Emma, just… was, and Killian couldn’t help moving closer, craving the chance to see this siren’s face.

“Come here often, love?” He asked, his voice carrying across the evening air, the slightest tremble discernable in his tone. Emma, for her part, didn’t even flinch, just shook her head without looking at him, as if he and his question were an afterthought.

“Definitely not as often as you use that line,” she quipped, and he couldn’t help himself. He laughed at her boldness, and he knew she was right. It was a line, but damn if he could come up with anything original. She stole the air from his lungs and the sense from his mind. He was lucky to have uttered anything at all.

“Forgive me, that was bad. Let me try again. Are you interested in a partner, or is this more a solo escapade you’ve got going here?”

Now Emma whipped her head towards him, and whatever he’d felt for her before ramped infinitely. She was a beautiful woman from any distance, but up close that was even more undeniable. Her soft, full lips tormented him because all he wanted was to claim them and see them swollen from his kisses, and the smattering of freckles on her skin spoke to lots of time out here in the sun. Her hair was hanging lose now, curled and silky, tempting his fingers which craved the change to run through it, and the dress she wore now was red and fiery, a complete transformation from the pale, pure yellow of this afternoon. He caught her scent on the air, a hint of lavender and something else he couldn’t place, but her eyes did the most damage, striking him with a blow of recognition and interest he never could have expected.

“It’s you.”

“Aye, love, it’s me.”

“Sorry about before. A couple of guys have come up to me and some of them forget that no means no.”

“Someone was bothering you?” Killian asked, his anger rising as he looked around for signs of dead men walking. Who would dare to bother his Emma? Oh shit, now he was really losing it, thinking of her as his when they’d barely even met. Only the gentle touch of her hand on his arm could pull him back.

“It’s okay, I can handle myself. I’ve been doing it all my life.”

He hated to think that she had to be her own defender, when she should be protected and provided for in every way she wished, but he loved the feel of her hand on him. Even when she removed it, realizing she’d touched him and pulling back with a little bit of embarrassment, he could feel her branded on his skin. And he liked it A lot.

“But how did you find me?” she asked, letting her happiness at seeing him slip when she probably didn’t mean to. “I mean, I saw you earlier, in town, but I thought you were gone…”

He reached out for her hand and she let him take it, creating a rush of pleasure as they made contact again. It emboldened Killian, and it made him feel more alive than anything else ever had. “I tried to find you earlier, but in the craziness I lost you. I admit I thought you might have been a dream. It was hard for me to imagine you could even be real.”

“But now you’re here. How?”

“Fate, destiny, and perhaps a little help from a local vendor.”

Emma’s eyes shone with wonder and he heard her gasp as he pulled the bracelet he procured earlier and presented it to her. “For you, love.”

“I don’t usually take gifts from strangers,” Emma said as he tied the strands of the trinket together, sealing it around her wrist. He smiled at the fact that he hadn’t introduced himself yet. He was forgetting himself, but thankfully, Emma didn’t seem to mind too much.

“My name’s Killian. Killian Jones. And you are?”

“Emma. Emma Swan.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma,” he said, meaning it more than he’d ever meant anything before.

“Yeah, you too,” she said and Killian’s chest swelled with pride. He was still holding onto her, his thumb running against the underside of her wrist as he felt her delicate skin. Her pulse beneath him was rapid, matching the beat of his own, and when he looked back up to her, her eyes were on his lips, torn between hunger, intrigue, and still a little bit of wariness. He wanted to kiss that worry she had away, to show her there would be no reason for fear, not where he was involved, but that might be taking things too fast. He needed something, anything, to show her he could be trusted or to give him just a little more time in her company.

At that moment the music changed and the song filtered over the stereo outside was slower and written out of love. It was intimate and seductive, and for Killian it proved the perfect opening. “So, love, about that dance… would you do me the honor?”

Emma smiled at him, setting him alight as she stepped into his arms, fitting like the piece he’d been missing for too long. It felt amazing to hold her close and sway back and forth with her. One song blurred to another, and another, until truth be told he was so lost in her he couldn’t tell how much time had passed. In the meantime they talked, they danced, they got to know each other but not just with words. This was a blending of two souls, and, if his suspicions were right, the evolution of a love at first sight story that would endure long past this trip.

“I can’t believe you live in New York too,” Emma said as they were finally walking back to the party to rejoin their friends. It was nearly midnight, but it felt like no time had passed at all. “What are the chances?”

“I couldn’t tell you that, love, but I will say I’m glad for it.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, her face a little flushed from their closeness. He stopped their walking, pulling her into his arms and tilting her chin up so her eyes met his.

“Aye. It makes the whole asking you out thing a bit more manageable. Not that distance would have stopped me. I’d have made it work, no matter how far away you may be.”

“You want to ask me out?” she asked, her voice hoarse from emotion and her eyes wide at the prospect.

“I want to do much more than that, love. And it’ll be more than one date I’m after, you can rest assured. But it’s a good place to start, don’t you think?”

“Hmm, maybe,” she said before smiling at him and edging a bit closer so her lips were mere inches from his.

“You’re not convinced?”

“Well, I kind of like the idea of starting with a chance meeting, some moonlight dancing, and a New Years’ kiss…”

Growling out his own approval Killian crushed his lips to hers, tasting her sweetness and savoring every bit of it. She was magic made real, and the feel of her on him, chasing the same high and the same bliss from being with him that he got with her was life altering. Lightening could strike them now and he’d never know, not when he already felt so much with Emma. This was the first kiss they’d ever shared and yet Killian knew it would be the last first kiss either of them ever had. This was the beginning of a new forever, and Emma was right, this was the best kind of start their story could have.

“I was thinking the kiss would come at midnight,” Emma said when they broke apart, her breathing ragged and her green eyes darker from the desire she was experiencing. “You know that’s kind of the tradition.”

“So you’re saying we should wait then? No more until -,”

He couldn’t get the words out before Emma was pulling him in for another kiss, and that was just fine by him. And as the rest of the night sped by, and the year changed from the old to the new, Killian was certain that this lucky happenstance would be something much bigger, and that this time next year and every year thereafter he and Emma would still be together and happy and whole.

…………

On a boat, on a beach In the water, in the sand, in the back of a bar Cold beer in your hand Breaking hearts, breaking necks When we rolling down the street, heads turning all day when they see you with me I'm thinking everybody better stand in line 'Cause they need to know that your body's coming with me tonight They're like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Aw baby you look good Black dress, 2 the 9s, New Year's in a pent From the floor, to the roof, make the skyline spin Yeah, you're killing me boy in your black-faded jeans Ain't gotta work hard when you're smilin' at me Like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Aw baby you look good I'm thinking everybody better stand in line 'Cause they need to know that your body's coming with me tonight They're like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Come on baby you look good You look good Baby you look good

Post-Note: So there we have it. Just a little CS insta-love fluff to get us through the end of this year. Like I said, I hope you all have the best end to your 2019 and a wonderful start to your 2020. Thank you all so much for your kindness, support, and friendship this year. Looking forward to next year and wishing you all the best decade to come!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan nye #cs #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs nye #cs new year #emma swan #killian jones #the whole storybrooke gang #cs mixtape #captain swan mixtape #cs au #captain swan au #cs insta love #you look good

25 notes · View notes

lifeisapicnicole · 4 years

Text

I Just Wanna Be OK

I haven’t written a blog post in about five years or so. I don’t feel especially articulate or creative today, but I’m going to try anyway in hopes that I can feel more at ease with an experience I had a few months ago. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to; it is just freeing to put things like this out there, ya know? That’s what people do on Facebook, in case you forgot. I know that for some reason, I am drawn to writing about my mental health. After this post, I hope to explore some other topics close to my heart as well. Hopefully sooner than five years from now, but we’ll see.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon, I got my hand stuck in a door handle (excuse my klutzy ways). It jolted a memory into my brain, reminding me of the time in February when I couldn’t remember how to use a doorknob.

