#in defense of what? the packages in the ups truck? whatever they took in the robbery? i think they didnt even manage to take anything..

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of the whole “don’t feel obligated to these jobs and like you have to sacrifice and go the extra mile b/c the jobs do not give a shit about you” remember like not even a month ago when those cops played out some fantasy in response to the ups driver taken hostage in a getaway and used random people as human shields and killed the hostage driver and also the two guys trying to make the getaway and also a bystander died and ups was like “thank you for your service officers” they don’t give a shit also there should be no cops

#imagine what a crisis it could've been...... #an easily tracked vehicle with identification and probably a gps device so that the company can blame you for being too slow/going offroute #the Suspects are allowed to get away and nobody dies or is used as a human shield by cops like out here thinking they're living out a movie #thanks for killing our employee for no reason #in defense of what? the packages in the ups truck? whatever they took in the robbery? i think they didnt even manage to take anything.. #not even sarcastic ups really is just like. official stance: ty for killing our employee brave heroes.... #employers Do Not Give A Shit #your job doesnt care if you die. don't give a shit about owing the company anything; especially Going The Extra Mile or w/e #do not feel guilty they don't care about you at all #wasnt there also some shit with ups either starting or supporting a gofundme for the guy's funeral like.....................................

[hopecountysfavhoe]

‘Cold’ Chapter Eight

Word Count: 3,164

TW: Whump, course language, adult themes? I suppose?

     When the Deputy woke up, her side ached. She just assumed she irritated it in her sleep and ignored it. Jacob was already awake, of course, and had gotten out two cans of soup, one of which was warming up in the fire. She really didn't want to accept it since it was from Jacob and she was trying not to be so comfortable around him, but she did need all the energy and protein she could get for the hike back down.

     She saw Jacob standing by the kitchen cabinets, pencilling on what looked like a map. He glanced over at the now-awake Deputy and folded the map up, shoving it in his pack. There was silence in the cabin for a while before the Deputy broke the ice.

     "I'm going down the mountain today." She said, not looking at Jacob as she shuffled to get out of the bed.

     "I knew you would want to." Jacob said and the Deputy rolled her eyes, not while facing him of course.

     When the Deputy stood up her side suddenly screamed in pain, causing her to groan and grip her side. Jacob quickly looked over saw the Deputy leaning on the couch arm while she grabbed her side where her stick wound was.

     "Are you ok?" He asked and the Deputy set her jaw and straightened up, ignoring the screaming pain in her side.

     "I'm fine." She gritted out and felt as the pain slowly turned to a smaller throbbing ache. She moved around stiffly but tried to disguise her pain as best she could out of fear that Jacob would make her stay longer if she was in pain.

     There was no doubt about it, that stick wound was now very infected. All the Deputy has to do was make it to the Wolf's Den and hope they have a doctor there that could help her. In her head she was making a game plan. She figured it would fly out the window pretty quick, still it was nice to have a plan.

     "I don't think we should tell anyone that we were here together." The Deputy said, thinking the same as Jacob for once.

     Jacob looked over at her, a hint of surprise evident on his face. "I agree." He said and walked over to the fireplace to stoke the fire. "If my men knew I was up here with you and didn't bring you back they'd be very upset."

     "I can only imagine." The Deputy replied shortly. She could see Sharky's face now if she told him, and Nick's, and Adelaide's, and probably everyone she's ever known. All plastered with the same shocked and confused expression.

     "So it's settled, neither of us speak a word of this to anyone." Jacob made eye contact with her, clearly looking for an answer.

      "That means we can't use any information we've learned here, that would instantly give us away." The Deputy's dark brown eyes bored into Jacob's blue ones, making it obvious what she meant. Jacob nodded and stared right back. They had a mini staring contest, trying to see who would look away first. Eventually the Deputy huffed and looked away, going back to packing away her broken radio and a medikit into her own pack.

     Jacob got the can of soup out of the fire and handed it to the Deputy with a spoon. She looked at him hesitantly before accepting the soup.

     "You know Dep, I'm sorry you had a panic attack." Jacob said and the Deputy didn't look at him. She was honestly waiting for a but, one that never came.

     "...it's fine, we were getting a little to comfortable for enemies anyway." The Deputy looked at Jacob, locking eyes with him again.

     It did shock her to get apologized to but she had put up her walls again and it would take more than a can of soup to knock those down. She could tell that Jacob was trying to figure out how she ticked, she could feel his eyes trying to dig into her own and exploit her core. It almost brought a grin to her face but she was still acting cold and distant so she didn't allow her face a grin.

     The Deputy that Jacob was more familiar with was back. That infuriating Deputy that showed no fear and cursed him out was standing in his cabin, no longer controlled by that scarred, insecure girl Jacob had been seeing for the past three days. Jacob was still trying to figure out how the Deputy thought. He could tell that her anger was defensive but it was hard for him to pinpoint where it came from. It was as if him locking her in that cabin set off a switch inside her that made her change her entire personality.

     Jacob was almost shaken by how alike they honestly were. They both had these hidden sides that nobody ever saw and it was frightening how fast they could hide it.

     They finished their soup and Jacob folded up the remade bed back into a couch. It didn't take them more than 20 minutes to finish putting their things in their respective packs and put out the fire. Jacob grumbled out something about how he didn't have a lock for his door anymore but the Deputy didn't engage with him.

     They put on their snow clothes quietly. When she leaned over to tighten her snow boots her side screamed in pain again. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that it would somehow help with the pain, and bit her tongue. This is going to be a fun walk down. The Deputy thought to herself and tightened her boots.

     The Deputy pulled on her hat, looking back in the cabin one final time to check and make sure she didn't leave anything behind. Satisfied she turned and opened the door, marching herself out. Jacob followed behind her and shut the door, making sure that it was closed tightly. They were quiet as they walked through the cold snow.

     The snow was no longer stuck in the tree branches, the winds had knocked most of it out. The clouds were sparse, giving them a clear view of the valley below them. As they walked the sun peaked up from behind the mountain, the first rays on sunlight tickled the very tops of the mountains around them. Warm pink light illuminated the snow, causing everything to have a rosy hue as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

     It was a beautiful sunrise. And the higher the sun got the warmer it felt. The incredible morning pinks and oranges painted every wispy cloud in the sky, it took the Deputy's breath away. Eventually the sun rays reached Jacob and the Deputy, causing them to squint as they trudged through the bright snow.

     They went down those two hills on either side of the river, down through the thick forest, avoiding the spot where the wolves attacked them last time. Eventually they reached a large shear cliff that the Deputy remembered from when she first hiked up the mountain. Her and Jacob both turned to go down opposite sides of the cliff then paused to look at each other.

     "I'm going this way." The Deputy pointed down the mountain further to where she remembered her truck was parked at least an hours hike from where she stood.

     Jacob nodded. "I'm going this way." He said and pointed in the opposite direction, a solid 100 degree turn from the Deputy's direction.

     "Ok then...thanks for the help." The Deputy said, being careful not to sound to thankful.

     Jacob nodded and hefted his pack on his shoulders. "You're welcome." He said simply and they both turned to go in their respective directions.

     The Deputy crawled down the small path that animals had made next to the cliff and when she reached flat ground saw Jacob already ducking off into the trees. That was that...now she just had to make it to her damn truck and hope it starts.

     Her side was still painful but she pushed through, thinking of the good food she was going to eat when she loitered at Nick and Kim's house. It was a pretty good motivator, food was. It kept her going through the snow and the frigid cold. The sun hadn't made its way through the trees so the forest was much colder to walk through than the clear area by the cabin. Her nose tingled familiarly from the cold but her hat and gloves were doing pretty good at keeping the cold out. This time she was going to avoid rivers like they were the damn plague.

     The further down the mountain the Deputy went, the worse of a headache she was getting. Her palms and forehead got sweaty but the rest of her body was chilly and would shiver whenever she inhaled too much cold air. She felt like a broken record when she realized how tired she was, it was like she was getting sick. While she trudged through the snow she tried to remember what happens when you get an infected wound, one indicator was obviously pain, but was a fever a part of the package?

     She felt like someone was watching her, but she always felt like that in these mountains. It was probably because of how many cameras were strung up everywhere.

     The truth was someone was watching her, it was Jacob. But this time the watching wasn't done by camera, it was done by him following her. Yes he had ducked into that forest after the cliff to trick her into thinking that he'd left. After he tricked her, Jacob circled back and followed her trail, making sure to keep far enough away so that she wouldn't be able to see him if she turned around but so that he could still see her through his binoculars.

     He knew that her wound was infected and he knew that an infection would be hard on her system when she was like this so he just decided to keep tabs on her, make sure she got back to her truck ok. Besides, if she passed out in the snow and he just so happened be hiking back down the mountain when he randomly spotted her he could take her back to the Veteran's Center with no questions from his men.

      That wasn't his first plan, but it would be a way for him to keep his eye on her and have a doctor look her over.

     After about 30 minutes of hiking and waiting, Jacob watched as the Deputy stopped. She hadn't stopped since she got into the forest so Jacob was wondering what was happening. He quickly made sure she couldn't see him and peered through his binoculars, hoping to see whatever was going on down there.

     The Deputy paused and had to adjust her pack on her shoulders. She pulled her gun off first, accidentally bumping the stock into her side where her wound was. Instantly she cried out in pain, doubling over and pressing her arm into her side. She cursed to herself and tried to pull herself together. She had dropped her gun in the snow and did the same with her pack. She took off her gloves so that she could adjust something in her pack before she put it back on again.

    

     This time she was careful while putting her gun back on her shoulder, not wanting to irritate her side even more. Jacob watched silently as she adjusted her hat on her head and rolled her shoulders, getting herself ready to keep walking.

     She started walking again, this time she was going a little quicker. Maybe her wound getting hit had stirred up a sense of urgency she just couldn't ignore. Whatever the reason was, Jacob was glad that he could go a little faster while following her.

     The hike felt short, but the Deputy was very glad that it ended. She got out of the trees and saw her truck sitting there on a little side road, still exactly where she'd left it. Jacob hung back, staying at least 100 feet away so he could look through the binoculars and see what she was doing.

     When she got to her truck she threw her stuff in the passenger seat, wasting no time trying to start it. It didn't start right away but once she gave it some time to warm up then it fired right up. She turned the heater on and took her gloves off. She just grabbed the steering wheel and rested her forehead against it. She had gotten down the mountain, and she didn't need Jacob's help and she didn't die.

     It was a major relief but she still needed to get to the Wolf's Den so she gave the truck a small pat on the dashboard and put it in gear.

     Jacob watched as she got the truck started and let it heat up. When she pulled away he stood up from his hiding spot and watched as she drove down the road. Now that's she was well on her way to the Wolf's Den, Jacob could walk back to where he had parked. He wished he could have brought her to the Veteran's Center but it is what it is. He considered following her to the Wolf's Den but he knew he'd never be able to make it there on foot.

     It didn't take him long to get back to his truck, especially not with his snowshoes on. Funnily enough, Jacob and the Deputy has both parked on pretty much the same part of the mountain, Jacob was just closer to the highway.

    

     The Deputy's victory was short lived. She was just a few minutes drive away from the Wolf's Den when her truck sputtered and died.

     "No no no no no!" The Deputy exclaimed and rolled over to the side of the back road. Great. It was probably the battery, she'd been meaning to get it charged but it was still pretty good. The cold air must've zapped it.

     Now she'd have to get out and walk back to the Wolf's Den. It was annoying but there wasn't really anything she could do about it now. She grabbed her pack and gun and slid out of the truck. She put back on her hat and gloves and got her bearings. She knew where the Wolf's Den was and that helped her set her course.

     She walked down away from the road and crossed over the highway. When she got across the highway she went over the side rail and dropped down that hill. She knew that the Wolf's Den was unsuspecting and she had to be careful not to miss it so she kept her eyes peeled. The more she walked in the cold the more she realized she didn't like being cold. It seeped in through her clothes, through her skin, all the way to her bones. It made her fingers get stiff and her nose and cheeks wind-chapped.

     She just didn't like the cold. But now that she lived in Montana it was a more normal thing, she just couldn't wait until it was spring and summer so she could warm up again. With a shiver she looked over a small cliff edge and saw a helicopter landing pad. Thank God, it was the Wolf's Den's. She was just a few feet away from warmth and Eli and Wheaty, even Tammy would be a welcome sight to the Deputy.

     The Deputy found a way down to the helicopter pad  and shuffled her pack on her shoulders. She walked around the helicopter until she saw it, the front door to the bunker. The Deputy could have wept with joy if she wasn't so tired.

     She quickly shuffled over to the door and knocked on it, doing the Whitetail Militia's knock so that someone actually let her in.

     She waited for a minute until she heard the sweet sound of the creaking metal door opening. Then she stepped out of the way and let the door swing open.

     "Deputy!" A familiar voice cried out and wrapped his arms around her. It was Wheaty.

     The Deputy wrapped her arms around him, incredibly thankful that she was hugging him. Wheaty pulled away from the hug and beckoned her inside. "Come on in, you'll freeze out here." He said and she had to chuckle.

     She gladly stepped inside the warm bunker, going down the metal steps into the heart of the bunker. Wheaty closed the door behind them and turned around. As Wheaty turned around, the Deputy missed a step and crumbled down the stairs. Her legs were just too tired they didn't even try to catch her.

      "Dep?" Wheaty called and rushed down the steps to where the Deputy was laying. "Hey I need a medic!" He shouted and grabbed her shoulder, trying to help her up. Eli appeared out of nowhere and rushed to Wheaty's side.

     "What's wrong with her?" He asked and Wheaty shrugged, still holding her shoulder. The Deputy knew she was weak but she had no idea how fast she had gotten so tired. Her body just wanted to fall asleep now that she was safe.

     "I don't know, she just showed up at the front door then she fell down the stairs. She didn't even say anything." Wheaty explained and Eli nodded.

     They each hooked an arm under the Deputy's shoulders and lifted her to her feet. She got some footing and the guys guided her through the halls of the bunker till they reached a bed where they laid her down. They peeled off her snow clothes and someone came over and felt her head.

     "She's got a fever. Do we know where she's been?" She asked and Eli shook his head.

     "The Dep's been MIA for four days. We don't have any idea what's happened to her." Eli explained, looking over at the Deputy.

     Wheaty pulled her broken radio out of her bag. "Now I know why I couldn't reach her." He said and showed Eli. The medic pulled up her undershirt.

     "She's got an infection," she said, "she'll need antibiotics for this. Wheaty I should have some in my bag go, get it." She motioned for Wheaty to go and he went. The Deputy groaned and winced when the medic touched her wound.

     "Where have you been, Deputy?" Eli asked her.

     The Deputy couldn't really piece more than a few words together. "Camped out, on the mountain." She struggled to say and Eli nodded, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

     "Well you're here now, so you can rest." He said and the Deputy nodded. It was such a relief to her body that she was laying on a bed in the Wolf's Den, even if she was exhausted.

#far cry 5 #jacob seed #far cry #jacob seed x deputy #jacob x deputy #female deputy #deputy oc #john seed #joseph seed #far cry fanfic #fan fic #far cry 5 fanfic #fem!deputy #fem deputy #jacob seed x fem deputy

[blood-gulch-reds]

Here is my secret Valentime's day fic for @not-madder-red !! Enjoy :)

When Dexter Grif was in highschool, Valentine's day was a day to be spent alone in his room downing discount chocolate by the package and rewatching season 253 of the bachelor, criticising the stupid people on the trash TV, and secretly wishing he had someone to laugh at the bachelor with. Over all, Grif never really cared about Valentine's day. But now that he actually had someone to watch TV with, he felt as though he owed it to Simmons to do something... Nice for Valentine's day.

While this mind set of niceness was... Well... Nice, it presented a set of problems. First off, Grif and Simmons had only just started dating ( if you could call watching star trek holding hands instead of not holding hands a date) for 4 Earth months. So in a romantic sense, Grif was absolutely in the dark about what Simmons enjoyed romantically. Secondly, Grif never really did Valentine's day and had no idea where to begin. Did Simmons expect roses? Did he think Grif would get him chocolates in a cardboard box? Out of all the things that the happy couple had talked about before tying the knot, romance was one subject that was never brought up to often.

And lastly, Grif had completely forgotten about Valentine's day until he woke up (at noon) to find that Donut had decorated the whole base with hearts cut out pink and red construction paper and plenty of glitter.

"Rise and shine buddy! Happy Valentine's day!" Donut sang from the kitchen,where he was preparing heart shaped sandwiches. 

Realization hit Grif like a bag of bricks and his face showed it. The only thing he was capable of saying was "I forgot it was Valentine's day". He slumped down into a chair at the kitchen table and donut set a plate down in front of him with a ham and mustard sandwich (sans the crust) cut in the shape of a heart with chips on the side.

Donut smiled curiously as he began to wash dishes. "Sure is!" He chirped in a chipper tone. He turned the water off and grabbed a dish towel to dry off some plates. "Hey, I could have sworn you didn't do Valentine's day? Why the change of... Heart?" He Snickered at his own stupid joke and thought Grif didn't show it (or any emotion besides shock for that matter) his distaste for the pun was immeasurable. 

"Well..." Grif began, absent mindedly taking a bite out of the sandwich. "Ia neavur- mm-" he decided to finish chewing the food in is mouth before talking, an unusually civil thing of him to do. Donut picked up on this gesture immediately and deemed whatever Griff was about to say as extremely important. He put away the plate he was holding and gracefully sat down at the seat across the table from where Grif was seated. "Mm damn that's a good sandwich. Where was I? Oh, right" Grif wiped his mouth with a napkin and took a breath. "I never really felt like... Well I never really got the whole point of it, y'know?" Donut nodded intently, slowly leaning more and more forward. "It's a fuckin Hallmark holiday- a chance for the big corporations to make money or whaterever and a chance to pick up some discounted candy for the lowly working man. But now that..." Grif drifted off for a moment, a slight ting coming to his cheeks. His eyes wandered elsewhere and Donut dared not to disturb him. "Now that Simmons and I... are a thing... I think I get it. I wanted to make our first Valentine's day special and like, get him something? but now it's just too late" Grif finished. A look of genuine disappointment spread across his face.

Donut perked up. Finally, a moment in need of his expertise!  "Too late? That's totally not true at all!" Grif looked up hopefully. If he was trying to hide his inner dialogue, he was failing miserably. "Look Grif, you've got the whole rest of the day to figure out what you're going to get the love of your life for your guy's first ever Valentine's day together as soul mates!!" Grif shrunk down into his hoodie and let out a groan. Donut pressed on anyway. "If you don't know what to get him, why not pick some flowers for him? It's shallow, but shows that you're trying".

Grif sat up and thought for a moment. "That's... That's not a bad idea." Grif then stood up and scarfed down what was left of the sandwich before walking towards the door. "Maybe I can turn this thing around... I don't have a ton of time but," he stoped and smiled to himself. "It's worth a shot. Thanks for the food Donut!" He said as he closed the door behind him.

Donut yelled "Wait! You forgot to put your dish away-" but Grif was already out the door. Donut rolled his eyes and placed the used dish in the sink. "These love birds..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12:30 p.m.

Grif was gitty to get Simmons the perfect gift and, although Donut's flower idea was cute, he deemed him correct in saying it was a bit cliche. Grif wanted something a little more personal, and who better to ask about relationship then his ever romantic sister.

When Grif walked over to the 'blue house', as they had dubbed it, there was the ever familiar scent of burnt toast and chaos in the air. Before Grif could even process what was going on, there was a loud crash as panini press came flying through the window, followed by even louder yelling from Kai.

"ITS NOT THAT FUCKING HARD BRO I DONT EVEN KNOW HOW YOU BURNED- oh hey Dex!" Kai stormed out of the house, fuming, but her tone quickly changed when she saw her brother. Grif was stunned, but tried to quicky get over it as he had a job to do.

"Hey, Kaikaina. I had a question if you're not busy-"

"WHY IS THE WINDOW BROKEN? tUCKER‽" Washington's voice rang shrill in Grif's ears. Kai's face went pale.

"Why don't we take a walk?" She offered with a guilty smile. Grif pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Yeah- ok that sounds good." The two of them walked toward the shore. Although they'd never talk about it aloud, the beach here fondly reminded them of home. Not the chaos of thier mother, nor the periods of time without food, but the gentle laughter they shared making each other feel better. Grif decided to start off with some light conversation. "Soooo," he began "what was that all about"

"Uhg it's bullshit! It all started last night when Tucker got drunk and put his dick in a-" 

"Woah! Ok never mind! Jesus Christ...", Said Grif, who realised there was no use trying to decipher blue team's bull shit and it would probably be best to just get to the point. "Look it's Valentine's day and I wanna get something nice for Simmons. Any ideas?"

Kaikaina stood still for a moment, just looking at the ground in awe. "I thought... I thought you didn't do Valentine's day."

Grif flushed "yeah well, things are different now". He was going to stop there but quickly added on, "and I only got like, a couple hours so... If you have any suggestions I'd like to hear 'em".  

Kai lit up like a Christmas tree. " 'if I have any ideas'? Bro I've been waiting for you get laid on Valentine's day since we were in highschool!" Grif's cheeks and ears darkened in tone while the patch of Simmons skin on his right cheek turned bright red. 

"Just get on with it!" 

Kai smiled. " Ok ok... You need a gift idea? Here's one: get him something he's been talking about for a few weeks." Grif was about to thank Kai for her genuinely good advice before she continued, "that way he'll know that you're a good listener and be way more eager to let you go down on him like a tow truck!!"

"I second that! Chicks- er- bottoms are totally into good listeners!" Said Tucker, who had appeared our of seemingly nowhere.

"Where the fuck did you come from???" Kai inquired, shifting her weight onto one hip.

"Oh, you know-"

"No. We don't." Grif interjected.

Tucker shrugged. "I needed to get away from base for a while. It's was getting to chaotic for me-

"That and Wash probably threatened to skin him for burning breakfast and breaking a window" Kai teased. Grif smiled at Kai's remark and watched Tucker throw his hands up defensively.

"Hey! First of all, you broke that window. Secondly, I needed some space from caboose! He's all emotional because it's Valentine's day. He misses church." 

Grif suddenly had an idea. No one was more... Soft? Innocently romantic? Genuinely kind?? Then caboose. Kai and Tucker were bickering like lovers often do (not that they were together... Or maybe they were? Grif didn't know, nor did he want to know) so he slipped away and he was off to find Caboose.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1:20 pm.

When Grif finally made it to the blue's house, things had seemed to settle down. He let himself in and found a very defeated wash sitting at the kitchen table, clutching a cat shaped mug. Carolina was looming over him, clearly trying to be comforting. They both looked up when Grif came in, but otherwise didn't acknowledge his presence. 

"Uh... Hey. Is caboose around?" 

Wash mumbled into his mug, "how did he burn a bowl of cereal…." 

"Yes, I think he's on the roof" said Carolina, who looked sympathetic and tired.

Grif noded and showed himself upstairs. The aftermath of whatever happened this morning clearly has left it's scars on everyone and Grif and absolutely no intention of finding out the full compendium of events that had occurred. He made his way into the attic and through the small window on the south facing side of the house that led to a flat, sturdy spot on the roof. The Reds' and Blues' houses were built exactly the same, but they mirrored each other. Sarge absolutely refused to believe that the houses were identical and claimed that the Red house had three more roofing tiles, making it superior. 

Grif opened the window and crawled out onto the roof to find Caboose sitting with Church's helmet, a glass of orange juice, a copy of the old earth show Friends, and a red heart shaped paper folded down the middle. Grif felt bad disturbing him, but it had to be done. "Uh, hey man. Happy Valentine's day…"

Caboose looked up (he had been looking at the clouds) and smiled. "Hi Gruff!!! Happy Valentime's day" he look around as if something were the matter. "Where is Cinnamons? It is Valentime's day and you two aren't together?" 

Grif crawled up next to him and pulled out a bag of Hershey's kisses. He offered some to Caboose and said "yeah about that… I want to get him a gift but I don't know what to get him. I figured you might have an idea?". 'Why am I even asking?' he thought to himself. 'if Donut, Kai, and Tucker of all people couldn't give me good enough advice why am I even here‽ Desperation?'. 

Caboose was quiet for a moment before thoughtfully saying, "when church was still here, he didn't like it very much when I gave him hugs, but he really liked this one show?" He held up the copy of Friends, and Grif nodded intently. "So we would watch it together alot! On Valentime's day, I would make him a card like this one-" he pointed to the red heart shaped paper and Grif noticed that there was writing on the inside. Not Caboose's writing because the penmanship had bitchy (and legible) undertones. He concluded that it was Church's card to Caboose and suddenly Grif started to put everything together. "I liked cards and he liked Friends! So we did that together. I miss him alot sometimes", Caboose concluded. 

