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1kook · 3 years

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commercial break: twelve

this is part of my netflix & chill series a prelude to part 10 <3

SUMMARY Anyway, if it was up to Jungkook, Kim Doyeon would not be a member of the Engagement Ring Committee. WARNING none !! we r safe MISC jk and doyeon mortal enemies, nearly everyone is mentioned, thank u namjoon, jk loves oc, the end <3 jimin makes his first appearance O_O WC 1.4k

NOTES we just having fun with it!!! jk’s friendship with everyone else <3

Doyeon says you have fat fingers, and Jungkook takes great offense at that. “Who cares about the size— __ has pretty hands, idiot,” he mutters, and almost wants to feel bad about being so childish in the middle of this jewelry store. But Kim Doyeon is a pest— a fly who just won’t stop buzzing by his ear with each ring they look at, and she has the audacity to look disgusted with him now. Jungkook very much regrets inviting her along. She exudes very similar energy to the popular girls he used to go to high school, the ones that would only talk to him because he was friends with Namjoon and wanted Jungkook to help them into his pants. Lo and behold, Kim Doyeon is very acquainted with whatever’s inside Namjoon’s pants. She hits the mark perfectly.

“Oh, definitely get her a rock. Like, one of those obnoxiously bing and shiny rings, maybe?” And she never stops talking.

Jungkook hasn’t had to spend this much time with her in months, the last time being Namjoon’s birthday when you had tasked the two of them to go pick up the cake together. Not only was Doyeon adamant on passenger-seat driving — “Turn here,” she says a moment too late, “no wait, here — but she had been an absolute heathen outside in the bakery parking lot.

(“Okay, now take a picture of me by this wall,” she says, artfully holding up the box of cake in two hands, dark hair flipped over her shoulder. Jungkook doesn’t know how to tell her that there is no significant difference between this brick wall and the brick wall they just took a picture by two minutes before.)

Anyway, if it was up to Jungkook, Kim Doyeon would not be a member of the Engagement Ring Committee. It would be him and Namjoon, and maybe Namjoon’s blunt roommate Jimin if he was feeling down for it, but that was pretty much it. Even Taehyung, a very close and dearly cherished friend, had not made the cut. He was too lazy, didn’t offer much concrete advice other than the occasional, “that one looks cool” comment.

The great thing about Namjoon is that he’s highly educated on just about every aspect of life; he knows the best hairstylists — “You can always ask Hobi,” Namjoon offers, “he’s married.” — and the best lawyers — “Oh, and Yoongi can help with your prenup.” — for no reason other than the fact he is Namjoon.

The bad thing about Namjoon is that he’s dead set on including Doyeon. “Doyeon is ___’s best friend,” he says calmly one night after dinner. You’re at your friend’s house this weekend, something about a midnight revenge plot against a shitty ex-boyfriend. He isn’t too clear on the details. “You have to let her in on it.” It’s been decades since Jungkook last stomped his foot in annoyance, but the urge wells up strongly in him now.

Jimin is on the couch. “Oooh, you don’t like her?” he asks, flipping his platinum hair away from his eyes. Jungkook doesn’t answer, only because it would be rude to confirm it in front of Namjoon. Jimin presses on. “Is she, like, an evil best friend?”

“Yes,” Jungkook says at the same time Namjoon says, “no.” Jimin’s got this highly intrigued smirk on his face, and Jungkook hates how similar it is to your own mischievous grins. He’s glad you haven’t met Jimin, mostly because he knows you have your mean moments and meeting Park Jimin would only exacerbate them. Namjoon frowns anyway.

Jimin says, “oh, you guys should duel. Like, whoever knows __ the best gets to keep her.”

Namjoon jumps to stop that thought. “No— they’re not gonna duel, Jimin. ___ isn’t an object to win,” he scolds, and Jungkook nods along agreeingly, pretends he hadn’t seriously considered Jimin’s idea for a solid ten seconds.

Long story short, Doyeon has tagged along to this jeweler and the past two jewelers to make sure Jungkook doesn’t give you “an ugly ring,” as she claims.

“Wait, what if you get her this one,” she says, on the other side of the store. Jungkook sighs, but hurries over anyway. Hey, he’s here to see some rings, okay?

Doyeon is looking at the most ugly ring Jungkook has ever seen, a mix of a braid and a snake, that is just too… not you. “This is hideous,” he says, disregarding all and any notions of being polite because at this point, she had to be pulling his leg. “___ would hate this.”

At his side, Doyeon huffs. “Oh, ‘cause you know ___ sooo well, don’t you?” she snarks.

Jungkook levels her with a glare. “I do, actually,” he says, “that’s literally what made me want to marry her.” And because Kim Doyeon sparks a very immature flame within him, he feels the need to add, “I probably know ___ better than you,” to top it off.

Doyeon scoffs. “No, you don’t— you will never know her like I do, you overgrown fungus,” she spits. “Me and ___ have exceeded any level of trust you could ever hope to have, a friendship forged on the grounds of love and equal values. A nerd like you can’t even begin to fathom the absolutely crazy shit we’ve shared with each other.”

If he was eight years younger, Jungkook is certain he would have gone home and cried. Mid-twenties Jungkook, on the other hand, has had one too many rodeos with mean girls — he’s dating a retired high school cheerleader, for goodness sake, an apex predator if he’s ever seen one — and will not stand for it. Besides, Jungkook has received your blessing to check Doyeon into place if ever she crosses the line.

(“Sometimes you just gotta knock her down, maybe call her a dumbass if necessary,” you had said one night after Doyeon had unceremoniously barged into your apartment to monopolize your evening plans with Jungkook. Now it’s nearing midnight and as much as Jungkook wants to spend time with you, he’s deathly tired. “Just tell her off.”

Jungkook frowns, snuggles closer until he’s so tightly pressed against your body that he can’t tell whose heartbeat is whose. He likes it like that.

There’s just something about your annoying best friend that activates this feeling in Jungkook’s chest. If anything, Jungkook imagines it is similar to that of having a bratty little sister. But Doyeon as his sister? He rolls his eyes so far back he swears he sees his own brain.

It’s childish and petty and unlike Jungkook — or at least, unlike the Jungkook he knows you think he is. Which is flattering, to be thought of so highly, but sometimes Jungkook wonders where on earth you got that idea from. Because whenever he’s around you, Jungkook becomes increasingly immature, grows so greedy and needy, desperate for anything you have to give him.

And because he’s so immature, he settles on tattling to you instead, “she called me a sweaty meat bag,” to which you snort in amusement.)

For now, he calls on the spirit of the most mature person he knows (Namjoon). Jungkook takes one last look at his millionth silver band of the day before turning to address the Wicked Witch of the West. “I might not know ___ like you do, but that’s fine,” he says calmly. “We’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together anyway.”

In front of him, Doyeon’s eye twitches and Jungkook senses he has won. For now. See, the thing is, Jungkook knows that using Namjoon-level logic against her is foolproof. For one, Namjoon’s logic is always solid. But also, as much as Jungkook despises Kim Doyeon with nearly every fiber in his being… ultimately, they share a common interest: cherishing you.

Had it not been for your existence in their lives, Jungkook doubts he would have ever spent his Saturday morning at a jeweler with the likes of Kim Doyeon, especially not after she had spent ten minutes in the Starbucks drive-thru ordering the most bizarrely complicated drink. But deep in his heart Jungkook knows that she loves you, though not as much as him, and he respects the fact she is willing to accompany him in the name of buying you a beautiful engagement ring. It’s a friendship solidarity he admires, and for that he stomps down his childish pride to answer in a way that would impress, well, you.

(Even when you’re not here, Jungkook always wants to impress you.)

At his side, Doyeon huffs. “I should’ve never taken ___ to that party.”

#networkbangtan #jungkook #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook fic #jjk fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts x reader #mine

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housamo-side-blog-2 · 3 years

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Red Eyes

A celebrity is someone famous, not only for their blessings of beauty and knowledge, but for the hard path they have chosen to waik upon, However it can also be a double edged sword,for as one mishap of a wrong doing can end up being attacked by their followers,

Thus the role of being a celebrity is somewhat both an incredible achievement and a poise you have to maintained.Thus you have to bottle your emotions,for as you have the role of being a major role model for everyone. Anger, Sadness, Jelousy, and even kindness, people will always interpret it,,,, as another..

{Shinjuku Academy}

It is nightime Shinjuku, Thus, every student is safely inside their assigned dorm rooms, patroling the area out incase someone violates curfew, two teachers are assigned to patrol around the school,

However two unsuspecting figures managed to escape their rooms and quietly make their way towards Shinjuku Academy, What could they be doing at night that will cause them punishment?, And why at night specificly?

Student 1: Did you bring it?

A tall figure in a black jacket and pants quietly asked their accomplice, as they brought out a can of spray paint.

Student 2:Yeah,here.

Student 1: Awesome!, now then,,,Take this Harumo!

Student 2: Hahaha!

Furiosly spraying the wall,as if it was a canvas, the duo sprayed all around the wall as they write down letters that will cause a certain someone trouble

As they humbly sleep peacefully in their dorm room, dreaming peacefully and softly smiling as if they are having a wonderful time in their mind space.

Student 2: Dude,We better hurry before the teachers hear us!

Student 1: Hold on, I have to put that bastard’s name on it!

The second figure peaks to the side to check if they are nearby,

Student 1: Alright done!, Lets go!,...

Student 2: I can’t wait to see the look on that idiot’s dumb face when they get framed!

Student 1: Haha!, Yeah!

{Narrator}:What awaits your tomorrow Dear Harumo?

{Next Day}

{Shinjuku Academy}

You and your guildmates have just passed the entrance of the school, When Shiro noticed something strange.

Shiro: I wonder whats going on over there?

Looking upon the crowd of shocked students as they look upon wall, as the teachers are trying to get things around.

Kengo: Hey!, what the heck is going on here!?

Kengo asked a neaby student and said: Harumo spray painted the wall.

Shiro and Kengo: WHAT!

Harumo: Me!?,,

Ryota: Guys!, hah...hah...someone spray painted the wall, and...Harumo’s name is on it!

Harumo: What!, but i !

Kengo: What the hell are they taiking about!

Shiro: Its ludicrious for them think that!

Ryota: I don’t believe its Harumo either,but they are making sound as if you did it!

Harumo: Who?

Student 1: Hey look guys its the culprit who spraypainted on it!

Student 2: Why did you vandalised our school like that!?

All turn to gase you as they await your explanation.

Harumo: It wasn’t me!

Student 1: Yeah, tell that when your name is on it!

Kengo: Time to beat the shit outta him!

Shiro: Kengo stop, you’ll only make it worse!

Kengo: This assholes need a beating if they whats coming for them!

Harumo: For the last time!, I DID NOT DO IT!

Student 1: Yeah,yeah, criminals always lie whenever they did something wrong!

Student 2: Criminal! .Criminal!.

Ryota: Hey! Stop calling Harumo a criminal!, They will never do something like that!

Student 1: Then explain the grafiti then!

Ryota: Grrr..

Student 1: Yeah just like i thought!, Nothing!,Hey criminal! hu...

Harumo: FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!

Like a thunderbolt you violently rushed towards the cocky bastard pushing them against the grafitied wall and gripped they’re neck tightly as you look at them furiosly in the eye,staring as if you’re gase is like someone had been bottling up they’re pent up aggresion, and only now you are able to release it like nuclear bomb. as the color of eyes changed into a crimson,glare, almost as if a predator is about to bare his fangs on their prey. As you growled, fist clenched and hand on them tight as a rope,

Student 2: Hey! what the heck let him go...!

Harumo: GRAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!

Student 2: Graagghh,,Le...meee....gooo!

Harumo: GRAAAAAGGHHHHH!!!!!,,

Ryota: Harumo, stop!

Kengo: Partner!, you’re gonna kill them!

Shiro: Kengo! help me, loosen his grip!

Ryota embraced you from behind as the two try to loosen your grip on them, slowly the two about to drown students are about to run of oxygen,as you blocked they’re airways with your tight grip.

Ryota: Harumo...Please stop!...Please...

Kengo: Harumo...thats enough or you’ll end up killin them!

Toji: Forgive me later Harumo...

Ryota: Toji?

{Toji knocked the anger filled student cold}

Toji: Get Harumo to the clinic, I’ll deal with this two..

Kengo: Shiro,Ryota, take care of Harumo for now,{ Clicks his neck}

Toji: Takabushi, I trust you’ll only knock them out..

Shiro: Kengo, don’t be an idiot!, you’ll only get in trouble, worse you might even get expelled!

Kengo: I couldn’t care less!, IM MAD!

Shiro: Kengo think about this! if you do this, you’ll never see Harumo again!

Eyes widening in realisation, as his gritted expression turn to an expression as if he’s gotta comeback to finish you two off.

Kengo: Dammit...Fine..Toji im leaving them to you!

Toji: All of you get out now!, Now. i have some questions needed to be filled!

Kengo: I gotcha Harumo..

Ryota: ....Harumo.....

{Shennong’s Clinic}

Cold air from the ac,fills the room,you’re cooped up in, as you make out what appears to be clinic,

Harumo: What ...happened?

You rub your head as you feel your head spinning almost as the blood on your head going everywhere,

Harumo: Wait.....

{Remembers the incident}

Harumo: I...i almost...

Hands shaking from fear, you took a moment to get your bearings in order.

{Door opens}

Shennong: You’re awake..

Harumo: Shennong what happened?

Shennong: You passed out, probably from the stress, your friends brought you here, Fortunately, the students you strangled are fine.

Harumo: I...almost killed them......

Shennong: .....

Mr Mononobe: Harumo..Thank goodness you’re awake..

Harumo: {Hugs Mr Mononobe}

The moment you come into contact, you let it all out..as tears flow and drip on Mr Mononobe’s polo. buried in his abs, as you can feel the rockyness of it as you hurt yourself a little from the impact..

Mr Mononobe: There..there..Harumo..

Shennong:I’ll let the other teachers know..

Mr Mononobe: Thank you Mr Shennong keep up the good work!

{Hallway}

Mr Mononobe: Shhhh...Don’t taik now..I’ll take you to your room,

Harumo: But i..

Mr Mononobe: The other students have already spread rumors about your recent outburst lately, and...it could affect you..

Harumo: Oh..okay...Thank you Mr Mononobe.

Mr Mononobe: Its only natural i care for my students.

.Harumo: Im sure everyone thinks im a monster now..

Mr Mononobe:...I don’t think you are..

Harumo: I nearly killed them!,

Mr Mononobe: But you didn’t..