I posted on my Facebook around that time that I had been on an inpatient unit for worsening depression. It wasn’t my first time there, and though most stays there are difficult, this one was particularly challenging for me. Due to an accidental mix-up with my medication in addition to a UTI and severe dehydration, I...I’m actually not sure how to say this. I guess I’ll just write that I lost my brain for a little while.

I was only supposed to be there for five days (according to me). Maybe a week, tops. Unfortunately, it ended up being three weeks (according to my sister, as I couldn’t even remember how long it’d been afterwards).

I won’t bore you with the details of a typical stay, like my adventure through the emergency room or hanging out with the other patients. Nothing new there this time, either. Also, I don’t recall how to put what happened in chronological order.

I do remember my doctor telling me in the beginning that something was wrong with my heart. As always, I asked him when I would be going home. He said, “I think you need to worry more about your heart than when you’re going home.” They thought I had Long QT syndrome, but after stopping all of my medications and five more EKGs, discovered that wasn’t true. As in, sorry, never mind! Thank heavens, though, and thank you to my sister for not telling me at the time that it can cause sudden death. Geez.

Anyhoo, I don’t remember becoming so confused, but I do remember the same doctor telling me that he forgot to take out one of my medications after he added a similar one. It was an accident. My family was not happy and very, very worried. During a visit, I remember my aunt’s face looking really...something. That said, this doctor is a nice man, and I think he genuinely cared about me. That is not always the case.

As a result, I hallucinated frequently. For instance, there was a long snake wrapped around my room. One night, my mom threw a huge party in the big gymnasium aside of the unit (there is no gym there) and did not invite me. My brain found that to be rude and I could hear everyone having a great time, so I actually got out of bed and ran around the unit trying to find my mom. Another evening, I saw a heist. I could see a girl in blue paper scrubs, running down a staircase, holding a ginormous bag of money with a dollar sign drawn onto it. The police were chasing her, but it was Andy Griffith and Barney Fife. They obviously tripped over each other’s legs and didn’t catch her, which I was quite happy about. Other times, I saw a goat and Disney characters. Then one night, I heard a woman breathing very loudly outside my room. She was waiting for her “surprise” birthday party, and the other patients told me I had to make a cake. Again, I found myself running around the hallways. In the morning, I found fabric rolled up that I believe was supposed to be a pumpkin roll. I still can’t remember that actual layout of the unit, because it took so many different forms and shapes when I was there. (There’s more but this is turning out to be longer than I intended).

I lost my typical speech. My usual therapist visited me and later told me that the only word she understood was “post-it.” (I have a love of office supplies). I did not eat for an entire week and lost almost 20 pounds by the time I left. I was taken to the emergency room to get checked out and get fluids, but nobody could find a vein, even with an ultrasound. At one point, someone tried a vein in the palm of my hand, which obviously did not work. My pupils were huge for weeks; my therapist could see no blue. The techs had to point me to my room every time, and I could not remember any of their names. I couldn’t remember ANYTHING, and a week or so of that time still escapes me. I often still worry that I did or said something weird, which is likely. I feel embarrassed sometimes, even though it wasn’t my fault. But then again, I try to remind myself that if you can’t be your true self in a mental hospital, where can you?

I also had the scariest experience of my life when hallucinating. When coming back to the unit from the emergency room, I saw all of the patients staring at me (they were not). My brain told me that I had committed a horrible crime there before I left and that all of the patients hated me. I could literally hear them talking about me. I thought the police were coming any minute to take me to prison, but couldn’t remember my parents’ phone numbers to call and warn them that I’d be on the news. (I actually tried the phones over and over; I was terrified).

Whelp, that’s it! I’m doing much better now, and I would not hesitate to go back to this hospital if I had to. Thank you to the staff there for their help.

To my visitors and card senders: your faces and sweet words made my day, everyday. I read those cards over and over. Thank you for bringing me better food, particularly homemade enchiladas.

To my parents: thank you for talking to my boss and my unit social worker (I’m not biased or anything, but I do love social workers). Basically, thanks for being my advocates when I was not able to do it for myself. And, for bringing me better food, even when I couldn’t eat it.

To my sister: thank you for all that you did. People, this girl was starting a new job at the time, but still helped me with EVERYTHING. In no particular order: she packed my bag, found my glasses, set up a card shower, did my laundry, arranged a visitor for every evening, renewed my health insurance, did my car registration, bought me new clothes, braided my hair, reminded the techs to help me with a shower, and tried to find a vein. There’s more, but you get the idea. She never did find a vein, but she always finds my heart. Also, for bringing me better food even though I ended up forgetting it was there.

There. That feels better. Thank you for reading, if you still are. Peace out!

1 note · View note

twdmusicboxmystery · 5 years

Text

Helicopter Hints Throughout the Seasons

So, for today, I just wanted to go through the examples we’ve seen in the show of helicopters to help you guys see why I think the helicopter group is pretty much end game and they always have been. I’ve had lots of people asking me about this lately, so here it is.

1x01:

When Rick awoke from his coma in the pilot episode, one of the very first things he saw outside the hospital was a bunch of helicopters. The camera really focuses on them heavily, as if they’re…important for some reason.

Then, after meeting Morgan, getting an apocalyptic education, and parting with him to ride a horse into Atlanta, he sees a helicopter flying around between Atlanta’s sky scrapers.

So at that point, there was already someone, somewhere, who had the resources to be flying helicopters around.

3x01:

Let’s fast forward to S3. Andrea and Michonne are on the road together and witness a helicopter crash. While observing it, they run into Merle. Which is interesting. Because right then, helicopters became associated with the return of missing-and-presumed-dead characters.

But this helicopter group from S3 is another thing, much like the Beth/Andrea parallel, that always makes me wonder why people don’t ask more questions. It was never explained to my satisfaction.

And I’m sure part of the reason for the lack of questioning is because a short while later, the Governor and his people found the helicopter group and killed them all. I guess that was enough for most of the fandom and they just assumed he killed off this entire group.

Yeah, it’s not enough for me. The group he killed was a bunch of armed-to-the-rafters military dudes just sitting on the side of the road. Almost as if waiting to rendezvous with someone or something.

Now, a group like that might travel for various reasons, but it seems to me they would have to have a base of operations of some kind. And, like at Grady, certain things were insinuated, but not confirmed. So I guess most people probably figured that the helicopter that crashed WAS the one Rick saw in Atlanta. But was it? We have no way to know for certain.