Grif tapped him on the shoulder. "I know man. We miss him too." There was a moment of bitter sweet silence before Grif said,"thanks Caboose. I have to get going to Sim-... Cinnamons." 

"Ok! Happy Valentime's day Gruff!" Caboose said cheerfully. Grif smiled and climbed down. He set off to town, with a pretty good idea of what to get Simmons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2:30 pm

Grif got stuck in traffic

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3:05

The store was crowded with men and women with the same last minute, albeit good, intentions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4:00 

Grif waited anxiously in line at his final stop. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5:00 

Grif was stuck in more traffic. The sun was just starting to go down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7:30 

Halfway home. Traffic finally let up

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8:40

Grif finally made it home, but despite all his delays he just sat in the warthog for a moment. The silence was killing him, but he needed time to collect his thoughts. After breathing for a minute or two, Grif grabbed his bags and hopped out of the vehicle. He knew Simmons had been working on some computer repairs (his side hussle for a little extra spending money, not that they needed it as Kimbal provided for their every need) in his 'lab'. He called it his lab, but everyone else called it Simmons' room that he turned into a workspace after he kinda sorta moved into Grifs' room. Actually, everyone else called it the nerd cave. Grif made his way up to the nerd cave and lightly knocked on the door.

The music that had been playing was hushed and a few moments later Simmons opened the door. "Grif! Hey man." He said, smiling widely. He was a mess. His hair was just long enough in the front to be held back by a hair tie, which formed a tiny little hair stump on the back of his head. He was sweaty and had clearly been working non-stop for the last who knows how long (Grif did- he had been working for 14 hours straight at his own discretion) made clear by the 3 empty coffee cups on his desk. His cybernetic eye was softly glowing, meaning that he had been extensively using it to magnify whatever teensy circuit boards he had been working on. Tldr: he was truly a geeky, nerdy mess. Grif thought he look amazing.

"Hey Simms.. hey can you uh-" for a moment he hesitated. What Simmons thought this was stupid? What if he hated this whole stupid holiday? What if he thought- no. Grif shook his jitters and said, "can you take a break for a sec?" 

Simmons wiped his face with his sleeve. "Yeah dude of course what's up?" Grif reached into one of the paper bags on his arm and pulled out a medium sized bouquet of roses. They were shades of orange and maroon, to colors that held a good deal of significance to the two of them. He stuck out his arm, offering the flowers to Simmons. He looked away and shoved his free and in his pocket. "I uh.. I picked these up for you" Simmons didn't move for a moment and Grif's world came crashing down. He thought it was stupid. Donut was wrong, Kai and Tucker were wrong, caboose was wrong everything is so fucking stupid how could he be this dumb? He was about to walk away when Simmons gingerly took the flowers in his robotic hand. "Grif… these are beautiful. You went to town just to get these for me?"

"Well, no." Said Grif. Simmons looked a little disappointed at this. Grif realised what we said and how it came out before quickly adding, "no! I- I mean I like got more then just flowers for you uh… here" he said, getting a small tissue paper wrapped object out of the second bag. Simmons gently tore away at the paper and gasped with glee when he saw a Phillips Head #000 screwdriver. "Oh my god! Dude! I've been talking about how I need one of these forever!" Grif smiled, feeling much more confident in his Valentine's grifs. Simmons took the little tool (the screwdriver, not his boyfriend) back to his desk and placed it carefully on top of a book. He came rushing back to give Grif a hug. "Thank you so much dude."

Grif was taken back at how much Simmons really did appreciate his gifts. It felt nice to make him smile like this! But there was one more gift in store…Grif broke away from Simmons grip and pulled out a small velvet box. Simmons looked on in with anticipation. "When we were in blood gulch", began Grif. "We went to the Vegas and you hated every minute of it but you pushed through for me. We went back again and again and that one time… what was it? 4 years ago? You hit big on black jack. You were so happy and I was happy for you? It was like 'damn. He's finally enjoying a vacation.' anyway… I went downtown today and got this." He opened the box and revealed a poker chip- a golden one. It was ingraved with delicate lettering that spelled out "for Richard~". 

"Grif…" Simmons started to tear up (loser). He looked up and smiled a genuine smile. "I love it" he said, enveloping Simmons in another, tighter hug. Grif was struggling to breathe, but it was worth it. "N-no problem. Hhhappy Valentine's day." He wheezed out. 

Simmons dropped him suddenly. "I just realized" he shifted his weight "I thought you didn't do Valentine's day…" 

Grif ran a dang through his hair. "Yeah well, I found a pretty damn good reason to start celebrating." 

Simmons lit up. "In that case…" he pulled out a plastic bag filled with limited addition mint oreos and handed it to Grif. "I can give these to you early" 

Grif started crying. "It's a Valentine's day Miracle!"

@rvbgiftexchange

#hehe #hoho #i hate this uuuh #grif #Simmons #grimmons #rvb #red vs blue

[kazbrkker]

Chapter 2: Valley of the Damned

Chapter summary: Alexis and Alex are finally reunited after three long months. Now, their new assignment is to locate the gas. To do so, they have to align themselves with a local militia. Alexis finds herself reuniting with more than one old friend (2544 words)

Warnings: Mention of needles. Weapons and violence.

24 OCTOBER 2019, 1515 “Alexis" CIA BASE, Urzikstan

Clutching his IV stand, Alex enveloped her into a long overdue embrace, exchanging warm words of reconciliation. She smirked, appreciating the humorous view of a 6"1 man dressed in a knee-length surgical gown. It was a feast for her sore eyes, after months of doomsday work, it was liberating to genuinely enjoy a laugh. 

"You look like shit." Aside from his flesh injuries and his newly grown scruff, Alex felt leaner under her fingertips. The bags underneath their eyes were darker, heavier with the weight of the dark, frightful world that they had witnessed. 

Three months had since passed. While Alexis was tasked with chasing the mess left in Valhalla's wake, Alex was stationed everywhere Command pleased. Texts of good health weren't the same as physically seeing each other. Most of the time, it was a one-way communication with Alex's inconsistent replies, understandable as he was restlessly deployed from one hostile environment to the next. 

"And that's the first thing you say to me? How kind of you, Lexi."

"Please. Your nicknames are horrible."

They pulled away shortly after, the hug was enough to remedy for the lost three months. Although his arm remained on her shoulders, which normally would have earned him a harsh jab. Today, the injured man received immunity.

She turned back to face the CIA station chief, who watched their reunion with the faintest of a smile and morphed back into the cold, professional agent that Laswell knew best. 

The duo sat down while Laswell started her debrief. There was limited intel on where or who stole the gas. Satellite images discovered only the abandoned trucks five miles outside Verdansk, with intercepted chatter suggesting that they switched vehicles.

In short, the CIA doesn't know jack about the stolen gas.

"Your primary mission is to locate the gas and secure it." Laswell ordered.

Alexis inquired, "How are we transporting the package?" 

"Anonymous tip off, zero footprints. Russia cannot know that American operatives have a part in this."

"Third option, then." The young agent stated, scanning her brain for any holes she needed Laswell to fill. Third option was the SAD's motto, representing everything they stood for – when diplomacy fails and military wasn't an option.

"We're on our own." Alex followed, eyes briefly flickering to Alexis.

Laswell shook her head, which surprised them. "Normally, yes. But with the rising situation, we need to locate the gas fast. You will need the Liberation Force on your side, a local militia of 7000 strong. Use Captain Price's name to make contact with the CO, that should get you in."

 "Commander Karim," Alexis straightened up. Looks like Alex was not the only old friend she was reuniting with. 

"You know Commander Karim?" Laswell asked for the second time for today, pleasantly surprised.

She merely hummed, thinking know might not be the right word. A soft smirk formed at the memory. Without elaborating further, it left the other two to their imaginations.

 "Command is not sparing any expenses. Anything you need, radio in. They expect the Aces to bring it home as always." Laswell continued. "Go freshen up. We'll reconvene at 1800 for mission prep."

Over the years, she had mastered the art of reading in between the lines of Command's orders. We expect nothing but mission success, you cannot afford the price of your blowback. She agreed, failure was nonexistent in her books, for the hefty price would be paid by innocent lives. There was always too much riding on every assignment, pressurizing, to say the least. 

"Yes ma'am," were the last words she said with a crude nod before exiting, practically bolting out the door. 

Alexis mischievously checked her wristwatch as Alex sidestepped down the stairs, IV stand in toll. She laughed, draping his uninjured arm across her shoulders for support, "Jesus, you look like you could sprain a muscle climbing down those steps."

Alex derided, "That's hilarious."

He abruptly halted, earning a confused side glance. His hands brazenly clasped Alexis' face, the rough edges of his thumb contouring her features. A  grinned continuously while examining her face, utilizing Urkzistan's pounding sunlight to highlight her sharp features.  

His piercing blue eyes took her in. A little tanner, irritated veins hiding shyly in her eyes, cheekbones were more sunken than the last time he saw her. 

"Alex... It's like you're begging me to tackle you right here–" She struggled over her words as he tilted her head, calloused fingers tightly squishing her cheekbones to counter her resistance. "You really want to fall flat on your ass, in a surgical gown in front of the Marines?" 

He finally released her with a satisfied hum.

"Just jealous that Paris has been treating you so well." He messed with her neat bun, cooing at her irked expression. "Did you get 'em highlighted?"

Alexis peered with a sickly sweet, uncomfortably wide smile for her usual cold and expressionless face. Her fingers traced along where his IV needle was embedded and pressed hard. A pained groan fell from his lips, clutching onto her shoulder blades for silent mercy.

"That's hilarious," she echoed, taking quick nods at his sarcastic smile and nervous laughter. "I'll admit, my target sure knew how to pick his places. Quel beau coucher de soleil! (What a beautiful sunset!)"

She was being sarcastic. Showers were considered a luxury — being tasked on recon all the time, let alone to enjoy the damn sunset. 

He scowled in response, hurriedly plucking out his IV drip afterwards. He watched as she observed the scenery in the Urzikstan base, or rather, the lack thereof. She sighed, "Alex, I–"

Alex interjected before she said something self-deprecating. "Our job-"

"Our job never ends. I know..." She recited with Alex, a genuine smile as she looked back at him. It was remarkable how Alex always intuitively knew how she was feeling, a honed skill that he now specialized in when it came to her. "Just wish I could have seen it through the end. To catch Val–"

She quickly apologized for the almost slip. Alex strained his eyebrows at the unexpected mistake, now understanding the true extent of how her Paris mission affected her – for she wasn't one to be that careless.

Unbeknownst to the public, there were a series of bombings in various parts of the world tied to Boucher's MO. The puzzling detail was that Boucher had solid alibis when it all happened. That was enough for the CIA to launch an investigation to find out Boucher had turned contractual.

That was Alexis' assignment, to find out Boucher's buyer.

He wanted to divulge more, but he couldn't. In order for the government to maintain plausible deniability, every SAD operation was clandestine, deniable. Nothing, even in the face of true friendships, people that you trust your life with, would ever change that. Even the closest peas in a pod – the two of them, knew little about each other's assignments.

And sometimes, it really pissed him off. It made it more difficult to keep each other safe. 

Alex sighed, pulling her closer against him, injuries be damned.

What he could empathize with, was the pool of helplessness flooding their hearts when they get pulled away from assignments they believe in. Coupled with the fact they never get to choose, it was a cold splash of reality that they could only accept, never protest.

That sentence served as a reminder to anchor the pair, to never lose sight of their beliefs. At the end of the day, whatever you do, trust that you are still for the greater good.

Our job never ends.

The greater good is always calling. Even if it wasn't the one they wanted. 

━━━━ 26 OCTOBER 2019, 1300 "Alexis" and "Alex", Codename Aces CIA Assets Liberation Force Base, Urzikstan

The unsightly, plain cement building stared Alexis back in the face. It appeared awfully residential, pieces of cloth hanging loosely from its hinges.

Stationed just behind the corner of the militia's perimeters, arms folded, she watched Alex slid a combat knife in his left boot. "That's overdoing it, don't you think?"

"Empty your right boot, Lexi, let's see it."

"Left boot." She corrected with a wagging finger. He shoved it back playfully. "The right boot is reserved for a handcuff key and some razors– Which I will use on you, if you keep it up with that nickname."

Alex ignored her demands and rolled his eyes, mumbling the same sentiment about overdoing it. Now standing up, he stared down as she held a proud grin, "Not when it breaks you out of custody from the mob."

At this mention, the playful mood disappeared. She pursed her lips and raised her hands apologetically at the sight of Alex's tensed body language, knowing the joke was in poor taste. He had always disliked it when she joked about that. It went silent after that. 

It was in the mid-afternoon when the duo intentionally breached the militia's perimeter to make contact, hands raised defensively. It didn't take past five seconds before armed soldiers besieged them, yelling in Arabic at the pair.

Alex took charge, his voice unwavering as he used Captain Price's name as ordered. The two slowly disarmed as a form of sincerity to prove they weren't a threat. Their eyes met as they were slammed onto the rough gravel. With fire in his eyes, Alex stared at the man patting down Alexis' body, daring them to try anything. On the contrary, the female agent was calm and composed.

"I'll follow your lead." His head tilted in confusion at her request. Alexis should take lead, they were her contacts. 

"It's been a hazy five years. Plus, you're so handsome. Come on, you'll drop 'em dead." She commented elusively, entering his good graces again when a tiny grin surfaced. "Also, if you introduce me with that God forbidden name, you know what's in my boots."

"Hey. Right boot, don't forget."

"Look who's a fast learner."

They were escorted into a dark room to Commander Karim.

"What is your message from Captain Price?" Commander Karim spoke first. She examined the two intruders, eyes lingering longer on the brunette woman.

"Commander Karim. Call me Alex, this is Alexis." Gradually, the Commander's cautious expression was tainted with a hint of surprise – she remembered. Farah nodded an acknowledgement towards Alexis, arms crossed defensively. The female agent's presence was surprising, so was Captain Price's name drop. But that wasn't sufficient to lower her guard.

"I'm listening."

They requested complete privacy for the classified intel. The commander reverted back to her mother tongue, ordering the soldiers to leave them.

"Forty-eight hours ago, terrorists stole a shipment of Russian gas."

"Only Al-Qatala would do this." Commander Karim stated confidently.

Alexis remained seated, her face expressionless per usual. On the other hand, Alex stood up, confidence radiating as he sauntered around the table. She smirked, confidence was the one thing nobody could pry away from Alex.

The man was naturally charming, easy on the eyes and gifted with a silver tongue to wiggle him out of sticky situations. This trait of his was why he thrived well in hostile environments, due to his natural ability to quickly form bonds with local militias, which Command milked every single drop of it. 

She knew Alex had his doubts about the militia group and he wasn't afraid to sugarcoat it. Audaciousness was one of their common traits, they want to know exactly what they were dealing with. 

So she lets him get audacious.

"The Russians make no distinction between Al-Qatala and your people." With that bold statement, Alexis leaned deeper into her seat. 

"And I make no distinction between Al-Qatala and their army. They are both terrorists." Commander Karim narrowed her eyes, "We would never use these poisons."

Alex nodded, the delay between nods still suggested doubt. "Then help us track it, before they–"

"Before they what? Take it to Europe? Or America?" Farah chuckled bitterly, side-eyeing Alexis. Unspoken tension circled the air as the two women's gazes met. "We live like this every day."

Alex glanced at his partner suspiciously.

The door swung open and a younger man entered the room. "Commander, it's time to go–" He halted at the presence of new company. "Who is this?"

"Alex, this is my brother and lieutenant, Hadir. Alena, you already know him."

"Unfortunately." She replied without missing a beat, feeling Alex's perplexed gaze burning a deep hole in her side profile. 

Despite knowing better, he was futilely searching for a tell that he wouldn't find. He asked himself, what is she not telling me?

Farah Karim shrugged, humored. The hostility in Hadir's eyes washed away instantly upon recognizing the brown-haired woman. "Alena! What are you doing with the CIA?"

"Alexis." She rectified. "I work with the CIA now," The brunette rosed from her seat, a small nod in her first act of mutual acknowledgement to the familiar faces.

Their eyebrows raised at the revelation. "A lot has changed," Farah stated as a matter of fact.

Alexis recognized the wary looks in their eyes. Her palms rippled in reassuring waves, "I still work with Captain Price. So does Alex."

"Then you still kill Russians, yes?"

"We have friends who can help us. But, your sister decides what's next." Alex replied, tactfully using the situation to deliver this sole sentence that demonstrated their respect for the militia's authority and established the CIA's usefulness. Alexis stared with admiration, looking at the skilful agent doing what he does best.

"Of course. My sister is in command...and their army is still here." Something about how Hadir said it did not sit well with Alexis.

"This occupation must end. That we can all agree on, yes?" The two agents nodded, carefully observing a map of the Urzikstan capital.

"General Barkov's men control the city. We have plans to change that."

"We have no missiles, but we have our ways," Hadir added eagerly.

"If you stay, we can help you, but if you stay... you fight."

Alexis shrugged, her answer was crystal clear. Her lips curved upwards, simply crossing her arms and left her other half in charge. She observed his thinking face, unknown to the world but subtle to her. A small shift of his lower jaw, his tell. After years of experience, they could read each other like a book. 

"Then, let's fight." He answered in Arabic, pushing himself off the table just in time to catch a rifle that Hadir tossed to him.

She broke into a small grin, catching her weapon with her reflexes.

"Welcome to Urzikstan, Alex. Alena– Alexis, welcome back," Hadir said with an equally delighted expression.

"Follow me." Farah nodded, arming herself with an AK-47. Hadir, Alex and Alexis followed her lead to the militia's secret tunnels. It was pitch black until a red flare illuminated it.

"We have intel Russian troop commanders are in town today. We're going to ambush them."

Alexis eagerly squeezed her partner's shoulders. Adrenaline flowed through their veins and their stomachs twisted in a sign of anticipation. Anticipation for trouble, for blood, for faith. 

This marked the start of the duo's assignment.

"Let's seize the day."

a/n: hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. masterlist here. want to be tagged? let me know!

#call of duty x oc #call of duty x reader #alex modern warfare #john price #kyle garrick #kate laswell #farah karim #oc: alexis #hadir karim #ysr writes: kl #killer instinct #fanfiction #alex cod #modern warfare

[justlightlysedated]

one for sorrow, two for joy

dedicated to @bisexualalienblast and @fraudulentzodiacs ❤💜

*

Alex is too angry, too concerned about stopping the bleeding and getting himself together so that no one questions him when he gets to school, to notice anything else when he stalks into the tool shed to get at the supplies he hid in there, just in case.

He's stuffing cotton up his nose to stop the bleeding, thankful that at least his dad didn't slam his face that hard into the wall when he pushed him against it, when a light shines in his eyes distracting him.

He blinks a little and furrows his brow as he looks out the window and sees the source of the light.

His brow furrows even more in confusion as he stares at what can only be a wind chime, but a home made one, made with twine and bits of metal and glass.

Alex gets up from where he'd been sitting on the floor and goes over to the couch, kneeling on it so that he can prop his elbows on the window ledge and touch one of the pieces of glass.

It's smooth to the touch, but looks rough, like it was sand that had smoothed out it's sharp edges.

One of the hanging nuts has a rolled up piece of paper inside and Alex would ignore it as decorational but it’s the only one that has it.

He tugs the paper out, and unfolds it, and his heart starts pounding in his chest and he feels like he can’t breathe right when he recognizes the small, meticulous handwriting that belongs to Michael Guerin.

We’re studying corvids in Bio II, and the magpie, kind of reminds me of you, and how you’re black and white and decorate yourself with shiny, iridescent things, but I noticed that you don't really have anything in here that shows that part of you, and so I made this wind chime for you, as a thank you for letting me stay here. I really appreciate it.

G

Alex reads the note through twice and smiles, looking back up to the wind chime and reaching out to touch one of the glass pieces, where it's been meticulously wrapped in wire and hung, even the pieces of metal are shaped which speaks of a degree of skill that Alex didn't think someone like Guerin would have.

He bites his lip and touches the piece shaped almost like a tiny metal guitar, and thinks that maybe he should pull out his brother's old guitar and leave it here for Guerin to find.

*

(The ache in Michael's hand is ongoing and never ending, and by the beginning of the second week, he thinks that maybe he'll be dealing with that ache for the rest of his life.

He gets into his truck, slamming the door shut and ignores the paperwork he'd just gotten from the office and starts the truck.

He looks up to adjust the rearview mirror and freezes.

Hanging beneath it is a dream catcher. It looks a little worn, but well taken care off, the strings creating the design in the center are pure white, and the feathers hanging from beneath it are black and iridescent.

He knows that it's from Alex even if he hadn't found one of the pieces from the wind chime he'd given him hanging from it.

He remembers Alex telling him that the reason he painted his nails a black that glittered blue, purple, and green in the sunlight was because that's the color of a crow's feather, which were the feathers his mom used to make him a dream catcher to help with his nightmares.

Michael had joked that Alex didn't need to be afraid of his dreams with him around and Alex had laughed, bright and happy and Michael had thought that it was the only sound that he wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

His hand spasms with pain and Michael looks away from the dream catcher and shakes his head sharply once before he sniffs and puts the truck into drive.

Now the only sound that he can't seem to shake is the way that Alex screamed as his dad took a hammer to Michael's hand.)

*

Isobel wrinkles her nose and stares around the Airstream, "You really need to clean this place up if you're planning on entertaining company."

She gave a significant pause before the last word, letting him know that she knew all about Alex Manes, who had been sighted in town for the first time in three years. 

But Michael like always ignores her and slouches back even further on his bed, jostling the dream catcher that's hanging from the edge of the headboard.

"You don't really seem like the type of person who would be into that stuff," Isobel says, more a question than a comment.

Michael doesn't answer. He just reaches out and touches one of the feathers a strange look on his face, lost and wistful.

Isobel stares at him startled and incredulous.

When did this happen? When did this happen? And how did she not notice? 

She knew that he had a thing for Alex, Max had told her what happened at prom, but she had no idea that it had gotten this out of hand.

He was at Max pining for Liz levels of energy right now, and Isobel really didn't need another love sick brother.

She clears her throat loudly, "When was the last time you spoke to him?" She asks, sounding defensive which immediately puts Michael on guard.

He sits up, dislodging the mail that he had been going through when she arrived, and looks at her. "What are you talking about?"

Isobel wants to push the subject because she doesn't think Michael will talk about it otherwise, but the way that he looks at her stops  her short.

He’s pleading with her to drop it, so she does with a sigh.

“Max,” she replies, and gives him a look when he tenses up immediately and gets to his feet.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, and pulls his shirt over his head throwing the dirty shirt at Isobel.

Isobel scoffs as she catches it and throws it to the pile of dirty clothes he has in one corner.

She says, "One of you is eventually going to tell what actually happened between the two of you that night!"

Michael turns the water on in response.

Isobel rolls her eyes and stands up.

She looks at the dream catcher, at the shiny beads that decorate the strands in the form of a constellation, and the shiny black feathers that seem to shimmer in different colors.

She purses her mouth and looks over the piles of stones and glass and metal bits he has all over the counter. Her gaze is caught by something hanging right above Michael's desk on a small rig. A wind chime of all things.

Isobel shakes her head and grabs her purse.

She walks out of the Airstream and ducks her head to look inside of Michael’s truck as she passes and sure enough, there’s another dream catcher there, hanging from the rearview mirror, the pure white circle stained yellow by the constant sunlight, and hanging right next to it were a pair of dog tags that Isobel didn’t have to read to know who they belonged to.

She looks back to the Airstream, and sees the shadow of Michael through the covered windows moving from one side of the Airstream to the other.

Again she wonders exactly how long this has been going on, and why she didn’t notice before.

She pulls her phone out and texts Max to meet her at the Crashdown. Maybe he’ll know more, and maybe if he’s too busy that hot lawyer from the day before would be by for lunch again.

*

(Alex is tired, about to take a well deserved nap before he has to report for duty when there is something thrown on his chest.

He opens his eyes and glares at the airman, James standing in front of him holding the bag with their correspondence.

James grins at him. “You’ve got mail, and also,” he tugs another envelope and tosses it at Alex. “I got your replacement tags, just don’t lose them again.”

Alex nods his head and sits up to grab the envelope he’d closed earlier, a plain white paper with the Air Force insignia in one corner and Michael’s PO Box written meticulously on the front.

James takes the envelope from him and shakes it slightly. The stones and glass and shells that Alex picks up during his patrols rattle noisily but James just grins like Alex being predictable is the best thing to happen to him all day and continues down the line.