Harumo: Thats because i blacked out! .

Mr Mononobe: And?

Harumo: And??..

Mr Mononobe: If you truly call yourself a monster,then those wouldn’t be in the office right now.

Mr Mononobe: “A monster is being whom only exist to bring destruction”.

Harumo:....

Mr Mononobe: You need time to cool off and think rationally. I’ll inform Shiro that i brought you to your dorm. So don’t worry about them..

Harumo:..Okay...Thanks again Mr Mononobe,

Mr Mononobe: Just doing my job..

{Dorm room}

Harumo:.....

“A monster is a being whom only exist to brin destruction”

Laying on your bed,facing the sceiling. while recalling your outburst on the two students.. the very thought of it,makes you jump out in shocked as you stare at both of your rugged hands,probably from the tightness you were gripping caused it.

Harumo:.....

{Knock Knock}

???: Harumo,are you there? can i come in?

Harumo: That voice...

{Door opens}

Ryota: Harumo!..You’re okay..

Harumo: Ryota, why are you here?

Ryota: Hehe. i sneaked out, preteding i was going to the bathroom,

Harumo: Ryota{ Hugs Ryota}

Ryota: sHHH..its Okay..im here for you Harumo...

Harumo:*sobbing on Ryota’s shoulders*

Ryota: Lets sit down Harumo..

Ryota: Are you feeling okay now?

Harumo: A ...little...

Both of you sat to next to each other on the bed, as Ryota gave his bottle of juice to the crying young man..

Ryota: ...Good news!,Toji caught the culprits who tried to framed you,

Harumo: Really?!, who was it?

Ryota: It was those two.

Harumo: ..Okay..

Registering the goodnews. you can’t help but remember the way you strangle them without mercy as you are lost in your own train of thought, from it, Silence fills the room as you sip from the straw. Ryota breaks the silence.

Ryota: I’ve never seen you act like that Harumo...

Harumo: .....Yeah....me too...

Ryota: Do you....want to taik about it?

Harumo:......

Ryota: Harumo..you know im always here for you, so does Shiro, Kengo, Moritaka,and Toji, We’re all here for you..If you want to taik I’ll listen to every word.so please don’t ..hold it in .

Harumo: Am i a monster?..

Ryota: Off course not! why would you think of that!

Harumo:” A monster only exists to bring destruction” thats what Mr Mononobe said, But the more i think about it, the more its ...its actually true..

Ryota: You are not a monster Harumo.. You’ve never been one, ever since we’ve met on the park,

Ryota: Do you remember,what i said about you could have saved yourself if you just abandoned me..

Harumo:....

Ryota: You didn’t abandoned me,and you saved me, even though we were strangers that time, if you really are a monster then i wouldn’t be here taiking to you, i would have been in Oni’s stomach by now..

Harumo: But i....

Ryota: You didn’t killed them,, and thats whats important right now...

Harumo: {Stares at his shaking hands}

Ryota: Harumo...

The orange chubby places a gentle hand, to ease your quivering palms, you can feel the warmness in them as you feel the soft touch of his skin coming into contact with your rugged hands. and places it on his cheek.

Your quivering expression turns to shocked as you stare upon Ryota directly into his peach colored eyes. But you look as if you’re staring directly to his warm soul, that it almost made you tear up..And as you do,

Harumo: Ryota....!

Ryota:......

You embraced the chubby cinnamon roll slightly tight, as you cry on his shoulders on the other one, While Ryota gently strokes your fluffy greyish hair, and closes his eyes as you let it all out,

Embraced in a warming matter, the hallway echoes your emotions,for as the sun rays down on an warming atmosphere, making it much more ....peaceful...

. . .

#housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #mc5 #Harumo #Ryota #Summoners #Red Eyes #Story #fanfic

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taylizmasterpost · 3 years

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Swiftgron Shows Up, Liz Spirals (March 2012 - September 2012)

This is not going to be a timeline of Swiftgron and their relationship. For that, you can go to the @swiftgronmasterpost. This is just to show how, when things got serious with Dianna, things deteriorated between Taylor and Liz:

25 March 2012 - Swiftgron go watch the Hunger Games together. Taylor follows Dianna on Twitter afterwards. This is likely their first actual date:

27 March 2012 - Liz tweets this:

Was this in response to Swifgron’s first date? Maybe. Was Liz jealous Taylor had pulled the exact same move on Dianna that she’d pulled on her back in 2009 when she took her to Valentine’s Day? Also maybe. But also maybe not. Still, #Lizgototherapychallenge.

30 March 2012 - Taylor introduces Dianna to her mom, they all get dinner together:

12 April 2012 - Dianna blows a kiss to Taylor on Jimmy Kimmel.

18 April 2012 - Mutual friend Chantelle tweets that she spent the night and early morning hanging out with TayLiz.

Chantelle will post a picture of her, Taylor and Liz hanging out in a kitchen together almost a year later -- when the girls don’t seem to be on speaking terms -- making me think this picture was taken on this night:

24 April 2012 - Swiftgron Shirley MacLane party happens:

27 April 2012 - Taylor and someone (possibly Liz) are papped getting lunch together in LA. The secret message for the song “The Last Time,” which will be written in a few months, is “LA On Your Break.” They’re certainly in LA, and the tour is certainly on break. Perhaps this is Taylor finally ending things with Liz.

Liz tweets at Taylor about Skittles later that day, making me think it was her at lunch.

28 April 2012 - Dianna’s birthday party. Taylor dresses as a tiger and leaves a note on the door with a joke they’d made that reads “I’m a little kitten and I need to nurse because I’m a runt and I’m likely to fall victim to predators.”

10 May 2012 - Taylor posts on Instagram “Going back to Nashville. Thinking about the whole thing. Guess you gotta run sometimes.”

This is from the song Nashville by David Mead. Other interesting lyrics include:

You’re a distant memory, you’re an exit sign I was talking crazy on the driver’s side

I was talking crazy on the driver’s side I will always love you like a long goodbye

The driving references are interesting, considering that Red has the theme of driving all over it. “I will always love you like a long goodbye” also seems to support the theory that Taylor has just finally broken things off with Liz.

15 May 2012 - Taylor finishes writing Everything Has Changed with Ed Sheeran then gets dinner with Dianna Ashley and Claire. The original lyrics of Everything Has Changed talk about “falling for a Gemini,” which describes Gemini Liz, but Taylor seems to have re-fitted the song to be about Dianna and removed those lyrics:

27 May 2012 - Liz’s birthday. Taylor does not tweet at her. No pictures are posted of the party, if there is one.

28 May 2012 - Taylor and Ed record Everything Has Changed:

Late May 2012 - Taylor writes The Last Time:

Here’s what she had to say about the inspiration for the song:

The Last Time is a hard song for me to analyze, not because I don’t have theories about what it means, but because I think Taylor is oversimplifying the story here. To me, looking at this song, assuming it’s about Liz, it reads less like a pleading “baby I want you back” song, and more like an “I’m losing you to addiction song.”

We haven’t fully gotten into this yet, but Liz was dealing with a lot of mental and internal shit at this time. According to rumor, she’s about to be let go from The Agency due to getting “out of control,” and the songs she writes this summer, including Wreck of Who I Am, definitely seem to imply she was trying to claw her way out of a spiral here. When I listen to The Last Time through this lens, it feels more like a last chance, pleading intervention.

Wreck of Who I Am:

And the tide is strong that it keeps me from the land

And I’m low on faith and I pray with shaky hands

Well it hurts like hell tryna tell myself

This ain’t the only thing that’s meant for me

Gotta piece back together the wreck of who I am

The Last Time

This is the last time I’m asking you this

Put my name at the top of your list

This is the last time I’m asking you why

You break my heart in the blink of an eye

And there’s also the fact that The Last Time seems like it was written on if not around Liz’s birthday (May 27).

3 June 2012 - Dianna jokes at the GLAAD Awards about having kissed girls before:

4 June 2012 - Liz does some songwriting of her own with Seth Jones and Megan Mace:

Taylor and Liz’s dresses from Mean are placed next to each other at the Speak Now Tour Exhibition:

10 June 2012 - Taylor diaries about recording 22, and IKYWT, says she’s already written WANEGBT:

Story behind WANEGBT: I wrote it with Max Martin and Johan Shellback who are two of my songwriting heroes, they’re amazing. And we were in the studio, and we were writing a different song and this guy walks in who I- was- A friend of someone I had previously… dated. And he comes in and he’s like “Oh, I hear you and [redacted] are getting back together” and um that was like his opening line. And we weren’t. We’d done that whole like on/off on/off just the worst. Bleh. And um… And so when he left I just turned to Max and I was like “We are never getting back together. What? That’s ridiculous!” Um and I told them the whole situation as I do ‘cause I tend to share, as you know. And so uh he just looked at me and he was like “I know the song we’re writing today. Let’s start a new one.” And so I got the guitar and it just sort of happened and so uh this is that song.

So what we know from this is that it is HIGHLY more likely that a friend of Liz just happened to walk into the studio that day than a friend of either Jake or Dianna (I’m guessing someone from The Agency maybe? Taylor seems to fumble when choosing how to describe them)

Martin and Shellback are credited on three songs on red -- WANEGBT, IKYWT, and 22. We know Taylor wrote 22 here. She also says she “came back to trouble.” From that I can assume they were trying to write IKYWT when this story took place.

The secret message for WANEGBT is “When I stopped caring what you thought.” To me, this really signals things have broken down between them. Rather than the pleading in The Last Time, this is song is much more distant and moved on, where Taylor is able to have a sense of humor about the breakup.

18 June 2012 - A friend of Liz’s tweets this at Taylor (am I the only one sensing some shade??):

1 July 2012 - Liz does some songwriting in Nashville:

Between this session and the session on the fourth, presumably the songs she’d release later that winter (One Hand On the Wheel, Wreck of Who I Am, and Blessed Are the Brokenhearted) are written here, making it seem like Liz is processing both some depression and a breakup of some sort.

8 July 2012 - Taylor takes pictures with a fan at a coffee shop (presumably in Nashville). According to the fan’s account, Liz was also there, sitting at the table behind them. The fan ends up taking pictures with both Liz and Taylor:

I’m not entirely sure what this means for them. Obviously Taylor has just written The Last Time (presumably about Liz) and then gone off to Hy(i)annis port with Dianna to go frolic in the waves and all that, so I don’t think this means TayLiz is back on. However, we know from fan accounts (which I’ll get to in a second) that Liz thought she was going to be coming on the Red Tour until she was let go from The Agency in September. Perhaps this is some amount of reconciliation? A check in? An ultimatum to get her act together or she won’t be allowed on tour?

Truthfully, we can’t know for sure. But this is one of their last hang outs together (that we know of) this year.

13 August 2012 - Taylor’s Red Youtube Webchat. She describes what some of the songs on the album are about

22: This is a song that I wrote with Max Martin and Johan Shellback and it’s a song about the way I spent my summer when I was finishing this album. Kind of hanging out with my friends all the time and I really decided that I love being twenty two. It’s um kind of my favorite age that I’ve ever been. I kind of have like different theories of the years in my life and like what they meant and 22 has been so much fun. It’s- it’s been so much fun and I decided to write a song about that and just all the ridiculous nonsense that my friends and I got into. And, um, so this one’s called 22.

Treacherous: This is a song that I wrote with Dan Wilson… I’ve always wanted to work with him. So I called him and um it turned out that he was into the idea of working with me. And um so I went in with this idea and uh we wrote a song about when you’re falling for someone and you know that it’s dangerous. And you know that it could really really really really really just annihilate you if it were to not work out and it could possibly not work out and it probably won’t work out, but you go for it anyway. And so this is called Treacherous.

31 August 2012 - We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together is released as a single. The MV features the rest of the Agency, but not Liz. Fans take notice.

13 September 2012 - The news breaks that Liz is leaving The Agency and will not be on the Red Tour:

Interestingly enough, according to the L Chat, Liz had been telling fans that she was planning on going on the Red Tour before this point, so something must’ve happened:

And because of this fan encounter below, we have somewhat of an idea of what it was:

So from the combined events of this summer we know this about Liz being let go:

1) Liz wrote songs that summer about having a hard time and trying to claw her way out of it.

2) Taylor and Liz met up twice that summer, and Taylor did not acknowledge Liz’s birthday publicly.

3) Taylor may have written The Last Time, a song about begging someone to choose you over other things (possibly addiction) on Liz’s birthday.

4) Liz thought she was going on The Red Tour.

5) Liz was fired for “getting out of control.”

The picture this paints to me is that, while Liz was spiraling, Taylor was trying to help her, using coming on the Red Tour as a reward for getting her act together. When she ultimately couldn’t, presumably after that meeting in July, Taylor had no choice but to ask her to leave the Agency, since hardcore intense tour life is likely the last thing Liz needed to get better. This is a really difficult and hard situation, regardless of whether or not the two women were ever sexually or romantically involved.

Fortunately, as we’ll see moving forward, this seems to be the wake up call Liz needed to start the process of getting back on her feet. However, it’s clear that for at least a little bit after this, Taylor became a taboo topic around Liz. But ask anyone who’s dealt with addiction or helped a friend/family member through it -- there’s some resentment that’s bound to happen, even towards the people trying to help.

20 September 2012 - Liz spends “quality time” with Claire and Taylor:

I personally read this as one last hurrah of the trio after Liz was not asked back for the Red Tour. The “not mad at this day” feels a little weird to me too, and I can’t tell if it’s supposed to be shade or not. Either way, this is the last major interaction between Taylor and Liz for a while.

IN CONCLUSION: Liz had her demons. Whether this is what caused the end of her and Taylor’s relationship or something else, it’s almost certainly what caused her to not be asked back on the Red Tour. In the winter, she would release the music she was writing over the summer, making it clear she was going through some shit, probably not helped by seeing Taylor so obviously move on with Dianna. But this is the low point. Things with Liz can only go up from here.

Liz After the Agency (September 2012 - September 2014)

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scaryscarecrows · 3 years

Text

Child Safety 101

AN: Continuation of ‘I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks’, found in Why Do They Kick Me?

Note: Mark is a trauma surgeon, not a GP, but he’s also the only one Jason will let within doctoring range, so.

* * *

The Knight has been down and unresponsive for literal days. The first day was the diciest, because even Mark hadn’t been totally sure if he’d pull through, but his fever had gone down enough to remove him from the danger zone.

Once it had become apparent that he wasn’t going to die on them-because Antoine’s sorry, but no way is he continuing this crusade in the guy’s memory or whatever, if the boss dies, he is leaving-, they’d had a meeting and, essentially, made a chore chart for who had Knightwatch, who had Armywatch, and who got to nap.