4x01:

The next significant occurrence was the crashed helicopter on the roof of The Big Spot. And this may be the most significant occurrence in my mind, at least in terms of foreshadowing.

Because this was the episode where Beth came front and center, where the Bethyl hug happened, where Gimple took over, and a new arc with new foreshadowing began. This was the episode directly after the one where they put Beth in Andrea’s beanie and had the Governor read a bible verse about resurrection.

I feel like this was them telling us that helicopters were super important and to pay attention to them.

Aside: between the CRASHED helicopter on the roof in this episode, the CRASHED helicopter that coincided with Merle’s return, and the plane CRASH we saw in FTWD 5a that was super-significant, I’m wondering if we should be looking out for a helicopter crash that will signal the beginning of Beth’s return arc.

Season 5: While we don’t see an actual helicopter, Grady has a landing pad. Read HERE about how/why I think Grady represents one branch of the helicopter people and were probably in communication with them. We didn’t see any of this in the show, but there were definite hints.

In 5x09, there was also a little blue helicopter in Noah’s brother’s room. We saw it in the background during Ty’s death experience/hallucination.

7x10:

This one is unconfirmed, but remember when Rick fought Winslow and then stood on top of the trash heap and fans thought they saw a plane in the background?

People assumed it was an editing error, but the background of this shot is green screen (read: completely computer simulated), so how can it be an editing error?

Polyanna MacIntosh pretty much confirmed this without confirming it when someone asked her about it and she answered, “I can’t say anything. You either talk about a studio screw-up or you talk about a possible thing that might be part of a story, so either way I’m not doing the show justice.” (Source)

So, I’m thinking that was a helicopter. Not a plane.

After that, I don’t remember any particular instances until season 8. It does seem, though, like we might have seen some background pictures, symbols, etc., but I’m not sure exactly when. Also keep in mind, helicopters are often referred to as “birds.”

Season 8:

During All Out War, Rick sees a random helicopter flying overhead. Later, we find out Jadis knows this group and she radios them for a pickup that falls through.

Season 9:

In 9x02, The Bridge, Jadis is on watch at night and sees the lights of a helicopter in the distance.

During Rick’s hallucination, we see a room that looks very Grady like, and then tons of helicopters coming flying right at him.

Finally, in 9x05, Rick and Jadis are whisked away in a helicopter with the three circles on the side.

FTWD:

In this season of FTWD, Al meets Isabelle, a member of the helicopter group. We learn a lot more about them and how Grady-like they are. They parted ways, but given that nothing about that story line is resolved, it’s obvious we’ll have more run-ins with the helicopter people in the future.

More recently, we had Sarah’s trucker “anthem” which mentioned “bears in the air.” That’s trucker slang for police helicopters. And of course the “bear” symbol is a huge part of the Sirius/return symbol.

So what does it all mean?

Just kidding.

If all of these symbols are meant to be related, or pertain to the same thing, it’s interesting that in the early days (S3) the helicopter people wore military uniforms. I’m thinking this group grew out of the military or government in some way.

If that turns out to be the case, certain things will actually make a lot of sense. Military organizations like this would have probably mobilized when the virus first hit to try and save what they could. Them working on a cure (possibly with government funding and/or resources) would also make more sense than some random group who simply figured something out. Finally, we know they don’t let people go once those people know about their operation. A military group would have much more of the mindset, determination, and possibly resources to do that than any civilian group would.

More specifically, I read it like this:

Rick wakes from his coma in 1x01. Before he (or the audience) knows anything about what’s going on, any details about the nature of the apocalypse, or who, other than he, might still be alive, we see helicopters. As if to say, something about them are important.

Then, after obtaining his post-apocalyptic education from Morgan, he goes looking for his family…and sees a helicopter flying about the city. Now, granted, Lori and Carl weren’t with any helicopter people at that point, but TWD constantly foreshadows things many seasons in advance. Rick is looking for his family, he’s on a HORSE, and he sees a helicopter. So the helicopter is entangled with both the horse symbol and with being separated from and looking for one’s family.

When he gets trapped in the tank, which is right after seeing the helicopter and his horse going down, they play the song, Space Junk. In 9x05, when the helicopter takes him away, they play the exact same song. Coincidence? Definitely not. (See why we pay attention to songs so closely in this show?)

As I’ve already explained, season 3’s helicopter coinciding with Merle’s reappearance immediately entangled the chopper with characters who suddenly disappeared, were more or less presumed dead (at least by the characters) but whose bodies and burials we never saw.

Then comes S4. The opening sequence in the Big Spot has a TON of foreshadows of Beth’s arc. But I feel like S4, when Gimple took over, was when the helicopter group’s story was all planned and cemented.

Yes, they were obviously thinking about it before that, but perhaps in a more general, not-set-in-stone sort of way. 4x01 was the beginning of Gimple’s tenure as show runner, the beginning of Beth’s resurrection arc, and Bethyl, and when Gimple’s 11 year (through S15) plan began. So naturally, we have a crashed helicopter on the roof.

This is the writers waving their arms around to get our attention and pointing frantically to the helicopter yelling,

Remember how I always say the beginning will foreshadow/mirror the ending? This is why I pay attention to season premieres so closely. They can tell us what is going to happen down the road, even if we can’t see the entire picture yet.

Yeah, this helicopter in particular is what makes me think the helicopter group is end game.

Of course we had the hint of the helicopter pad at Grady, which suggests but doesn’t confirm.

In 5x09, we also see one. This is another big instance for me. We have SO many hints at Beth’s return in this episode. The number 8, the 5:10 clock, the graffiti, various background symbols, etc.

If all of it points toward her return (and I believe it does), well, there’s a helicopter included. Enough said?

7x10 is another fun one to think about. In its simplest form, showing the helicopter here was a hint at plot. Jadis is in contact and league with the helicopter group. But it’s SO much deeper than that, isn’t it?

Remember that when Rick fought Winslow, he got a wound in his hand that was very stigmata/Christ-like. This foreshadowed that he would have a death fake out/resurrection arc, and Jadis would have something to do with it. (Check. She did.)

Putting the helicopter in the background of this shot also foreshadowed that helicopters would have something to do with it. (Also check.) Also interesting that while he fought Winslow, Michonne was screaming at him down a tunnel, genuinely afraid for his life. Once he beat Winslow, they kind of reunited, hugged, her happy to see one another again. Seeing the foreshadows?

And then of course we get the actual introduction of the group when Rick sees them in S8, and they take him and Jadis away in S9.

It’s super-significant that we see a room that looks EXACTLY like Grady in Rick’s hallucination, and then all those helicopters come at him. There’s no better way to entangle Rick, Beth, Grady, and helicopters.

We’ve still only seen bits and pieces of them through that and then the Al/Isabel dynamic in Fear, but they’re revealing the helicopter people to us a slice at a time.

So yeah. I’m just trying to illustrate that they’ve given a lot of hints toward this that we didn’t entirely bring together until this season of Fear. We’d definitely noticed the helicopter theme around Beth several seasons ago, and also that it pertained to Rick, linking the two of them together. What better way to explain that than by finding out they’re now both with the helicopter group?

So I think they’ve planned this since the start. They may not have had all the details hammered out, but I think they had it in mind as an endgame sort of scenario. I just wanted to lay this all out for you guys.