Alex sits up and puts the envelope with his new dog tags aside before he grabs the small package that James had thrown at him first and opens it eagerly as soon as he recognizes Michael’s handwriting.

He carefully pulls the wind chime out, and smiles at the metal stars and smooth marbled planets made from pieces of glass that Alex sent him.

He sets the box aside and gets up from his bed, and walks to the small window right beside the small bedside drawer.

He hangs the wind chime right beside the other two Michael has sent him.

He carefully passes his hand over it and smiles and the sound it makes and sits back down on his bed, grabbing the box and pulling out the note.

I missed you so much I sent the moon with a kiss from me to you.

Alex smiles, biting down on his lip as he puts the note aside with the others, and stands back up to look out the window.

The moon shines brightly in the sky, and Alex presses a hand against the glass covering the moon briefly before he presses his palm to his mouth and closes his eyes remembering the last time that he saw Michael.

Alex has no idea what he’s doing. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t just cut off all ties between him and Michael, but what he does know is that it seems like Michael seems to understand exactly what to do with whatever it is that Alex is giving him.

Alex just hopes that in the end, it’s enough.)

*

Alex makes it to the Airstream before Michael is done with his last car of the day.

He tells Alex that there is cold beer inside when Alex kicks at his shin to get his attention, and Alex stares at the strip of pale skin exposed by the way he’s stretched out beneath the truck.

Alex shakes his head and walks inside to get the beer.

He takes two out of the tiny fridge and sets them on top of the counter to look for a bottle opener.

He turns towards the desk and stops when he notices the small rig set up from where an incomplete wind chime is hanging. Alex looks back out through the window and he can see that Michael is still beneath the truck.

He walks over to the desk, and smiles when he sees the tools he uses and pieces of glass and metal shavings scattered all over the top of the desk.

He passes his fingers over the glass, and presses the incomplete metal figurines against the palm of his hand before he reaches up and makes the pieces attached to the wind chime hit against each other to make the twinkling soothing sound, and he closes his eyes and smiles lightly.

He feels hands brushing against his shoulders and sliding down to wrap around his wrists as Michael presses up close behind him, opening his mouth against the back of Alex’s neck.

“You get lost looking for the beers?” Michael asks, voice a low rumble right against Alex’s skin.

Alex shakes his head as he leans back into Michael. “I couldn’t find a bottle opener.”

Michael hums low in his throat and presses a kiss to the side of Alex's neck.

Alex arches his head to the side and Michael places another kiss, higher up, and then another right behind his ear.

Alex sighs, and Michael presses in even closer, trapping Alex's hands to the table as he presses another kiss behind his ear.

"You know," he breathes the words right up against Alex's skin making him shiver as his eyes flutter open and close. "I always wonder what you were doing when you find the pieces you send to me. If you were on patrol or hiding from an enemy or sneaking around with a local in the back seat of his car."

Alex smiles and tilts his head to the side to look at Michael as much as he can from the position he's in.

"If you want to know something, all you have to do is ask," Alex whispers back.

Michael pulls away a little to look at Alex's face, and Alex stares right back not hiding anything.

Michael's brow furrows, and Alex can see that there is a question that he wants to ask, but he's afraid of what Alex will answer.

Alex pulls against his hold and Michael lets him go easily, not moving back as Alex turns in the small space.

Alex leans back against the desk and puts his hands on Michael's shoulders.

"I mean it," Alex insists. 

Michael stares at him for a long second, and Alex thinks that maybe they're actually going to talk about this, but then something changes in Michael's eyes.

He licks his lips and leans into Alex, smirking a little. "I always wondered what you were doing when you found the dark green one with the gold flecks that you said looked like my eyes do when I'm about to come."

Alex licks his lips, smirking as he slides his hands up into Michael's hair dragging his short nails across his scalp.

Michael's eyes flutter close and his mouth falls open.

"Well," Alex says, and he tightens his fingers in Michael's hair. "I can tell you that or-"

Michael gasps and his eyes fly open, and he stares straight at Alex, whiskey colored eyes getting darker as his pupils expand rapidly, lips still parted, tongue pressed to his top lip.

"I can just show you," Alex finishes and kisses Michael before he can reply.

*

(Alex is gone when he wakes up. Not that Michael had expected him to stay. 

Especially after Alex tried to get him to open up and Michael had distracted him with sex.

It was a reflex, that always worked, and while Michael was the one to do it, Alex let himself be distracted.

Michael drags his hands across his face and heads towards the bathroom.

He gets ready quickly and heads for his truck.

If he hurries he'll make it to the Crashdown before the morning rush.

He gets in the truck and turns it on with a flick of his fingers, not really in the mood to search for his keys.

He looks to the rearview mirror and freezes.

He remembers how three years after Alex left he’d come back, had been seen in town by everyone and their mother, but not Michael.

Michael hadn’t known what to think about it. Alex had been sending him letters full of bits of metal and smooth colorful stones and sand or water smoothed pieces of colored glass and had obviously gotten his gifts and the notes, but he never replied. Only sent more things for Michael to keep in piles on his counters, that he would eventually use to make wind chimes that hang around the Airstream and wherever it was that Alex was staying.

Michael had felt lost and like maybe it was a sign from Alex that he didn’t want to continue whatever it was that they were doing. And then he’d gotten into his truck, and found the dog tags hanging from the rearview mirror, settled right in between two of the feathers as though they were always hanging there.

Today there is another necklace, one that he’s seen around Alex’s neck plenty of times.

Alex had told him that they’d been attacked en route to another base. He’d had all of his things packed into his duffel and the only thing that he’d been able to salvage where two charms that had been hanging from two different wind chimes. A golden star that Michael had burnt his fingers trying to get into shape, and the tiny metal guitar from the first wind chime he’d ever left for Alex.

Michael touches the pointed edges of the star, and shakes his head.

He has no idea what Alex is trying to say, but he’s willing to listen, as long as Alex keeps speaking.)

*

Maria sips from her lemonade and looks at Michael out of the corner of her eye.

He hasn't said much since he followed her to the stand in order to give Max and Liz some privacy, but he hasn't walked off to shoot his shot with someone else, either.

Maria wants to say something, but she's never really talked to Michael outside of the bar or without an excuse. 

It's not that she finds it difficult to start a conversation. It's more that being in this place surrounded by these people is making her feel hopeful that she might find something to help her mom, and she wants to share that with Michael, but he doesn't really seem like he shares her belief.

He seems a little lost, and Maria wants to know what it's about, but she always has more trouble reading Michael than anyone else.

It's part of the reason why she lets herself be vulnerable around him because she can't feel anything from him but sense of steadiness that makes her feel calm.

She looks at him again and there's a sad, far away look on his face and she decides just to talk, maybe she can get him out of his head.

"What are you guys hoping to find?" She asks and turns her head to look at him, but Michael isn't really paying attention.

She sees as something completely catches his attention, and even when she slows down, he keeps walking at the same pace, eyes locked on something only he can see at the moment.

She follows him curiously, and he stops in front of one of the stalls. She slows down and looks around him at the items sold and sees a whole bunch of different dream catchers, obviously meticulously hand made. Some with the same symbol from the flyer weaved into the middle of the hoop, others without it, and some with beautiful nature based designs.

“Did you make all of these?” Michael asks the vendor, a strange intensity to him that Maria can’t really explain.

The vendor shakes her head and gives him a smile. “I just sell them. My mom and some other ladies from her prayer group get together every Friday night and drink too much wine and make them.”

Michael nods his head and points out at one of the dream catchers, one that has the starry night sky weaved over sandy plain. “Do the weavers leave behind signatures like artists do?”

The vendor’s smile goes even wider. “Yes they do. It’s hard to notice because they’re made to blend into the actual weaving pattern. Is there something or someone specific I can help you find?”

Michael shakes his head, “I’ll buy that one, thanks.”

The vendor smiles nodding her head and takes down the dream catcher that Michael had been pointing at, carefully wrapping it in tissue paper and then putting it inside of a paper bag.

Michael gives her two crumpled ten dollar bills and tells her to keep the change before he turns and spots Maria, eyes going a little bit wide as though he’d forgotten that they’d been walking around together.

She gives him a smile from around her straw and then pulls the cup away from her mouth as they start walking towards the parking lot.

“I didn’t know you were into that stuff,” she says pointing towards the dream catchers with her chin.

Michael shakes his head. “I’m not,” he says, voice coming out a little tense like he really doesn’t want to talk about the subject, so she lets it drop, and starts talking about different methods she uses to get a good night’s sleep.

And feels a happy stab of satisfaction when Michael shifts away from his sad, contemplative mood to flirt with her. 

He leaves the dream catcher in the truck as they pass by it, and Maria’s brow furrows a little as she spots the dream catcher hanging from the rearview mirror.

She’s distracted by Liz, who hooks their arms together and drags her over to the tent where the faith healer was going to give her demonstration, and forgets all about it.

*

(Alex is tired and his eyes are burning, and it’s almost daylight by the time he makes it back to the cabin. 

Figuring out the cypher to crack the code in the letters Jim left for Kyle was one thing. It had taken the whole night to decipher the whole thing, and Alex still didn’t fully understand what the letters were trying to say.

Kyle had hustled them both out of the bunker sending Alex home to sleep for at least six hours, or he’ll be by with a syringe to knock him out.

Alex really hates to take anything to make himself sleep so he promised. It wasn’t like it was a hard promise to keep.

Alex really just wanted this day to be over and done with already.

He drags himself out of his car and up the steps of the balcony and very nearly misses the dream catcher hanging from one of the beams.

He looks at it for a long time, before he reaches for it, gently taking it down and touching the pattern woven in the middle carefully.

He finds his mom’s signature, and feels a pinch in his chest.

He knows that it’s not from his mom. And he knows of only one other person who would recognize it as something that she made. It’s not hard to take that leap in logic, especially when he knows that Michael was in Texas and the note that’s rolled up and pinned in place by two strings.

Alex tugs the note out, but he doesn’t read it as he walks across the balcony to the front door.

He opens the door, and the air rushes inside, making the wind chimes he’s got hanging, basically everywhere, move and make sound, a symphony of twinkling beautiful music that always makes Alex feel like he’s at home.)

*

Maria tells him that she’ll give him one shot, one date to prove that he actually wants to do this, and that he’s not using her as some sort of scratching post because he can’t have what he really wants. 

So Michael tries, he really does, and the date seems to be going well, even if he can’t really take her out anywhere, and they’re hanging out at the back of his truck by the firepit covered in a thousand blankets.

Maria laughs at his stupid jokes and drags him to try and dance to the low, staticky sounds coming from his busted up radio.

Which is of course when Alex drives up to the Airstream.

Maria notices him first, and moves away from Michael like she got caught doing something that she shouldn’t.

Michael tracks her gaze and his heart stops when Alex stumbles out of the front seat of his SUV and then goes around towards the trunk of the car without saying anything to them.

Maria leans back against the truck, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, and Michael takes a step towards the car when Alex appears, carrying a box with him.

Michael feels the dread pool in his stomach.

Alex smiles at them both, with too much teeth and no heart at all, and drops the box right at Michael’s feet.

Michael doesn’t have to look down to see what’s in it. The sound of metal and stones and glass knocking into each other as it’s jostled is more than enough to tell him exactly what’s in the box.

Alex goes back and gets another box, and Michael snaps when he sees the dream catcher he’d gotten him in Texas right at the top.

“What are you doing, Alex?” he asks, and he can’t keep the fear out of his voice.

Alex looks at him, and it’s like he’s wearing a mask. “I’m letting go.”

Michael swallows hard and feels like the ground is falling beneath his feet.

“What?” Michael asks, and Alex’s gaze goes to Maria behind him, and Michael sees the way it cracks his mask so that when he looks back at Michael, all Michael can see is the heartache in his eyes.

It makes his chest ache, and it makes him feel like he’s got something sharp and bitter stuck in the back of his throat.

Michael never wanted to hurt Alex. He didn’t expect this to hurt Alex at all because Alex didn’t want him anymore. And now he doesn’t know what to do with the physical proof that Alex is hurting because Michael is trying to move on.

“I’m doing what you want,” Alex says, voice cracking a little. “You want to move on, so I have to let you go. But I can’t do that if every day I’m reminded of you.”

Michael looks down at the two boxes full of wind chimes and stones and crystals and metal figurines, and all of the things that Michael has left in Alex’s cabin in an attempt to make Alex’s new home more homely. And if he was being honest, also in an attempt to make sure that Alex never forgot about him, no matter what happened.

“Alex,” Michael says, swallowing hard and looking at him seriously. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” Alex says shaking his head. “No, I don’t want to hear an apology, especially because you’re not actually sorry.”

Michael takes a step towards him and Alex takes a matching one back.

“You talk about me, about us, like it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, only concentrating on the bad stuff, like nothing good has ever come from us being together, and I can’t take it anymore.”

He blinks his eyes rapidly and looks away, and Michael tries to breathe, tries to think clearly, but he can’t, when it feels like his chest is caving in, and like he might never recover.

Alex exhales roughly and then looks back at him, shaking his head at whatever it is that he sees in Michael’s eyes. “If you don’t want to remember, then I don’t either.”

“Alex,” Michael says again, voice a little pleading, and Alex shakes his head, eyes darting to Maria and quickly back to Michael.

“I hope that you’re really happy together,” he says, eyes bright with tears, and a smile that he can’t keep on his face.

Michael can’t seem to find any words to say and Alex doesn’t let him anyway as he turns around and gets in his car and leaves.

Michael watches the dust trail his car leaves behind, feeling like he’s standing on unsteady ground, and only moves when he feels Maria come to stand beside him.

He turns to her ready to apologize, but she’s not looking at him. She’s staring at the boxes and the dream catcher that he’d bought in Texas.

“This isn’t going to work out,” she tells him, and looks at him with sad eyes and a small smile on her face. “Not because I don’t like you, or I don’t think we can make this work.”

“Then why?” he asks swallowing hard.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You’re in love with him. It’s as plain as day now that I know what it is. I saw it over the course of the ten years you’ve been practically living at my bar, and I even saw it in Texas, but I didn’t know what it was. Now I do.”

Michael shuts his eyes tightly.

“Guerin,” she says softly and he feels a hand on his elbow. “I had a nice time. This was a great date. But the second Alex pulled up, I knew that it was going to be the last one. I could feel how much pain he was in from the second he got out of the car, and I don’t want to be responsible for that kind of hurt, especially not with Alex when he’s already gone through enough from people who claimed to love him.”

Michael looks at her and she smiles at him, sad and longingly. “I like you. I do. A lot. More than I was expecting if we’re being honest. I don’t regret what happened in Texas, and I don’t regret this date, but you’re settling for me, and I deserve much more than that.”

She leans up and presses a kiss to his cheek. 

“My bar is always open for you, but only as a friend.”

Michael inhales deeply, breathing in the sweet scent of lavender and honeysuckle that seems to always surround Maria, and exhales only when she steps away.

“Okay,” he says nodding his head.

She squeezes his arm and lets him go.

*

(Alex spends a week sleeping on Kyle's couch and avoiding everyone else.

He just couldn't stay in the cabin after getting rid of all of Michael's gifts. The place had seemed empty and cold and nothing like home at all.

It left him feeling empty and cold.

He stops the car right in front of the cabin and inhales deeply. He can't keep sleeping on Kyle's couch, and he'd been banned since Kyle had a date tonight, so Alex had to suck it up.

He gets out of the car, grabbing his duffel from the backseat and throws it over his shoulder as he slowly walks to the door 

The air is crisp and cold and there is hardly any wind, which is why he doesn't notice that there is something hanging right in his path until he almost hits it.

He stops short, brow furrowed, and stares as the dim light coming from a street lamp almost two miles away is caught by the shapeless glass and metal hanging from what has to be another wind chime.

He exhales roughly and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

He turns on his flashlight and gapes when he sees it illuminated, reaching out with one trembling hand to touch the glass and gasping as it lights up and shimmers in blues and greens and pinks.

It’s pieces from the spaceship, all manipulated in some way to create little glass figurines in the shapes of stars and round planets and even a guitar and a little cowboy hat because Michael is nothing if not predictable.

The other pieces are the gold star and tiny metal guitar that Alex had worn around his neck for months before leaving them with Michael, and even some nuts and bolts thrown in for the nostalgia.

There’s a piece of paper rolled up and pinned in place by a nut, and Alex bites down on his lip hard before he takes the note.

You’re not getting rid of me that easily.

Alex scoffs and crushes the note in his hand, and leaves the wind chime outside as he heads to the door stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

Like anything about deciding to let Michael go was easy, Alex thinks as he opens the door roughly.

The twinkling peaceful sound of the wind chimes as the pressure released from him opening the door sweeps through the room like a small breath of wind, stops him short.

Alex closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

He finds the light switch with his eyes closed and flips it on.

He takes another deep breath and then opens his eyes.

Everything is back in its place. 

The wind chimes hanging by the windows and high above the entrance to the hall, and by the back door. There were twelve in total, but Alex counts more than that when his eyes swept across the room.

The crystals and glass and metal figurines are back on top of fireplace, interwoven with pieces of the ship manipulated into tiny figures that make up little scenes that Alex vaguely recognizes as things that he and Michael have done together.

On top of the coffee table there is a model of the Airstream which makes Alex actually smile and pinned beneath it is a folded note.

Alex sighs and walks into the room, closing the door shut behind him as he does.

He drops his bag on the couch and the crumpled note from before and grabs the note from the table.

Alex,

I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t think that you cared anymore, and I was trying to make it easy for you, by moving on to someone else so that you didn’t have me hanging around wanting something more, when all you wanted was to be friends. 

I think somewhere along the way we got lost in translation. It was much easier to understand and accept what you were trying to say when we were both thousands of miles apart and you didn’t say a word.

I’m confused and lost and scared, but there is one thing that I know for sure, and it’s how much I love you.

I don’t want you to let me go. I never wanted that. 

I’m sorry that I made you think that the only thing that I remember or want to remember about us is the bad stuff.

You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me and I don’t want to lose you, for any reason.

When you’re ready to talk, I promise I’ll be willing to listen.

M

Alex presses the note to his face and shuts his eyes, feeling the tears leaking out of the corners.

He exhales roughly and pulls the note away, reading it again and then putting it back down on the table.

He stands up and looks around at everything, and feels warm and whole.

He shakes his head and heads to his room, turning the light on and looking at the dream catcher that was rehung above his headboard. 

He walks to his dresser and digs in his underwear drawer until he finds the envelope at the bottom.

It the last envelope that he was supposed to send to Michael when they were attacked. It’s covered in dirt and rust colored stains that Alex really doesn’t want to think about, but it still has the Air Force insignia on it, and Michael’s PO Box scrawled in the front is still legible.

He taps the envelope against his hand and turns around heading towards the door.

His keys are still in his pocket with his phone.

It’s late, but he’s pretty sure that the post office has a mailbox for things left overnight.

Two days later there is a new wind chime hanging right in front of his door, and Alex can hardly contain his smile as he carefully picks it up and carries it inside.)

#malex fic #don't ask me what this is #i literally thought magpies decorate their nests with shiny things to make them look pretty #and this is what happened #dedicated to sarah and amanda because i love them so much and i miss them sooooooooooooo much #rl is kicking all out butts hard rn #and i haven't written them something in a while #hope that you like it!!! #💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[sunlightwoo]

Wild Hearts (6/31)

taglist: @cupidhaos​ @hannie-dul-set​ @uglyratlmao

wc: 1544

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

The loud sound of an engine roaring nearby my apartment building woke me up from my sleep as I jolted up from my bed, realizing that the noise belonged to my car. I rubbed all of the sleepiness from my eyes and threw on a hoodie before I bolt out of the apartment and down the stairs to feel the chilly March air prick at my skin as I let the feeling subside, staring at the car in front of me with my firsts clenched.

“What did you do to my car?”

I furiously glared at the latter in front of me with my blood boiling inside as I looked at the once sleek black car and back at him. I could’ve sworn there was a slight glimmer of fear that was present in his eyes, but instead he masks his sudden shock with a smirk as he leans against the hood of the car. He crosses his arms in front of his chest after tossing the keys in my direction before gesturing towards the car.

“You like-”

“I told you not to do anything to it!” I iggitatedly scolded him and slightly flinched at the loudness at my voice at this hour, but at this rate I was just seeing red.

Quite literally.

“What, the new tires? They were better than your old ones-”

“The entire vehicle is a bright red, Seokmin, red. Where did you even get the money to do all of this?” I asked him with a look while crossing my arms in front of me as I tried to calm myself down with deep breaths, but it was not working as much because of the smirk on his face.

He started to grab something from the back of his pocket and he holds it out for me to see where my eyes were greeted with a large ball of rolled up cash that was in his hand. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the sight of them as I looked at him in disbelief before I watched him walk over towards me while holding it up.

“I have my ways, Sparky,” He starts off before putting it back and facing me again in the darkness of the night, “However it isn’t something you should be concerned about.”

“I feel like I should be, considering the fact that you said you were willing to do anything to use my car, but look where it got us.” I sarcastically snapped as I hear him sigh to himself before speaking up.

“Well what do you want then? Sex? Money? A fake boyfriend?” He asks exasperatedly and I immediately punched his arm while looking at me in shock.

“What the hell do you take me for? Desperate?” I angrily sneered as he defensely puts his hands up in protest before rolling his eyes at me as I let out a small sigh,“Just leave me alone and go back home. It’s late enough anyways.”

The sound of him putting on his helmet and starting up his motorcycle behind me as I walked back up to my apartment with the keys in my hand made me feel like my chest was heavy. My entire car was now a bright fire truck red and rather than talking it out, I just spazzed on him, even though I knew that deep down something was going to happen to the car. However, I felt even more guilty than I should in which I didn’t understand why.

I shook my head while repeating over and over in my head that I was just exhausted and overworked as I climbed into my bed sheets frustratedly before shutting my eyes in an attempt of getting sleep. However something felt off, considering the fact that I couldn’t sleep at all because of the sudden guilt.

The following day dreaded as I felt like a walking zombie moving throughout the apartment just hours before heading towards the flower shop for the day. Today I was supposed to meet Seungkwan and Soyeon at the shop to help unload their incoming orders of flowers and seeds, however, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to physically help if I was this sleep deprived.

When I walked outside and down the street towards the familiar place, I felt exhausted to the point where if I were to stop moving, I was going to pass out and sleep right there for millennium, however I pushed myself to keep going. I just had to unload the packages and then I could go home and sleep, but they couldn’t have asked for a better person to help considering I barely had upper body strength.

“Y/N, you’re here- holy shit, did you even sleep last night?”

The loud voice that greeted me as soon as I walked into the familiar place made me jump a bit in surprise as I was now alert and wide awake looking at the two individuals in front of me. Nodding a bit while giving them a small smile, I watched as they gave each other a small look before Seungkwan spoken up.

“We just need your help putting the pots of sunflowers in the greenroom. There’s like seven of them, but you could handle it, right?” He asks me hesitantly and I nodded in response while attempting to give them a convincing look.

“Yeah, easy peasy. I’ll scream, if anything happens.” I joked and started to head towards where I was able to spot the large pots of sunflower plants as I gaped at them.

The sight of them immediately made me feel more relaxed while I looked at them in adoration as a small smile crept up on my face. Leaning towards one of the pots, I took a small whiff of its scent and happily smiled in content feeling less stressed about everything that has been happening lately.

Remembering my task, I started bringing each of the pots carefully into the greenroom like I was told in a steady cycle as I felt time pass by quicker than I expected. However, as I was able to feel time go against my wishes, my hand almost misses the edge of the pot until another person’s hand immediately catches it for me.

“You almost dropped it- hey, are you alright?”

The voice made me clench my jaw at the familiarity of it already and I looked up to see the same annoying face that I kept me up for the majority of the night as I nodded curtly.

“I’m fine. I’ll take this.” I muttered while carrying the last pot from his grip and moved it with the others as I carefully placed it down slowly, dusting my gloves off when it was settled and smiled to myself.

I yawned a bit before softly smiling at the sight of the bright yellow colored flowers as the different recollections of the past entered my mind. It wasn’t occurring to me until then that I haven’t been able to see or witness the beauty of sunflowers in a long time, however since I was able to in the moment, I absorbed whatever visual I was able to withtake into my mind and admired its beauty.

“I’m assuming these are your favorite.” I hear Seokmin say from behind me as I nodded in response, forgetting that he was also still present in the room while shamelessly admiring the pots in front of me.

“Beautiful flowers deserve beautiful meanings.” I replied softly as I sense his presence being made beside mine in the sunlight that was shining above us.