It’s a fairly efficient rotation. And so far, at least, they’ve managed to keep the news of, well, everything under wraps. All the men know is that the boss is down but that he will be fine, carry on as normal. They don’t know that the helmet’s off.

And. Oof. Of all the crackpot theories they’ve jokingly tossed around, this wasn’t one of them. Antoine’s not sure which one he’s more stuck on: the fact that the boss is a teenager, or the fact that the boss is-was-Robin. They’re so intertwined that it doesn’t really matter, it’s just…

Antoine is not a parent. He’s happy to keep it that way; the best part of uncle-ing is dosing them up on sugar and releasing them back to the parents. So he doesn’t really get the whole ‘electrical outlets are a Great Danger’ thing. But he does get, maybe a little better than your average parent, the sick, twisted fucks of society. He’s worked with a handful. Spoken with more. He still remembers, years after the fact, that one guy...he ate people. Literally. He’d put a toddler in the oven-alive-and…

Yeah.

But this is a little different. This is...it’s one thing to hear about it. It’s another thing to be faced with it. And it’s another thing entirely to see it. That fucking tape, man…

He stretches out a bit, pops his back and rubs a hand over his side, feeling rough scar tissue. What a week. What an absolute hell of a week.

He’s on Knightwatch now, because everything outside is moving smoothly without him and Frank really, really needs the nap. The boss is finally sleeping peacefully, curled up on his side with one arm flung up to shield his face. He’s still shivering on and off, and he sounds congested as all get out, but the worst of it is over. No more screaming, no more pleading.

What now? He supposes they’ll stay the course, but he’s not sure, not really. Maybe this is the end. Maybe the boss will vanish in the middle of the night.

Jesus, that explains so much. Batman taught him all this weird shit. Batman...this is, arguably, entirely Batman’s fault. What sort of weirdo...never mind. Never mind.

As ever, he figures, this is a nasty combination of neglectful adult and opportunistic predator. This is the same thing as that one girl in his sister’s apartment complex that got kidnapped. Six years old, mother said, ‘yes, yes, go play by the road alone!’ and she got abducted and murdered. Somebody should have been watching her.

Somebody should have been watching the boss.

Doesn’t matter. People are watching him now, at least, whether he likes it or not.

He coughs and rolls over, one arm slipping off the bed. Antoine sighs and puts it back, straightens the sheets out like he’s seen Frank and his sister do, and wonders what’s going to happen now.

They could, he supposes, figure out who he-and by extension, Batman-is. Jimmy could run a facial recognition at the minimum. But they haven’t, and they don’t really intend to. Curious as they are, they owe him their lives and...and no matter how this turns out, he’s their boss and they won’t.

Antoine’s sort of lost in thought, caught up in memories of that little girl (what was her name?) and the cannibal and the utter confusion of everything, when the Knight suddenly jerks upright like he’s gonna make a break for it.

“Shit--”

He twists over and only feels a little sorry for forcing the Knight back down. The sorry feeling vanishes when the boss tries to fight him.

“No--”

“You gotta be kidding me--” It’s not much of a fight, but he’s still trying, which is incredibly unfair. “How even--there.”

Okay. There’s no easy weapons in here, which is all he can ask for. He’s not interested in being held at gunpoint again, thanks.

“You back with us, sir?”

The Knight’s quiet, breathing hard and seemingly very interested in the ceiling.

“We have an intruder,” he says, voice carefully flat. “I want every available unit search--”

Uh-huh.

“You wouldn’t have held this intruder at gunpoint, would you, sir?”

Silence. That’s what he thought. They’re professionals, for heaven’s sake. People don’t just get into their super-secret hidden base. That just doesn’t happen. Their own people have gotten lost trying to find their way back to it! Intruder, humph. That hurts.

…

Yeah, okay, he’s trying to maintain the facade of normalcy. Like. The helmet’s off, man, any weird-ass theories anybody’s had have now been put to rest in favor of the truth. But both of them are probably going to be happier if they just pretend that nothing has changed.

(Which is half-true. Baby Robin or not, the guy’s still scary.)

“What day is it,” he finally says, voice scarcely above a whisper. Antoine hits the call button.

“March third, sir.”

“Shit.”

Yup.

There’s no good response to that and the boss goes slack, one arm flung over his face. A minute later, Mark throws open the door with a grumpy, “What the fuck was that.”

“I--”

“Went the fuck down in the middle of the day thanks to a one-oh-four degree fever,” Mark seethes. “You have. The goddamn. Flu. People die from the flu, straight-up die, and you didn’t think to mention it! I’m not asking for much here. Just a little heads up. Y’know, ‘hey, Jones, I’m feelin’ pretty crappy, think you can poke your head in to make sure I didn’t die in the night?’ ‘Oh, sure thing, boss, happy to help, feel better!’” The smile he plasters on is frightening. The boss doesn’t like it, not one bit, and to Mark’s credit, he drops it pretty quick. “What were you thinking? Anything? Really, I’d love your thought process.”

“‘ve handled worse on my own,” the Knight mumbles, somewhere between sheepish and stubborn. “Thought a walk would clear my head.”

Sad thing is, Antoine believes him. The brand alone is not pretty, and while Mark hasn’t said much, what he has shared is disturbing.

And. Well. It’s not like the boss has been totally silent for the past few days. Once or twice he’d woken up screaming, the kind of awful sound Antoine associates with three-feet-thick walls and Professionals. Hell, Mark had collared Trent to come and look at something, and while neither of them are sharing, that’s Bad. Trent’s not a doctor, but he knows how to hurt people...and what they look like after.

“Well, it made you worse. You’re lucky you didn’t kill someone or yourself, parading around like that. Aight, you sit up, you clear out.”

Gladly.

“Feel better, sir,” he says. “We’ve got things handled out here, so just get some rest.”

“Oh, he doesn’t have a choice. Come on, up-up...be lucky if I let you out of my sight again after this...f’I have to give you weekly check-ups, that’s what’ll happen…”

Fuck Batman, Antoine thinks tiredly. This is his fault, things never should have advanced to the point that his...sidekick...kid...whatever ended up like this. How is Gotham not screaming about kids and guns anyway, huh? That just seems like Child Safety 101. He certainly makes sure all his toys are locked up tight when the niblings are over. He sure as hell wouldn’t give them a dull knife and tell them to, like, fight a trained mercenary. That seems like a terrible idea.

Whatever. It’s not going to go any farther. Boss he might be, but he’s just not going to be allowed to be an idiot, that’s all there is to it. No more vanishing off somewhere for three days, he’ll just have to check in or something. Frank can bully him about that. It’s for his own damn good.

THE END

#Jason Todd #Arkham Knight #Antoine Drouot #Mark Jones #identity reveal #well sorta #they're more stuck on 'Batman let a child fight crime and this happened'#(nobody is happy about it either)#Jason can kiss leaving the base after six goodbye

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spiders-hth-is-an-outlier · 3 years

Note

Possibly a big ask to get just out of the blue but: what are your Supernatural season opinions? Which one is your favorite? Least favorite? Did you watch long enough to have showrunner opinions? If yes, which showrunner is your favorite and which is your least favorite? If no, which season that you haven't seen most tempts you to get back in the Supernatural trenches? Answer exactly as many of these questions as you want to. Carry on.

You know, I am not sure how long this Ask has been sitting here, because my Tumblr notifications are borked -- I hope not long? If long, I apologize, I wasn't ignoring it on purpose!

Okay, so I have more than the average number of Supernatural opinions, probably, but I'll try to keep this to a dull roar! Inside Me There Are Two Wolves: one of them believes that only the original five seasons of Supernatural are worth defending in any way, the other really, really loves seasons 11 and 12. The Kripke Era had a lot of problems, particularly in its treatment of women as bodies without agency and its treatment of Black men as literal predators, but also for all its flaws, it had a kind of coherence and narrative drive that comes from being the product of a dude who obviously cared about it and had something to say. Taken on its own, seasons 1-5 are a brutal and compelling story about the traumas of being men in a universe that's been absolutely destroyed by its Fathers: on almost every level, it's about these abandoned and brutalized boys discovering that their entire reality is the product of an abandoning and brutalizing God, populated by authority figures who are universally demanding and arrogant, but also completely fucking useless. It's quite literally about Sam and Dean trying to hang onto their souls and their own agency when everyone around them wants them forced into shapes formed by conflicts that fell into place at the beginning of time. It's hard to remember, but back then even the Lucifer plotline was about that! It was about the damage fathers inflict on sons! Things were about things, in the Kripke era!

Then we get to the Gamble era, and. Woof. I actually -- don't hate 6 and 7? Like everything Sera Gamble touches, those two seasons are kinetic and memorable and funny and weird and hit some really, really great emotional beats. There are Some Problems, but Gamble was saddled with a pretty dire job, trying to find a way forward after everything about the series really had effectively wrapped up in Swan Song, and I think she did an okay job. People got mad at her for killing Castiel, but you know, damn, I give her this: that was a storyline. Like, this character who was fresh out of the cult he was raised in becoming disillusioned by how messy normal life is and deciding that maybe people need better authoritarianism instead -- the way he's driven to take too many risks by the fact that he's abandoned and desperate -- Crowley as a legitimately scary villain while still being charming af -- and the tragic resolution of Castiel being torn apart by both his hubris and his heroism. It's actually really good. I understand why people didn't want what Gamble was serving up -- and I'm able to like it because it was undone later, you know? -- but she really did commit to a full season of character arc and saw it all the way through to an earned ending, and I gotta respect that.

I genuinely hate seasons 8 and 9. I think everyone is a dick, particularly but not exclusively Dean, to the point where I just find it a bummer to watch. I mean, you get Benny, and I love Benny. You get, I dunno, bits and bobs of decent episodes, but overall they are very fucked up seasons in my opinion. So Carver era is on thin fucking ice with me, but I do think you start to get a rebound in season 10 with the Mark of Cain stuff, although I wish they'd managed to keep Cain around longer. All the really good Claire stuff starts happening, which is nice because Claire, but also because for once the show is really letting itself go back and deal with the mess these protagonists leave behind them constantly. Castiel and Claire have maybe the most interesting non-Winchester relationship on the show. Oh, and Rowena shows up around here too, right? Love her. So the back half of Carver, 10 and 11, are starting to really gain traction for me. The world is building outward, secondary characters are starting to be genuine characters in their own right, the politics of Heaven and Hell get a little richer and more interesting. The show is really starting to feel like it takes place in a universe, which is great because we love the Frigging Winchesters, but they shouldn't be the only thing going, right? We have 15 seasons to get through! Season 11 is basically bracketed by what are probably my two favorite Supernatural episodes: Baby and Don't Call Me Shurley. (I think I'm the world's only living Metatron fan; I fucking love that little dude.)

Dabb takes over in 12, and I really, really, genuinely love season 12. I fucking love Mary. There are so many episodes I adore -- Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox is a special favorite of mine, and I remain pissed off that the Banes twins never made it to recurring status, bluntly that feels wildly racist to me -- probably the best three-episode streak in the show is Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets to Regarding Dean to Stuck In the Middle (With You), three just almost perfect episodes. So I was poised to really love the Dabb era. I wanted to! My body was ready!

And I do really love the first chunk of season 13, the Widow Winchester arc. Obviously I'm a romantic, love that for me, but it's just also really good? The acting, the writing, the psychological complexity of Dean wanting Jack to be Bad so he has an outlet for his anger and Sam wanting Jack to be Good so he can retroactively parent himself and raise a Lucifer-tainted child who isn't crippled by self-loathing. Billie's great, and it looks like she's going to start being one of the major powers of the universe. Unfortunately -- with the occasional exception of this or that solid episode -- that's kind of the end of Pretty Good Supernatural. Season 13 kind of unravels; season 14 always feels like it's looking for itself (which is a bummer, because I wanted very much to care about Michael); season 15 is, idk. Idk about any of it, it's all pretty pointless. I feel bad complaining on some level, because the show's been on for like fourteen years at this point! It's kinda justified in feeling a little worn out. But the reality is that the later seasons systematically undo all the expansion that had excited me earlier -- the Wayward Sisters crew pretty much vanishes when the spinoff isn't picked up, Naomi and the angels stop doing anything, Crowley's gone, Mary's gone for much of it. We're just kind of futzing around with monsters who don't seem to matter (very much including Lucifer, who hasn't mattered in ages) and a lot of Jack, who. I try not to shit all over, because I know he's a popular character, but I find him just ungodly boring. Everything in the last two and a half season just feels like it's headed nowhere in particular, and also it bored me. The Empty deal is just sadness porn; it doesn't have any resonance or meaning in terms of Castiel's character, it's just him agreeing to die for his kid, which is okay, it means he's a loving dad, which he is, but there's no conflict there, ergo no real drama. It's just mean; it happens because it'll make us sad, and no other reason. Rowena is the only strong secondary character left, and her ending also doesn't feel particularly relevant to her, it's just a generic Sacrifice to Save the World. Everything just feels like they're autogenerating plotlines, rather than letting the actual needs and drives of the characters shape the narrative. So while I have this weird split personality with Carver where I either hate what he's doing or I love it, most of the Dabb era is just. There. It doesn't make me feel anything except kind of tired and embarrassed. Which is a bummer, because I have an inexplicable fondness for Dabb, probably just because of how much I love s12. I wanted to love his seasons! I did love his first season! I feel like maybe something happened when the CW rejected Wayward Sisters? I know that was kind of his darling, and it feels like maybe losing that kind of sucked the joy out of him, and he's kind of checked-out by the end. That's genuinely just my guess, however.

That's Professor Milo's Intro to Supernatural Studies, don't forget to fill out your course survey on the way out!

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 4 years

Note

So: what ARE all the various things Quentin Coldwater visibly has not processed or unpacked or come to terms with by the end of season 4? Have you made a list?

sure, let’s give this a whirl, shall we?