Thoughts?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

4 notes · View notes

kiruuuuu · 6 years

Text

Oneshot in which pure chaos happens. There’s some Blitz/Rook and a tiny bit of Doc/Jäger and Monty/Bandit but they’re certainly not the main focus of the story - which is, as I said, chaos. So, uh. Good luck. (Rating T, nothing but humour, ~2.5k words) - written for @magehir to cheer you up and cheer you on ❤ You’ve survived thus far, you can make it another year!

It’s odd, coming back to Hereford after an extended vacation. Over the years, Blitz has accepted several places as his home, among them his parents’ house, the apartments in which he lived, the GSG9 headquarters, the base of the CTU in India he helped build from the ground up (which he just visited) and now he apparently needs to add Hereford to that list – because even while just approaching the familiar structures, he can feel the corners of his mouth lifting in anticipation. He’s heard from Bandit that most operators are off-duty today following an unfortunate incident which was not further described to him mostly because Bandit was laughing too hard. Apparently it involved large amounts of food dye, flour and hair dryers and made a lot of people very upset.

On the upside, this means that Blitz has the chance to catch up with everyone and see how they’re faring – he’s been gone for three weeks now and actually missed his co-workers, as odd as it sounds. With how much time they spend together, he’s come to know all of them to a certain degree where he feels comfortable in their presence, happy to know they have his back no matter what. Therefore, when he steps through the door into the building, he’s not prepared to be confronted with Fuze in a dress first thing.

They make brief eye contact before Blitz stops in his tracks to take in the entire disaster, the pale orange sundress fluttering behind the Uzbek as he stomps through the hallway with purpose, matching shoes dangling from his fingers and hot pink lipstick smeared as he fixes the newly arrived German with a short death glare as if he personally was responsible for his outfit. As he stalks past, he mutters a quiet kill me before leaving. Blitz stares after him, aghast, until a different noise catches his attention and shifts it from what he’s pretty sure must’ve been a hallucination to the nearest corner.

Kapkan seems to be leading his countrymen after Fuze while babbling in animated yet quite noticeably slurred Russian though he freezes comically as soon as he spots Blitz, the other three almost crashing into him and also stilling as if Blitz’ vision was based on movement and them being glued to the spot somehow allowed them to escape the German’s anticipated wrath – that’s what they seem to expect of him, going by Kapkan’s quiet curse, followed by a stage whispered: “It’s the police!” The bright pink lip print on his cheek only furthers the deranged look of the small group’s leader.

Blitz is beginning to wonder whether the Spetsnaz stole some of Bandit’s special brownies. “What is -”

“Scatter!”, Finka yells out of the blue and just like that, the Russians attempt to run off into different directions which only Tachanka and Glaz manage – Kapkan and Finka collide forcefully and collapse to the ground in a violently cursing heap, quite clearly assigning the blame to each other.

Thoroughly concerned now, Blitz approaches them and asks: “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“No! He fucking won Miss Russia and he’s not even Russian!”, Kapkan spits back inexplicably, gets up and dusts himself off.

“You know he looked better in that bathing suit than you did, Maxim”, Finka addresses him with a saucy wink and then hurries after him when he merely huffs and, with a dramatic hair toss, struts away.

Blitz is dumbstruck. Maybe he’s in the twilight zone. Maybe that’s what’s going on. Shaking his head, he steps into the canteen to hopefully find some normalcy elsewhere. At first glance, it seems the few people scattered around the tables are having a relaxed though late lunch, yet when he looks a tad more closely, everyone’s eyes flit back and forth from their conversation partner to two women occupying the kitchen.

“Would you like some more coffee, dear sister?”, Ela chirps pleasantly.

“Oh, thank you so much for being this observant, I’d love to!”, Zofia replies just as politely.

Horrified, Blitz watches as the two fawn over each other in a sickly sweet tone of voice he usually hears Thatcher apply when a recruit is in Big Trouble – these two, however, seem intent on keeping up their charade at all costs. He thinks he can see Ela grit her teeth even at this distance. As there’s no explanation for this either, he turns on his heel and continues his search for something or someone who can restore or at least feign the status quo. At this point, he’d pick Bandit being his usual shithead self over everything he’s come across so far because his entire world view is crumbling and being insulted as well as kicked in the shins actually sounds quite appealing to him now.

Filled with despair, he seeks out Bandit’s usual spots but comes up empty until he finally spots him in the workshop. Even so, seeing him almost makes Blitz leave immediately because – because Bandit’s smiling. Not a smirk full of schadenfreude, no malicious grin or a chuckle full of pity, none of the sort, it’s a genuine, bright, beautiful smile. Blitz considers briefly whether he’s high but concludes that the amount necessary to lighten Bandit’s mood to a point where he’d consider smiling to be a sensible course of action would likely kill him first, so he approaches cautiously. “Hey”, he says.

Bandit and Montagne turn to him with matching expressions of authentic joy and Blitz is briefly reminded of any twins appearing in horror films he now regrets ever having watched. “Elias, it’s so good to see you!”, Montagne greets him and Bandit adds: “How are you? I hope you’re well!”

He blinks at what can only be a mirage and fights down the urge to reach out and test whether his fingers would just glide through the seemingly solid men. “I’m a little shaken”, he admits and finds no shame in hearing his voice waver, “and I’d appreciate it if either of you could pinch me.”

The two exchange a glance as if Blitz was the one behaving oddly. “Are you alright, friend?”, Bandit wants to know without any sarcasm or instantly jumping at the chance to cause him physical harm and no. Just no. This is – this is too odd.

As soon as he’s fled the workshop in a panic, he goes over the possibilities: they’ve all gone insane. Blitz has gone insane. Some unknown entity has infiltrated Rainbow and substituted all its operators with outwardly perfect copies yet failed to make them understand how their originals behaved. This seems to be the likeliest option from everything he’s seen and if he’s honest, he’s beginning to wish he was back in India where life was uncomplicated and not filled with obviously impossible scenarios.

For now, he decides to unpack his things in his room and possibly go to sleep at two in the afternoon, being able to blame it on jetlag and hoping everything is back to how it used to be when he’s awake again. Still vaguely dazed, he opens his door and comes face to face with – well, he’s not sure how to accurately describe it as Jäger and Doc are so wrapped around each other that it’s hard to tell who is inside whom and with which body part exactly and Jesus Christ. Slapping a hand over his eyes, he yells: “That’s my damn bed, Marius!!”

“Oh”, says Doc in soft astonishment. “You’re back today already.”

“Could you two maybe -” A throaty moan interrupts him momentarily. “At least stop while I’m talking to you!”

“We’re almost done”, Jäger responds pleasantly and the following noises are even audible after Blitz has slammed the door shut behind him.