“You didn’t sleep last night?” He suddenly asks me and I slowly shook my head while hearing him sigh and crossed his arms towards me, “Is it because of what I said last night?”

“Listen Egotistic, I get that girls love getting into bed with you, but just know that that’s not the case with me. I told you that I didn’t want anything to happen to my car or your stupid rich people money or anything of that sort-”

“And I also told you that I was able to do anything that you wanted me to, if I got what I wanted by the end of the night, in which I did.” He interrupts me as I rolled my eyes while looking at him still.

“The last thing I would ever ask from anyone is money, because that is just wrong to do in my book. The only time I’ll ask for money is if I really needed it personally...” I say while quietly as I could feel the corners of my eyes prick from tears while looking away to sniffle quietly.

“Is everything okay, Sparky?” He asks me hesitantly and I looked up to see that somehow there was a small look of almost empathy that was in his eyes, however, I shook my head knowing it was impossible before giving him a small look and nodded.

“I’m fine. Just don’t do anything stupid to my car anymore, got it? I mean it in all ways possible.” I warned pointing my finger at him as he nodded while holding his hand out for me to shake to disclose the agreement.

“Nothing stupid.”

#wild hearts #seventeen college au #street racer au #seventeen social media au #lee seokmin #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seokmin imagines #seokmin scenarios #seokmin fluff #seokmin angst #jeonghan #joshua #seungkwan #jihoon

[fandomfourever]

In Defense of Alvin Murphy

I’ve been having thoughts ever since watching Z Nation. Twice. And I had to get this all off my chest. But, I’m just gonna put this under a read more because this will probably be super long.

So, as I said above, this is mostly just something I needed to post about so I can finally think about something else, lol. Most of what I’m writing is based on canon, while some sections (which I’ll try to make obvious) are educated guesses based on what we do know, and what makes sense (to me anyway). I’m going to try and keep it in some kind of order, but it might get a bit ramble-y.

While it obviously isn’t everyone, there are a lot of people who just really hate Murphy. And while everyone’s entitled to their opinions, sometimes I feel it’s a little unjustified. Not only that, he gets a lot of hate in the show from various characters. Now, I’m not going to claim Murphy is a saint who can do no wrong—he’s done plenty wrong. But this post is basically about putting things in perspective. If this interests you, please continue reading. Otherwise, move on I guess?

Sometimes it feels as though people seem to forget that Murphy has some major PTSD. Many of the characters do, but here’s the thing: those characters are often treated with sympathy, where Murphy is not. Example: Murphy panics in the elevator when they’re looking for McCandles, and Warren smacks him and tells him to stop (paraphrasing), but when Warren has a panic attack in the box in the labyrinth, Sarge helps her out and people are sympathetic. Not that they shouldn’t, but it’s a stark difference between similar moments.

Let’s not forget that Murphy was in prison for Postal Fraud. Not murder. Not rape. Not terrorism. Not drugs. Postal Fraud. And he was sentenced to 3 years, when the maximum can be up to 20 years with a $250,000 fine, unless it involves a “presidentially declared major disaster or emergency” which can land you 30 years and $1 million dollar fine. AKA, whatever Murphy did, it was really minor. (You can find info and the quote if you google Postal Fraud)

In the flashback we see of him in season 2, Murphy sees his first zombie; a dude shanked by another dude. Chronologically, Murphy is then given the vaccine during Black Summer. When we see Murphy in the pilot, he’s got a full beard, meaning some time has passed between seeing his first Z and being vaccinated.

Here’s where a bit of educated guessing comes in: we don’t see what happens to him between those two times. It would make sense to me that, if there’s been a zombie outbreak and food/water is going to run out, prisoners would be kept in their cells indefinitely (or almost so). Which would then give a pretty good explanation to Murphy’s claustrophobia. Whether he was in the cell alone or not, that’s a tiny space, and can you imagine the kind of terror that would come with that? Probably hearing other prisoners turn? All it would take is one guard getting bitten by mistake and the whole place would descend into chaos.

Back to what we know for sure. At some point after seeing his first zombie, he is then forcibly taken to the prison lab to be experimented on. Murphy, strapped to a table, has to watch two other prisoners die after being injected—one of which seized so hard he broke his own neck. Then he’s injected, and left behind, where he’s mauled by zombies and is awake and experiences them tearing into his body.

Then, to add insult to injury, Murphy is led around for a year by Hammond—you know, one of the people who abandoned him to be bitten—to try and bring him to California where he will be, once again, experimented on. We see how Hammond treats people, especially Murphy. He yanks and shoves him around, and we see he even treats people he views as human kind of like crap; Murphy is just a “package” to him. In fact, Murphy is called “the package” by just about everyone.

(remember that Hammond hauled Murphy from the truck and demanded he show Warren and Garnette the bites. Against his will.)

So, Murphy’s been traumatized, experimented on, and treated as less than human by the military, and then he’s taken in by people who also view him as less than human. Is it really any wonder he acts like an asshole? I doubt any normal person would be nice and friendly after all that.

The first person that actually tries to ask about what happened is Doc, but Murphy has no reason to trust him and lies about having volunteered to do it (I doubt Doc believes it, but he doesn’t ask further about it either). So yes, Murphy could have told Delta X-ray Delta exactly what happened, and maybe that would have gotten him the sympathy he deserved. However, they all know he was bitten eight times, so you’d think that alone would be enough to be treated with some kindness. But nah, they all are happy to push him around and tell him to shut up and again continue referring to him as “the package”.

It only gets worse as Murphy starts to turn blue. Not only does Murphy have to deal with the fact he’s being dragged across America to be experimented on by Dr. Mercy again, he then has to deal with the fact he’s, literally, falling apart.

Yes, Murphy takes water from that family and lets the husband inside. Yes, that was an awful thing to do. But, Murphy’s natural inclination is not to be a murderer (if they actually died). So I was thinking about the situation from Murphy’s perspective. The mother and daughter were hiding out in a building waiting for the husband to return. When he took the water, neither fought back, which can get you killed in the apocalypse. Even if he hadn’t taken the water, how long would they have lasted? Especially if they waited there for the husband to come back and he never did? They likely would have starved or died of dehydration. As Murphy leaves, he stops, thinks, then lets the zombiefied husband inside. I think it’s entirely possible that, from his prospective, he was helping in a way. The mother and daughter wouldn’t die wondering what happened to him, and could be viewed as a twisted sort of mercy. Again, not a good thing to do, and I’m not excusing him. But it’s a point to ponder.

Next I wanted to talk about Cassandra. Well, when Murphy bit her. Like with 10K, we never actually see the bite happen. What we see is Murphy going past everyone who’s devastated by Cassandra dying, and then entering the room and looking at her. Now, up to that point, Murphy had only bitten/infected four people, and controlled three of them sort of. The first person he bit, that guy at the Fu-Bar, died and didn’t turn. Now, based on the fact that even Murphy seemed surprised by Cassandra’s return, and her strange behavior, my guess is that he bit her to keep her from becoming a Z. He knew she meant a lot to the others, and despite his outward behavior, I think it’s safe to say Murphy does care about them at this point. So it would make sense to me that he would assume seeing her turn into a zombie would be heartbreaking to everyone else, and therefore bit her to prevent that, not knowing she would become a Blend and come after him.

In the final episode of season 1, Murphy sees what became of Patient Zero. He sees a man melted to a table, still alive, and begging for death, and knows he could become him. Then he learns Dr. Kurian isn’t who he says he is and could be wanting to kill or torture him (like the other experiments in the lab). (An aside: Dr. Merch worked in that lab, meaning she had a hand in those experiments.)

So again, I don’t find it unreasonable that Murphy, triggered by his trauma and impending kidnapping, fled. Flight or Fight, and we know Murphy prefers not to fight. So he ran. Someone in that kind of head-space is not going to be thinking of other people, and it would be unreasonable to expect that.

Then the beginning of season 2 is marked by people hunting Murphy down. People who are completely willing to break his legs to get the bounty. Again, he was being treated as less than human. The only bright spot in his life was Lucy, who he felt like he had to give up because he believed the group would hurt her. Considering the way they talked about him and her, and the fact they’re totally okay with allowing a baby to be experimented on, he wasn’t wrong to be worried.

Then we get the lovely episode The Collector. You know, the episode where Murphy was electrocuted multiple times. If you take a look at ScriptTorture like I have—specifically their electrical torture tag—you’ll see just how bad even one shock can be, let alone however many he got there. Being shocked with electricity can cause: heart attacks, muscle spasms enough to break bones, someone biting their own tongue off by mistake, death from falling because of muscle failure, burns, and bruising. While we know Murphy didn’t experience those (luckily) it’s still torture, and still incredibly painful for him. And let’s not forget he got shocked with a cattle prod back in the first episode of the season, and that he later gets repeatedly shocked in that episode with the Zuggalos.

The end of the episode leaves us with Murphy asking Warren to promise him she won’t let him be alone when they get to the CDC. And she does. Until a few episodes later, anyway. During the flashback episode, we get a scene where Murphy tells Warren he’s scared and that if she was his friend,  she wouldn’t leave him alone at the CDC. What’s Warren’s response to this? “I’m not your friend” and “There are some things we have to do alone, even if it hurts.” Like, wow, nice, so glad you don’t care you’re breaking Murphy down further.

And then to find out Dr. Merch and the others on the sub weren’t even going to save humanity, just the rich people on Zona? To know he’d been subjected to all that shit for nothing? Yeah, Murphy had every right to be upset and to try and take matters into his own hands. A persona can only take so much before they snap, after all.

You know what’s ridiculous? That Warren & Co (minus 10k) were totally fine with Hector/Escorpion hanging out with them despite, you know, torturing Vasquez, killing multiple people even before the apocalypse, trying to kill 10k (the ep where he was with Sketchy and Skeezy), being part of a Cartel… But Murphy being snarky and occasionally an asshole is just so much worse, I guess.

Now I want to address Murphy biting 10k. Like with Cassandra, we don’t see what happens, just the before and after. But let’s think back on some things. Murphy bit Cassandra because she was dying. Murphy did NOT bite 10k when the Collector ordered him to because there was another way out. Murphy did NOT inject Warren & Co when they were with The Zeros, when he had the opportunity and even motive to. So then we have 10k on the sub, shot in the stomach. We last see 10k (pre-bite) stumbling off the table in the sub. Despite being bandaged, he didn’t look like he was doing too well. When we see 10k later, he has no memory of the bite happening. Murphy can do a lot, but we’ve never seen him erase someone’s memories. Now, looking at Murphy’s past actions, and what we see going on with 10k, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to assume that, perhaps, 10k fainted or was knocked out. Falling to the floor or against a wall could have very easily re-opened his stitches, causing him to bleed again. Now if Murphy saw this, he could have easily thought that 10k was dying and bitten him.

All that isn’t to say Murphy wasn’t in the wrong for trying to control 10k, because he was, but I find it hard, if not impossible, to believe it was a lie when Will said that Murphy cared about him and didn’t want to hurt him.

Honestly, season 3 feels kind of like a mess when it comes to vilifying Murphy and trying to make it seem like Warren is in the right. I’m honestly glad when Murphy calls out her hypocrisy, because Warren keeps saying freedom is important, and free will is important. But apparently when the people go to Murphy of their own free will to get his cure, that doesn’t count. Warren was totally okay with slaughtering a bunch of people (with the help of the Red Hand who are also a bunch of murderers), because they felt safe with Murphy. And why wouldn’t they? He made them immune to Zs, got them fresh water, functioning electricity, and food.

Which brings me to another point I want to make. People love to call Murphy a narcissist. While he does act arrogantly, he’s not a narcissist. To be classified as a narcissist, a person must exhibit 5 or more of the following symptoms:

A grandiose sense of self-importance

Preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love

Belief that one is special and can only be understood by or associate with special people or institutions

A need for excessive admiration

A sense of entitlement (to special treatment)

Exploitation of others

A lack of empathy

Envy of others or the belief that one is the object of envy

Arrogant, haughty behavior or attitudes

A grandiose sense of self-importance: Nope. Murphy frequently said he didn’t want to be The Savior, that he wanted to be normal and die like everyone else. When he does refer to himself as The Savior, it’s highly sarcastic or to stay alive.

Preoccupation with fantasies of success, power, etc.: Again, no. The closest he gets is saying he could have been an action news anchor if he’d applied himself.

Only associating with special people and institutions: No. Murphy associates with everyone. Does he get a little close to this with Zona in season 4? Yeah, but since it isn’t exclusive it doesn’t count as this.

A need for excessive admiration: Nah. You can see him get visibly uncomfortable when his Blends act overly obsessed with him. And guess what? Murphy gives them all credit for getting the power working. Not once does he claim that all the good things they have is because of him and him alone.

A sense of entitlement: Sometimes. But I’d say considering the shit he’s been through, it’s not unreasonable.

Exploitation of others: Yeah, he does do this.

Lack of empathy: Whoo boy, you’d have to have not been watching the show to think this. Murphy, despite his outward behavior, gets attached to people so fast. It only took one card game with Doc for Murphy to call him his friend, and to feel devastated when he thought Doc had been blown up. He has full empathy for Zs, and just because they’re dead doesn’t mean it doesn’t count. Especially when we know from both Murphy and Lucy that they do still feel things. Murphy and Lucy’s storyline as a whole disproves this one.

Envy of others/Thinking one is envied: No, we don’t see any evidence of this.

Arrogant and haughty behavior: Yeah, he does this too.

So, 2 out of 9 symptoms. Murphy’s not a narcissist. Case closed on that one.

Now, back to my main points. So we have Murphy creating a beautiful room for Lucy, intending to find her and bring her back to raise her properly. Warren tells Doc and Addy to get to Lucy first, so she can be the new cure. Because it’s totally fine to experiment on babies. And yeah, we know now that Sun Mei would have likely only taken a little bit of blood, but we didn’t then, and neither did Warren & Co. And even still, it’s experimenting on a baby. Truly, Warren was the hero of season 3 and Murphy was pure evil.

Luckily in seasons 4 and 5, Murphy is treated a lot better. Well, mostly the end of season 4 and season 5 in general. The way things are framed, it seems like Murphy doesn’t care about anyone not on Zona, but it’s crucial to remember that 1) He was told everyone was dead and 2) it’s been 2 years for him. And then when he’s reunited with Lucy she snubs him and hangs around with Warren, who acts all pleased about it. It’s not like Murphy loved Lucy more than anyone, even himself, and had tried so hard to get her back, thought she was dead, and just wants a chance to be a dad. And, because Murphy hasn’t suffered enough, Warren’s sense of self-importance about her mission to “stop” Black Rainbow got Lucy killed. Just saying, if they’d just gone to Newmerica, Lucy might have lived.

Also, how can your heart not break even a little when, at the camp, Doc gives Murphy a hug and Murphy says “At least there’s one person who’s happy to see me”? Like?

The last time we get Murphy being treated super unfairly is by Addy in season 5. Like, yes, Addy traveled with Lucy and cared about her, but Murphy was her father and might have been able to raise her if Doc and Addy hadn’t gone to kidnap her first. But she just has to get in a dig at Murphy not being around for Lucy. Like he totally would have had he not been abducted by Zona.

As long as this post is, I hope those that read it can see my point. Murphy is not perfect, but the way he’s treated is vastly out of proportion to what he’s done. He definitely deserves more sympathy than he’s given. If we’re ever given a season 6, I hope he’s treated a lot better.

If people would like to talk about this, whether you agree or not, please do. But also please be nice about it. I’m all for respectful discussions.

#z nation #alvin murphy #my thoughts #my opinions #I feel a lot better now that I've gotten this all written down #lol #this isn't to say any of the other characters' traumas aren't important #but that murphy's seem to be looked over a lot #at least from what I've seen

[twdfanfic-multifandom]

"Call it plan B. Hell, call it plan Z. But I am packing the good drugs."

Daryl x Reader

*Set in season 6*

The heart monitor beeped rhythmically and Denise sighed, pulling the thermometer from Scott's mouth. His skin was a sickly shade. We didn't need a thermometer or a heart monitor to know that he was doing badly - and it didn't help that the infirmary was excruciatingly low on medical supplies.

"So what do you need?" You asked Denise while scanning the empty shelves of the room, pen and paper in hand. Daryl was perched on the edge of the windowsill staring at Scott's weak body.

The bullet wound inflicted upon by Sturgess about a week prior wasn't showing any signs of improvement, and Alexandria's make-shift doctor was becoming increasingly worried. Desperate and anxious, she'd come to you and Daryl to ask for help.

"Painkillers, definitely. Antibiotics, too. Gauze, bandages, antiseptic," she listed the various items, counting each on her finger as she named them. You stopped writing halfway through 'antibiotics'; Denise was going way too fast. You sighed and balled up the paper, tossing at across the room at Daryl. The paper smacked him square in the face and he shot you a 'what the hell?' look.

"Pay attention, Dixon. We're doing this together." 

The archer shot up off the windowsill and brushed past you.

"Yeah, yeah. Medicine and shit. Got it," he said flippantly and you rolled your eyes. Offering Denise a reassuring smile, you left the room and followed Daryl to the armory.

After grabbing the necessary weapons, the two of you hopped into a crappy blue truck and headed out of the community and towards a pharmacy about an hour's drive out. The drive felt short, and soon enough the old brakes were screeching the truck to a halt outside a dilapidated building.

The parking lot was littered with papers and other trash tumbling around lightly in the breeze, while a few walkers limped aimlessly around in front of the building. 

"Ready?" Daryl asked you as the two of you made your quiet exit from the truck, weapons raised. You nodded. As you approached, the walkers suddenly found direction and started walking towards the both of you, jaws snapping hungrily. It wasn't long before the half-a-dozen grotesque corpses were stilled and lifeless on the paving, easily taken out by your knife and Daryl's crossbow.

Without the snarls of the dead, the sound of your footsteps seemed loud as you walked towards the pharmacy. A few of the windows were smashed in but the glass doors seemed to still be locked in place.

Silently you said a prayer and hoped that it hadn't totally been ransacked. Scott's life - and maybe many others in the future - depended on these supplies.

Daryl carefully maneuvered himself through the broken window before offering you a hand, which you gratefully took.

"Stay behind me," the man instructed gruffly. The two of you had been a great team since you first arrived at the prison, and you'd frequently go on runs together. Despite the number of times you'd proved your capabilities, Daryl seemed to always be protective of you. It was kind of annoying, but it also left your heart feeling warm and you couldn't help but be grateful for the over-protective asshole with the angel-wing vest.

Ignoring him, you remained next to him as the two of you scanned the building. Much to your relief, it was clear of walkers. Unfortunately it also seemed to be clear of anything remotely useful; the shelves were barren and dusty, save for a box of condoms.

Upon further inspection you saw that it was grape flavor, and you shoved it inside your mostly empty backpack. Daryl eyed you incredulously, making you blush.

"What?" You said defensively, feeling as if you'd just been caught doing something inappropriate. "People back home might need 'em. Not everyone is celibate like you, Dixon," you teased and kept walking, ignoring the way he gawked at you.

"Whatever," the archer mumbled.

Glass and dust crunched beneath your dirty boots as you continued scouring the emptied building. It was difficult to find medical supplies considering that it was one of the first things that people scavenged for nowadays, so it wasn't a surprise to find that there wasn't even a single Asprin to be found.

"It's a bust," you said with a sigh as you mentally said your goodbyes to Scott. Closing your eyes, you leaned against the dirty wall and pinched the bridge of your nose in an attempt to release the tension building in your temples. It was something you'd done for as long as you could remember. Headaches were as frequent in your old life as they were now.

"Hold up," Daryl said as you snapped your eyes open and followed his gaze. There was a door just beyond the prescription counter. Flecks of gray paint chipped off the metal door, leaving it looking mottled and decaying. Moving forward. Daryl tried the silver handle. It didn't budge.

"I've got it." You approached the door and pulled the lock pick set out of your jean pocket. One of the reasons why you went on runs so often is because of your valuable lock-picking skills, something you had learned on the internet a few years prior to the outbreak. It wasn't something you'd ever admitted considering that it took a lot of the 'bad-ass' energy out of the skill. After about a minute, the lock clicked and you entered the room cautiously, Daryl so close behind you that you could feel his warm breath tickle your neck. You shivered and your stomach fluttered. It annoyed you how quickly he could make you feel like a hormonal high school girl. The worst part was that he didn't even realize he was doing it.

"Holy shit," Daryl muttered under his breath, snapping you back to reality. The room was fully stocked - various pill bottles, packages, and fluid-filled bags lined the racks. Scott was going to be just fine.

Rushing forward, you got to work on finding the right medicines before stuffing your bag full of antibiotics and other pills. Daryl read the labels of various bottles through his shaggy hair before shoving them into his backpack. Scanning the names of everything he was taking - Ambien, Fentanyl, Nytol, and a variety of opioids and sleeping pills - you scoffed loudly. He glanced over his shoulder at you and did a double-take when he realized you were staring disbelievingly.

"Do you realize about half of those things are more likely to kill Scott than they are to heal him? Saving him is Plan A, Dixon."

The archer shrugged and kept shoving away the heavy medication. The toned muscles moved beneath his tanned skin with every movement he made, and you were briefly distracted.

"Call it plan B. Hell, call it plan Z. But I'm packing the good drugs," Daryl said as he bagged the final bottle of pills.

"So plan Z is to put Scott in a drug-induced coma?" You asked sarcastically, shifting the strap of your loaded backpack.

"It is what it is," he said, making you laugh softly. A whisper of a smile tugged at his mouth, and your heart swelled at the sight. A small blush flushed your pale cheeks when you realized he was staring. He always seemed to stare every time you laughed, as if the sound were alien to him... and his steely blue eyes were like that of a toddler discovering something new, eyes filled with what could only be described as intrigue and wonder.

You cleared your throat and turned your attention back to the shelves filled with supplies that could determine life or death.

"So if I get shot, your ideal plan would be to pump me to the brim with some bizarre chemical concoction until I'm totally unconscious..." Your fingers traced the cool metal of the shelves, fingertips coming away covered in dust that had settled there over a few months.

"Sounds fun," you added dryly.

His footsteps stopped and I turned around questioningly, wondering if maybe he'd seen something. Instead you saw him staring at you through the strands of hair that hung in front of his eyes. He absentmindedly chewed on his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did when he was thinking.

"Ya ain't gonna get shot," his voice was low and almost... menacing. 

"Oh yeah? How do you know?" You challenged him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I ain't lettin' that happen," he said, his protective side coming out again. The most frustrating part about it was that there was no way of knowing whether he was protective because he cared about you the way you cared about him, or because he saw you as a sister. A lose strand of your (y/c) hair fell in your face, but you left it there in hopes that it would somehow help mask the heat that was slowly creeping up into your cheeks for seemingly no reason. Being an easy blusher was the worst.

"You can't protect me from everything," you said softly, staring at the dirty floor. Your eyes stayed trained on his scruffy boots as they slowly made their way towards you. When they stopped a few inches from your own dirty boots, you lifted your head to look at Daryl. His eyes looked almost wild, slightly angry. Your heart pounded against your chest so loud you thought it would attract all walkers within a 10 mile radius.

Daryl's one hand gripped his crossbow, and he slowly lifted his free hand toward you. His fingers tentatively brushed your hair out of your face, lightly brushing over your skin at the same time.

"I can damn well try," his low voice seemed to make your knees tremble weakly, and you mentally reprimanded yourself for being so pathetic. The inches of space between the two of you seemed to be charged with electricity, making your breath slightly more shallow than you'd care to admit. He breathed heavily, and each breath that touched your face seemed intoxicating. All you wanted was to close that space between you... he was so near...

Suddenly he took a step back as if he'd been shocked, and turned away from your trembling frame.

"We should go," Daryl said as he stormed out of the room, backpack slung heavily from his shoulder. Shutting your eyes, you once again pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath before following him out of the pharmacy.

Once you safely got to the truck, Daryl sped out of the parking lot and back towards Alexandria. The successful run felt like a huge weight lifted off your shoulders, and it was good to know that Scott now had a chance at survival. 

The scenery blurred past you as you looked out of the rolled down window, cool afternoon air blowing on your face. Glancing out the corner of your eyes, you noticed Daryl looking at you, his gaze lingering longer than what would be considered safe while driving.

"Eyes on the road, Dixon," you suppressed a smile as you stared straight ahead.

"Shut up," Daryl grumbled and stepped on the gas, making the noisy truck speed ahead towards home.