1. quentin’s death itself - kind of cheating since technically quentin does not come back to life in the show, but the obvious starting point in any post-s4 fic about him. i feel like dying and coming back to life on its own has gotta be messed up in even the best circumstances, possibly unless you do it like penny where you never really have a moment of feeling like you have died. in the softest interpretation of quentin’s death, it was still a violent sudden untimely death, which feels like it adds to that. which is not getting into —

2. the fact that quentin’s death was self-inflicted - i think there’s definite room for ambiguity in considering, like, how suicidal his suicide was, so to speak, all the way from “he walked into the mirror realm planning or at least hoping to die” to, sure, “he sacrificed himself for the greater good and was sorry to die.” that is a reading that fits with the text. my own headcanon-ish take on it, or the reading that makes most sense to me in terms of quentin’s characterization across the show (which to be clear is NOT what the show wants us to think about it), setting aside whatever angle i might find most dramatically useful or interesting explore in a particular story, is somewhere between these two. i think if everett hadn’t shown up, quentin would have walked out of there alive, and when he decided to cast, some part of him felt a real deep sense of relief. i actually read the moment as emotionally pretty analogous to alice niffin-ing out — when niffin!alice says she did it on purpose, i think that’s true, but does that mean she wanted to, exactly, in all the parts of her that didn’t make it to niffinhood? i don’t know, and i don’t think alice really knows, then or ever, which is how i feel about some future quentin looking back and trying to answer for himself the question he asks penny: yes, no, both, kind of, not really, yes but just for a second, no but not strongly enough... and that kind of uncertainty about your own desires and beliefs and motivations at such a crucial juncture is itself something to process. like i said, that’s my own take on it, and the reality of it (despite the show’s protests to the contrary) is ambiguous; what’s not ambiguous is that, uh, quentin made a choice he knew would kill him, and everything we know about quentin suggests that having this information about himself would really fuck him up (and also that some dumb hot chocolate feelings chat in the underworld would not actually be enough to ease his mind on the issue). which leads me to —

3. quentin’s mental health shit, part the first - so, there’s the fact of quentin’s depression which predates the show by ages and which he has now spent four years basically ignoring while getting traumatized repeatedly, and he needs....... something regarding that. meds/therapy convo is for a lot of people the obvious Something, it’s a good Something. i don’t like to be prescriptivist about what Something is, i think a lot about leonard cohen in his 70s being like “yes it turned out that the thing i needed to finally address my lifelong depression was to go through the process of getting ordained as a buddhist monk.” maybe what quentin needs is to get ordained as a buddhist monk. i could buy that. but Something regarding his like everyday ability to be a person in the world, especially considering that he died at what could charitably be described as a low point re: that, he needs. and, also —

4. quentin’s mental health shit, part the second - he needs to process and deal with his own feelings about his fucked up brain and the things that he’s done as a result of it, because there’s the brain stuff, but then there’s also the shame and self-concept and identity issues that have developed around and with the brain stuff, you know? i mean, there is a reason i have written now two stories spanning well over a hundred thousand words in which therapy is suggested to quentin and his response is “hmm. no thanks,” and it’s because the first time we ever meet him, he is in the process of refusing further treatment against a psychiatric professional’s advice! he goes off his meds like 18 hours later and never once in the show shows any inclination of being like, “hm maybe that was a bad idea,” including when magic gets turned off and he picks up smoking as a fun summer hobby instead. we know from the mind palace that quentin’s deepest fears involve his own brain, and there’s a lot of different ways you can read the fact that the cherry on top of the nightmare sunday is the dream-revelation that his illness led him to attack his dad but IMO one of the more obvious ones is that he already thinks of his illness as something that has hurt his dad. he has some real dark feelings about his own mind.

5. quentin’s dad - quentin barely deals at all with his dad’s death before he himself dies, and like — similarly to his death, losing his father in his mid-twenties is something that would be difficult for a long long time in the least-bad situation. for quentin, i think there’s a ton of unresolved shit in the distance between them as two people who loved each other deeply, and knew the other loved him deeply, but didn’t always know how to communicate; i think there’s a lot of internalized shame around making his father’s life difficult by having the mental health problems he did that he hasn’t unpacked; i think that ahead of him there’s like, a lot of unexpressed anger about what his father couldn’t give him & a lot of guilt about that because his father did do his best and is now dead & a lot of grief about the fact that his father will never be around for quentin to heal his side of their relationship. also there’s the fact that, uh, quentin’s dad died because he chose to turn magic back on, and we know from his conversation with julia that he feels conflicted about having made that choice.

6. quentin’s experiences with the monster - almost everything that happens to quentin on the magicians is some degree of traumatizing, but being constantly tormented by an evil demigod wearing the body of your ex-boyfriend who keeps murdering people partly (after 4x05 at least) because you decided you wanted to take on the absolute inevitability of further carnage for the extremely slim chance of somehow saving your rex-boyfriend - that really takes it to the next level, and we can see that this is true in his affect, in the way quentin in season 4 just totally shuts down, in his reckless behavior and even lower instinct for self-preservation.

7. quentin’s experiences on the quest - i’ve said this before, but if you watch season 3 from the mosaic episode on with a focus on tracking quentin’s inner state, the show becomes a grim story of a guy who came face to face with his depression and never really recovered. that’s... a lot, on its own. it’s more when you consider the fact that as far as he knows, he only survived his initial encounter with the depression monster by, uh, fulfilling its darkest ideas about himself, i.e. passing on his pain to someone else (benedict) who died because quentin wasn’t strong enough to handle his shit on his own. that’s not my read of that episode, but i honestly feel like if quentin ever has 5 seconds to think about it that’s gotta be how he feels about it, right? and you can see briefly in season 3 how his anxiety starts ratcheting up about his sense of responsibility towards others on the quest once penny and benedict are both dead. and there’s also the whole thing about how the quest wants him to be cold, which as i have said 9 million times is a very sad thing for him to believe that he never gets to unlearn! all culminating in his decision to stay at blackspire, which —

8. quentin’s hero thing - of all the really baffling choices the show makes, one that i keep coming back to is how they told quite beautifully the story of quentin letting go of his desire to be a hero, culminating in handing alice the leo blade (or... whatever i’m not gonna fact check that. you know what the fuck i mean), and then they uhhhh. i don’t even know what to call it. walked it back? decided he hadn’t actually learned that in a generally applicable way? the season 2 finale is interesting because he does A Hero Thing (stabs a god with a sword), but it happens very unglamorously and feels very much like a decision born out of necessity, but then it leads to magic ending, so... i don’t know what to do with that. but his decision to stay at blackspire is... clearly quentin wanting to be a hero! like, he’s managed to step away from the idea of heroic glory, but veered over instead to heroic martyrdom, which is not really... better. and which eliot saves him from (See Below), only for him to... double down on it a season later by sacrificing his life for real. all of which is A Lot, not even getting into the fact that, like, at some point he’s gotta come up with some justification for being alive other than this, and the show strongly suggests he... hasn’t, yet.

9. yeah, like, eliot? - HOO boy. listen. the act of turning quentin down in and of itself is not morally wrong. if eliot sincerely hadn’t wanted a relationship with quentin after the mosaic, that would be his right, and his rejection doesn’t become a crime just because we know that it actually came from his own issues. i also honestly think eliot thought in the moment that he was shutting this down for the good of both of them and as kindly as he could. he was very wrong about this, but that’s my take. HOWEVER. there are a lot of reasons you can read that conversation in 4x05 as being unintentionally crafted to be particularly hurtful to quentin specifically, the biggest and most obvious one being, uh, “fifty years that were real for you were not real for me” (hurtful in any case but particularly for someone like quentin who has such a sense that one of his problems is he Cares Too Much), and my personal favorite being that the logical implication of “that’s not you,” for quentin, is “the version of yourself that learned to be content with your life as it happened to unfold is not real.” excruciating to hear those things, while also trying to figure out how to emotionally process the memories of a dead wife you never married and a son that was never born! extra excruciating to then have the person who told you “you didn’t matter enough to me to take a chance on” shoot a god because apparently you do matter enough for him to override your life choices, and then get possessed. one of my favorite moments in 4x05 is when quentin tells alice “i loved you, and you couldn’t trust that,” because it’s clearly in there to draw a parallel to the throne room scene for Writing Points, but it’s so wildly inapplicable to any of their 900 break-ups (right before blackspire SHE was the one saying “i know i don’t always seem like it but you’re the one i love”!), that the only plausible in-universe reading of it is that quentin has been stewing miserably on the eliot thing this entire time, only now he can’t even be properly mad at eliot because eliot is possessed by a demigod, so he’s just projecting onto the nearest available screen. i’m obsessed with that. it’s horrible and very sexy and Needs To Be Unpacked

10. see, like all the way down here at the bottom we get to quentin’s mom - idk, his mom is a very critical person (i don’t love using the word “critical” because it often gets used misogynistically but it is the only personality trait we really have for her) who never seems to contact or wonder about her adult son with a longterm history of mental illness, who certainly doesn’t seem to have the same skepticism his father has about the brakebills cover story that he’s studying finance, and who unlike his father is not mentioned when quentin recounts his first hospitalization. like, that can’t be great for him, right? that can’t have nothing to do with him being the way he is. for most people that would rank as a pretty major thing to process. but compared to everything else on the list? idk, man!

that’s... i mean this is not so much my thinking for fic-related reasons, this is just me lying down and trying to get out all my screaming about quentin coldwater, which i honestly feel like is still missing some things. like i kinda think he has not gotten over being an unpopular nerd for what is chronologically still most of his life??? i feel like he has some weird stuff around sex which explains why his reaction to poppy macking on him is basically “i guess this is happening now” which is not, like, an ideal relationship or lack thereof to have with your own body? he doesn’t have a single close friend who does not play a major role in his psychosexual development, and he has no male friends he’s never slept with. i couldn’t even go down the road of residual guilt over being the guy who got magic turned off and therefore in his brain probably responsible for everything that happened after that. the dude’s a mess!!!!!!!!!! i love him more than anything on this stupid earth but his mind is a fucking horrorshow!!!!!!!!!!!!

#the magicians #askbox #i slept poorly the past several nights and my brain decided it's all coming down Today #so this seemed like the right time for this lmao

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platonicteenwolf · 4 years

Text

Wolf Moon (S1E1) Pt I

Teen Wolf x Reader Series Rewrite

A/N: So it was really difficult to figure out a plot without giving the reader any specific characteristics and still have a character arc. This post will talk more about what those are but I’m trying my best to keep it as neutral as possible :)

They/Them Pronouns Version

He/His Pronouns Version

Next Part / Masterlist

Warnings: dead body, swearing

On the rural outskirts of a small California town called Beacon Hills, police officers and state troopers gather on a dirt road. At their sides, search dogs bark and whine, pulling their leashes taut. One by one, the officers click on flashlights and then glance to the lead for his signal. Finally, he gives a nod. Seconds later, a dozen streaks of light tear through the shadowy woods. A desperate search begun...

—————

*Bang Bang Bang*

“Stiles? What do you want?” I groaned. Rolling over in bed, I checked the time on my alarm clock. 2 AM.

“Y/N, Y/N, come on get up!” Stiles opened my door and walked into my room. “Come on, my dad got a call let’s go! Also - put some clothes on you looks stupid.”

I looked down at my pajamas with confusion. “What’s wrong with Hello Kitty Pjs?”

“Nothing- just- come on!”

I dragged myself out of bed and threw on a different outfit, grabbed my bag, then walked out of my room.

—————

Not far from those dense woods, a two-story home lies hidden under a canopy of trees. A gentle wind drifts into the open window of an upstairs bedroom where two hands thread the laces on the head of a lacrosse stick. The work is fast and precise, fingers pulling each lace into a diamond mesh pattern.

Knotting the last loop, sixteen year-old Scott McCall stands with the re-threaded stick. Scooping a ball up from his bedroom floor, he gives the lacrosse stick a spin, testing his handiwork. A moment later, the re-threaded stick lands on his bed as Scott walks towards his bathroom door frame to do a few pull-ups.

After brushing his teeth, Scott looks up meeting his eyes in the mirror but he stops when he hears a sound coming from his window. Under the whispering wind, he hears rustling in the leaves outside.

Downstairs, the glass door to the porch slides open. Now armed with a baseball bat, Scott starts for the yard. Breath held tight, he moves cautiously off the porch steps. The sound of movement stops him cold.

Holding still, he peers left and right as he white-knuckles the bat, ready to swing. When his eyes wander up to the side of house he sees--

Before Scott even knows what’s happening, the figure breaks free from the trellis and comes hurtling toward him. He hollers in terror as an upside down face appears in front of him. He almost swings the bat before realizing who it is.

“Stiles, what the hell are you doing?!”

“You weren’t answering your phone! Why do you have a bat?”

“I thought you were a predator!”

Feet caught in the trellis, Stiles hangs in front of Scott. A sixteen year-old with boundless energy, he continues talking upside down as if this were a perfectly normal way to have a conversation. He sputters out fragments of words like Scott just accused him of being crazy as he continues his explanation.

“I know it’s late, but you gotta’ hear this. I saw my dad leave twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called. They’re bringing in every officer from the Beacon department and even State Police.”

“For what?”

“Two joggers found a body in the woods.”

Stiles then jumps down from the trellis and lands perfectly on his feet like it was the easiest thing in the world. Scott seems shocked to hear this news. A body? In Beacon Hills?

“A dead body!?”

“No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body.” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

As Scott takes a step back on his porch, Stiles takes this opportunity to jump over the railing now standing in front of his best friend.

Scott, still lost on the entire situation, asks “So, you mean like murdered?”

“Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.”

“Hold on. If they found a body, what are they looking for now?”

A now, extremely excited Stiles tells Scott, “That’s the best part. They only found half.” He looked like a child that just found the secret stash of candy in the cabinet. “We’re going”

“But- what- no way man, sophomore year starts tomorrow! I’m trying to get a good nights sleep before practice tomorrow! Why can’t you take Y/N?”

—————

After hopping over to the drivers side of the car I watched Stiles unsuccessfully climb towards Scott’s window and then fall while almost getting hit by a bat after scaring Scott.

As the two screamed at each other after getting startled all I could do was shake my head. “Dumbasses,” I muttered.

After the pair talked for a bit I heard my name being said and promptly tuned into the conversation.

“Why can’t you take Y/N?”

“Oh I did, she’s waiting in the car. You’re coming too.”

As Stiles gestured towards where I was sitting, I waved at Scott. He seemed unhappy being woken up so early. I wonder why?

—————

As we pulled up to the woods, Stiles’ beat-up jeep skids to a halt just beyond the heavily forested entrance to the Beacon Hills Preserve. Stiles rushes out with a flashlight in hand, eager to start the search.

“Are we seriously doing this” Scott opens the door to the jeep and steps out of the way so I could crawl out of the back where I’d been sitting.

“You’re the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town.” Stiles starts to jog towards the hiking paths, ready to find the body as Scott and I hurry to keep up. “And what was that excuse about wanting to sleep before practice tomorrow? I guess sitting on the bench must be such a grueling effort.”