Okay. So there’s no place that’s sacred and no one who’s unaffected, apparently, which means he should either try to find out whether their boss at least has escaped this – whatever it is, or run for the hills. Maybe the SAS would accept him into their ranks. Then a thought occurs to him. If everyone is behaving oddly, it means…

Rook seems normal, from what he can tell. He’s wearing his usual cheerful expression and doing that eager nod Blitz finds so endearing, and seeing him is a relief. He missed the young Frenchman but despite this wasn’t sure whether contacting him during his leave could be misconstrued in a way – he doesn’t want to seem needy or pushy, so he opted for deciding that their long talks short before he left indicated no more than friendship and is now looking forward to continuing them to possibly cement this friendship. Approaching him with a heart made lighter by his presence only, he’s about to address him when he belatedly realises to whom he’s talking. It’s Lion of all people. And the two are both making friendly conversation.

Dumbfounded, he hears himself say: “Can someone just fucking pinch me?”

The next thing he knows is a sharp pain in his cheek, right where Rook slapped him with enough force to knock his head aside and make him stumble, courtesy as much of the blow itself as its unexpected nature. He doesn’t even get a chance to react or begin processing the shock before Rook takes his head in both hands and murmurs: “Oh fuck oh shit oh no, are you alright? I’m – that wasn’t – I’m so sorry, please believe me, I have no idea where that came from, oh god, did I hurt you?”

Blitz blinks the tears away forming in his eyes from the dull, throbbing ache in his probably crimson cheek and, like a true liar, shakes his head. “No, I’m fine”, he replies quietly, stunned, “that was – I mean, at least now I know I’m not dreaming because that hurt like hell.”

“I really didn’t mean to, I’m very sorry”, Rook assures him, guilt clearly written on his face and bleeding through the gentle touches of him petting Blitz’ hair as if he was an upset dog.

“You really were ready for that slap though”, Lion comments and sounds entirely too amused.

“Look -”, Rook starts but Blitz shakes his head and talks over him: “I think I should see Seamus.”

Sledge, indubitably, is an immovable rock in Rainbow’s endless tides of madness: reliable, always professional and nothing but competent. Surely, he’ll know what’s going on and be able to shed some light on the various horrors Blitz has encountered, none of which he’s been able to process so far. Hopeful that this bastion of normalcy has withstood whatever devastated the rest of the base, Blitz knocks on the door to his office and enters after being called in.

Sledge is blue.

Wordlessly, Blitz turns around and is halfway out the door again when a deep sigh and a small wait hold him back. “I’m sure Dom told you of his hilarious prank.”

Oh. He remembers – extremely potent food dye. Hesitantly, he takes a seat opposite of someone who looks like an unfortunate extra in the world’s first live action smurf film. “I think I fell into an alternate dimension”, Blitz states matter-of-factly. When Sledge merely raises an eyebrow, Blitz recounts his experiences one by one and notes how the grin on the Scotsman’s lips widens progressively.

“There are perfectly reasonable explanations for most of this. Alex offered to provide lunch for his team today but didn’t have any cooking wine, so he used, uh, Adriano’s Absinthe. Which as you probably know has about 60% more alcohol content than wine.”

“That must’ve tasted revolting.”

“It did. They loved it. The result was a spontaneously staged Miss Russia contest in which Lera was the only judge, ironically. You got to see the aftermath, I’m afraid.”

Blitz puts his head into his hands.

“Ela and Zofia have a bet going with James about how long they can be nice to each other. And if you ask me, everyone’s hoping for him to win because that’d mean they can stop treading on eggshells around the two sisters as they’re bound to explode any minute and no one particularly wants to be around them when they do – but it’s better than the fight over the prize money should they actually win.”

“They did seem ready to rip each other’s heads off, yeah.”

“If you asked me, I’d say this only widens the rift between them. But no one asked me. And so I’m only going to make sure I’ll be far away when it eventually happens.”

“What about Dom? I’ve never seen him so -”

“He’s got the biggest crush I’ve ever seen on Gilles.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. He’s been all smiles and it’s freaking everyone out to the point where I feel I should intervene but I can hardly tell him to fall out of love. The other day Mark walked past him three times and not once did Dom try to trip him. It’s a miracle.”

Blitz doesn’t even know how to react to this because it’s utterly absurd.

“In any case, since Julien often hung around with Dom when you weren’t around and Olivier could be usually found in Gilles’ presence, they’ve both been robbed of their confidant and therefore have started talking to each other.”

“You say this as if it was nothing.”

“It is nothing. They’ve overcome their differences and found shared interests.”

“What about Doc and Marius then?”

Sledge purses his lips pensively. “I have no idea, to be honest. I thought they were just friends and I’m still convinced they’re no more than that. Why they would – do what you, uh, tried to describe them doing, is beyond me. Maybe they were both feeling horny. It’s not unheard of that two guys help each other now and then, right?” Helplessly, Blitz just shrugs and tries to parse all this new information. “Is that all?”

“Well, I don’t think it falls under ‘strange’, because it seemed like an accident, but Julien slapped me. I might’ve asked him to pinch me but he -”

“I’m not surprised. You did tell him you liked him too before you left and then proceeded to ignore him for three weeks. I think he has all reason to be miffed.”

Oh. Blitz’ eyes widen. Oh. Oh fuck oh shit oh no. He thought it was – it was meant in a friendly way, not – “I need to go”, he tells Sledge hurriedly but turns around once more before running out of the office: “Please never go on vacation. Please never leave me alone for this long.”

And Sledge just casually inspects his really quite blue hands and replies calmly: “Oh, I don’t know. A drawn-out holiday doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”

#rainbow six siege #blitz #rook #blitz/rook #montagne/bandit #doc/jäger #sledge #fanfic #oneshot #also bandit probably set half the base on fire #did someone say dust explosion #no?#WELL SOMEONE BLOODY WELL SHOULD HAVE #also this is full of references to my other writings and I'm sorry

75 notes · View notes

imyourliquor-youremypoison · 7 years

Text

Great Minds Think Alike (Riverdale - Jughead x OC) Part 8

Pairing : Jughead x OC

Synopsis : A new girl arrives in town around the time of Jason Blossom’s accident. That alone makes her suspicious and unlikeable to most people. Jughead has every reason to investigate on her, the timing is too perfect, right? And it has nothing to do with the young girl’s odd yet charming way of always seeming to find her way back to him, no matter the situation.

Word Count : 2.7k

MASTERLIST

Part 7 <<< >>> Part 9

“What do we do?” Iris asked in a shaky voice, still unsure of what she saw.

Could her eyes play tricks on her? Could it be the weed? She hadn't smoke nearly enough to hallucinate the dead body of a boy whose appearance she didn't even know. In their state of shock, the two teenagers instinctively sought comfort in each other's presence and Iris could fairly say that she had never been this physically close to Jughead in all the weeks they spent together.

“Should we show ourselves?” She asked when she didn't get an answer the first time. “Maybe they need help.”

“No,” Jughead snapped. His arm was still around Iris' middle, preventing her from attempting to walk away. “Kevin's the Sheriff's son, he'll call him. They are in no danger, we should go now or we'll get in trouble.”

“But-” Iris began as she turned around to look at Jughead.

“I said no, Iris,” Jughead repeated. His eyes were stern, his body stiff in a way that alarmed Iris. “Not to sound dramatic, but I think you severely underestimate the situation. We could get in serious trouble if somebody sees us here. I don't want to spend the night in custody for the murder of Jason Blossom.”

The girl remained quiet but Jughead saw that she wanted to protest by the way she pouted and glared at him.