#Daryl Dixon #the walking dead Daryl Dixon #twd #the walking dead #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshots #Daryl Dixon oneshots #Daryl Dixon one shot #the walking dead fanfiction #Daryl Dixon fanfiction #Daryl Dixon fanfic #twd fanfic #the walking dead fanfic

[triviaggukcore]

her blooming flower | one

prologue / one / two

→summary: you’ve known him since you were just a young girl during his trainee days. He watched you grow into a woman, but he’s always hated you from day one for whatever reason it may be. To you, he thought of you as a nobody. But what you weren’t aware of was a secret that he never wanted you to know.

→pairing: enemy!jungkook x dancer!reader

→word count: 7.6k

→genre: angst, fluff, maybe smut??, some humor

→warning: implied smut

→a/n: hi guys, it’s finally here! I’m so sorry it’s been almost two months! It’s been super hectic from having family over the break and having no time to write. And it became even more hectic as my schedule became packed when coming back to second semester of school. I had theatre rehearsals every day after school until 6pm to prepare for our musical back in January with so much homework and chores to do, and then I was gone with my dance team at Disney World for 4 days which also didn’t give me any time to write, and missing three school days. I had to make up a bunch of work to bring up failing grades which had me super stressed out. Now that it’s February, it’s competition season and this past Saturday was the second contest. I’ve just been constantly tired physically, mentally, and emotionally where I just lost so much motivation to write. But I definitely took time in between my spare time to try the best I could. So thankfully, it is now here and the good news, I have a two week break before last contest. I will say this series will have a bit of slow updates. It just all depends on how packed my schedule is. But most of all, I would like to thank you all for being super patient with me, I really appreciate it sweeties! I would also like to thank @9uk and @stxrrysuga for being wonderful helpers into keeping me motivated and writing just a few small details that’ll help me get going.

Another side note, I’d like to credit and thank  @dearmyjimin for granting me permission to use a concept she made on her blog which I was desperate and in such need for this series since I felt like it could absolutely be perfect for the storyline. Once again thank you!! The concept is based on 3J! That is all I have to say as you all should read and find out what it is.

So here it is finally! Chapter one! Enjoy!

It was dawn when you had woken up, your eyes drowsy from the lack of sleep you had been getting the last few days. The constant late nights because of work had kept you up at ungodly hours of the night. You tried to get fewer hours but you knew you needed the money so you stuck with the long hours and your days dragged on, each one seemed longer than the next. You sat up and sighed softly as you climbed out of bed while grabbing your glasses and putting them on. Your mind clouded with thoughts of what was going to take place later today, so you walked over to your desk and took a glimpse of your planner that you created almost a year ago.

Today, at 8am, you have breakfast with your best friend Jess, a contemporary lesson at noon, then lunch at 1pm, and then game night at Taehyung’s, including a no work shift today.

Okay, not so much to do today. Thank God. You grabbed your phone and put some music on shuffle with your mini speaker, then made your way over to the bathroom. You did your daytime skincare routine after doing your business on the toilet. While washing your face, you wondered how could you get this far in life. No, you’re not famous. You thought it would be kind of a scary career. But you still wanted to dance and create amazing pieces for artists for the wish of sharing your work to the world. Plus, you have choreographed for some artists before.

You’re not always booked for appointments with idols, but your schedule does get tight due to the fact that you work. You basically have a job at this cafe in Seoul, and you’re still working at your mom’s studio, hosting classes every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday night. You usually teach contemporary and ballet but you have taught some hip hop classes too, due to the fact that you’ve choreographed for some idols as an example. It’s been requested by many residents who take your classes for you to teach more hip hop. And you might as well take that chance to balance all the styles out.

Looking at your face in the mirror after washing your face, you also thought about how life was for you when you moved to Korea. You missed your friends from back home, but you also love it here too. And you made some decent close friends here too, especially Jess being the closest friend you see literally every day. And of course, you can’t forget the Bangtan boys. You grew close with the boys over the years, they basically became your family. You always had fun with them, whether it was game nights or through video chat. And you have a very special bond with each of the boys, nothing was ever different from how you all acted with each other.

They adore you a lot, and you were like their very own little sister that they look out for. They all found you sweet and sincere, prestigious, intelligent, and super adorable. Well, except Jungkook. He, being the only one who disagrees, finds you as the exact opposite. He’s got one hell of a grudge against you. All because of a damn smoothie you accidentally spilled on him a couple years ago. You find it super confusing and a little dumb that he treats you like shit over that incident. Although, it saddens you too as you took the blame upon yourself, coming up with the many excuses in your head. Maybe he was having a really bad day and you just so happened to ruin it even more. If you were paying a little more attention, you would have caught yourself and not spilled your smoothie on him. Then maybe, just maybe, you could have had a better introduction with each other and become friends.

Jungkook loves to criticize and pick on you. Everyday. That’s no surprise to you. But you don’t usually conduct to anything he does to you, and it made him full of annoyance from how you wouldn’t try defending yourself (more so, argue). But there’s a reason why you don’t. If you ever stood up against Jungkook, you’re sure that he will probably laugh his ass off at your pathetic self. You don’t think you could ever try to face him with defense. It doesn’t work that way for you. Sure, it hurts you. But you find it useless to do so. And being the sweet person you are, you’re not gonna want to come out as some bitch.

No matter how much you respect him and treat him nicely, your presence is what makes him irritated. The man has got a grudge against you.

Sliding out of your pajamas, you threw on a random outfit and then you sat down at your vanity set and decided how you were going to look upon your face and hair. After 30 minutes, you were already putting on a pair of shoes at your front door. You grabbed your bag and car keys, and you were out the door of your apartment. Shortly then, you were on the road.

“Okay, so here are all my ideas for the boys’ next comeback. I’ve been working on this for a couple of days now and I thought I’d share them with you!” Your friend Jess said, dropping a plain journal in front of you next to your plate full of breakfast. You picked up the journal once you set your vanilla latte down and opened the journal, flipping through the ridiculous full pages of notes and ideas followed up for BTS’ comeback.

You gave her a glance, “You are crazy. Are you seriously helping them find new concept ideas? I thought they already figured that out.”

She shrugged, “Not exactly. Besides, they asked for my help so I could have better ideas on what music to produce with Yoongi and Namjoon.”

“A sexy comeback darker than the Love Yourself: Tear and Wings era?” You read aloud, “Sounds kinda…”

“Kinda good right? I think it’s time they now get into that, and besides, they’re all adults now that Jungkook became one.” She mentioned.

“You do know he’s been an adult for a few years now.”

Jess glared at you, “And him being an expert shirt lifter was only the beginning of his little bad boy era.”

The thought of Jungkook and his image only made you feel weird. He grew up drastically and puberty hit him harder than a truck. Instead, it was more like god and the devil worked together to mix cute and hot in their mixing bowl but decided to go with he’s gonna make every person gush in adoration and suddenly they get down on their knees and are thirsty hoes. But, there’s no denying that he really had you gawking at him. After all, you do like the man.

You nodded, “Wow, how logical.” Your sarcasm erupted as you took a sip of your latte. She hummed, “You know it’s true. Anyways, what’s going on for you today? Are you coming to game night?”

“Yeah, I am. I have a contemporary class to teach at noon, then lunch, and then I have a whole day to myself until game night. I think I might do some shopping, maybe go to the book store and read a few novels since my package arrived there. If I have time, I might just work on my poetries.” Yes, you write since you found your love for novels. Thanks to your dad’s career. He’s the best selling author in the country and back in yours.

“Speaking of dance,” Jess started, “Did you hear about 3J Studio?’

Yes, 3J as in J-Hope, Jimin, and Jungkook, the BTS dance line. They built a dance studio for those who want to have exclusive dance lessons with the boys. Millions of people have signed up for classes just so they can stand a chance to be coached by the boys. You were yet excited and definitely going to their first class on Saturday.

You nodded, “I did. Jimin and Hoseok told me about it. I’m really excited about this Saturday.” You smiled. “Me too!” Jess gushed, “Are you planning on attending?” She asked. “Of course! For sure I’m taking Jimin and Hoseok’s class.”

“Oh, but not Jungkook’s?” She raised an eyebrow. You sighed, “I mean, I’m not sure if I want to. I know he’s a great dancer and I’m certain he’s going to be an amazing coach but do you really think I want to feel the awkward tension where his blood literally boils around me? I’m not sure if I even want people to be speculating his hate for me. That’ll just put him at risk.” You fiddled with the thin straw in your latte, stirring it.

“But it’s not like he would ever talk to you in front of his students, would he? He’s an asshole, don’t get me wrong. Yet, I’m pretty sure he’s not an ass to treat you like crap.” Jess stated, “There’s no way he would do that to you in front of many people.”

“I guess you’re right.” You shrugged. The guy always puts you down and even humiliates you, he probably wouldn’t do that in public otherwise it would defame his image. The people wouldn’t even know who you are anyways. You’re only specified as, BTS’ friend, BTS’ music producer, Jess’ friend, Min Yoongi’s wife’s friend. It’s pretty much anything with you labeled as a friend of the band.

“He’s such a dumbass.” Jess shook her head. You looked up at her, “Hey, don’t say that about him. You know that’s not nice.”

She rolled her eyes and glared at you, “Really? Y/N, You’re defending him when all he ever does is bitch at you? He’s one hell of a brat who’s still stuck up on that smoothie mess! He makes me want to shove my foot in his face.”

“But you know he doesn’t have to like me right? Come on, Jess. Besides, the accident was my fault anyway.” You said softly as your eyes wandered somewhere else. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Your head snapped back at her, “Just because I like him doesn’t mean that has to do with what happened in the past.”

“Oh, so defending him and constantly worrying about his health along with your care and support in every accomplishment he achieves doesn’t mean anything to the way you feel about him?” Jess caught you there. “It’s not that I… I don’t know, Jessica.” You sighed, holding your cup firmly with both hands, “I respect him whether he doesn’t like me or not. My feelings don’t matter. He would never feel anything romantic for me. Besides, he has a girlfriend who’s definitely prettier and has a more slammin’ body than me.” You awkwardly locked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“And this is where I call you stupid.” Jess looked at you, “That girl could never compare. She’s only got a pretty face but not a nice personality. Plus, you’re freaking gorgeous. More than she is. I don’t think you have any idea on that she’s only dating Jungkook for the attention and the fame.” She ate a bite of her egg sandwich, speaking in a mouthful, “The girl is a hooker but Jungkook being his gullible dumbass self believes she loves him for him.

You sighed, “Of course.” He loves her.

“And 5, 6, 7,  TILT. Excellent!” You complimented, watching through the mirror as everyone in the studio did a tilt from the floor and rolled into fetus position. “So that whole 8-piece, just remember that it’s very very subtle, not too much energy until after the tilt, which you want to push your legs up and extend them like a whip but as light as a feather. Have grace with the tilt. 5, 6, 7, UP!” You demonstrated by being an example and showing your students the technique.

“She’s good isn’t she?” Jimin said with his arms crossed as he observed your teaching skills and your charismatic moves. “I’m really surprised she declined the trainee offers from the entertainment industries.” Hoseok nodded in agreement. A chuckled then came along, “I’m not.” Jungkook smirked.

“Dude, you’ve been going against every word we say about her.” Hoseok crossed his arms to face Jungkook. “Since day one.” He specifically added. Jungkook narrows his eyes as if he couldn’t comprehend what Hoseok was trying to get at.

But only the blind wouldn’t be able to tell that Jungkook bears a deep, stubborn grudge on you. And his attitude towards you contrasted too much from his members for them to not notice his behavior. It was an issue constantly swept under the carpet to not escalate things given Jungkook’s temper, but the matter has finally rose from dust. “Yeah that’s right, did she do something to offend you or something?” Jimin looks at Jungkook worriedly. The both of them kept going on about the issue of you, pressing Jungkook to the end of wits.

“Yo, if you have seen...another side of her she’s not showing to us,” The three of them slowly spin to watch you conduct the dance class. The smile on your face when you teach, and the way you go about asking every student about their struggles and issues—make Hoseok doubted the words that came out of his mouth. You looked genuinely passionate in this company, and it couldn’t be that you put up an act in front of evil intentions for so long. As long as however many years. Jungkook remains his gaze on you for a while, before his hands are coming up to rip off his hair from his scalp in frustration as he groans. “I-It’s not like that..! It’s just.. just the sight of her irks me!” He knew he sounded like a brat hating on someone as innocent as you for no reason at all. But before he could save himself from further embarrassment, you are strolling towards his triangle of friends with an anticipated look cast on your features.

“What are you guys talking about?” Your voice interrupts his rant. The three men stare at you in expressions you can’t make out—you couldn’t tell what they were thinking. Then the both Hoseok and Jimin shot Jungkook looks.

“Uh…” Jimin darts his gaze back and forth his two friends, before pulling you by the arm away from them. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

And with that, you and Jimin walked out into the hallway to the studio kitchen where there were a few staff eating lunch. “So are you going to join us this Saturday at our studio?” You took out a bottle full of cold water from the refrigerator when you opened as Jimin leaned on the wall next to him. “Definitely. I’m excited what you guys have in store for your lessons and I’ll be taking them all too.” You took a couple sips from the water. Jimin looked at you with a raised eyebrow, recalling that you are taking ALL the lessons, “And by all, you mean you’re going to participate in Jungkook’s class too?”

You clenched your lips together in awkwardness, “It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t take his but yours and Hoseok’s would it?” You sighed, “And besides, even if he cared, he’ll forget I’m even there. He’s going to have a class filled with people, and his main focus is his students.” Leaning against the counter backward, you always felt awkward talking about him with his members, and it wasn’t because you didn’t want to say the wrong thing at all. His hyungs were always lecturing him about you and never accepted the behavior he acted upon you. They didn’t know what really happened the day of the stupid incident because he never liked to talk about it or else he would have been made fun of or worse. They don’t even know why he’s held a grudge against you for so long. So what is the problem? When will he man up and get over it?

Jimin sighed, “At least you’re not an asshole like him.”

“Truth or dare?” Taehyung looked over at Jess as he popped the question.

“Dare.” She smirked.

After playing Jenga, Uno, checkers, and a whole bunch of other games in Taehyung’s house, everyone, including some of the boys’ girlfriends, are sitting in a circle on the floor with beers and snacks playing truth or dare. And unfortunately, Jungkook’s girl, Yuna couldn’t be there. But you felt relieved and happy about it. She’s just as worse as Jungkook. Pretty yet mean and nasty to you.

“Funny you guys are bickering but since you all ate my jjigae, I haven’t gotten a single bowl of it you hungry ass pigs!” Jin exclaimed just when Taehyung and Jess bickered over who has the best shoes.

“It was some good shit though.” Taehyung’s mouth waters, “I wish I could have more.”

Jin mumbles something under his breath and takes one huge gulp of his beer.

“Okay moving on. Truth or dare, Y/N?” Jimin turns to you. You kept your knees close to your chest, looking down as you weren’t prepared for your answer. You were always unsure and nervous about whatever choice you choose. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you, especially Jungkook with his little smirk.

“Ummm… truth?” You weren’t sure but went with it anyway. “Who was your first kiss?”

And that question almost made you shit yourself, “W-What?” You could feel your eyes widened.

How the hell were you going to tell that you’ve never kissed anyone before without feeling embarrassed?

“I’m sure she doesn’t want to reveal her privacy.” Namjoon noticed the nerves just by the position you were in. You were hugging your knees which were up to your chest. Jess even looked over at you in such worry since she’s the only one who knows you haven’t had the experience.

You gulped and stuttered, pushing up your glasses, “I uh… I actually never kissed anyone before.” You said softly as you looked down.

Taehyung raised his eyebrows in surprise, “What? No way. Seriously?” You looked up at Taehyung and looked at all the other reactions. They seemed just as surprised as him.

“That’s surprising.” Yoongi nodded in agreement. Jungkook rolled his eyes in annoyance, “Not a surprise to me, I mean look at her.” He looked over at you in disgust and you only looked down in shame. You felt so embarrassed and disgusted with your own self with not having any experience with a guy at all.

Jess glared over at him just as her blood was boiling, she could beat his ass at any second now, “Shut the fuck up, you ass. She doesn’t need your nasty opinions.”

Jungkook shrugged, “Like I care.”

“I think it’s great that she’s never kissed anyone, Jungkook.” Nari, Taehyung’s girlfriend, spoke in regards to defending you. Nari is sweet and soft, and even a creative person. She’s a cosmetologist in makeup and is definitely talented in making so many makeup combinations. She’s short and a few years older, around the same age as Taehyung. She has gorgeous glowing honey skin with long black colored curly hair, and lovely blue eyes. She’s just as beautiful as Taehyung and to you, they’re considered the most beautiful couple ever.

“It’s a good thing, stop being an ass Jungkook,” Jimin glared at him. You sat there awkwardly but you gave a little smile at Nari for giving her defense.

“Don’t mind him, Y/N. It’s good that you haven’t had your first kiss. You don’t need one, not even a guy. You’re a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a man.” Hoseok, who was sitting beside you, smiled at you with a good rub on your shoulder, “And you are also a beautiful woman.” He added, being sweet and full of sunshine as always. You could feel yourself blush and get shy at his compliment, “Thank you.” You nodded.

Of course, Jungkook shook his head unsatisfied. He knew that you never had a boyfriend. Everyone knew. And he was sure that you weren’t ever going to get one. But what he didn’t know was that you were definitely talking to someone as opposed to be dating soon.

“What do you mean she’s talking to Jonghoon?” He asked Taehyung as he looked at him in disbelief. It was the next morning and the two boys were in the kitchen making themselves some breakfast.

Taehyung glanced over at Jungkook from where he was cutting tofu, “What do you think I mean?”

While sighing, Jungkook bit his lip in question while he shook his head, “You’re kidding me right? He’s a frat! Does she not know that?” Was he actually for real? There’s no way you could be talking to some player. Jonghoon is a friend of Taehyung’s who used to be a trainee at BigHit. He’s damn beautiful and looks like he could be related to Taehyung. Tall, caramel skin, built, an unreal God like face, yet he’s definitely one hell of a man who only hooks up and has one night stands, leaving girls the very next day. Jungkook wasn’t very fond of him because he knows he isn’t the type of guy himself to play around with women.

“Apparently not.” Taehyung shrugged, “I tried telling her that he’s not what she thinks he is, but she didn’t listen.”

“She’s stupid! You could have told Jonghoon to back off! He can’t talk to her! She’s not realizing that fucker could slip his hand in her panties and fuck her! She’s not into those things! She’s not ready and she shouldn’t be anywhere near him” He exclaimed in anger.

“And why all of a sudden are you sounding like you care about Y/N?” Taehyung raised an eyebrow at him, he could sense the protection Jungkook had for you.

“You’re fucking crazy. I don’t give a crap about her. I’m just saying that she shouldn’t be talking to him because he’s not good for her at all.”

Taehyung hummed, but he wasn’t convinced, “Okay, whatever you say. But I can’t forget to add that she’s going on a date with him later this afternoon.” He smirked.

“WHAT?!” Jungkook looked at Taehyung as if his eyes could pop out of his sockets.

“Yeah, you heard me. A date. Where two people who are attracted to each other go and hang out to be romantic and shit like that.” Taehyung kept his little smile, waiting for Jungkook’s major defense mode.

“It’s definitely not an attraction or going to be romantic when really he’s gonna take her home and get in her pants.” He growled and his tongue poked out of his cheek, “She’s not going on that date. I have to go tell her this after I eat breakfast.”

It was around two o’clock in the afternoon and Jungkook took forever to find out where you were going on your date with Jonghoon. Jess could not answer his calls from her being occupied in the studio with Yoongi, Jonghoon wouldn’t tell Taehyung exactly where he was meeting with you, Jimin, Jin, and Namjoon had no idea of you going on a date. That was left with Hoseok who had been stuck in the 3J studio finishing his choreography for his first class tomorrow, had known exactly where you were going to meet Jonghoon. The Lounge Cafe.

It was a twenty minute drive but he didn’t care. He needed to find you and prevent you from hanging out with Jonghoon. When he arrived, the cafe was definitely modernized although that wasn’t the point. His eyes roamed the cafe from sitting in his parked car and that’s where they landed on a familiar girl wearing a cream floral dress, sitting alone outside at a table while reading a book. It was you.

With honesty, Jungkook thought you looked stunning. Maybe because he’s never seen you all dressed up. But your presence somewhat attracted him. His eyes read your look. The way your hair flowed from the light breeze, your adorable wide eyes blinking as you flipped a page, the way your posture is. Undoubtedly yet not realization, Jungkook always had thought you were beautiful without even saying you are. You are just naturally attractive. He wondered what life would have been if you weren’t so irking… or if maybe just things went the right way between you two. Would you two have become friends? Would there have been any feelings of? Well, that’s not that he would know of.

Before his thoughts could go any further to drive him away distractedly, he snapped out of them since he was here for a reason. Jungkook got out of his car, taking his keys, phone, and wallet and slipping them into his sweatpants as his made his way over to you, knowing of the arrangement with Jonghoon. When he reached you, he was already infuriated just as he took a seat in front of you, “Why are you wasting your time?”

You looked up from the page you were reading of your book to find Jungkook sitting right there with an incensed expression on his face. What the hell was he talking about? “Excuse me?” You questioned.

He let out a hollow laugh, “The guy isn’t worth the time, Y/N. Are you blind?” Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion, “You mean Jonghoon? How do you even know him?” Most of all, how did he know about this? Jungkook shook his head, “He is a friend of a friend I have. And he has a reputation Y/N. He doesn’t take too fondly to girls… that aren’t experienced.” His thumbs circled around each other as his fingers were interlocked.

You sighed, “And why do you care? You don’t know if he’s really like that, Jungkook.”

His eyes rolled in exasperation and looked at you, “Look Y/N, I know what I’m saying. I know that douche too well and you are just walking into one of his traps.” He nodded in assurance. “How did you even know about this?” You asked, “First of all, this is my business that you’re barging into. I don’t think he’ll even do such thing to hurt me.”

Jungkook leaned towards you, “He will use you for a bad purpose and break your heart, Y/N.” His voice deepened, “So don’t cry when he leaves you stranded and broken.”

You giggled, not believing him, “Please, he won’t.” You crossed your arms while leaning back on the chair, “And if that doesn’t work out and I end up wrong, then lesson learned. I like him.” You shrugged in yet confidence. Jungkook studied you in distaste with a hum, “You are so blind huh? Not just in sight but in judgment.”

That’s when you just had enough. What rights does he have to be telling you this? You were done kissing his ass, “Judgement? Who are you to tell me this? Why can’t I just like anyone for crying out loud? Are you that surprised at the fact I’m probably going to start dating?” You asked.

Jungkook nodded with no expression, “Obviously yes, as no guy would ever be interested in you anyways.” He shrugged as he sat back. You looked down in distress. It was true, but yet you just had a strong feeling that Jonghoon was actually interested in you, “At least it feels nice when someone is interested in me...” You said quietly.

“As if any guy would.” He said expressionlessly. You have yet nothing to say and he got the message that you were done listening. He got up from his seat as he looked at you with no sympathy, “Don’t blame me if he tears you apart.” And with that, he walked off. You sat there, not knowing what to think. You didn’t want to believe him because you were already over with him being an ass. He couldn’t be telling the truth… right?

The clear skies with shining sun soon faded when dark and grey clouds have flown into them. It would have been much better as a delight to maybe brighten up the day a little and not ruin it for you after what just clearly happened.

Jungkook on the other hand just did not care about what was going on with you and Jonghoon. Or does he because of the guy’s reputation with girls? No, that didn’t matter to him. If Jonghoon did anything to mess with you, then it was your fault for not listening to Jungkook. And he basically told you so. No fucks were given in the end.

At the end of practice at BigHit’s dance studio, Jungkook sat down on the floor with his back against the wall and grabbed his phone. Seeing an odd countless amount of messages from Jess, he was confused. She seemed worried and angry, but why was she?

Jess (4:33pm): Jungkook, idk where you are right now and honestly i don’t care but y/n hasn’t come home and i’m fucking worried.. Like seriously.

Jess(4:33pm): Can you look around and see if you can find her?

Jess(4:36pm): If you don’t, just know your hair won’t make it to the morning :)

Jungkook groaned in annoyance and responded.

Jungkook(5:02pm): Are you serious?? Do I really have to do this? Why can’t you just ask any of the other guys?

Jess(5:07pm): For one, Yoongi is at the studio but he is working on your comeback so he is out of the question. Hoseok is with Family at the moment, Jin is probably asleep, Jimin is out with Taehyung somewhere and Namjoon… I’m not sure where he is but you’re in her area and I need someone asap as my car is out of gas unless I’d be doing this shit my fucking self.

Jungkook(5:08pm) I could just give you money or bring gas to you. I literally have no idea where she is and I am nowhere in any mood to even find her.