“Oh come on Stiles, he’s been practicing!” I retort, trying to defend Scott. I mean sure, his skills aren’t that good but at least he’s got the spirit.

“Thank you Y/N, see someone believes in me. Anyways, I’m gonna be playing this year. In fact, I’m making first line.”

“Hey! That’s the spirit. Everyone should have a dream. Even a pathetically unrealistic one.” I smacked him on the arm and gave him a glare. “What?” he asked innocently.

“Just out of curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?” Scott asked

Stiles hesitated for a moment, not sure what to say “Huh. I didn’t even think about that.”

“And uh, what if whoever killed the girl is still out here?” Scott continued

“Also something I didn’t think about,” he admitted

Rolling my eyes I teased, “Do you ever use that brain of yours Stilinski?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes as we start climbing up a steep hill.

“It’s- comforting to know you’ve- planned this out with your usual attention to detail.” Racing up the paths, Scott’s breath begins to shorten. “Maybe the uh, severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight huh?” He leans back against the tree pulling his inhaler out of his pocket and begins to shake it.

I look towards him with concern “You okay?” He nods his head at me as Stiles continues ahead, but then slows down but not because of Scott. As we crest the hill, Stiles jumps down to the ground laying on his stomach. As I approach next to him he grabs my arm and tugs me to the floor, then Scott joins us as we look towards the clearing ahead. Below, flashlight beams scour the shadows, the police search just ahead. Unable to stand still, Stiles races forward.

“Stiles, wait up!” But quickly running out of air, Scott pulls his inhaler from his jacket. While he pauses to take a hit from it, I look towards where Stiles ran off to and realize he’s disappeared up ahead. The sound of barking breaks the silence and my head snaps towards where it came from. Scott and I start to walk forwards to investigate where the sound came from.

—————

Fanged teeth snapped ferociously at Stiles, sending him staggering away and falling right onto his ass. Search dogs yank back against their leashes just before tearing him apart.

“Stay right there!”

—————

I freeze, thinking I’ve been caught. It’s not me the State Trooper was yelling at, however. Up ahead I see Stiles sitting on the ground surrounded by officers. I drag Scott behind a tree and push him up against the bark to hide from the numerous officers just a few meters away. Peering out from behind the tree, Flashlight beams in his eyes, Stiles puts his hands in the air as large, threatening figures hurry forward. “Shit, they got him,” I mutter under my breath. I look up at Scott and see his worried expression. He was about to say something when suddenly we hear,

“Hang on, hang on, this little delinquent belongs to me.” Oh thank god, Uncle Noah’s there.

He’s not really my uncle, I just call him that because he used to be my dads best friend so I’ve known him my whole life.

Sheriff Stilinski steps into the light past the growling search dogs. Stiles seems to shrink under his glare. He’s definitely about to get it.

“Dad, how ya doing?”

“So, do you ah, listen in to all of my phone calls?”

“No... Well, not the boring ones.”

Sheriff Stilinski nods his head, seemingly thinking over the punishment Stiles is about to get. “So, where’s your usual partner in crime?”

“Who, Scott? Scott’s home. Said he wanted to get a good night’s sleep for the first day back at school tomorrow,” Stiles paused, catching his breath. “It’s just me, in the woods, alone...”

“Scott? You out there?” Sheriff Stilinski waved his flashlight, looking at all the surrounding trees. Hidden in the shadows, I look up at Scott, still pushed up against the tree and mouth to him “Don’t move”

“Come on Stiles, I know you’re not out here alone. Is it Y/N? Oh don’t tell me you’ve dragged her into this.” He looks back out towards the woods where Scott and I are hiding. “Y/N? Y/N/N, come on I know you’re out there.”

I look up at Scott and give him a reassuring nod. Stepping out from behind the tree, I look at Noah and walked towards him, giving a little wave. “Hey Uncle Noah, how are you tonight?”

“Oh come on.” He ran his hand over his face in a tired manner. I felt bad, he was probably stressed and we weren’t helping. “I expected better from you with this! And Stiles,” he turned pointedly towards the young boy, “quit corrupting her! She’s been living with us for all of five months and you kids are already sneaking off!”

“Well to be fair dad we used to sneak off before she lived with us too.”

For the second time tonight I smacked him on the arm followed with a pointed look. “You’re not helping the situation right now Stiles.” Suddenly I felt a sharp pain on my right ear and glanced to my side to see Uncle Noah holding Stiles and I by our ears walking towards the rest of his unit.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” we both yelped.

“All right, you two, I’m taking you back to the car and we’re going to discuss a little something called Invasion of Privacy.”

—————

Watching Stiles and Y/N get escorted away, Scott steps out from the cover of the trees with an irritated sigh. Starting back, he tries to find his way out of the woods, but with each step it becomes increasingly difficult to see in the pitch black.

At a fork in the path, he pauses in confusion. He’s about to start off down one direction when he hears shuffling footsteps in the distance. Scott holds still. Breath tightening more from fear than asthma, he reaches into his pocket for his inhaler when a herd of wild deer charge out of the darkness, soaring past him with the thunderous beat of hooves trampling the ground.

Startled, Scott drops the inhaler on the forest floor. Then, once again alone in the dark, he kneels down to the leaf-covered ground to search for the inhaler. Pulling out his cell phone, he turns on the flashlight. Guiding the phone’s light over the ground, Scott doesn’t find his inhaler but does manage to briefly illuminate... a face?

Dead eyes peer up from the pale, yet beautiful face of a young woman torn in half. Crying out in shock, Scott lurches up, tripping on his own feet and tumbling over the unearthed roots of a tree. Suddenly, he’s propelled down a leaf-covered slope, rolling head over heels right ditch.

Pushing himself up with a nearby fallen trees, a breathless Scott looks up at the embankment down which he just fell. He’s about to stand when a low, earthy growl stops him moving. Stops his breathing. Something crouches in the shadows right near him. Something, very large. Scott slowly begins to turn around when the shape hurtles towards him. For the briefest instant there’s a flash of razor-sharp teeth. Scott twists forward, crying out. Then, seeming to disentangle himself from the attacking animal, he scrambles back to his feet and into a panicked run.

Whipping through branches tearing at his skin and clothes, he races blindly through the forest slipping on the wet leaves from earlier’s rain. Crashing out of the woods and into the road, Scott whirls around to face an oncoming car. The driver swerves, almost clipping him. Horn blaring, the car hurtles past.

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repulsivepangolin · 4 years

Text

SEAL Team Whumptober 12/31 -Full Metal

No 12. I THINK I’VE BROKEN SOMETHING Broken Down | Broken Bones | Broken Trust

________________________

Jason looked over the five other guys who was in the middle of packing away their parachutes. His heart was beating double time, he needed to figure out who had been in trouble going down. He started looking for the members of his team in order.

Ray.

Sonny.

Trent.

Brock.

Clay.

Full Metal was the missing one.

“Anyone see if Full Metal got his reserve open?”

“Was it Metal who had problems?” Ray asked looking around, “Yeah, saw the reserve open, but he was really low when it did…”

“How low?” Trent asked, a concerned look in his eyes.

“Probably got a rough landing, but should be alright.”

Sonny was the first one to get on his radio, “Alpha-1, this is Bravo-3. What’s your status? Over.”

A couple of seconds passed.

“Alpha-1, this is Bravo-3. What’s your status? Over.”

Another couple of seconds passed, no answer.

“Did you see which direction he went down in?” Jason asked Ray.

“I didn’t see where exactly, but it was near the hill with the giant rock on top.” Ray said, pointing in that direction.

“We need to find him.” Jason swallowed.

“Alpha-1. This is Bravo-3. What’s your status?” Sonny repeated yet another time, before looking at the rest of them when no answer came. His expression clearly stating what all of them were thinking.

* * *

They had walked in the direction Ray had picked out for almost two hundred yards when Brock keyed his mike, “This is Bravo-5, I see a reserve parachute a little west of those five trees… About 300 meters out.”

“Good copy Bravo-5, I see it too.” Jason nodded, “Alright guys, brace yourselves for what we might find.”

* * *

Trent was still almost 35 yards out when he heard that they wouldn’t find a corpse. He heard someone whimpering, and dead people don’t whimper.

“Hey, Full Metal!” he called out, “Are you awake?”

A second or two passed before Full Metal answered, his voice was laced with pain, “Yeah.”

“You hurt?” he asked as he stepped closer. Dumb question, he knew it.

“Yeah.” Metal’s voice sounded like a grimace, “I think I’ve broken something.”

“Neck? Back?” Trent asked as he got close enough to actually see Full Metal laying flat on his back through the three feet tall grass. The tall man didn’t move and he was pale.

“No-no-no…” Metal shook his head a bit, “My left knee. My left leg in general, to be honest.”

Trent nodded and knelt down, the rest of the guys showing up one by one. “Why didn’t you answer when Sonny called you up on the radio?”

“Was trying to reach you.” Metal bared his teeth and growled, “No answer. Traced the cord from my headset. Radio’s gone.”

“Oh, okay…” Trent nodded, “Are you hurt anywhere else? How’s your head?”

“My leg is worst.” Full Metal grimaced, “My head is fine. Got a few scrapes and bruises all over.”

“What happened up there?”

“Line wrapped around my leg.” Metal growled, “Think it yanked my knee out.”

“Out?”

“Dislocated it or some shit…” Full Metal grimaced, “Disconnected, but the lines were still wrapped around my leg. Had to get rid of it before I could deploy my reserve so they wouldn’t tangle.”

Trent nodded, there was no doubt in his mind that Metal was in a lot of pain. He had known the man for actual decades by now, and the man’s usual way of handling pain was to ‘rub some dirt on it, and walk it off’. Vivid memories of Full Metal ignoring injuries which shouldn’t be ignored danced around in his mind.

“Was low when I finally got loose and could deploy the reserve. Landed feet first, but hard. Pretty sure my left leg is both torn and broken. -And I twisted my right ankle.”

Trent nodded, “You know I need to take a look at that leg of yours?”

“Not a fan of it, but yeah…”

“Better get that backpack away from your legs first.”

Metal swallowed hard, “Just cut the backpack strap which goes around my leg, alright? I don’t want you to move my leg at all.”

Trent nodded, “Of course.”

* * *

The whole team cringed when Ray lifted the backpack away after Trent had cut the backpack strap, and Full Metal’s leg followed the strap sideways with almost no resistance.

The sound Full Metal made sounded more like the primal growl of a large predator than anything a human should be able to produce.

“Crap…” Sonny was the first to regain the ability to speak, not to anyone’s surprise, “That’s not good.”

Trent shook his head as he crawled down to Metal’s feet and started cutting away at the fabric of his pants in order to reveal the mangled leg.

Metal’s ankle and leg looked bad enough, swollen and starting to bruise, but it was the knee Metal had pointed out being the worst.

* * *

His guts twisted painfully as he revealed his friend’s knee. Best word to describe it was shapeless. The entire leg looked wrong, but the knee was the nightmare fuel of it all.

It would bruise a lot, it hadn’t gotten there yet, but it would. If they were lucky the main vessels would be intact. If not, they should put a tourniquet on. He was a bit concerned, since Metal was paler than usual, but that could also be written off as an effect pain had on him.

He got a bright idea, and moved to get the combat boot off of Metal’s foot. He sensed that Metal tried his best to keep quiet, but there was no way for him to accomplish that task. Not with a leg like that.

“Still got a strong pulse, Champ!” he informed as he looked up at Metal.

“Good.” Metal winced.

“I’m just going to check your chest and abdomen as well. Make sure you’re not hiding some internal bleeding there.” Trent informed as he silently instructed Clay to keep Metal’s foot in the position it was in.

Metal nodded and helped getting his gear off, “Didn’t hurt anything in my torso.”

“I’m gonna check anyway.” Trent declared, “That leg is enough to blind you for other pains and aches. And I want to do my due diligence here.”

Metal nodded and lifted the chest-plate aside, before he tugged his shirt out from under the belt.

“Any abdominal pain?” Trent asked as he looked over Metal’s now exposed skin.

Metal shook his head.

Trent nodded and placed his hands on Metal’s stomach, checking if his abdomen felt cold, clammy or distended. “Let me know if this hurt.”

“Only my leg’s hurting.”

Trent pressed his lips hard together, he had known the man on the ground for long enough to not trust him entirely when he said nothing else hurt. “Any chest pain, shortness of breath?”

Metal shook his head.

“Shoulder pain?”

Metal shook his head.

“Dizziness or feeling faint?”

“I was hoping to pass out when that leg moved.” Metal shrugged a little, “No such luck.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.” Trent shrugged as he finished up checking Metal’s abdomen, “Gotta check your chest as well.”

Metal frowned a bit, but it didn’t look like it was from the pain this time around.

“What?”

“Full disclosure?” Metal scrounged up his nose, “I bruised a couple ribs on my right side a couple of weeks ago. Still pretty colorful.”

Trent raised his eyebrows a fraction in disbelief, “Alright, let’s see them.”

Metal sighed, and lifted his shirt further, “Only stings when there’s pressure on it. So… You don’t have to press down right there.”

Trent rolled his eyes once he had studied the old mottled bruising. “Sure you only bruised it?”

Metal shrugged a little.

“Metal, what happened there?”

“Fell off my sister’s roof.” He sighed, “Was helping them put new tiles on the roof. Lost my footing.”

“You talked about going to do that almost two months back…” Trent frowned, “When did you say you did this?”

Metal didn’t answer straight away, it was obvious that he didn’t want to answer.

“Metal…”

“It happened that weekend.” He finally admitted.

“So this bruise is almost two months old.” Trent scowled, “Which means you probably broke a couple of ribs, not just bruised them…”

Metal swallowed.

“Which means you probably shouldn’t have been on this mission in the first place, but you CERTAINLY shouldn’t have been on the last ten spin-ups.” Trent scowled down at the man, as he put slight pressure directly on the old bruise.

“Hey, I said don’t do that!” Metal frowned and swatted Trent’s hand away from the bruise, “Already told you that stings.”

“Yeah. And I’m trying to imply some negative association with hiding injuries from the team!” Trent huffed, then he took a deep breath to collect himself, “Alright, sorry… I shouldn’t be doing that. -But you should know better.”

Metal shrugged a bit, “Didn’t slow me down.”

“You know how tempting it is to press down on that bruise?” Trent shot Metal a look.

“Copy that.” Metal nodded.

“Now, does it hurt when I press down other places here?”

Metal shook his head.

“Alright, looks like you avoided any internal injuries to your chest and torso.” He nodded, “I’m going to check on that every now and then until we’ve sent you with the medevac team.”