“It's the second time we are on a crime scene, it's beyond suspicious at this point!”

“Are you saying I'm your suspect number one now?” She whispered angrily, her voice lace with venom like never before. “I know I'm on your list, Jug, I'm not stupid.”

A sigh fell from his lips. Now wasn't the time to argue. Nor the place.

“That's not what I- never mind,” Jughead said. “We need to leave. Immediately,” he insisted when he saw Iris open her mouth – probably to protest and argue further or tell him to go fuck himself.

He didn't care what she had to say right now, all he wanted to do was go as far away from Sweetwater river as possible before the first police cars arrived. She would thank him later for no letting her drunken, high self get involved in a murder case.

“Stop! Stop!” Iris almost shouted out loud and pulled on Jughead's arm to make him stop but he was stronger than her.

“Why don't you scream louder so they'll hear us!” Jug asked in a disdainful scoff as he turned his head around.

“I might do it you don't let me go!” She warned him and dug her heels in the ground. “We are not leaving.”

“You're a reckless little brat!” Jughead accused her with his pointer finger.

“And you're a selfish coward!” She replied. “How can you leave Kevin alone with a corpse! You've known him all your life, was it wrong with you?!”

“If I'm not good enough for you fine! Go! You're the one who's been acting all clingy since day one, I never forced you to hang out with me!”

He was being unfair and he knew it but the words wouldn't stop spilling out of his mouth until hurt was painted all over Iris' face. She stepped back – and thus realized Jughead had let go of her somewhere during his hateful comment. It was ironic how she had fled a party because there was too much drama, only to be swept off her feet by yet another drama shitstorm.

“Do you realize how nasty that was of you?” Iris asked. “Because it really was. All I'm saying is that we should wait around until we're sure this is being taken care of. I know it's not our problem but I thought you might be on board – if not for your friend, at least for your bloody novel!”

“Kevin's no-”

“I know,” she cut him off. “He's not your friend. No one is. I get it, and I'll fuck off as soon as this is over since I'm so clingy.”

Not another word was uttered between the two of them until the cops arrived, quickly followed by the Coopers and the Blossoms – who Iris only recognized because the first were standing behind Betty and the latter had the same fiery ginger hair as Cheryl and her late twin.

“I'm getting out of the dark, do what you want,” Iris briefly informed Jughead and she only heard an exasperated sigh coming from him before she walked away. How can one be so stubborn and self-centered?

Soon enough, all of her classmates were gathered around the crime scene, each of them harboring various expression of shock and grief on their face, but all noticing Iris step out of the shadow with her puffy dress and dirty shoes.

They share this look of wariness but their empty eyes quickly darted back on the body the coroner was taking away. Iris could feel the tension prickling in the air between Betty and Archie and the sadness emanating from Cheryl who couldn't even muster up tears at the moment. Veronica stood aside with her mom and when she saw Iris she discreetly scooted closer until her arm was around her shoulders.

“This is a hell of a Homecoming night,” she said gently, not a trace of humor in her voice. “I think we all deserve a break after the last twenty four hours.”

“Yeah, couldn't agree more,” Iris answered distractedly. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the two boys leaning against the Sheriff's car. Moose was in the middle of a lengthy explanation while Kevin's eyes were set on... Iris.

“Why is Kevin staring a hole in your head?” Veronica asked just when Iris wondered the same.

“I don't know,” she said with a frown. “I don't think he likes me.”

“Nonsense,” she replied immediately. “There's nothing to dislike about you, besides you barely talked to him.”

Her hand was still reassuringly stroking her back and Iris had to wonder: what was Veronica trying to comfort her for?

“Did you- eh- did you do something to Jughead?” Someone asked from behind Iris, making her jump away from her locker.

Her heart was racing when she turned around and met Archie Andrews' worried gaze. He looked distraught and small despite his large shoulders and varsity jacket.

“Do something?” She frowned and put her last book in her bag. “Like what? Kill him in his sleep or talk badly of his beanie?”

“I don't know, but like- he's been acting... weird,” Archie said, seemingly not satisfied with his choice of word.

“And Jughead acting weird is weird because...?” She encouraged him.

“He's more aggressive and I noticed you ate alone at lunch,” he told her with a shrug.

A week had passed since the discovery of Jason Blossom's body and Iris found it slightly funny that Archie only noticed now that she and Jughead hadn't spoken a word to each other – and were apparently a bit grumpier than usual. Even she couldn't deny she was in a mood since their argument.

“We had a small disagreement, nothing unfixable,” Iris reassured Archie despite not having any certainty. She figured it was enough to get him off her back, but even oblivious Archie seemed to see through her act of carelessness.

In all honesty, so many things happened in a week that making up with Jughead seemed like it should be the least of Iris' priorities at the moment. The police investigation, Betty having a breakdown because Archie doesn't return her feelings, Cheryl being arrested for the murder of her own twin brother, Veronica running here and there in hopes to win back Betty's friendship after her little misconduct in the closet with a certain ginger boy. The atmosphere at school was sizzling with aggressive tension, fights happened, arguments, people tiptoed around each other.

Iris wanted to hide under her duvet and never get out ever again – at least not until graduation. There was so much pretending – people put such a conscious effort into not thinking too hard about the current events that Iris felt like she was walking among a bunch of ostriches with their head buried in the sand.

“But hey,” she tried to offer Archie a genuine smile. “You two made up!” She gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder. “I'm happy for you.”

“Yeah, I think I finally understood his point of view and we both agreed that I acted like an idiot,” Archie admitted with a slight blush and he rubbed the back of his head, looking away.

“Well, he has nothing to envy you in that department,” Iris snorted. “How are things with Betty? Not too awkward?”

“We're fine, I guess,” he said hesitantly. “I mean, it's not like it used to be, but we'll get there eventually.”

“Give it time,” Iris advised him.

“That's what Veronica told me too, but I can't help but feel guilty.”

“There's no reason for you to feel guilty about this, it's out of your control – and it's nobody's fault if you don't feel like that for Betty. I know she'll understand, she just has to wrap her head around the idea. Girls need time to push aside their feelings. The heart knows no logic.”

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. “I better go, the others must be waiting for me,” he informed her and gave her a gentle tap on the shoulder as he said goodbye and walked past her.

“Later,” Iris said and headed outside.

Everybody must have gone home by now – most cars where gone from the parking lot. She froze as soon as she heard a familiar sound coming from the girls' locker room. Iris stopped behind the closed door and pondered the pros and cons. She tried to recall which girls she saw leave earlier and who might still be inside and her conclusion was that it must be either Betty or Cheryl – but she knew that Betty didn't leave because she worked at the Blue & Gold after class.

She knocked on the door and called Cheryl's name, immediately making the sobs come to a stop. It's the second time she would find Cheryl crying – or rather, it was the second time she dealt with a crying Cheryl. The time first she didn't so much find her than run after her when she fled from the pep rally.

“Go away!” She shouted through the door. “Can't a girl have a moment alone?!”

“It's me Cheryl.” There was no answer. “Can I come in?”

The first time she listened to Cheryl's sorrows, it concluded on her admitting she hated Iris at first sight because she looked like such a hobo with her saggy clothes and already bad company.