Jess(5:12pm): See you’re the last fucking person I want to ask anyway but I need you to do this cause I’m working on something for Mr. Bang and if it’s not finished I am screwed. So just text Namjoon as he was the last one to talk to her after you decided to be an ass before her fucking date. Which I'm tempted to smack you for doing but you’re right about this guy which is why I'm extra worried… so just for my fucking sanity please jungkook. I’ll pay you back in whatever the fuck you ask for, games etc. just do it.

Jungkook(5:14pm): fine, but let this be the last fucking time you ask me to do something with y/n involved. I give no fucks about her or whatever she does with that douche just an FYI.

Jess(5:15pm): you can say that all you want but I know you Jungkook. Just find her, and if that fucker has hurt her tell me so I can plan his fucking funeral.

Jungkook(5:17pm): What is this, you’re not believing me now? In what aspect do you mean by knowing me? As if. But whatever, you can do whatever you want. If she ends up hurt, I’ll tell you. But it’s her fault and I don’t care anyway. She’s a stubborn pain in the ass and is the last person I ever want to put in my car no offense.

Jess(5:18pm): Whatever Jungkook, you act like a douche on purpose but I won’t argue with you as you’re just as hardhead as yoongi. So just find her, I have shit too before Mr. Bang has my head on a pike.

Jungkook(5:19pm): alright fine. I’ll keep you updated if I find her or not.

Jess(5:21pm): Thank you... You really don’t understand how much I am thankful that you are doing this. She is like a daughter to me. So yeah I gtg Mr. Bang is yelling at me now lmao

Jungkook(5:22pm): I mean I guess lol… I’m only doing this for you.

Jess(5:23pm): it won’t only be me in the end, but thanks.

Jungkook(5:23pm): no problem

Jungkook sighed in annoyance and hung up slipped his phone in his pocket. Do I really have to do this? Yes, of course, he does. He’s not that much of an ass to reject doing a favor for someone who needs it. And if Jess is that damn worried about you, then he may as well go out and find you. Jungkook grabbed his backpack and carries it on his back after putting his sweaty towel in and zipping it up. Walking out to his car, he thought to himself, what happens if he doesn’t find you at all?

During the car ride, he went to various places that he could in order to find you. Locations that may seem where you might be based on where you probably like to go. And he even went to the most random places too. He’s driven around everywhere in Seoul basically trying to find just you.

An hour passed and you were not found. Jungkook was in utter anger and stress that he’s wasted on time looking for you. He just wanted to go home badly to rest, and at that point for finding you everywhere, he’s given up. He shook his head and turned his car around to his way home. How was he going to tell Jess that he didn’t find you?

Although it was one question that he was focused on, there was another one that he just couldn’t help but keep thinking about the most. Is she okay?

The thought if it makes him worry a little. And it was odd. Where could you possibly be that you suddenly disappeared all day? Then suddenly while driving down a road, he found someone familiar walking on the sidewalk with their head down. Their outfit just seemed to look too much like what you were wearing earlier. Your figure and the way you walk even caught him off guard. With curiosity and hope, Jungkook slowly drove up close to get a better look of you, and as soon as he was just there, it was suddenly and thankfully you, walking with your head down.

To be sure of it, Jungkook rolled down his window and slowed down next to you, “Y/N?” The familiar voice caught you off guard and caused you to turn. Surprisingly, you found Jungkook in his black luxurious car right next to you. And it was definitely bad that he could see your face full of sadness and regret.

Jungkook, who was ready to pop off his madness and yell at you, studied your face. Your eyes were puffy and watery, your nose was red and cheeks were a peachy color. You had been crying and for some reason, his face softened. It was weird seeing you cry and it didn’t make him feel good inside at all.

“Go ahead, laugh at me.”

Jungkook stood there with trying to keep no expression on his face, but he only blinked, “I… I’m not going to,” he said quietly and he took a deep breath with his chest rising, “Get in, it’s gonna rain soon and Jess is worried sick.”

You shook your head with your arms still locked, and making no eye contact with him, “No thanks, I’m fine.” You turned to walk off in the same direction you were heading. That wasn’t until “Y/N please.” Jungkook watched you walk away. But you just kept walking. You knew you didn’t want to deal with him. But he wasn’t going to let you walk away from him.

“Y/N please stop.” His voice arose and it sounded quite like a demand. But that didn’t stop you from turning around with a pissed look on your face with tears streaming down your cheeks. “And why do you care?” And at that, Jungkook stays silent for a while.

You couldn’t be bothered to turn around to face him properly, for your insides were seething with rage and your heart felt empty to the core. Jungkook was right, he always was. The things he said to your face, how badly he spoke of you, and now this, about the guy who you thought was pretty decent—and something about Jeon Jungkook being right about everything is making your jaw clench in anger as you recall the buried grudge he has for you. Why must he keep meddling in your life? Right now, you wished he just disappeared off the face of earth. That way, your life would be much, much easier. You wouldn’t have to keep caring about your stupid feelings getting hurt and being the constant target and Jungkook’s antics.

And that’s the worst part. Feelings.

You’ve been harboring them for him god knows since when and you are afraid to open up about it to him. There’s this side of you Jungkook always fails to see and you doubt he ever will. Even if he does, it is highly unlikely that he would even care. And that is the question bothering you most as of the moment.

Why did he fucking care?

With your back facing him, you missed how he churns on his inner cheek and doesn’t know where to put his gaze. The rain pattering on the concrete floor didn’t provide him with the answers he needed. He directed the question back to himself and he realized he could not give closure as well.

With a sigh, he spoke, “Because I hate seeing you sad when it’s because of someone else hurting you like no one should or I shouldn’t.”

“I know you’re upset but can you please get in the car for my own good sake to get you home and save you from being sick at least?” Without a word, or looking at him, you walked past him and your shoulders barely touched as you walked to the passenger side of his car. That gave him a slight tingle in himself as he’s rarely been that close to you.

On the way back home, it was pure silence in the thin atmosphere. Jungkook gave glances to you here and there but you never once took a glimpse at him. And your position was obvious. You were sitting with your legs tightly closed and your fingers were brushing against each other as you only looked out the window, keeping your emotions as stable as you could. But it was so difficult to just give in and not cry. Then you realized, how could you be so stupid to not listen to him? He was right. You were angry. Not at Jungkook. But yourself. You felt bitchy. So bitter. Yet it was wrong to be that way to him. Although he has had a big hatred for you, you just can’t ever treat him the same. It just doesn’t work that way for you, which is a big problem. You’re too nice.

“He hurt you didn’t he?” His soft voice snapped you out of your thoughts, that you didn’t even realize he was already parked in front of your apartment. You gazed over at him and by the look on your face, Jungkook felt a little pang in his heart. Eyes puffy and glossy, your nose and cheeks peachy. He has never seen you cry once before, not even has he seen you express a sad or depressing emotion. He’s always seen you smile.

“Yes. And I let him.” Your voice cracked as if it hit the flu. Jungkook clenches his lips as he caught your eyes blink with tiny little tears, “What did he do?” You shook your head, “Just something that I learn my mistake from. It’s nothing-“

“Y/N” He started, “What did he do?” He stared at you with a straight face, almost like a demand. And it wasn’t that he was forcing you. He needed to know.

You sighed quietly as you could feel the slight order from him and you just couldn’t say no to him. “He groped me.” You vocalized in a shaky tone. Jungkook could feel his blood boil fast and kept calm, “Where did he touch you, Y/N?” His voice lowered.

“I c-can’t tell you-“

“If you can’t tell me, then point to where did he touch you.”

You gulped and your heart thumped rapidly, “Um…” You didn’t want any trouble at all and you were so hesitant in just telling him Jonghoon’s attempt to getting in your pants. But Jungkook could tell what he tried to do when you stuttered and look down at your most private area. As soon as you picked your head up at him, your tears were already swimming around your eyes, “H-He-“ you tried to speak but you were cut off by Jungkook’s hand grabbing you and pulling you onto his lap with your legs straddling him, in which you began to let out a breathy cry. His arms engulfed around your fragile figure and he held you tight in his arms, your response with burying your face in his neck with your hands on his hard chest as you sobbed in his neck.

But this was weird. You’re sitting on your enemy’s lap and he’s comforting you. He’s practically holding you in his own arms and you’re letting him. Ye his comfort made you feel safe… and you didn’t want to pull away. You didn’t even dare to. His soothing fingers stroking your hair as his hand rubbed your back slowly but keeping a light grip on you.

Jungkook on the other hand, he didn’t know what in the hell is he doing or what he was thinking. Why is he holding you? Why did he grab you and suddenly felt that he needed to protect you? He was in rage deeply inside and one of these days when he finds Jonghoon, he’ll make sure he doesn’t have his perfectly straight teeth.

You were glued to each other, the steady beat of his heart making you never want to open your eyes. Some nights, you’d lie awake just thinking about what he would say if he ever felt guilty about what he did and here it was. And somehow, it was so much more than what you asked for. But you also were wary. The bigger part of you, though, knew he was being sincere, that he held this crushing guilt over his head over what happened between you two for the past five to six years.

”You don’t deserve this,” he softly spoke up along a sigh, “You’re too special and fragile…” He added.

Wait what? You pulled away from his neck and looked at him, “What?” Your cold soft voice barely could be audible. Jungkook got a better glimpse of you up close—broken and terrified. And it sure damn stabbed his own heart deeply. He locked a piece of your hair behind your ear as he stared at you, “I know I was an ass to you earlier but I know that what I’m about to tell you is what I really mean to say. You’re too unique and wonderful for him. He’s nothing but a scumbag looking for a just a fuck and you don’t need that. You need and will get a guy who will treat you loyally and kindly with all of his love for who you are. Any guy would be lucky to have you, Y/N. Wait for him…the right one will sweep you off your feet.” His thumb rubbed your hip softly and the feeling warmed your skin.

You blinked. Is he really telling you this or are you just dreaming?

He sighed, “Just trust me.” He said softly. Jungkook reached his hand up to your face and wiped your tears gently with his thumb, “You’re so beautiful…” And it was true to him. Being this up close to you, he was able to see your flaws but they resembled how gorgeous you are. You shook your head, you didn’t believe that “I’m not that-“

“Yes, you are.” He cut you off, “Honestly, you’re so attractive and stunning, don’t tell yourself you’re not beautiful when you have seen yourself in the mirror.” He looked into your eyes, deep into them.

And you just didn’t know what else to say because his brown doe eyes caught you off guard. Neither of you could look away and it’s like your eyes were having a never lasting conversation with each other. You could feel your own pupils dilate the more you looked closely into his, and you could have sworn that his eyes looked at your lips then at you. But you also didn’t think he did. And at that moment, it was when you come to the realization of what was going on, causing you to clear your throat, “Um..” you hummed, which had Jungkook probably get the memo too. You looked down awkwardly as your mind was going crazy but you remained calm, “Thanks for the ride… and listening.” You said softly. Jungkook eyes darted elsewhere but you with a blank expression on his face, “Yeah,” he started, “No problem.” He said and he just sat there, his tongue poking out of his.

You slowly got off his lap to the passenger side and got out his car, grabbing your bag as you fixed yourself and closing the door afterward without saying a word. Making your way into your apartment, you didn’t dare to look back. After locking the front door, you leaned your back against it, questioning what just happened.

You almost kissed your enemy.

#jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook au #BTS jungkook #bts imagine #bts scenarios #enemies to lovers au #bts smut #her blooming flower #hbf

[fereality-indy]

Wendip Week Day One - School

It’s time again for Wendip week. This year I am using the prompts to flesh out the backstory behind The Kids Are All Right. The prompts are as follows; School, Typical Pines Luck, Combat, Date Night, Flirting, Moving In With Each Other, and Bedtime Story.

Tuesday September 2, 2014

 It had taken a couple of years but we had done it. Mabel and I are finally full time residents of Gravity Falls. Of course we have been bugging our parents that they need to come up and visit us during our yearly summer trips. This year they came up for a two week stay before our birthday and dad fell in love with the small town feel. After mom found out that Northwest Medical (Pacifica says it is one of the few things she is proud her family did) was looking for a new head RN as Nurse Brooks was retiring. Deciding that that was a sign, the two began looking for a house. For now we are staying in the former servant’s cottage on the former Northwest estates with Fiddleford’s blessing.

And here we are, sophomores at Gravity Falls High School. It won’t be too bad, most of our friends are here. Candy is a freshman, Grenda and Pacifica are sophomores like us, and Nate, Lee, Tambry, and Wendy are seniors. Thompson and Robbie graduated last year. Thompson is taking some business classes at the community college the next town over and Robbie…

 About a month ago Wendy got a call at the Shack asking if she had seen Robbie. Apparently Tambry had told him that they were gonna be parents. At first he didn’t take it well believing that they were too young and he rushed out leaving her at his house with his parents. It wasn’t five minutes after telling her that she hadn’t heard from him that Nate and Lee called asking if she could met them at the Dusk2Dawn lot. Mabel volunteered to watch the counter for her and I ended up riding out with her.

 Wendy told me what was up on the way to the meet. Since it was really a private matter between old friends, I stayed in Wendy’s truck while they talked. Occasionally I would hear a loud utterance like ’not ready’ and ‘you love her right?’ and at least once it looked as if he was gonna lunge at Wendy. Even with Nate, Lee, and Thompson were there I nearly rushed out of the truck. I know she can handle herself and well it was just Robbie, but I would’ve rather take a hit from him than let him touch her. But I had no need to worry. He wasn’t attacking her, he was hugging her. Later she told me that she had just told him that he thought he would make an adequate dad. That was how much he still valued her opinion.

 It wasn’t too much later that Thompson, Nate, and Lee had to head out. Thompson, as the manager of the theater, had hired Nate and they both were about to be late to work. Lee had a date that he offered to call off if Robbie needed him, but Robbie said he didn’t want him to as he knew how long it took him to set up the date. They all stopped by and said bye as they left. Robbie stopped by to thank me for coming to support him and for understanding it was something the ‘Gang’ needed to deal with, I told him it was no problem and if they needed any help while I was in town to just let me know. He smiled his smirk like grin and said he would remember that when they need a babysitter.    

 He never got the chance to ask. We had been back at the Shack for about half hour or so when we got the call from Tambry asking for us to come to the hospital. Apparently Robbie had stopped to buy Tambry some flowers as an apology. Unfortunately as he pulled away from the florist, his van was t-boned by a car heading home from the Fractured Skull. The doctor said he didn’t make it to surgery and the driver of the other car was killed on impact.    

 It was then I reaffirmed my decision that life was too short. I ended up spending as much time as I could with either Mabel or Wendy. The two most important women in my life. At first it shocked our parents at how much time I spent with them but I think Stan may have told them about what happened. Soon it seemed as if that they had accepted Wendy as part of the Gravity Falls package. At one point dad pulled me to the side and asked ‘So is this the one your sister is always teasing you about?’.  

 The principal offered to let Tambry take time off to grieve and to have her baby, but she apparently only needs three credits to graduate and she wants to get them done so she can graduate with her friends whether the baby is here or not.

 So there she was on stage with principal and a few other faculty members as they turned the first day of the new school year into an assembly. They talked about the dangers of drinking and driving, had a memorial for Robbie as an Honored Alumnus, introduced the freshmen, and finally introduced Mabel & I as transfer students to the assembled students. Seeing how it was a half day they dismissed everyone by grades starting with the seniors, with everyone picking up a copy of their schedule as they left incase they didn’t receive the one in the mail. The plan was as soon as we were done the whole group was gonna head over to Yumberjacks for burger and fries. As Mabel and I got our schedules we heard our names called, turning we saw it was Principal Reeves.

 After we walked over he shook Mabel’s hand as he started speaking, “Hello Mabel, and you must be Mason, I mean Dipper.”

 At that he turned and shook my hand before continuing, “I would like to welcome you personally to our school, I’ve heard such great things from your great uncle. Now normally I wouldn’t believe a word that old shyster said, but I have seen both of your transcripts.”        

 “And just where do you get off calling our Grunkle a shyster?” Mabel asked, getting defensive over her second favorite (at least I hope) family member.

 “No need to get into a huff, my dear. I reckon I’ve known your, ‘Grunkle’ was it, for longer than you’ve been alive. Though for most of that I thought he was Stanford Pines and not Stanley. You play cards with a guy twice a month for nearly twenty-five years and you’d think you would know someone.” Principal Reeves said. When he saw the look of confusion on our faces he pointed to a small lapel pin on his jacket. It was a maroon trapezoid with a familiar looking yellow fish (?) in he middle of it. "We’re both members of the Order of the Holy Mackerel.”

 Apparently he thought it warranted more explanation, “We’re a fraternal organization along the lines of the Knights of Columbus or the Shriners. But enough about that, I called you two over to talk about tomorrow. Most of the incoming students were able to come in during registration and get a basic idea of where their classes, but since you two were late comers I have arrange for you to have guides for the first couple of days.”

 “You didn’t need to do that…” I started before Mabel slapped her hand over my mouth.

 “Speak for yourself, broseph. I’m always up for some help. Maybe it’ll even be the start of a new friendship.” Mabel said as she removed her hand.

 “Actually from what I am to understand, these two are people you already know.” Principal Reeves said as he raised his hand and waved for someone to come over, “Actually one of them credits you Mr. Pines as one of the reasons she has turned her academic aptitude around.”

 I felt a familiar hand grab my shoulder. I turned and saw it was Wendy. Being eyeball level with her chin, I’m finally catching up to her height wise.

 “Paz!”, Mabel called out as she turned and saw who her guide was. She quickly pulled her into a hug.  

 “You ready to learn the ins and outs of the school, Dip?” Wendy said with a smile that brightened up the whole school.

 “If you’re leading…” I thought before I realized I was actually saying it. I had gotten better at that but there are times that she still draws out my innermost thoughts. She had a small smirk that told me that she had heard me as I said, “I mean, yeah. With your help I’ll have this place figured out in no time.”

 “Well since this all seems to be in order I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Principal Reeves said clapping his hands together.            

 We stood there for a little bit while Mabel and Pacifica seemed to be comparing schedules. (I actually lost track of time just being there with Wendy) before my stomach told me I had rushed out without eating breakfast with a loud growl. This got a chuckle from Wendy and broke the girls out of whatever discussion they seemed to be having.

 “Did someone anger a gnome?” Pacifica asked with a chuckle. Mabel joined her in the laughter.

 “Yeah, yeah. Cut the guy some slack, we were supposed to be at Yumberjacks by now. Come on the gang is probably waiting on us.”  Wendy chastised the girls before she put her arm around my shoulder as we walked off.

#gravity falls #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #wendip #Wendip Week 2018 #School #mabel pines #pacifica northwest #mabcifica

[kilojulietsierra]

Better The Devil You Know - Chapter Two (Ulysses Klaue x Female OC)

Read Chapter One Here

Chapter Two - July 17, 2014 Tripoli, Libya

Savannah shoved a blind handful of clothes into a backpack and glanced frantically around the room for her headscarf.

“Miss Thorne, we need to go. Now!”

“I’m coming!” She found the piece of fabric draped over the chair in the corner and she snatched it up, putting it on with one hand as she grabbed her laptop and shoved it in the bag with the other. “Okay, call the pilot.” She slung the backpack over her shoulder. “I’m ready, let’s go.”

Security officers, one in front and two behind, escorted her out of the hotel at a jog and to the waiting vehicle. The streets were filled with locals running, yelling, chanting, guns firing both at people and into the air. Smoke pillars were scattered around the skyline and jets flew overhead. The week before nearly 300 government officials and employees had been killed in Benghazi, militias had been batting over the airport in Tripoli for nearly a weak and the State Department was preparing to evacuate its employees from the US Embassy.

At the private gate they were stopped by the militia that currently held control of the airport, but they let Savannah and her car through after a substantial bribe. She breathed a sigh of relief as they approached her plane and she saw that it was not one of the dozens on fire. There was no true relaxation until the jet was in the air and out of Tripoli air space. Her headscarf had fallen to reveal her hair but she left it, it was only a disguise, something to keep her from drawing more attention than absolutely necessary. An American in Libya was a prime target. As were any American operated oil wells.

She couldn’t count how many burned on the desert floor beneath her, the blanket of thick black smoke was too dense.

“Ma’am are you sure you want to land?” The pilot asked over his shoulder as he circled.

He had circled the oil field three more times before she answered, “No, Rick. Let’s just go home.” The words tasted more toxic than the smoke below them. She continued to stare as the plane eased out of it’s banking maneuver and reoriented south. “Who’s still down there?”

Her head of security, Kristoffer, sat across the table, “Most of my team is still on the ground Miss Thorne. We’ll hold it.”

Her burning oil no longer visible from her window she slouched into her leather seat and faced him, “Hold it well enough to get fire crews in there and put the wells out?”

When Kristoffer didn’t answer right away it didn’t bode well, “We can hold, but limited firepower, limited manpower. We’ll be on the defense, not the offense.”

Savannahs eyes hardened, as dark and smothering as the smoke that now haunted her waking life. “That’s not how I play.”

~~~~~~~

July 17, 2014 Somewhere Over the Central African Republic

“At this point, say we get the wells put out and capped. How long before the next coup, the next militia or some scraggle of rebels comes along and blows them again? The oil is more valuable in the ground than it is in a pillar of hellfire.”

Savannah glared at her business manager on the screen in front of her, “No, it’s more valuable in a tanker on its way to Europe.”

“Sell it.”

“Nobody is going to buy on oilfield that’s burning up all it’s oil. Nobody is going to buy an oilfield in Libya period. That’s why we are there! It’s the cheapest most abundant reserve in the world, with the least competition. My father drilled there for decades, I’m not going to lose it just because of some pissing match between regime’s. It’s Africa for fucks sake, this shit happens every day.”

“If you just called to yell, I’m hanging up now.”

“Hang up and you’ll be managing a Whataburger off I-45.” She snorted derisively and sipped on her whiskey.

Her manager snorted back, “Well at least there wouldn’t be terrorist groups trying to takeover my Whataburger.”

Savannah crunched a piece of ice and cocked a slightly less than perfect eyebrow. “Have you ever been to Houston? You never know.” She chuckled dryly to herself. “Options Reed, give me options. Other than selling.”

The man on the videochat fiddled with his pen and and tapped at a key on his laptop repeatedly. “Well, I mean my first suggestion is to get more security on the ground so we can at least get fire crews in. But, like you said, you don’t have the men or the arms.”

“Men and guns can be bought.” Savannah glanced to the four, strapping examples lounging around the cabin of her private jet.

“Okay, well, do that.”

“As much as I hate telling you this; you are right. Cap the wells, some goat herder is just going to blow them up again.” She finished her drink and let another ice cube fall into her mouth, crunching it as she thought. A habit she knew Reed hated, which only made it more enjoyable for her. “What is there for… new well heads, derricks, caps, rigs… something, some sort of advancement maybe, that makes them less vulnerable to attacks?”

The video feed glitched a few times before he answered, “I don’t think manufacturers build their drilling equipment to be terrorist proof.”

Savannah stood up and spun the laptop towards the planes mini galley, where she was heading. She raised her voice as she made herself another drink. “No, but they do make them safer. Less likely to blow out, more stable during the drilling process, more efficient. OSHA be damned but someone somewhere makes… something… we can repurpose. Unbreakable steel, self cooling drill stem or pipes, a fucking force field I don’t know…” She trailed off, filling her glass to the top in the process. “Fuck.” She twisted the cap back on the whiskey bottle and took a drink on her way back to her seat.

“Maybe Tony Stark has something we can use.” Reed laughed at his own joke.

“Oh please, Stark wouldn’t come near us with a ten foot pole and a NDA. I like the way you think though.”

Reed paused, “You mean… go superhero or go scientist?”

Savannah cleared her throat, realizing she had forgot the Coke for her whiskey and cola. “Find me a nerd. Someone working on, something we can apply to this. If they want research funding, labs, resources, whatever. Find me someone and I’ll make a deal.”

~~~~~~~

July 17, 2014 Somewhere Over the Democratic Republic of the Kongo

“We’ll be stopping to refuel at Kisangani Miss Thorne. Then we’ll stop at your site in Angola to top off before we head for Joburg.”

“Dumbo?” Savannah sat up from the ‘nap’ she had been taking on the couch.

“Yes ma’am, I’ve already radioed ahead so they’ll have the fuel truck ready when I call in to land.”

“You’re the best Rick.” She stood up and stretched.

“That’s why I work for you ma’am.” He chuckled to himself as he set back to the controls.