Metal nodded a little. “How are we gonna do this?”

“We need to stabilize your leg first.” Trent informed.

“No. Medevac.” He grimaced, “We’re 30 clicks inside a country we’re not supposed to be operating in. They won’t send a helicopter for me, will they?”

Jason shook his head, “No. Since it’s not life threatening at the moment, so they won’t.”

Metal grimaced, his left hand pressed against his left hip, like it would help stabilize the leg further down.

“Orders are to get you on a stretcher and head for the border. Mission is stalled until further notice.”

Metal nodded a bit, his face still overtaken by grimaces every now and then.

“What do you think boys?” Trent swallowed hard, “Splint the bad leg against the good one, minimize movement as best as we can.”

“Good. My knee is Jell-o…” Metal sighed, “Painful Jell-o…”

“Sure has the structural integrity of it…” Sonny admitted, letting out a short profanity when Ray’s elbow connected with his ribs.

“No need to punish the guy Ray.” Metal gritted out, “I know how bad this is.”

* * *

Clay almost felt faint himself as the helped Trent move Full Metal’s leg back into position.

In his hands it felt like he was holding something which had just been attempted being put back together with Elmer’s glue, long before the glue had set.

There was no resistance at all.

But the worst was the small whimpers rolling off of Full Metal after the initial scream died down.

He’d seen the older man cuss. He’d seen the man yelp, like once. He’d never seen the unbreakable Full Metal so broken down. Never seen him so frail.

“I’m so sorry…” he said it, but he doubted Full Metal even heard him.

“Still a strong pulse.” Trent informed once Metal’s leg was more straightened out. Then he started securing Metal’s legs against each other, using parachute canopy as padding between Metal’s legs and as the ribbons to tie his legs against each other.

Not long after they had managed to roll Metal onto the tactical stretcher Brock had assembled for them, and secured him to it properly.

Full Metal had paled even more after the jostling.

“Still a good pulse.” Trent assured as he checked Metal’s pulse once again, “Does it hurt when I check?”

“Hurts all the time.” Full Metal bit out, “Don’t really notice you fondling my foot.”

“No?”

Metal shook his head a bit.

“You don’t feel me touching your foot at all?”

“You could sucker-punch me straight in the nose right now, and I wouldn’t notice it because of how bad my leg hurts.”

“Okay…” Trent frowned, not exactly believing Metal’s explanation. It wasn’t exactly like he didn’t have first hand experience with nerve damage, “You need more pain relief?”

“I need some pain relief.” Metal nodded, “Couldn’t sit up. Couldn’t reach the personal med kit. Haven’t had any.”

“We should probably do something about that before we start carrying ya…” Sonny frowned, “Why didn’t ya say something?”

Metal shrugged a bit, “Was a bit distracted.”

* * *

The 30 kilometer trek with Full Metal on a stretcher took a bit longer than any of them had hoped for. 30 clicks with a man on a stretcher should be entirely possible to accomplish in one day, if the terrain had been a little bit easier than what they actually met.

About 22 kilometers in, the sun had dipped below the horizon, the team had pushed on for a few more clicks with night vision goggles in place, but eventually had to get some rest.

So they hunkered down for the night.

* * *

He laid there listening to the snores of the rest of the team. He was in too much pain to fall asleep.

Instead he ended up laying there, listening and looking up at the black nothingness above him. The only thing he saw up there was the full moon.

He knew the stars would be out as well, but he didn’t see them. He’d experienced this before. He knew morphine could mess up his night vision.

He listened. He could point out each team-member’s distinct sleeping sounds.

Jason had the most standard snores, but only every third or fourth inhale.

Ray had soft snores, constant. Like a comforting ‘I’m still here’ message to whoever was close.

Trent had this funny whistle-like sound on his exhales. He didn’t snore, not even when he laid on his back. But his exhales sounded like someone who didn’t know how to whistle attempting to whistle.

Clay hummed a bit every now and then. Kinda like sleep talking, but not talking.

Sonny’s wood-mill snoring was missing though. Either the man had found the one position which kept him from snoring, or he had stopped breathing. -Or he was still awake.

“Sonny?” he whispered, angling his head in the direction he thought the Texan would be in.

“Yup…” Sonny whispered back, “Cant’s sleep?”

“Nah, hurts too bad.” He had no problem admitting that, the rest of the guys had seen his leg. He probably wouldn’t have cared if it was daylight and Sonny had been able to see the wet trails leading from his eyes and back to his ears. There was no need to hide the pain. “You?”

“Thinking too much…”

“About what?”

“Previous missions. This mission. Home. Family.” Sonny listed up, “Both this family and blood relatives.”

“What kind of missions?”

“Where any of us got hurt beyond the regular nicks and scrapes.” He heard Sonny shrug, “This is the BEST job ever. But it’s also the worst job ever.”

Full Metal nodded a little bit to that. He agreed. No matter how much pain it had caused him throughout the years, it had all been worth it.

“Well, I don’t think society see you and I as fit for anything else.” He smirked half a second before a sinking feeling appeared in his gut. What if this was the end of his career?

Sonny huffed a laugh, “Words of wisdom there, my friend.”

He pushed the unwelcomed doubt away. “Yeah. Just imagine the two of us in any other profession.”

“What would that even be like?” Sonny mused, “I can’t really imagine either of us with an ‘Apple pie life’ and a 9-5…”

Metal nodded, “True. I don’t think I even had a fallback plan when I joined.”

“I didn’t.” Sonny admitted.

“I really don’t know what I’d do if I’m done for…”

Sonny moved a bit to his left, Metal guessed that the man got up on his elbow, “I hope that’s a work related question and not a ‘I might suck-start a pistol’ kind of statement.”

“Relax. It’s just me being worried about the future.” Metal almost smiled, “I’ve got stuff to live for outside of these missions as well. Got three great kids I’m the uncle to, and believe it or not, I’ve got friends as well.”

“Good.” Sonny’s voice was a bit more relaxed, “I’m not ready for another funeral this decade.”

Metal smirked, “You know, the decade has barely started.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Sonny whispered back, “I’m never ready for another funeral.”

Metal nodded, “Yeah, me neither.”

“So, fallback plan? What would that be like now?” Sonny asked as he laid back down.

“You mean, if I don’t heal well enough?”

“Yup…” Sonny drawled, “I better start window-shopping fallback plans in case I ever need one.”

“Not sure.” Metal sighed, “Always figured I’d die in combat.”

“That’s what we all think…”

“Not all of us…” Metal shook his head, “I know for a fact that we’ve got at least three members of our team who’s picturing rocking chairs for their retirement.”

Sonny chuckled a bit next to him, “Yeah, okay… But we’re a different breed. They started families. They had fallback plans for their fallback plans.”

“Probably did.” Metal smirked, before he did an involuntary sharp inhale as something in his leg decided to amp up the hurting.

“You good there?”

“No.” he admitted, “But nothing new. Guess I had a muscle twitch or something.”

“Sucks, huh?”

“This whole day has sucked.” Metal sighed, “Ever since we jumped out of that airplane, this day has sucked.”

“Sure has. Gonna be good to get you in that medevac chopper or whatever they send for us tomorrow.”

“I hope it’s a chopper.”

“Yeah?”

“Imagine being transported in the back of a vehicle on the bumpy roads this area is known for…”

“Aiii, that’s nightmare fuel…” Sonny winced in sympathy.

“Yeah.”

“About the afterlife… I always figured I’d travel back to Texas if I needed to… Help out around the farm.” Sonny sighed, “I somehow worked it all out with my dad, last time I was there. But… I’m never guaranteed that I’d be in a condition to actually help if I got injured…”

Metal nodded, “I won’t be able to help my parents either.”

“Yeah, what do they do?”

“Well, both are retired now. Dad still takes on a few smaller construction gigs every now and then. Mom is the designated babysitter for my sister. Nothing I’m up for at the moment. Probably won’t be up for it again either, if I don’t heal well enough to get back in the field.”

“Well, I’ve met your nephews and your niece…” Sonny started, “And I can see how you wouldn’t keep up with them if you weren’t cleared for active duty first, but I do think you’d be up for helping your dad out with light-duty stuff after your leg recovers.”

Metal shrugged, “As much as this hurts right now… I can’t imagine it…”

“Well, I believe in ya…” Sonny drawled next to him, “If anyone’s strong enough to make it back after that accident right there, it’s you.”

Metal swallowed hard, “Thanks bud…”

They ended up chatting about all and nothing for a good while. Both knowing it probably was comforting for the other one to just be able to talk quietly into the night. At least until Sonny fell asleep.

* * *

The last few clicks went okay enough. The terrain had taken a turn for the more challenging, but nothing they couldn’t handle.

They needed almost six hours for the last five clicks, but with the rough and steep terrain, and the fact that they had to carry Full Metal for the second day in a row, the pace they kept was a good one.

* * *

“See you back home, brother…” Trent winked Metal before he turned his attention to the medics who would take care of him until they got to a hospital, “Take good care of him, alright?”

The medic closest to him, the one who looked like he was all of 14 years old, nodded. “WILCO!”

A/N: Guess I pulled out the big guns both in word count and in the ‘how bad is this situation’-area. @whumptober2020 and everyone else: How would you rate this whump on a scale from 1 to 10? What do ya think?

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taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years

Text

Love Me Less

A/n: This was up on Patreon a week before I posted it here, I release fics around a week early over there and have some Patreon exclusive drabbles, fanart, so feel free to check it out at my Patreon. Commissions are also always open. I’m going to be doing profiles and such for characters here too, so stay tuned!

Summary: Jimin is an undercover cop, and you know he’s lying to you. But he’s trapped in a huge mess, and he doesn’t want you in the crossfire. Multifandom Mafia AU (BTS, EXO, Got7)

Warnings: Some violence, mention of drug use, angst

Word Count: 2892

Jimin winces when the door shuts too loudly, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re sitting at the kitchen table and there’s a bag packed by your feet and his heart sinks to his toes. Suddenly he’s so tired he can barely hold his head up, and you’re looking at him warily and he can’t help thinking about how this all started.

Jimin couldn’t help but notice you bartending at this little place near the freeway, a dive bar called the Dirty Dozen and owned by Min Yoongi, who was well known for playing all sides of the game, letting certain gangs drink free depending on who owned the area that month. He’d been trying to blend in, trying to be just another thug ordering soju from you, but he couldn’t help catching your eyes when you brought him a drink in these little cut off shorts, asking you about the tattoo on the long line of your thigh.

It’s second nature, flirting with a bartender, especially one that looks like you, and your easy smile made the two years he’d already been undercover seem just a little bit lighter. It’s fun and casual and easy, and he tells himself it’s just for intel, buying you soju so that your tongue gets looser, maybe you’ll slip out something about Kim Yugyeom since he was always hanging around you at the bar.

A month later, he has a drawer at your apartment and he’s spending four nights a week there, barely making it out of the house to meet with Namjoon and Hoseok because he just can’t stop kissing your upturned mouth.

Hoseok gives him a wary look the sixth time he shows up with your nude lipstick on his collar, and throws a few pictures on the interrogation table. Jimin only glances at them, sees they’re mostly of you with those long thighs draped over his lap at the bar, and looks up at Hoseok expectantly.

“What? You gonna tell me you never got some strange while undercover?”

Hoseok shrugs, sits down across from him, slumped in the chair a bit, legs spread wide.

“Sure. But that’s not what this is, and we both know it.”

Jimin leans back in his chair, smirking a little, putting his hands behind his head. He hasn’t even seen Jung in a couple of months, not since he’d given him the poke and stick “Nevermind” across his ribs, telling him if he’d be telling people that he’d done time, no one would ever believe he got away without a mark.

“It’s not? You know something I don’t?”

“I know you’re spending an awful lot of time at her place.”

Jimin shrugs. “That Yugyeom kid from the Im gang is sweet on her. Sometimes he tells her stuff.”

“Yeah? You think he’ll keep doing that after you threw him up against the bar wall last night?” Hoseok says, deadpan, and Jimin laughs a bit.

“What can I say? I’ve always been a bit territorial.”

“Just tell me you aren’t getting too deep, Jiminie,” Hoseok says, softly, and Jimin loses his smile, sighs and places his forearms on the table.

“Maybe I am. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell, Seok. At first it was just a pretty smile and long legs and intel, but now… I’ve been in this what? 18 months now? It’s easy enough to believe a street kid from Busan chose a different path. Hell, sometimes I believe it myself.”

Namjoon comes in, then, with a huge file, and Hoseok groans.

“Fun’s over. Christ, look at that paperwork.”

“It’s good news,” Namjoon promises, throwing it down on the table with a thud. He looks as if he’d had one too many late nights, his white button up wrinkled and stained with coffee, hair mussed and too long at the collar.

"Good news?" Hoseok looks skeptical.

Namjoon slides a photograph out of the file and flashes them at Jimin.

"This is your girl, yeah?"

Jimin stiffens a bit. It's you, all right, piggybacking on this muscle pig's back, he'd recognize those legs anywhere.

He nods. "Who's the beefcake?"

"Lee Hoseok. He was high up in Hyunwoo's crew until he went ghost a couple of months ago. Everyone thought he was dead along with Hyunwoo, but turns out both of them have been in lock up over in Daegu. Turned themselves in, been ratting out all their friends for weeks. We just got the file."

Jimin groans. "So you're telling me the crew I've been trying to bust for a fucking year and a half just rolled over? Just like that?"

"Just like that," Namjoon agrees, but he's rifling in the file again and Jimin knows there's more.

He slides a photograph across the table to Jimin.

Jimin looks it over curiously. The guy is tall, lean but his suit is expertly tailored and there are muscles there, for sure. His first undercover stint had been in an underground fight club and he hadn't broken the habit of sizing people up. Probably not too strong, but fast, likely, well balanced. His hands look manicured so he probably didn't get his hands dirty, and that suit…

"New player? Family ties, I'd guess?"

Namjoon nods. "Good eye. He's Kim Junmyeon's cousin, and mostly we'd dismissed him because he stays quiet, to himself. Lately he's been seen with Do and Zhang, though, and the rumor is that he's up to take over for Kim."

"He looks young," Jimin muses. He's handsome, full mouth, charming smile.

"He's only a few years older than you. We'd expected Minseok for next in line but he's been in the spotlight so much, been arrested five times this year. This kid... Jongin... he's clean. No record at all."

Jimin throws the photograph down on the table. "What's this got to do with me?"

"Turns out he drinks at your girl's bar. Not only that, Min says he tips double when she serves him."