“Jughead is bad company?” She had asked and Cheryl's flawless hair whipped around as she turned her head to meet Iris' eyes.

“Are you kidding? You committed social suicide on your first day of school,” she had replied with a credulous look in her eyes. “You're deader than Jason.”

“Well, nobody's mourning me, so I guess he has it pretty good.”

This is what made her smile again and they silently agreed never to mention what happened here ever again – Iris and Cheryl parted ways and didn't tell anyone about their secret locker conversation.

Now the scene was playing again.

“You may come in,” Cheryl said after a while. When Iris entered, she saw her red eyes and slightly runny makeup. She must have rubbed away her tears before letting her come in.

“You look like you need to let out a little steam,” Iris observed after a moment of silence. A look of offense crossed the ginger girl's features. “We're not throwing a pity party in the locker room again. If you want to vent to me, we're doing it over a milkshake.”

“What's with the bossy tone?” Cheryl stood up and asked defiantly.

Arms crossed over her chest and chin up, she looked even taller than she was. In some twisted way, her stubbornness and pride reminded Iris of Jughead.

“You're not the only one who's got shit going on, and I can't deal with any more of it on an empty stomach. So are you in or am I going to have to sit alone at Pop's?”

“What? Did the sad breakfast club kick you out?” She snapped. “You should know I'm no booby prize, you can't use me to replace your dumb friends.”

“You've got it backwards. I'm not trying to fill in a void with your friendship Cheryl, I'm offering you mine.”

Iris adopted the same defensive stance as Cheryl and the two girls stared each other down until Cheryl settled on a quiet 'fine' and led the way out of the building.

“But I refuse to be seen in your old wagon,” Cheryl warned her. “We're taking my car.”

Iris had to admit she had been drooling over Cheryl's red 1961 Chevrolet Impala convertible and it surprised her that she hesitated before agreeing to sit in this beauty.

“You'll need to drive me back here then, so I can get my car back.”

“Are you coming or not?” The stunning ginger asked her impatiently as she tapped her neatly manicured foot on the ground.

She opened the door to her car and jumped in before Iris had time to answer – not that she was going to say no.

“This is not us hanging out, this is strictly for mutual benefice and we are not friends,” Cheryl said five minutes in the ride.

“Thanks for the clarification but I think I caught that on my own,” Iris said sarcastically, squinting her eyes at the setting sun. It was fall already and the days grew shorter each day.

“You're brighter than I gave you credit for,” Cheryl chirped happily, glad they were on the same page. “Maybe you're not a lost cause.”

“Be still my beating heart, did I just hear something akin to a compliment cross your lips?”

“Don't get used to it,” she snapped. “We're not here to talk about you. This is about me and my loss.”

“Of course;” Iris smiled humorlessly. “I imagine you are not a huge burger fan, but I'm starving. You can take all night to tell me about your beloved J.J. as long as I get my food.”

A small, almost too fleeting to catch it smile cracked Cheryl's mask of impassibility. Iris said nothing for she knew that if she dared point it out, she would never get a chance to see it again.

What she did see, clear as daylight though it was already getting dark, was the scene playing out before her eyes when Cheryl parked her car in front of Pop's. Through the window Iris could make out her friends' faces, laughing, sharing a good moment, and suddenly she realized that she hadn't been invited. She wasn't part of the sad breakfast club. Betty leaned over the table, her body shaken with laughter at something Archie must have said and she bumped into his shoulder. Sitting across from her was Jughead who smiled and silently observed his friends, while Veronica sipped her chocolate milkshake and tried not to spill any when she laughed with the others.

“Someone looks bitter,” Cheryl observed before climbing out and shutting the driver's door. “Can't have it all, newbie. Having friends, avoiding drama, good grades, pristine reputation – you've got to make your pick.”

“I pick mind your own business Cheryl,” Iris said with a glare. “Like you said, we're here to speak about you.”

Taglist: @bathshebaa @deanackles67 @myteenwolf-world @mumblr-of-tumbir @devilishcloe @bettysreid @angelicawastaken @rebellioncass @adorableninja @scattered-glances @ri-verdale @ice-wolfie @bubblegumcat229 @murderyoursoul @morixeddu @emptyporsche @lucifer-the-cuddler @challenge-accep-ted @scattered-glances @fantiomaticsupertolkienlover @-episkey-