Savannah chuckled too as she dug through the snack cupboard. She had just opened a package of jerky when her video call notification lit up her laptop screen. One of the guards was playing online Texas Hold ‘Em and glanced up at her. “Who is it?” She walked around to look over his shoulder. He was playing with two Queens in his hand and another on the table lined up between two eights and the seven of spades.

“It’s Reed Miss Thorne.” He looked back to the screen as it was his turn to call or fold.

Savannah nodded, “Let it ring.”

The guard smiled and nodded as he clicked the button to ‘call’. The online players showed their cards and his Queens over eights took the pot. Nearly $2,000 American dollars. Savannah patted him on the back as he cashed out and stood up from the seat so she could answer the video call.

“Reed, do you have good news for me?”

“How desperate are you?”

She slouched back in her seat and gnawed on a piece of jerky, “That’s not what I want to hear.”

“I know, but hear me out. The superhero thing got me thinking…”

“Oh Lord give me strength.”

Before she could continue her lamenting Reed cut her off. “Vibranium.”

All that could be heard was the hum of the jet and Savannahs chewing.

Reed took that as his leave to continue, “I found a young research scientist in Germany, at the Technical Institute of Munich, that has been working on a theory that if blended with structural and manufacturing grade steel, Vibranium could reduce Industrial accidents by nearly 80%. I’ve been looking into this guy for hours, squeaky clean, super nerd, he’s perfect.”

“Where’s he get the vibranium? Its… you can’t get it.”

“That’s just it, this is all theory! He’s never had any to work with… So, if a certain wealthy business owner were to come forward and…”

“Offer to supply him with vibranium he might just be grateful enough to say... Build us indestructible oil wells?”

Reed’s smile bordered on manic and Savannah realized it must be nearly three in the morning at the main office in Dallas.

“Great idea except I don’t have any.” She ripped a piece of jerky in half and shoved it in her mouth. “None that isn’t already being used.” She added around a mouthful of teriyaki jerky.

“No, but you’ve gotten it before.

Savannah chewed. “Fuck me sideways. Is this really our best option?”

“It’s our only option hun.” Reed looked as tired as she felt.

“Fuck… Fuck… Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck it. Call him. Put him on a plane to Johannesburg muy pronto. Tell him whatever he needs, it’s paid for.” Savannah slammed the lid of her laptop much harder than necessary. It didn’t even make her feel any better. Instead she grabbed a water bottle off the seat next to her and threw it at the lavatory door as hard as she could. “Fuck!”

Her security team remained silent, waiting.

“Kristoffer, tell your boys to hold the fields no matter what and that they’re all on time and a half pay until I get back.”

“Yes ma’am.” He walked to his gear bag and pulled out the satellite phone, ready to give orders.

Savannah waited patiently for him to finish and then took the phone from. She dialed a very familiar number. A number she had sworn she would never dial again. If her way of life did not depend on this phone call she would have hung up as soon as she heard his voice.

“Yeah?

“Ulysses?”

She closed her eyes and counted her breaths as the line remained silent. Then, the sniggering began. Slowly and almost too quiet to hear until it grew to the point she held the phone away from her and considered ripping off the emergency exit door and throwing it out. “Hello Annah, Love.” He chuckled some more, “Tell me you need me.”