Jimin frowns. "Min's giving intel again?"

Hoseok snorts. "Yoongi would sell out his own mother for a few thousand won."

Namjoon nods, his eyes going wide and bright like he gets when he's chasing something.

"Your girl has all the connects. She used to live with this Lee Hoseok and now someone from Im's crew and Jongin have the hots for her? You've gotta stick with her."

"She's popular," Hoseok grins, and Jimin wants to punch him in his perfect teeth.

"So you brought me in to tell me to use my girlfriend for intel?"

"Oh, she's your girlfriend now?" Hoseok teases, but Jimin ignores him.

"She's got ties to three of the major players in Seoul, Jimin. You know how to pick em."

Jimin leaves soon after, popping the collar of his leather jacket against the wind. He's pissed off, having them tell him to stay with you as if he'd ever had any intention of leaving.

Hoseok was right. He'd been in over his head since the moment you'd smiled at him and now that he knew you lived and worked in a snake's den, it made panic claw up his throat to think that he couldn't protect you.

First, Kim Yugyeom with his predator's eyes and wolf's smile and now the fucking future head of the Kim crew?

Jaebeom and Hyunwoo were small potatoes compared to Kim, dabbling in carjacking and marijuana mostly.

Kim had his fingers in all the pies, heroin and cocaine smuggling, black market guns, whores, every crime you could think of, they were committing...and most of them got away clean.

Only a couple of them even had records and it was for petty shit like battery or simple assault.

Jimin would have stayed with you anyway because of the way he felt waking up with your long leg looped over his hip, the way you'd grumble and tuck your face into his neck in the mornings.

But now? He had to make sure you were safe, no matter what that meant for him.

It's less than a month later when everything falls apart for Jimin, and he can't tell you a single word of it.

Jimin manages to track this low level crew boss, a foreign kid, not even 21, goes by Lucas to an opium den.

He catches him outside the abandoned building, has the arrest warrant based on pictures and intel already. There's no one in the alley so Jimin cuffs him on the spot as he whines in protest. Then he hears a familiar verse and drops the kid on the ground, cursing.

"Well well well," Yugyeom drawls. "Park Jimin the piglet. I can't fucking believe it."

"Don't fucking try me, Kim. I could bust you right now."

"Bet you won't. Bet you won't want that pretty little thing of yours knowing how clean you really are, yeah? She wouldn't like you as much."

Yugyeom is grinning, eyes glassy from alcohol or weed or god knows what and he's getting closer to Jimin.

"Don't-" Jimin warns, already instinctively spreading his legs, in a fighting stance while barely realizing it.

"Baby likes it dirty," Yugyeom continues. "She likes to slum it, I should know."

Jimin's hands are itching to clock him, right on the chin because Yugyeom isn't protecting himself at all, too drunk or stupid to block, but he waits for him to get closer.

Yugyeom is tall and lean, has a higher center of gravity and the closer he gets the better, and they always do, the tall ones, think because they tower over Jimin they have the advantage.

But they're easy, always go high, swing wide without protecting their middle and when Yugyeom swings, Jimin ducks and punches him in the gut, a sharp jab that takes the younger man's breath.

While he's gasping for air, doubled over, Jimin grabs him, swings him around and puts a knee in his lower back, taking him to the ground easily.

Yugyeom is still laughing and Jimin presses down on the back of his neck, grinding his face into the gravel.

Lucas is staring wide eyed at them, having turned over on his side, but Jimin ignores him.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" Jimin growls, and Yugyeom's snorts, blood spurting from his nose when Jimin presses down harder.

"Now I get to do whatever I want. You can't fucking touch me."

Jimin's heart sinks and he hauls them both into the station but of course, Yugyeom is right, he sings like a canary and now he's an informant and Jimin can't touch him with a ten foot pole.

Now instead of shoving him into the bar wall for palming your ass when he slips a tip into your back pocket, Jimin has to grit his teeth and ignore it.

Jimin buys a ring after nine months, keeps it in a sock in his underwear drawer because he can't get down on one knee when he's lying to you.

He starts to drink more than he should, stays out too late because he can't bear to come home and lie to you about where he's been.

The third or fourth night he gets home and you're already asleep, you wake when he plops down clumsily on the bed, turning over and trailing your hand across his chest.

"Baby," you murmur. "What's wrong?"

There's something stuck in his throat, all the secrets he's been keeping from you and he snakes an arm around you, squeezing you tight.

He can't bear to say "nothing" because that'd just be another lie so he tugs you on top of him and kisses you silent.

When he's got you flipped onto your back, buried inside you, he says the one thing he can, the one truth he can tell you, over and over.

"I love you, jagi. You know I love you, yeah?"

But of course, love isn't enough.

He ends up here anyway, with you looking at him with hollow, wary eyes.

"Jagi-" he starts, but you cut him off.

"Is there someone else?" You ask, your voice low and shaking.

Jimin scoffs. He's barely noticed other women even exist since you'd come into his life, but when he puts himself in your shoes, he supposes it isn't a far stretch.

"Not since the moment you smiled at me, jagi," he says earnestly, and your face softens.

"Then what is it? What's going on?"

You stand up, come around the table to wrap your arms around his waist and Jimin wants so badly to tell you everything, to pour out all the secrets that burn like acid in his throat.

"You're leaving me," is all he can choke out, his voice hoarse, and you sigh and rest your forehead against his chest.

"I don't want to," you admit, locking your hands at his back.

"Then don't. Jagi. Y/n. Please don't."

You shake your head against his chest and Jimin's heart cracks right down the middle when you look up at him, tears standing in your eyes.

"All you have to do is tell me the truth."

His throat works and you sniffle.

"Jiminie...please. I don't care what it is. We'll work it out just...just tell me."

He feels tears rolling down his face and he doesn't bother to stop them.

"Please," he pleads, and you release him, put a hand on your suitcase and Jimin wants to rip it from you, throw it across the room but all he can do is stand there and watch you, a sob catching in his chest.

He can't watch you leave, stands with his back to you, and when he hears the door close behind you, quiet and anticlimatic, something inhuman rips from his chest and he grabs onto the back of the dining room chair when his knees give out.

Jimin lets himself wallow, turning off his phone so that he doesn't call to beg you to come home, crying into your pillow because it smells like your shampoo, going only as far as the corner store to replenish the soju he replaces all his meals with.

It's Hoseok that finally nearly breaks down his door and Jimin stumbles to the door and jerks him inside, rubbing at the stubble on his chin and blinking at him blearily.

Hoseok looks around at the bottles of soju littering the table and Jimin gives him a look.

"Don't, Jung."

Jimin expects him to berate him, tell him he was stupid for falling in love and losing all their intel, but he doesn't.

Hoseok just puts a hand on his shoulder, pulls him into a hug, and Jimin can't stop the tears that are always so close to the surface.

After Jimin is sniffling instead of sobbing and Hoseok has gathered all the bottles to throw in the garbage, he sits down at the kitchen table.

"Jimin...I came to tell you something."

"Fuck," Jimin mumbles, rubbing a hand across his face and taking a long sip of the glass of water Hoseok had brought him.

Hoseok nods. "Jongin is spending four nights a week at the Dirty Dozen."

"Let me guess," Jimin says tiredly. "Only the nights Y/n works."

"Bingo. Joon has been going in your absence, he's gotten close to the other bartender. Y/n is living with her and Joon says…" Hoseok pauses and Jimin drops his forehead to the table.

"Just spit it out, Jung." He says miserably, keeping his head on the table.

"Joon says Y/n went home with Jongin a couple nights ago."

Jimin had been bracing himself for what his friend would say next but he hadn't been prepared for this, how it took the very breath from his lungs.

"No," he wheezes through the pinhole that has become his throat. "No, he's wrong, it's only been a couple of days, she wouldn't-"

"You've been mia over two weeks, Jimin," Hoseok says softly.

Jimin gasps in a breath, lifts his head.

"We've got an unmarked car following her. We'll watch out for her, you don't have to-"

Jimin barks out a bitter laugh. "Shut up. Just shut up, Seok. Of course I do."

Hoseok sighs and nods. "I told Joon you'd say that. Word of advice?'

Jimin looks at him.

"Shower first."

So Jimin ends up right back where he started, sitting at a table at the back of The Dirty Dozen breathing in the fog of tobacco smoke and the errant joint, watching you walk toward him with a bottle of soju and a shot glass.

"Hey," he says dumbly, and you give him a ghost of your easy smile that makes his heart skip.

"Hey, Jiminie. Long time no see."

You pout the shot and go to leave but Jimin takes your wrist.

"Ah, leave the bottle."

You frown at him, and he wants to tell you he has to stay a certain level of drunk so that he doesn't beg you to come home, break down when Jongin inevitably shows up and arrest him the second he smiles at you, to keep the steady ache in his chest just numb enough.

You leave the bottle, though, going back behind the bar, and sure enough, Jongin has already slipped in while Jimin was distracted, leaning across the bar with a big smile.

Jimin takes in a shaky breath and downs the shot, thinking he had a lot of long nights ahead of him.

#jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #park jimin #jimin imagine #bts mafia au #undercover detective Jimin #kim namjoon #jung hoseok #kim jongin #exo mafia au #monsta x mafia au #got7 mafia au

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11thstreetgirl · 4 years

Text

Neon lights

Scene: Deserted gas station at 2am (Nasty x reader)

Requested by: @thespacecowboyyy

AN: hah this turned out weird and pretty shitty lol ~

- Fucking shit motherfucker…

I was pulled from my thoughts by the driver’s harsh words. I was dozing off at the front seat of the bus after staring at the empty road for what must have been hours. It calmed me down after a busy day like today, and even if I wanted to sleep there was no chance: Razzle’s snoring kept me awake once again.

- What is it? I muttered, straightening up in my seat. My back cracked as I reached my hands overhead to stretch. This tour life and mostly the endless sitting in a bus was starting to get the best of me.

- We’re almost out of gas.

Great. Just splendid. Nothing but empty road for miles. I wanted to strangle the man for not filling the tank before we started the overnight drive to the next city, but what good would it do? I glanced the clock on the dashboard – almost 2 am.

We drove in silence. The driver hummed quietly, he had turned off the radio so the guys could get some sleep. The show’s afterparty had been cut short as we needed to get to the next city by noon. To be honest I was glad we got out of there that fast, I was happy to be somewhere quiet with just the band, the crew and the driver. When the guys had asked me to come along to the tour as the merch seller I didn’t know what kind of circus I was getting myself into. Of course I knew they partied hard, I’d been their friend for years, but this was something else. They were like little kids on a field trip across America. Far away from home and carefree. I was glad they trusted me this much, but more often than not I ended up being their babysitter. I was starting to think that was another reason for them to ask me to come.

The band was asleep, each and every one. They smelled like booze, weed and perfume, they were snoring and talking in their sleep, they definitely were like little kids. The sight warmed my heart. Above all, I felt privileged to be here with them. They were batshit crazy but also the most lovable, friendly people ever. If they accepted you as a part of their gang they loved and protected you with all their might. Michael had been giving me some singing lessons and Sami was always telling me the little tidbits of did-you-know-information he’d read somewhere. Andy with his stories and nobody knew if they were true or not. Razzle being the die-hard prankster always trying to make me laugh. And Nasty… Nasty trying to teach me how to play guitar. Nasty always offering a swing from his beer, Nasty sneaking his way close to me just to start a nonchalant conversation that usually led to us talking all night.

But there was something about Nasty that I quite couldn’t put my finger on. He was both quiet and outgoing at the same time and even after all these years I’d known him I didn’t quite get the man. And being on tour just made the contrast higher. Lately he’d become more quiet around me as if he was trying to avoid me. We no longer had the deep, hours-long conversations we used to have and it hurt. He was after all the first one I became friends with. Every time he turned his back to me stung like hell. I missed him, there was a strange ache in my chest when he wasn’t around.

Suddenly there were lights on the roadside. As we got closer we realized that it was a gas station in all it’s glory. But as we got next to it and the bus slowed down to a stop it became pretty clear it wasn’t up for business. There were no lights inside the shop, just the lonely glow of green and yellow neon signs stating that there at least had been gas for sale. It was eerie to say the least.

- Why are we stopping? Nasty’s tired voice spoke behind me.

Speak of the devil.

- We’re running out of gas, I answered blatantly. The darkness outside was all-consuming and as the driver killed the engine it got perfectly quiet. All we could see was the road as far as the headlights lit it and the dim, greenish glow of old neon lights from the station. Nasty yawned and leaned his elbow on the back of my seat.

- That’s definitely deserted. No way there’s anyone out here, I stated as I observed the scene. A couple of cars drove past, then quiet again. Just Razzle’s snoring and Sami’s sleepy mumbling filled the air.

- It wont hurt to go and check, just to be sure, Nasty mused.

- Nasse look at it! It’s empty! I was tired and frustrated.

- We’re seriously not gonna get far with what we have left, so I think we really need to check, the driver said quietly with an apologetic hint in his voice. Damn right he should be sorry.

- You two go, I’ll stay here and try to stop a car if one comes by.

I shot the man a questioning look. He gotta be kidding me. Irritation was building up inside me by the minute. What a train wreck.

- Go on, we don’t have all night.

Nasty flashed me a grin as I groaned. It probably was cold outside, it sure was dark, and god knows what kind of predators the bushes hid. Coyotes and mountain lions, weren’t those the creatures around here?

Nasty opened the door and poked his head outside. A cold wind blew his hair around and made goosebumps rise to my skin. A fleeting thought to get something to protect us, like maybe a baseball bat, ran through my head but before I could say anything Nasty was already outside. I followed him suit. The distances seemed a lot longer out here in the dark and it didn’t take many steps to be out of the reach of the bus’s lights. No way I was going to let Nasty get far away. Determinedly he walked over to the gas pumps and took one in his hand. Just like I expected, no gas came out no matter how he held it or how hard he pulled the handle. He even kicked the machine and cursed under his breath. I just stood there watching because I knew it was no use. After poking the buttons a while and trying another pump he gave up.

- Doesn’t seem to work, he muttered. I kept all ”I told you so”s to myself. We stood there quietly. It really was cold, I hugged myself to keep warmer. Nasty seemed deep in thought. There was no sound anywhere, not a single car in sight, just the wind blowing in the bushes behind the station.

- We should check the the store just to be sure. Who knows, maybe there’s something useful inside, Nasty spoke more to himself than to me.

- Why do you think the door’s open?

- Well maybe not the front door but let’s try the back door! He looked at me with mischief in his eyes. Things were getting illegal fast there was no doubt about that.