59 notes · View notes

felixeberstark-blog · 5 years

Text

February 15, 2016

If I had to think about the nightmares I’ve had in my life, I’d say I’ve seen it all; from being chased by an unknown entity determined to kill me to the sight of the world ending right before my eyes. Those dreams are frightening and over the top because of their supernatural elements and so we rarely stop and make sense of them. Then there’s the other kind. The kind that’s more mundane and based on real life anxieties; like losing a loved one or reliving a traumatic event. Once we’re awake, though, the images gradually start to fade as we readjust to the face of reality. It’s common sense to be able to separate dreams from reality, but what if those two worlds collide and become one? What if our biggest nightmare creeps its way into our reality? Will we be strong enough to face it then? Because our deepest fears are often so repressed they become almost nonexistent in our view. Little do we know that when the nightmare actually happens, reality becomes much murkier. I’ve never quite understood where my fear of spiders came from. I was never able to track down its main source. What I know is that the conditioning view of this phobia isn’t the reason I suffer from it; I was never bitten by a spider, but then again I can’t confirm that since the trauma could’ve occurred during my early childhood and the event could be buried deep inside my subconscious. Regardless of that, I consider this fear one that’s here to stay. So what makes those morbid creatures so terrifying? Is it their erratic and sudden movements? Their legginess? Their hairiness? It’s all of the above, and much more than that. Waking up from unpleasant dreams often results in flashing hallucinations of spiders crawling all over my room even if the dream doesn’t involve any kind of arachnids. I’d squeeze my eyes shut and avoid getting out of bed, worried a gigantic spider hiding under it would wrap its legs around mine and drag me underneath it. The hallucinations go away eventually and my fast heartbeats subside. Reality never seizes to surprise me, though. I woke up today after a deep relaxing night of sleep to the trivializing sight of a spider on the pillow beside mine. I kept staring at it, daring myself not to being thrown into a panic. I tried to breathe and work my way through this irrational fear. I convinced myself that it wouldn’t attack me, that it wasn’t harmful, but I couldn’t be entirely sure because my arachnophobia has kept me away from reading, watching or even hearing anything related to them. The spider was a violin-shaped brown recluse. It had yellowish legs and a grayish to dark brown color covering the entire upper surface of the main section of its body. It didn’t look like it was threatened, but seemed to have its six-pair of eyes set on me. I tried to stay composed so I don’t startle it and stared back at it almost impersonally, forcing myself to let go and face my fear in the process. I stayed in bed motionless and prevented myself from letting it out of my sight for almost an hour. I tried not to think, because every time I did, my extreme self-awareness controlled by my hunch told me to jump out of bed, grab the largest object and smash it. A lot of patience and willingness was required of me to just stay still and see what happens. Outside, the biting winter and brisk air created a unique and perpetual ambiance emphasized by spectacular ferric and steely colors of gray and blue. My body eventually felt too stiff — almost paralyzed that I had to get up. I did – very slowly. The spider immediately sensed my movement and retreated behind my pillow causing me to freak out, knowing that if I lose it I’ll be tormented for days wondering where it went, scared it might resurface at any given moment without me noticing it. I ran out of my bedroom twitching on my toes and slammed the door shut. The rational thing for me to do was, as predicted, to kill it with either a mop or a pesticide spray. I really wanted it out of my apartment by any means necessary. However, I also resented the idea of getting close to it or having to even pick its remains after squishing it. The worst idea then popped into my head: I decided I was going to trap and keep it. That way I’ll securely familiarize myself with the creature and maybe overcome my arachnophobia. I hurried to the kitchen, grabbed a mason jar and a vacuum cleaner to scare it off. Before going back to my room, I put on my high winter boots and raincoat to protect myself against incoming attacks. I opened my bedroom door and remained by the doorframe. I looked everywhere and I couldn’t see it. I set the opened mason jar on the floor and gave it a slight kick and watched it roll over to the other side until it hit the wall facing the door. Once it completely set, I activated the vacuum and shoved its head in every crevice of the room, covering every single spot before pushing it under my bed. Soon enough the spider appeared running as fast as it could as it feared for its life and I managed to direct it toward the mason jar where it ended up finding shelter. I immediately shut down the vacuum cleaner to prevent the machine from sucking it in, took the lid out of my pocket and slowly walked to it. I kept a clear view of the recluse as I slowly kneeled down and covered the jar. I sealed it tight and moved away. It took it a while before it moved again, and that’s when I reassuringly grabbed the container and set it by the kitchen window. I poked some holes in it to give it some oxygen and finally relaxed as I stared at it laying inside. Acquainting myself with it is proving to be somewhat cathartic day after day although I’m not sure whether or not I’ll end up feeling the same about other types of spiders. I feel like this was a good start regardless. The second nightmare-turned-reality was a recent event that, although wasn’t quite as threatening, was derived from the Aurora incident which in itself is a looming menace and a threat to my ongoing psychological recovery. It all started a few days ago when I got a call from an unknown number; I always hang up on those due to the harassment and waste of time brought by spam calls, but the number’s area code was local, so I picked up. I wasn’t familiar with Heather’s soft- spoken voice which is why it took me a while to identify her as the caller. I was only used to her raspy voice often followed by gasps and shuddering sobs. This time she was conveniently at ease. She asked about my state and health before proceeding to the actual reason for her call which was to meet with me to discuss a project. I wasn’t sure how she got my number and I couldn’t possibly imagine what kind of project she’d be referring to since we had nothing in common with each other besides the kidnapping, and I wasn’t sure being around her was such a good idea since the incident was still fresh. When I expressed to her my concern, she became deeply emotional and relentlessly asked me to do her that one favor, so I accepted. The next day, we met at Java House, the campus’ most popular coffeehouse and usual to-go-to for locals. I made my way there and walked in to the startling sight of large crowds of students congregated inside in their large coats and jackets; some of them were studying while others socialized while playing a game of chess. It was a Friday evening which explained why the place was so busy The heartwarming and safe ambiance created a very distinctive contrast to James’ cold and hostile basement. Heather was sitting at a table in the corner of the room. She stood up, fixing her skirt’s hemline as she did so, and waved so I could see her. She looked clean; fresh-faced, her long blonde hair glistening underneath the fairy lights hanging overhead. I didn’t waste any minute and asked her about the reason she wanted to see me as soon as we sat down. She delayed her answer until after we got our coffees. “I’ve been seeing a therapist, and he thinks it’ll be a good therapeutical idea for me to write a book about my abduction. You’re here because I wanted to personally request for your approval to write about it”, she clearly stated. Heather thought sharing her traumatic experience with the world would be beneficial since her story contained all the triumphant elements of a girl taking matters into her own hands and fighting her way through hell to survive, all of which makes for good and exciting storytelling material. People will undoubtedly sympathize with her and find extreme pleasure digging into her horrific experience. She said that she felt so isolated after she made it back home and expressed her resentment toward herself for having to keep the promise she made to me regarding my lack of involvement in the incident, expressing to me how hard it was for her to lie and tell the police what happened without mentioning my name. She bitterly castigated me for abandoning her. I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just let it go and be happy she made it home safe and sound. Kidnapping, rape and murder are things we see and hear about almost every single day, and although I’m not trying to discredit her pain and her own personal experience, I can’t quite grasp her desperate need to get the recognition and acknowledgment from the general public. In today’s day and age, everyone seems to be looking for fame. Every tragedy needs to be documented and broadcasted; victims think it’s necessary to heal and rebuild their sense of order. Little do they know that after the initial and fulfilling feeling of being seen and heard comes an epic comedown. Is it really worth the fifteen minutes of fame? Fame has become people’s only way to gain the recognition they so long fo. They don’t care whether the attention is genuine or disingenuous, it’s all about reaching the widest audience possible; it’s all about the number of people watching. Ultimately, I’ve come to realize that Heather was using the one major event in her life to launch her status of becoming a prominent public figure instead of focusing on what she claimed was her road to mental recovery. She wants to proclaim her worth and allow herself to be seen using her tragedy as a tool. I certainly wasn’t going to allow that to happen, especially since we both knew she wouldn’t have made it out of that basement without my help. I was her voice of reason in her darkest times. If it weren’t for me, she would’ve given up. I’ve pushed her to act and thrive for survival. She would’ve been dead without me. Yet she wants to lie and announce to the world that she was the hero, all of that for the wrong reasons. I’m not allowing that to happen. During the first few hours of our meeting, I almost felt guilty hearing about her psychological struggle and appreciated her reaching out to me to seek assistance and come to peace with what she’s been through to regain her emotional balance, but that feeling quickly disappeared and my perception of her totally switched after sensing her hidden underlying motive. I expressed to her that writing a book wasn’t a good idea since we agreed I wouldn’t be in it hence it becoming an inaccurate and unauthentic work of fiction. I didn’t point out the other reasons because I didn’t want to offend her or start an argument, but emphatically told her that if she was determined to write her story in order to deal and overcome her personal trauma, she could do it privately and on a smaller scale, but of course that wasn’t what she wanted. “I thought you’d encourage me to do it,” she said with a downbeat tone. I starred at her for a while and could tell she was going to do it whether I agreed to it or not, and there was nothing I could do about it. We were past the main event and nothing was connecting me to it. Heather could easily write her version of the story and if her book does well, her truth would prevail. By the end of the night, I was so emotionally distraught I hoped to distance myself from her and forget the Aurora incident ever happened. Once I got home, though, I changed my mind when I finally faced reality. Heather was going to write her book whether I liked it or not. Mindfulness took over as I paced around my apartment and thought about how I still had a long way to go to recover from what James had done to me. While I was choosing to suffer alone, Heather wasn’t going to. The more and more I thought about it, I became convinced the book will have a devastating effect on me; it was going to isolate me and add to to my suffering while it freed and triumphed her. Then, an insane idea popped into my head and my recluse was going to help me execute it. I grabbed my phone and dialed Heather’s number. She picked up and I told her I’ve reconsidered and offered to help her recount the incidents as accurately as I could to make her story plausible, and she expressed her appreciation and scheduled a brainstorming seance at her apartment next week.

0 notes