Her hand closed around the sat sphone like a vice. Her eyes screwed shut and her molars ground together. But, she collected herself and spoke, “I need you Lee.”

~~~~~~~

Read Chapter Three Here!

#Ulysses Klaue #ulysses klaue fanfiction #black panther #black panther fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

[sgreffenius]

Have a look at the image that goes with this article. I do not copy it here, for fear of copyright violation.

When I read the subtitle for this piece, I naturally thought of Edward Snowden, Glenn Greenwald, Laura Poitras, and others who warn us about the surveillance state. The NSA can offer up a million reasons why it should monitor our communications; the FBI can offer a million more. Yet not one of these agencies can offer a single reason that justifies their abrogation of the Fourth Amendment.

Every criminal in history can tell you why they steal other people’s money. Vladimir Putin can tell you. Donald Trump can tell you. So could Jesse James, were he alive. But if you tell them, “It’s illegal,” they go mute. They have no response. That part escapes them somehow. “Why do you rob banks?” someone asked James. “Because that’s where the money is.” “Why do you spy on innocent people without a warrant?” “Because we need your private information to keep you safe.”

You’ll see the reason for this riff when I tell you what this article is actually about. First, the author’s byline:

By Shoshana Zuboff

Dr. Zuboff, a professor emeritus at Harvard Business School, is the author of “The Age of Surveillance Capitalism.”

Have you heard that term before, surveillance capitalism? I had not. You find out quickly, though, as if one needs guidance, that the phrase does not refer to the NSA or FBI, or any other government agency. It refers to Facebook! The article uses heavy terms like epistemic dominance and epistemic inequality to make you think the author is learned. In fact, the author uses academic bullsh*t to persuade you Mark Zuckerberg has horns and a long red tail. When a corporation that large knows so much about you, the company must be diabolical.

Apparently not relevant to Zuboff is that Facebook makes money through voluntary interactions with its customers. They have all heard the wisecrack, “With Facebook, you are the product.” Everyone understands that Facebook offers numerous services that people like. They understand, in return, that Facebook gathers information about its users, and finds ways to make money with that information. Facebook’s paying customers - advertisers - appreciate the company’s ability to target ads to your mobile phone. Facebook’s non-paying customers - you and me - know ads are part of the package, that the ads support Facebook’s free services.

So far, this model fits with others we’re acquainted with from way back. Network television offered free programs, and hoped you would watch the ads as well: laundry detergent and household cleaners on General Hospital, beer and trucks on NFL Sunday Football, toys and sugary cereal on Captain Kangaroo. In that case, ads targeted a show’s expected audience, or demographic. Now firms have better methods to gather audience data. That’s called surveillance. If you make money with your ads, that’s called surveillance capitalism.

The yawning gap in logic here is that every interaction an individual has with Facebook is voluntary, whereas every interaction with government is not. Take me. I have a Facebook account, but I seldom use it. I feel I waste my time whenever I go there. I certainly do not put Facebook on my phone. As a result, Facebook has scant data about me that it can use to make money.

By contrast, did NSA ever ask me if they could gather data about my phone calls, email messages, internet communications, and God knows what else? Could I file a Freedom of Information Act request to learn what data they already possess? If I wound up on a no-fly list by mistake, would I know why, or how to correct the error?

The answer to every query about government surveillance is no. Nothing is voluntary, everything is opaque - which means secret. As savvy internet users, we know Facebook’s business model. We know how it makes money, and the role our personal information plays in that process. Yes, the Cambridge Analytica revelation made people shake their heads. Now Mark understands that he better just sell advertising, and not sell data to third parties. If he does sell data to third parties, he better not get caught.

On the other hand, if Mark wants to sell ads to KGB hacksters, more power to him. Of course, he does not know they are KGB at the time of sale. The FBI tries to convince us they knew, but who listens to them? They won’t even hint how they know anything. At least Mark tries to act in good faith. When he tells congressmen that he wants the FCC or whatever to regulate him, he means it.

Now we have to return to Zuboff’s thesis. I could not read past the first couple of paragraphs, except to see if somewhere down the page she mentions government surveillance. She does not. The entire piece is about how Facebook threatens our democracy. It’s a standard NYT hit piece, designed to bring down Facebook yet again, with all the anti-capitalist vibe you could ever seek in this genre.

Well I have to tell you, Dr. Zuboff, that Facebook has no obligation to observe the Fourth Amendment. Government has promised to do so. Like every other successful communications outfit - such as Times Warner, Disney, or The New York Times - Facebook gathers information about its audience in order to meet its advertisers’ needs. It does not sell subscriptions or movie tickets. It receives most of its revenue from advertisers. Thus it has to do market research. Market research is not surveillance. Surveillance is spying.

If you want to argue that Facebook engages in espionage against its audience, you will have a hard time of it. Ever since the Cambridge Analytica blunder, it has tied itself in knots to prevent another fiasco, to explain its privacy policies, to give users control over their information. Most users say, “Forget it. I just want to chat with my friends, catch up with the latest posts, see vacation pictures. I can’t be bothered with so much privacy stuff.”

What was government’s response to Snowden’s revelations? “Hang 'im. He’s a traitor.” NSA has no interest in transparency, we know that. All of these security agencies say they want to protect us. They keep telling us how unsafe we are so they can keep spying on us. They keep spying on us because information is power. Governments always want to accumulate power.

At least Facebook does not prevaricate. It welcomes us, and the information we bring, because it can use that information to satisfy its paying customers. That’s how users become the company’s product. For billions of users around the globe, the tradeoff is worth it. That is, they are happy to turn over a small portion of their online profile to a company that gives them a multitude of information services in return. Most Facebook users feel they get the better of the deal. If they felt otherwise, they would leave the platform.

I have stayed away from one other word in Zuboff’s title: coup. It suggests that Facebook took over our country, or our democratic institutions, by force. The word insinuates some sort of surprise attack. In fact, Facebook has played defense for some time now. It hardly has the capacity to ruin our democracy, nor does it want to. Government’s self-destructive activities attack our democratic institutions every day. It does not need Facebook’s help to bring about dystopia.

From the left’s point of view, Facebook’s size alone makes it bad, no matter what it does. When Elizabeth Warren says she wants to break up Facebook, she does not seem to care whether the hydra grows new heads. She just wants to see the original heads lying bloody at her feet. For her, that means government has cut Facebook down several notches, has made it less threatening. Smaller is always better, if you do not like large, profit-making corporations. She does not, obviously, think the same way about government. For those she represents, powerful government is better government.

I wish Mark would just take a stand, as Bill Gates did against the FTC and the EU. Both bodies made absurd claims about Microsoft’s software bundling and other ‘acts in restraint of trade.’ Eventually the jokers just went away. As a consumer, I do not like doing business with Microsoft any more than most people do. Microsoft, however, is not a criminal organization. However anti-competitive it may be at times, it makes its money honestly, with transparent business practices. The same goes for Facebook.

You cannot say the same for government. It wants to control you. It gathers information about you to that end. It does not care whether its data collection methods violate the law. From every point of view, surveillance threats to democracy originate with government, not with any private corporation. Call Facebook’s practices surveillance capitalism if you like. Government’s brand of surreptitious surveillance is far more dangerous.

#united states politics and government

[call-me-rei]

Chapter 15

“A thought of what could be disintegrates and gets the best of me.”

---

We arrived at my house with about five minutes to spare before the locksmith arrived. I ushered Vic inside and took off my shoes. Vic noticed and did the same before he spoke.

“So, what now?”

“What now?” I asked. “Well, you did say you wanted to work on the project so maybe that?”

He rolled his eyes and stepped farther into the house. I watched him as he made his way to the living room and sat on the couch.

“Yes, make yourself at home,” I said sarcastically.

“Relax Quinn, you did the same thing at my place.”

“No I didn’t,” I defended.

“Yeah you did,” he shot back.

“No.”

“Okay yeah, maybe not.”

I rolled my eyes and sat next to him. “You’re an idiot,” I said out loud. I hadn’t realized I’d said it out loud until I saw the look on his face.

He didn’t look like he was going to kill me, or even punch me in the arm. No, he looked amused.

“I’m an idiot, huh?”

“Just a little bit,” I answered.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “Wow, that was so fucking lame!”

“Now I’m lame and an idiot? You really know how to kick a man when he’s down.” I just shrugged and started taking my books out of my bag.

“So what’s our game plan?” I asked. “Because we still have no idea what this song’s gonna be about.”

“There are lots of things we could write it about: love, tragedy, secret desires-“

“Secret desires?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m just saying we could write this song about anything as long as it fits in the era we picked.”

“But why secret desires?” I asked.

He shrugged. “We could be fucking nationalists since that was big back then.”

“I don’t have that much pride in my country of origin.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” he said.

“What the hell does tha-“

I was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. I got up and opened the door to reveal a man. He looked to be in his mid-forties with brown hair and tired brown eyes.

“Can I help you?” I asked him.

“Locksmith,” was all he said.

I nodded. “Yeah, my mom said you were coming.” He grunted a little and took a look at the door.

“Your mom said she wanted the full package, doors and windows, is that correct?”

I had no conceivable idea. That was not one of the things we had discussed.

“Maybe?” I asked nervously. I could tell he was displeased.

“Well I have a receipt that says-“

“Then yes,” I said, cutting him off.

He nodded. “Well since I’m replacing all entrances to the house it’s imperative that no one leave the premises. You won’t have a way to come back in since I’m changing every lock and you don’t have a new key. Do you understand?”

“Sir, yes sir,” I said. He rolled his eyes and nodded, not saying another word. I closed the door as he walked to his truck, figuring that he was about to start working.

“‘Sir, yes sir?’” Vic asked from behind me. I turned to see another amused smirk on his face that I couldn’t help but return.

“I was bored. He was saying shit that wasn’t important and using big words.”

“So you decided to be a little shit?”

I shrugged. “Gotta pass the time somehow.”

“Wow,” he said. His tone was stern but the look on his face was anything but. I had to resist the urge to laugh at him, so I took out my songbook and flipped to a blank page.

“You know, we really need to start writing something for this thing,” I stated.

He nodded. “I was thinking the same thing. Where do you think we should start?”

I thought about it. “Well we need a theme so…” I wrote three different words on a piece of scratch paper and torn the words apart into three pieces. I crumpled each of the pieces up and laid them on the coffee table in front of us.

Vic looked at me with a lifted eyebrow. “Pick one,” was all I said as a gestured to the balls of paper.

He looked at them for a moment and bit his lip.

“This is stupid,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not stupid if you just do it. It’s picking a piece of paper; just do it.”

“Fine,” he groaned. He closed his eyes and reached out for one of the random balls. His hand went flailing about before he finally grasped one.

He opened his eyes to see my grinning face.

“Okay…weird.”

“Shut up and open it,” I scolded. He stuck his tongue out at me before smoothing out the paper.

“‘Both’?” He read. “What the hell does that mean?”

I picked up the two pieces he didn’t choose and smoothed them out, revealing the words “love” and “loss”.

“Okay…?” He asked, obviously still confused. I’d have to spell it out for him.

“Rather than us just doing a song about love or loss, we’re gonna do one about both.”

“Isn’t that a modern love song though?”

“Shut up, it’s a good idea,” I replied quickly.

Vic chuckled. “Sure Quinn, whatever you say.”

We spent the next half hour trying to think of any lyrics we could. Unfortunately, we had only come up with a couple lines each. I didn’t want to use any lyrics that I had already written, and neither did Vic, so we were forced to come up with new ones. It got so exhausting to the point where we stepped away from our notebooks just so we wouldn’t rip the pages out in anger.

“We should do something,” Vic said.

“Something like what? We can’t leave the house.” The locksmith was almost done changing the locks on the first floor, but he still had the windows of the second floor to work on.

“Right. Well, what’s there to do here?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t in the mood for watching movies or playing video games.

“I’ve got it!” Vic exclaimed. “Let’s play truth or dare!”

“Truth or dare? What are you, twelve?”

“Shut up, Quinn,” he shot, “this could be fun. What do you say?”

I chewed on my lip in thought. “Fine,” I sighed, “I’ll be twelve with you.”

He rolled his eyes with a smile on his face. It was kind of cute.

There you go again, Kellin.

I shook off the thought and sat cross-legged on the couch facing Vic. “Who’s going first?” I asked.

“Well it’s your house.”

“But you’re the guest, and the one who suggested the game.”

He hummed. “How about I ask first?” I nodded. “Okay, Quinn, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” I replied without hesitation.

“Oh, it’s gonna be one of those games, isn’t it?”

“Shut up and ask me my question.”

He put his hands up and chuckled. “Fine. Why do you have such an attitude?”

“Towards you or in general?”

“Both.”

I hummed as I thought of my answer. “I’ve always been a little shit. My mom says I used it as a defense mechanism when my dad left when I was younger, but now that I’m older and understand more things I just have a general attitude. I have one towards you because you’re a jerk.”

“Hey, hurtful!”

“Oops, did I say that out loud?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“Whatever,” he mumbled. “Your turn.”

“Truth or dare?” I asked.

“Truth.”

“Wow, really?” I asked with a cocky smile.

“Shut up and ask your question.”

“Got any tattoos?”

He shook his head. I looked at him with a cocked eyebrow, to which he chuckled. “Seriously, not one.”

“That’s weird.” Everyone Vic hung out with had tattoos, even his brother. Hell, I even had a couple that Mom was okay with me getting. “Why not?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I just don’t like needles.”

“But you have a nose piercing,” I pointed out.

“Yeah but that was quick. I wasn’t sitting in that chair for hours as a needle poked me repeatedly.”

“Eh, I guess.” I didn’t want to admit that my tattoos hurt, but hey, the pain was worth it.

“Anyway, it’s my turn,” he said. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I said, wanting to spice it up.

“You’ve got any marshmallows?” Vic asked.

I nodded and jumped up, heading to the kitchen. I took an unopened bag of marshmallows out of the cabinet and went back to my spot on the couch.

“What are these for?” I wondered.

“I dare you to put one marshmallow in your mouth each round. You can’t eat it, just leave it in there. We’ll see how many you can keep in there.”

I rolled my eyes at the sexual connotation of his response but opened the bag regardless. I took the first marshmallow out and slid it into my mouth. “This won’t be too bad,” I said. I wasn’t anticipating many rounds.

“Whatever you say.”

“Truth or dare, Vic?” I asked while I rolled my eyes.

He smirked. “Truth, Quinn.”

“How many girls have you slept with?” It probably wasn’t the most appropriate question, but it was a question that had be weighing on my mind since Lynn told me about him. However, his answer caught me off guard.

“Zero,” he replied.

“No way,” I said in disbelief. I couldn’t believe that the Vic Fuentes was a virgin

“Way,” he said with a comfortable smile. He had so much confidence, acting as if this question didn’t faze him at all.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Nope, you had your turn,” he scolded. “For that, penalty marshmallow.”

“What? That’s not fair!”

“Hey man, I don’t make the rules.”

“Sounds like you did,” I mumbled, but put another marshmallow in my mouth. There were only two so I wasn’t too upset.

“Truth or dare?” he asked.”

“Truth,” I answered.

“Favorite band?”

“Either Copeland or Sublime. I can’t decide.” He nodded. “Cool, it’s my turn. Why haven’t you slept with any girls?” I said quickly.

“Hey,” he laughed, “you didn’t ask me the question.”

“Because I don’t care. Answer this question.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you must know, I just haven’t found someone I feel that connection with. I want to have sex with someone who has my heart, and I haven’t found that person yet.”

Out of all the answers he could’ve given, that was one I was never expecting. I saw him in a new light after that. Not sure what light, but he didn’t seem like as much of a jerk.

“Hey, you didn’t take your marshmallow. That’s a penalty in addition to the marshmallow you missed.”

I spoke too soon, Vic was a jerk.

I glared at him as I took two marshmallows and slid them in my mouth. All he did was grin.

“Sorry Quinn, rules are rules.” I flipped him off. “Hey, don’t make me give you another penalty.”

“Do it, I dare you,” I tested.

“Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he spoke sinisterly. He reached into the bag of marshmallows and held one up to my mouth. I pressed my lips together as tight as I could, knowing that he was going to try to force the soft treat in my mouth.

I scooted further back on the couch, but Vic wasn’t going to let me go that easily. He crawled toward me with each movement I took back. Within seconds I was leaning against the armrest with nowhere to go.

He smirked. “Open up, Quinn.”

I shook my head violently. Instead I perched on the armrest, thinking of my next move. I couldn’t run to my room; Vic was faster than me. I could try to catch him off guard and hide. Or maybe I could lock myself in the bathroom. Either way, I needed his attention to be off me.

We held each other’s gaze as I thought up the perfect plan. When I finally gained enough confidence, I put that plan in action.

I slowly slid off the armrest and scooted closer to Vic. He looked taken aback as he scooted backwards, his eyes never leaving mine. When I decided he was distracted enough, I quickly placed my hands on his chest and shoved him back.

Unfortunately for me, he saw that coming.

With his free hand he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to his chest. I struggled against him, and in the blink of an eye we ended up on the floor. I groaned and opened my eyes that I wasn’t aware I closed. I looked down to see Vic with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Vic are you okay?” I asked frantically.

He opened his eyes slowly and stared at me. it’s important to mention that our horseplay caused us to land on top of each other. Actually, with me on top of Vic’s chest. But that didn’t matter as I looked down at him, hoping that he hadn’t hit his head too hard.

“Are you okay?” I asked again when he didn’t answer.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he groaned. He wiped his face down with his hand and placed it on the small of my back. “You okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine. You kinda broke my fall.”

He chuckled. “Yeah well, that’s what I’m here for.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His finger started drawing shapes on my back.

“You sure you’re okay?” I asked.

“Mhm,” he hummed. I continued to look down at him, not sure if I should believe him or not. “Hey Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to the marshmallows?”

I furrowed an eyebrow as I remembered the four marshmallows I had in my mouth and the one Vic had in his hand before the fall. I looked around the room to see three of them on the floor and two on the couch.

“Oh well,” I said, “I’ll clean them up later.” I put my head on Vic’s chest and closed my eyes.

“Quinn?”

“Shut up, you’re warm and comfy, and you talking is ruining the moment.” Was there a “moment”? Who knows. Honestly, I didn’t want to think about what I was feeling at that moment, so I didn’t. Instead I thought about the warmth radiating for Vic’s chest and the fact that his finger moving around my back was the most soothing thing I’d ever experienced.

We stayed silent for about ten minutes, our eyes closed and our breathing slow. If it wasn’t for Vic’s finger moving back and forth on my back I would’ve assumed he’d fallen asleep. I could tell he was getting close to that point since his movements were getting slower. I was getting close to that point as well.

That was until there was a loud knock on the door that startled both of us.

“What the fuck?” Vic asked.

I slowly got off of him and went to the door.

“Yes?” I asked rather rudely. Did I care? No. This person had taken me away from a potential nap; I had every right to be cranky.

“Every lock has been replaced. Here are your new set of keys.”

I took the keys from the locksmith and took the check Mom had written and signed beforehand out of my wallet.

“Thanks,” I mumbled. He grunted in response and walked down the driveway to his truck. “What a guy,” I mumbled sarcastically as I closed the front door.

“Yeah, I guess.” I turned to see Vic stuffing his books back into his backpack.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta get home and make sure Mike didn’t destroy my car. Plus, I told my mom I’d be home by dinner.”

“Oh,” I said as I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. I watched as he zipped up his bag and walked over to me.

“This wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” he said with a sly smile that I returned.

“Yeah, I didn’t hate it either.”

“Good.”

“Do you need a ride?” I asked quickly as I fished my keys out of my pocket.

“No, Jaime’s outside already.”

“Oh.” I didn’t say anything more as I watched him open the front door.

“I did have a good time, for real. Next time we hang out we’re gonna have to do some homework though.”

“Bullshit but okay,” I said with a smirk.

He smiled. “Whatever.”

“Goodnight Vic.”

“See you later, Kellin.” He waved and walked to the car idled on the street. I watched as he entered the car and Jaime drove off before I closed the front door.

I realized two things as I slid down the door onto the floor to gather my thoughts about tonight.

One, Vic had called me by my first name for the very first time. He had never called me Kellin for the length of time we’d known each other.

Two, that moment we had on the floor was a moment. And although I wanted to deny it, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t.

I wanted more of those moments, and I wanted them with him.

---

Lol this chapter was so gay I love it

Also 14 & 15 ended up being 15 pages

Sorry the ending kinda sucks. It’s 3AM

Love you, bye!

#Too Close To Touch - The Chase (ft Kellin Quinn) #Vic Fuentes #Kellin Quinn #Pierce The Veil fanfiction #Pierce The Veil Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fanfic #Pierce The Veil #Playlist Love #Kellic #Kellic fanfiction #Kellic fanfic

[creativitytoexplore]

Tony Ambrosio's Unsuccessful Life of Crime Is Finally Looking Up by Michael Drezin https://ift.tt/2xnTIVE It takes a lot to teach hapless petty thief Tony Ambrosio a lesson; by Michael Drezin.

Anthony Ambrosio, Tony to his friends, is not an honest man. No need to be. No one who ever made it big, made it big being honest. Honest or not, indications are Anthony Ambrosio will never make it big in crime because he doesn't have what it takes. He pulls mostly minor scams like selling weed that isn't weed, or bootlegged CDs where the cover doesn't match what's inside. And he gets caught like flu in winter. Tony's always getting caught. He does his time without complaint, 'cause that's the way real men do time. And then he starts the cycle all over again. No thought about what went wrong, or how to do it better. He does the same thing, in the same way, every time. He can't see that a life of crime is not for him because Anthony Ambrosio, Tony to his friends, is not an honest man. Not even with himself. And so when he told himself he had enough money for a fine meal at the Actor's Crib (insiders call it the Crib), a five star restaurant in the heart of NYC's theater district, it turned out he did. It's just that it wasn't on him. Upon the direction of management Alberto, the waiter, called the police. When they arrived Tony was arrested and until he was able to see a judge, he spent an afternoon, evening and the next morning in jail.

Anthony Ambrosio aka Tony Ambrosio aka Little Tony of Arthur Avenue, has been arrested like 100 times before. Pull a job. Get arrested. Tony was so regularly arrested he knew what to expect for dessert any day of the week whenever he was jailed. Tony started his life of crime at age 14. Beer, his first heist. Problem is, he got regularly caught doing it. His mentor suggested he bring his own shopping bag, but by then Tony was banned from most places that sold alcohol. Years later, when he graduated to burglaries, it took only one try to realize a yellow Dodge with a bumper sticker saying Proud parent of a Harvard graduate was a poor choice for a getaway car. It's not that Tony had bad ideas. It's more like he had no ideas. Like an impulse purchaser, Tony was an impulse desperado who never kept his impulse in check. Could be he was raised that way.

Tony's mom supported her and Tony by playing poker. Most often, she did so wearing a low cut leopard print blouse while chain smoking Evet's filtered cigarettes. She played in high stakes games held in the private room at Gino's (Fine Italian Cuisine) in the Little Italy section of the Bronx. It was mostly a men's game, but anyone who could afford the five thousand dollar minimum could play. Big fat cigars were banned ten years ago because they stunk up the restaurant, and except for Francesca these were no smoking games. She knew the dangers of smoking, everyone does, but she felt she had a realistic perspective on her habit. It was the same as her realistic perspective on life. Nothing bad would ever happen to her. If she thought about it at all, I'm sure she wasn't happy her son was sent to the principal's office nearly every day, but boys fight. What could she do about boys being boys? She didn't do much in the way of cooking, or cleaning, or any of the things formerly known as woman's work, but she always left Tony money for McDonald's, or pizza, or the like. Tony never lacked for anything that up to twenty-five dollars could buy. Besides poker, Francesca had a talent for attracting well-to-do men. It was just such a man who, in return for intimate companionship, staked her to her first major league poker game. That was maybe ten years ago, but even in early middle age, she was eye candy. She had a trim figure and an oval face framed by long, formerly dark, brown hair. If there was any flaw in her package, at least in my view, it was the unoriginality of a woman with tip over bazookas having brassy blond hair. The fact that she wore black framed glasses toned it down some, but not enough for men who liked a reserved looking woman. Still, anyone thinking Francesca was an uncaring mother would be wrong. She was teaching self-reliance to her young son, same as her parents taught her. In that effort, although she didn't know it, she was getting help from her boyfriend Joey Sanitation. Joey was in private sanitation, that is, he collected business refuse while the city collected residential garbage. The industry was heavily regulated in New York to rid it of the mobsters who once dominated the field and who, through front men, still do. Joey was too advanced in his legitimate career to break the law the way street thugs do, but not too old to tell stories of his own, earlier days, when a street thug was exactly what he was. Tales of crimes and tales of survival in prison, make for interesting listening even if you are not an impressionable 14-year-old. (If incarcerated, find a guard to bribe. There will be one. From special meals to skipping out on your work detail, they make life easier.) Joey was someone Tony could look up to, a substitute for the father who left too long ago to be remembered. With Joey Sanitation as inspiration, Tony lived his life the way any 14-year-old on his own would. He did whatever seemed like a good idea at the time.

First time Tony was arrested for shoplifting, his first time out, a security guard reached into a jacket pocket and found items not paid for inside. When asked how they got there, he had a simple defense. "I borrowed the coat," he said. And he's the kind who needs someone to blame, and so when he got arrested for not paying at the Crib he blamed his waiter for believing he had money to pay for dinner at a place as expensive as that place is. The thing is, when he wants to, Tony can make a decent enough living dumpster-diving for information to sell to identity thieves. But making money, having it on you, and spending it are three different things. No talent or special skill is required to buy things with money. A child can do it. The thrill for Tony, the excitement, is in getting over, in getting something for nothing. If you don't understand that, you're either too square to explain it to, or not being honest with yourself. Still, some might argue, given that Tony did order and eat, no gun to his head, his waiter could reasonably assume he would pay when the time came. The way Tony sees it, that's a mistake. Not his mistake. It's a mistake in the way restaurants are run. Tony came to this insight by way of life experience, which taught him that placing trust in people almost never works out well. He thinks restaurants should be run like stores. There they make you pay before you get the merchandise. They do that for a reason. Clearly, it's not Tony's fault the Crib isn't run that way. And using that logic, that impeccable logic, Tony was certain at the conclusion of the Crib's case against him, he would be a free man. "It's not like he asked if I could pay, Your Honor. Is he not, thus, as guilty as I?" But the judge did not consider the guilty waiter theory much of an excuse, and he sentenced Tony to thirty days of dishwashing at the cafe. Alberto, as witness for the prosecution, hearing of Tony's defense, was deeply offended that a man of honor, such as he, would be accused of being a negligent waiter. But what could he do? He was not long in this world before he realized dishonest people abound. Tony fulfilled the obligations of his sentence with admirable diligence. For 30 days he arrived on time, kept to himself, scrubbed dishes for eight hours and then left. At the end of his sentence, Tony told himself he had enough money for a fine meal at the Crib, and he ordered one. He ordered lobster prepared in clam sauce. No wine to go with it. Coffee was fine. When he was through and unable to pay, Alberto was, once again, directed to call the police. When they came, Tony was arrested and once again blamed Alberto, witness for the prosecution. And once again Alberto was offended at Tony's attempt made to sully his good name, but what could he do? Waiters do not get to pick their customers. Alberto was satisfied that he lived his life doing unto others...

It was high noon when Tony was released from the Bronx House of Detention for Men. Like checkout in a hotel, his time inside was up, his probation sentence to be served. As the gate clanked closed behind him, after walking through the cement yard and past the barbed wire fencing, he looked up at the cloudless sky and then down the block where children, five or six in all, ran under water spraying from a capped fire hydrant. A time and temperature sign brought to the community by Third Avenue Bank read 89 degrees. A Mr. Refreshment ice cream truck was approaching, its bell ringing the same few sounds over and over, and all looked right with the world except that not ten feet away a purse snatcher was plying his trade on the oldest-looking, shortest (under four feet), whitest- haired, most wrinkled, bony fingered, four-eyed woman in oversized pink-lensed sunglasses Tony had ever seen. Her silver-tone cane fell to her right side as she struggled with her assailant to hold on to her purse, and what Tony guessed were the proceeds from a cashed Social Security check inside. Tony suspected she was fighting, as best she could, to hold on to her food and medicine money and that part of her rent not paid by the government. He and Tony were in the same line of work, but Tony had standards. Stealing from the elderly was permissible, but doing so violently was out of the question. That's just wrong, was the way Tony saw it. Problem was, Tony wasn't much of a fighter. So he walked on by, called 911 from a safe distance, and hung up satisfied he made the world a better place for being in it. Before he left, he heard a police siren in the distance. Tony hopped the turnstile and took the number 4 train to Times Square. In the city he walked past the places where the peep shows used to be before Times Square was ruined by becoming a family-friendly destination. He stopped to remember the girls he saw- on film for 25 cents a peep. Where are they now, he wondered. A short time later, after waking past some of Broadway's oldest and most famous theaters, he was at the Crib.

As required by his sentence, for 30 days Tony arrived at the Crib on time, kept to himself, scrubbed dishes for eight hours and then left for the day. When his sentence was up, Tony was very hungry and so he ordered lobster, stuffed with shrimp and scallops and accompanied by a fine Chardonnay. He had baked clams to start. He skipped the coffee. Being pleasantly looped, he saw no need for coffee to kill his buzz. But by now Tony had learned his lesson. Take care of others (at least those that can help, or hurt). This time Tony left a generous tip that he removed from a nearby table just as Alberto was delivering the cheesecake. He slipped it into Alberto's outstretched hand. In brotherhood with a fellow employee, of sorts, Alberto forgot to leave a check. Well, better late than never. Twenty-two years after beginning life, Tony learned something new. Who knows. Could be he'll learn all kinds of lessons. Like plan an escape route. Wear gloves. Bring your mom's DNA to the job. The friends of Anthony Ambrosio, the ones who call him Tony, hope, however unrealistically, that someday he will succeed, that he will be at the top of his game and that the FBI will consider him to be a most wanted man, his face on posters, a major player in the minor leagues of crime.

#FICTION on the WEB short stories

[minimin1993]

B/L 16

Warning: Violence.

“God can this senator get any sleazier?” Linda asked with a lollipop in her mouth in the com aiming her rifle at Sitwell on the top of the building across. 

“If only you can hear what they are actually saying.” Steve said from his position. 

“Let me guess, something about plowing a girl that is young enough to be his daughter.” 

“Yup, thats literally what he said.” Natasha said smirking. 

“Eww gross, can I just pop a quick bullet in his head.” 

“No that will cause too much hassle, stick to the mission Linda.” Steve reminded her. 

“Fine. By the way package is secured.” Linda said waiting for phase 2 of the plan. 

Linda was sitting on top of the air vent sucking her lollipop dangling her legs with the rifle next to her watching Steve throws Sitwell across a rooftop with Natasha following behind him.

“  Tell me about Zola's algorithm.” Steve said pushing him further.

“  Never heard of it.” 

“  What were you doing on the Lemurian Star?” 

“  I was throwing up, I get seasick.” He said while Steve forces him closer to the edge  “Is this little display meant to insinuate that you're gonna throw me off the roof? Because it's really not your style, Rogers.” 

“  You're right. It's not.” Steve said straightening Sitwells suit making Linda smirk. “It's hers.” Steve steps aside and Natasha kicks Sitwell off the roof, he plummets down screaming

“  Oh, wait. What about that girl from accounting, Laura...?” Natasha asked as they wait. 

“  Lillian. Lip piercing, right?” Steve said 

“  Yeah, she's cute.”

“  Yeah, I'm not ready for that.” Steve said when Sam, in his Falcon jet-pack suit with wings, flies up holding Sitwell and throws him down on the roof in front of Linda who waves at him with black eyes. Steve and Natasha walk towards Sitwell, he holds his hand up in fear.

“  Zola's algorithm is a program...for choosing Insight's targets!” Sitwell said looking at Linda who was still sucking on a lollipop. 

“  What targets?” 

“  You! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa city. Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, her sitting there sucking on that lollipop. Anyone who's a threat to HYDRA! Now, or in the future.” 

“  The Future? How could it know?” Sitwell laughs

“  How could it not? The 21st century is a digital book. Zola taught HYDRA how to read it. Your bank records, medical histories, voting patterns, e-mails, phone calls, your damn SAT scores. Zola's algorithm evaluates people's past to predict their future.” Sitwell said 

“  And what then?” Steve asked. 

“  Oh, my God. Pierce is gonna kill me.” Sitwell said. 

“Yeah and if you don’t tell us I will kill you.” Linda/Luna said raising her hand constricting his breathing.

“  What then?!” Steve asked

“  Then the Insight Helicarriers scratch people off the list. A few million at a time.” He said breathless before Linda/Luna released him, she jumped down the vent and tapped his face. 

“Now isn’t that easy.” She said. 

“God dam, is she always like this?” Sam asked amused. 

“Yup thats Linda for you.” Steve said with a knowing smirk. 

  They were sitting in the car Sam was driving back to Triskelion with Steve in the passenger seats. Linda, Natasha, and Sitwell was sitting in the back 

“  HYDRA doesn't like leaks.” Sitwell said 

“  So why don't you try sticking a cork in it.” Sam said 

“  Insight's launching in sixteen hours, we're cutting it a little bit close here.”

“  I know. We'll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the Helicarriers directly.” Steve said 

“  What?! Are you crazy? That is a terrible, terrible idea.” Sitwell complained suddenly the Winter Soldier lands on the car roof, pulls Sitwell out through the window and throws him into oncoming traffic, killing him, he then starts shooting at them. Natasha immediately jumped in front with Steve and Linda was just dodging the bullets from the back until Steve pulls the brake handle making the Winter Soldier drop down onto the street. The Winter Soldier stood back up staring at them when another car smashes into the trio's car and pushes them along the Winter Soldier jumps back onto their car, smashes through the windscreen and pulls out the steering wheel.

“  Shit!” Sam said when Natasha and Linda starts shooting at him but the Winter Soldier jumps onto the vehicle behind them, as the trio's car is being pulled off the road Steve holds on to the car door

“  Hang on!” Steve said breaking the door off the car, holding onto Natasha and Sam, they slide on the car door through the streets. Linda did the same thing but jumped out the other side landing near Sam who rolled away from Steve and Natasha. The Winter Soldier is joined by HYDRA agents who handed him grenade launcher and fires. Steve pushes Natasha out of the way blocking it with his Shield blasting him off the bridge onto a bus. Linda helps Sam up protecting him knowing he was defenseless at the moment and all of them starts to run in different directions hiding from the bullets that are being fired rapidly at them. Natasha starts to dodge behind cars starting to shoot back at them but is fired at by the Winter Soldier with the grenade twice sending her off the bridge. Natasha was running when she sees the shadow looking over the bridge with the gun, she turns and shoots the Winter Soldier hitting him right on his goggles. 

“Она у меня. Найди его. (She's mine. Find him.)” The Winter Soldier said before going in pursuit to find Natasha. . The Hydra agents starts to descend down the bridge on grappling hook and starts to shoot in Steve’s direction. Linda took the opportunity of their distracted state conjuring her whip at the Hydra agents killing two instantly. Sam came over and knocking an agent over the bridge killing him taking his gun and starts to shoot the agents on the ground. Linda looks over seeing Steve dodging the bullets aiming at him with his Shield causing her to see red. She extends her whip hitting the one with the machine gun while Sam got the last of them 

“Go, I got this!” Sam yelled to Steve and Linda who took off looking for Natasha. 

When they found the Winter Soldier, Linda tried her best to use her powers on him.

“What?! I can’t control him. It’s like he is not there.” Linda said getting frustrated. They watch as the Winter Soldier was about shoot Natasha when Steve about to attack him but the Winter Soldier hit Steve Shield with his metal arm knocking Steve on the ground. Linda ran up to him kicking him right off the car knocking the gun out of his hand only to be replaced instantly with another. 

“Oh come on you don’t play fair.” She said dodging the bullets he was firing at her. Steve came around him and knocks the gun out of his hand once more with the Shield only to have another one appear. “How many guns do you have?” Linda asked trying to jump on top of the Winter Soldier trying to grab his head but was tossed off as he grabs Steve Shield quickly knocking Steve off and smashing it into her body knocking the breath out of her. She lays there trying to catch her breath when Steve stood up running up to the Winter Soldier who tosses his shield at him sticking it into the Van behind Steve before pulling out a knife and effortlessly starts to use it to attack Steve who dodge them landing a few punches on the Winter Soldier sending him into the car. Linda tries to get up to help Steve, she runs over to grab Steve Shield tossing it to Steve, who smashes it into the metal arm knocking him in the face before turning to grab his face tossing him over Steve shoulder causing his mask to fall off. The Winter Soldier stands up and slowly turns to look at them, Linda felt like her heart had stopped realizing who it was. 

“James?” She whispered in disbelief, turning his attention to her who stares at her with longing and confusion. 

“Bucky?” Steve said snapping his attention back to Steve. 

“  Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky said going to shoot at Steve when Sam flies in and kicks Bucky aside, Bucky takes aim again but before he can shoot Natasha uses the grenade launcher Bucky dropped earlier to shoot at Bucky who vanishes in the smoke of the explosion, then the trio hear sirens after which they are surrounded by HYDRA agents being led by Rumlow.

“  Drop the shield, Cap! On your knees! Get on your knees! Now! Get down! Get down!” Rumlow said as Steve holds his hands up “Get on your knees! Down!” he kicks Steve's leg and Steve kneels down “Don't move.” Rumlow looks at the helicopter flying above them and warns Rollins who's holding Steve at gunpoint. “Put the gun down. Not here. Not here!” Rollins lowers his gun, the HYDRA agents then take Steve, Sam, and Natasha into custody. 

When they were sitting in the back of the van being transported Linda was trapped in a daze unable to speak let alone control her emotions. 

“  It was him. He looked right at me like he didn't even know me.” Steve said 

“  How's that even possible? It was like seventy years ago.” Sam said 

“  Zola. Bucky's whole unit was captured in '43, Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and…”

“  None of that's your fault, Steve.” Natasha said trying calm Steve down. 

“  Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky.” Steve said sadly. Sam notices Natasha is bleeding from her shoulder and looks at the guards.

“We need to get a doctor here. We don't put pressure on the wound she's gonna bleed out here in the truck.” Sam said when suddenly one of the guards pulled out an electric rod and neutralizes the other guard and knocks him out, the guard is revealed to be Hill as she takes off her helmet.

“Ah. That thing was squeezing my brain.” She said looking over at Sam “Who's this guy?” 

They had reached the hiding point they had found out Fury was still alive before they fixed Natasha up. Linda was sitting in the corner away from everyone holding the ring in her hands trying not to cry before Steve came over. 

“Linda? Are you okay?” He asked when he saw her looking up at him he knows she is not. Her eyes keeps flashing black to normal surprising him never seeing it like that before. 

“James?” Linda/Luna asked before Steve hugs her tightly. “Its him. He looked at me with a confused look on his face.” 

“I know Linda, I know.” Steve said cradling the girl’s head in his chest. “You should rest, we have a mission to do soon.” 

  Linda was sleeping on the bed with Steve holding her close to his chest hoping she would get some sleep but he can tell she wasn’t as she thrashes in her sleep. 

~Dream~

“Linda whats wrong?” Bucky said walking into their room of the safe house after the mission. 

“There is something I never told you.” Linda said sitting on the bed. 

“Then tell me.” He said walking in front of her tilting her head up to look at him.

“You will hate me when you find out.” 

“No I won’t. You can’t get rid of me.” 

“Have you and Steve ever wonder how I strong I am?” She asked.    “Yeah but we know you will tell us when the time is right.” 

“I don’t belong on this world James. My family and I was banished here, I have another life in my mind. Her name is Luna, she absorb energy off things using it to conjure a whip, she also has this power to control people's body and mind causing them pain but she doesn’t like to use it.” She said flashing her eyes at him watching his reaction. 

“Was that her?” He said touching Linda face tenderly as she nods. “And I am suppose to be scared? Linda I will say this once so get it through your head. I love you no matter what, I don’t care if you have powers, I love you for you. Even the black eyed you.” He said seeing her eyes turn black.

“You mean that?” Linda/Luna said with their voice combined causing him to smile at her. 

“Yes baby, to be honest you look kind of hot like this.” Bucky said staring into her black eyes making her melt changing her eyes back to normal. 

“She likes you.” Linda said smiling at him. 

“Just like? Ouch. I thought our connection was deeper than that.” Bucky teased seeing her eyes change again.

“We love you too.” Linda/Luna said as he kisses her lips softly before lowering her on the bed making sweet love to her all night long.

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian x reader #steve rogers #the first avenger #winter soldier #winter solider x you #originl character #captain america #infinity war #chris evans #original character #marvel

[writingpromptswithkate]

Two Moons Are Better Than One

 Part III.

By the time Nate returned to the office, PG&E had cut power to nearly all of downtown Sonora. It was unclear how many explosions and small fires had started in the mean time, but this would help.

Hannah was on the company’s Twitter feed. They followed all the CalTrans and CalFire accounts as well as other public utilities and a variety of news sources.

Turned out that most of the state was having an even worse time than Sonora.

There were no real explanations, only speculation about what had actually happened. It was as if everyone on the road at once all lost their damn minds and crashed into whatever they could reach. Almond orchards off of I-5 had Hyundai Elantras and Toyota Camrys wrapped around their outer trees like obscene Christmas decorations. Small SUVs, the RAV4s and the Kia Sorentos and such, had hopped curbs in Monterey and driven straight into the ocean, straight into the protected areas belonging to the Aquarium. Fresno was on fire. Woodland was on fire. Amazon packages littered highways all over the state, dropped from sarcastically smiling Prime shipping containers no longer attached to their trucks. Los Angeles was in gridlock — much more than normal gridlock — and there were rumors of open gang warfare in certain neighborhoods. Traffic lights were down, power poles were down, PG&E was cutting power everywhere, and no one was getting enough data to post pictures or videos. Every scrap of information was text-based.

Hannah read the collections of headlines and reports with an increasingly wavering voice as more of their coworkers arrived from routes all over the county. Eventually she got to a point where she could not speak anymore. Her lips pressed tight together, her tears spilled over, and she mutely shook her head. Her fingers had long since curled around the blue lace agate she kept at her desk, and now she was gripping it so hard she was liable to break her own metacarpals. Nate put his hands on the back of her chair and wheeled her far enough away from the computer that he could take over the reading.

“It’s not just California,” he reported grimly, as tweets from national news sources started coloring the feed. “‘President declares national emergency as... as international airports shut down... due to crashes and explosions on runways.’”

“Jesus Christ,” said one of Nate’s fellows.

The lights went out. PG&E was cutting power to Jamestown, too.

The computers stayed on: battery backup to prevent data loss. Thirty seconds later the emergency generators kicked on. The lights flickered back to life.

“Alex, turn the lights back off. We don’t know how long we’ll need those generators to last, or if we can get more fuel for ‘em.” Might as well not waste power where they did not need to. Alex seemed to agree; she was quick on her feet hitting all the switches in the building. Almost all of them.

The last light left on was in Robbie’s office. Given the mood he was in this morning, no one much wanted to go in there, but Alex was brave. She also had ten years seniority over Robbie, not to mention about thirty pounds’ weight advantage. Alex was one of the most masculine women Nate had ever met, and she was tough as nails.

So when Alex screamed upon opening Robbie’s office door, no one much knew what to make of it. There was an absurd moment where everyone thought she was doing it for a prank.

She stepped away, light switch untouched, her face ashen. Nate moved past her into the office.

Robbie had no apparent wounds. No burns or cuts, no cord wrapped around his neck. And yet he was, without a doubt, dead. Nate tried to take his pulse at neck and wrist, but there was none to take. He was barely discolored: a little pale was all. Nate had never seen his face so slack. Robbie always seemed to have a stick up his ass, and a tense face to match. Now he could be sleeping. It was horrifying.

Nate could not deal with a dead body, not now, maybe not ever. His mind went defensively blank at the thought of what to do with Robbie.

No, he could not be thinking of the dead. He had to think of the living.

Robbie kept petty cash in a box in the bottom of his desk. The key lived right next to the box. Nate took out all nearly three thousand dollars. He started making piles of it, approximately even, one for each person in the office. For each living person— no. None of that.

“Take the cash, go buy ice and bottled water,” he told everyone as he distributed the money. “We don’t know how long we’ll be without power but it’s all over the country. You think they’d prioritize us over LA? San Francisco? New York? Washington? We’re nothing compared to them. We might have to go without for a while. Get non-perishable snacks. Whatever you can make last a long time.”

“We shouldn’t split our resources,” Alex protested. “How about this: everyone go home, get your families, and come back here? We have a generator to keep warm at night and to keep the fridge running. We already have some flats of water here, and a little bit of backup fuel. We should get more of each if we can, and more food.”

“If we do that I’ll need help moving my parents,” Hannah squeaked. “They’re older and my mom’s on oxygen.”

“I’ll help you with your parents,” Nate offered. “I don’t have family here, but if we stop by my place I can grab blankets and paper towels and things like that.”

Hannah nodded. “Let’s go by your place first then. Once we get mom and dad in the car we shouldn’t take them out again until we’re here.”

“You two get going first,” said Alex. “Scott and I’ll be behind you but first... let’s see if we can get Robbie out of here.”

Nate was just as glad not to have that job. It was disturbing enough that Robbie was dead, more so since it was wholly unclear what killed him. He could not stomach the thought of touching his cold skin again.

“Come on, Hannah. We’ll take my truck, save the gas in your car for now.”

For most of the drive, where the treetops parted over the roads Nate could clearly see in the sky the daytime ghosts of the twin moons, looking down on him like a pair of smug spectral eyes. It was enough to drive anyone crazy, he mused. Hannah mostly kept her eyes down, but whenever she did look up at the sky, she clutched her agate stone tighter in her palm.

—the story continues—

<<Part II  |  Part IV>>

#writing #short story #fantasy writing #science fiction writing #horror writing #two moons are better than one #part three #tw: dead body