- You gotta be kidding me.

- Oh come on, let’s have some fun while were here!

I rolled my eyes. There was no way stopping him, so I just followed him across the station. Just as I reached him a strong gust of freezing wind blew across the concrete yard. I visibly shivered.

- Here, wanna take my jacket? He offered and before I could say anything he took it off and handed to me.

- Aren’t you cold? I tried not to let my eyes linger on his bare arms for too long as I pulled the garment on. It smelled like Nasty and it made me feel strangely better. Like I was safe.

- Nah, I still have alcohol in my system.

Well of course. We walked around the corner to the other side of the building. The glow from the neon lights dimmed and it got almost dark before we got to the back door. It was lit by a single flickering light bulb that cast ominous shadows everywhere. Nasty tried the door but it was locked.

- I told ya, of course it’s not open.

Nasty tried to yank the door again just to be sure. He looked otherworldly under the bright light as he turned towards me.

- Like that has stopped me before…

- You’re not seriously going to break in are you?

- I sure am. Let’s just check if there’s anything useful! Besides, you said it yourself: it’s probably deserted. Come on, don’t be such a pussy.

I just huffed in response. Fine, if he wanted to go in to the deserted gas station that was likely haunted and/or had a murderous coyote living in it he could go by himself. I’d just wait right here.

It didn’t take long for him to get the door open with a bobby pin he had in his pocket. As much as I knew not to be surprised by anything at this point it still took me by surprise.

- Where the hell did you learn that?

- Try living on the streets for a while… he just grinned at me and sneaked inside. He disappeared into the darkness and I was all alone in the cold. I stared at the door, snuggled deeper into the Nasty-smelling jacket and listened to his footsteps echoing from inside. The quiet would’ve been soothing if only it had been completely quiet. But of course not, there just had to be something rustling in the bushes right outside the light’s reach. I changed my mind about waiting outside pretty damn fast.

At first it was impossible to see. I fumbled my way out of the small backroom into the store. The neon lights outside cast a beautiful light inside. It was plenty to see as soon as my eyes got used to the dark. Nasty was rummaging through the shelves just a few meters away, humming to himself. My heart was pounding loud and fast in my ears. I had never done anything like this before. To break into a gas station? I must be out of my mind. Nasty on the other hand didn’t seem to mind at all.

- Oh you came! I already checked the cashier – nothing there. And you were right, this place is empty. All that’s left is some canned stuff from almost ten years ago. Funny how this place hasn’t been robbed before, he kept talking and almost waltzing between the shelves.

I stood there for a moment. Every little sound made me jump so I tried to move as close to Nasty as possible. I admired the light filtering through the window, making everything seem like time couldn’t touch it. Nasty’s carefree figure danced against the light. He seemed like he belonged here, in this timeless spot, with the green painting unfamiliar shadows on his face.

It would’ve been almost romantic if I hadn’t been so scared. I took a step closer to Nasty just so that if the murderous coyote snapped onto my leg and tried to drag me into it’s den, I’d drag him with me. Suddenly he turned around right in front of me.

- Romantic huh? he grinned at me. Bloody hell was he a psychic, reading my thoughts like that? He just stood there, the grin on his face melting away. Slowly he reached for my hand. I just stared at him with my eyes wide. No coherent words were forming in my mind. The light seemed to be whispering something into my ear but I couldn’t make out the words, just a buzz.

I think Nasty heard the same alluring buzz because he moved closer. And closer and closer until all I could see was his eyes staring at me behind his hair and his lips way too close to mine. A strained sound that didn’t even sound like it came from me escaped my throat. It brought me back to reality just enough.

- Nasse what are you doing? I finally got out of my mouth. It came out more sharply than I intended. He looked startled. He leaned back and melted into the most heart-breaking puppy dog eyes I had ever seen. I wanted to say I’m sorry but he spoke first.

- It’s just that… I like you a lot. And I thought you liked me too. He turned his face downward in defeat and let got of my hand.

- Nasty I do like you, but…

- But not like that right?

- No, no I just, I just thought you suddenly hated me or something, always sneaking away from me and everything.

- I was just confused by what I was feeling. We’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin it.

I took his hands into mine. I felt soft inside. This little moment in this timeless space made everything so much clearer, so much more simple.

- You can’t ruin this no matter what, I whispered.

He leaned closer and this time I didn’t try to back away. My heart was pounding in my ears so loud as he leaned towards, I closed my eyes and felt my heart skip multiple beats as the seconds seemed to last forever before….

TOOOOOT!

The sound of the bus horn startled us both. I jumped and hit my forehead to Nasty’s.

- Fuck!

- Come back here! the voice of the busdriver ran through the air just loud enough to hear. Nasty burst out laughing.

- We better get back.

- But… I was confused and a little hurt. Of course the moment had to be ruined.

- But what? Come on, let’s go!

He was like nothing happened. He avoided my eyes. His voice was stern and his movements sharp as he took a few items from the shelves and walked towards the door. He didn’t look at me, he didn’t say anything, he didn’t even hold the door for me. I felt hollow.

Nasty almost ran back to the bus. I tried to keep up with him but gave up and just watched as he hurried under the neon lights. They painted his hair with a green glow and made his skin look even paler than usual. The darkness around felt like it was creeping in on me. I pulled the jacket tighter around me. It smelled like home.

#ha ha what a shitty little thing i wrote #nasty suicide #fanfiction

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spartan-ghost-m-k · 4 years

Text

Across Dimensions part two:

Awakening:

Ghost POV:

I groan as my biotic implant feels like it bounced around my head. The air is cool against my face.

My vision returning too me as I see Phoenix sit up as well. "It appears that we are not dead, just... misplaced." I say massaging my temple to try and relive my headache.

I look around seeing a thick jungle around us the air was thick and damp, the place looked beautiful, the sound of birds chirping and leaves rustling, then my ears picked up something else. Gunfire, I checked the HUD of my visor and found I only had my side arm (A/N:the pistol in the drawing I think it's the Carnifex hand cannon. please correct me if wrong.) and stand to my feet and walk over to Phoenix and help her to her feet. "You're right about that we are misplaced." She says surveying the area. "Were are we Ghost?"

"I don't know but we need to move, I hear gunfire." I go run in the direction of the firefight.

"Phe do you have a weapon?" she reaches for her back, nothing then reaches for her side to pull out her Predator pistol. "How many clips? I only have five."

"five, maybe we'll find more of our stuff on the way."

"Either that of more clips." I say as I put a barrier over my armour shield.

As we weave through the jungle into he direction of the noise I spot marines in a strange uniform and rather tall people and, or mechs in heavy armour and a brunette man in what looks like an officers uniform, they were under heavy fire from these strange machines some looked like the old style drones just glowing and sideways floating and some looked like skinny glowing FENRIS mechs and the other ones I had no idea what the hell they are.

"We need to help them." Phe motioned the her pistol and looked at me.

"We don't have enough clips." "We don't but we have an Omni-blade and we have biotics."

"sure... but we don't know them."

"We are members of the Alliance Military, It is OUR duty to help our fellow man, so let's go."

"Yes Lieutenant." She says as I sneak along the edge of the battle getting behind the strange robots.

Saying a silent prayer as I launch myself over a fallen tree firing at one of the dog-like ones, then another as Phoenix was next to the other marines firing at the other machines, creating a biotic sphere around her and the others as they look to her in mild fear, but quickly return to firing at the machines, I biotically charge at one of the larger ones and then used nova pouring the energy from my shields into it, as the larger one dissolved into a orang-yellow glowing dust. I then use stasis on a group of the dog-like ones and then throw.

A larger one appeared behind me about to bring it's blade down on me, as I quickly turned around activating my omni-blade and stabbing it in the side, at that the current battle came to an end with the strange marines finishing of the remaining forces, Phe waked to me looking exhausted from using biotics after what happened earlier on the Normandy, god knows what state our implants are in.

"Hey phe, you good?"

"Yeah, out of clips, a bit tiered and slight headache, but otherwise good." She says, as she looks o my nose. "Umm... Ghost your nose is... uh bleeding."

Surely enough I put my gloved hand to my nose to find the warm crimson liquid on my finger-tips. "Probably due to damage to my implant, either that or doing too many things at once again."

Our discussion was ended by the sound of guns being cocked and aimed at us, me and Phe immediately put a Barrier over ourselves and activated our omni-blades, I feel more blood slowly drip out my nose. A brunette woman stepped forwards *so not mechs, just really tall humans.* I thought.

She had a strange looking pistol at us. "What and who are you?" She demanded, her voice filled with authority.

We looked at the tall female confused. Phe spoke up. "Don't you know what biotics are?"

"No." The brunette says coldly. I start to fidget, those machines could come back anytime or worse, and yet they're questioning us out in the open.

"Ok I may be speaking out of turn, but do you really think this is the right location to play twenty questions? Those machines could come back and we are all unprepared." I say, the brunette goes to argue further but the man in the officer uniform stops her.

"Lieutenant Palmer enough, the lady is right." He says looking around at the other marines.

"We need to find somewhere to treat our wounded and try to re-establish sturdy communication with the Infinity." The brunet woman speaks up again. "We still don't know them and their armour is not standard UNSC or civilian wears and judging by the design definitely not spartan."

"I understand that Lieutenant." He turns to us with a dorky smile on his face.

"I'm commander Lasky and this is Lieutenant Palmer." He says to us as he motioned to the brunet woman.

"Nice to meet you commander, I'm Lieutenant Kaen, an my companion her is Lieutenant Panshura." I say briefly and professionally.

"But with all due respect, sir. This is hardly the place for introductions either." I say as I use my Omni-tool to scan the nearby area detecting a nearby structure.

"I have a location on somewhere That will be able to provide ample cover and a safe place to tend to the wounded, and hopefully you can re-establish communication with you ship." I say as me and Phoenix start to walk to the location I sent to her Omni-tool.

I look over my shoulder at them. "Feel free to stay there, or follow us. I ain't the one in charge of you."

After a few minuets of walking I check behind me to see the marines, Spartans, the Lieutenant and the Commander following behind. I lean to phe. "What do you recon about them?" I whisper to her.

"Lieutenant Palmer seems to have her guard held high with us, while Commander Lasky seems like the type of person who keeps an open mind." She whispered back.

I laugh slightly. "I mean the Commanders a bit of a dork though."

"Kinda reminds me how you are talking to the opposite sex normally." She retorts.

"Heh kinda like you talking in general."

"At least I can talk to people, without keeping it brief."

"At least I can keep it brief."

"Keep it brief huh?" She says smirking, as I flush a bright red.

"That's how I meant!" I yell embarrassed, whispering is out the window.

"See that's were keeping 'it brief' goes wrong, people tend to misinterpret thing."

"You know exactly what I meant!"

"Oh, do I now?" The conversation was interrupted by a short cough. we turn around to see an unimpressed Lasky. "How much did you hear?" I say meekly.

"Everything." He says looking at me. "So I'm a 'Dork' ey?"

"Nothing wrong with being a dork." Phe says with a shrug. Lasky gives her a 'really' look.

"Eh. I tried to save ya." She says patting my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it as an insult, but I guess that's up to the person's interpretation. I am sorry if I offended you." I say slowly sinking in on myself *I never apologise.* I notice Phe look at me mildly surprised. "wow. You've reached a whole knew level of dysfunctionality." She says sarcastically, laughing slightly.

I just start walking looking at the ground refusing to speak. "What do you mean by that?" I over hear Lasky asking Phe.

"Oh, she never apologises. You must've really made her unconfutable for her to apologize. Without argument." She says laughing slightly.

"Should I consider that an honour?" He says, I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Most people make her unconfutable, especially ones she finds cute." She says laughing slightly.

As I increase my walking speed. And I wasn't paying attention as I feel something tug my ankle as I fall forwards and down a slope, my helmets visor finally smashed cutting the ridge of my nose as I land with a thump. "I think there's a fucking slope!" I yell up minorly in pain, as I pull my helmet off. *No use now.*

"Hey! There's a slope, I think it's pretty steep." Phe says

"No shit Sherlock!" I yell up, as she takes a step and slips down.

She stops just besides me as I feel a sharp pain in my left shoulder. "Hey Phe, my shoulders outta place!" I see the others found a safer route down as they walk over to check on us. "You two ok?" Lasky asks.

"I think I fucked my ankle over, but I'll be able to walk." Phe responds.

Lasky looks to me. "And you?"

"Well, my helmets fucked and My shoulder is dislocated but I can deal with that..." I say looking down at my literally twisted ankle.

"I think I'll be fine... Just... Just need to... Uhhh... Walk it off. Yeah. Just gotta walk it off." I say painfully popping my shoulder into place with a sickening pop, I try to stand up but as I put pressure on my ankle I scream slightly and fall back down.

"I don't think your ankle is meant to face that way." Phe says looking slightly worried.

"I agree, the condition of your leg leaves you in no position to walk." He says taking a step towards me, helping me up and proceeding to attempt to loop my arm over his shoulder, but there was a major height difference also I can't walk without support so he took it upon himself to carry me bridal style. "W... What are you doing, I... I can walk..." I say getting gradually more and more embarrassed. Lasky looks down at me with a serous face.

"No you can't your ankle is facing the wrong way." "But..."

"Actually you would be surprised, she's walked on worse." Phoenix says, attempting to save me from further argument.

"Such as?" Lasky asked.

"Well, something fell on the lower half of her left leg and crushed below the knee, she voluntarily hoped for a full hours walk."

"She is not doing that, her ankle needs to rest and have no stress on it, at all." And he starts to walk.

"Stubborn bastard." I grumble under my breath.

"I heard that."

"I hope so." I say crossing my arms, looking away from him.

"And she's being a child, again."

"She does this often?"

"For someone as hard-ass as her, she's surprisingly immature."

"Heh, reminds me of some people I know."

"I'm going to the back." Phe says as she slows her walking pace and lags at the back.

"You didn't have to carry me." I say meekly.

"Well, you and Miss Panshura assisted us, and even though you did kind of insult me..."

"I said I was sorry."

"... You helped me and my men, so I'll help you." He says looking down at my smaller frame in his arms.

"Thank you... and... and I'm sorry for insulting you." I mumbled.

After halve an hour and a few altercations with the strange machines, and of Lasky carrying me walking we reached a very advanced looking structure buried in the forestry.

"Commander this is the structure I detected on my map, there's a clearing a bit further along you could try to secure as a landing zone." I informed him.

"Thank you for finding the location for us."

"It's standard protocol, if lost in a unknown location and if you have wounded find a safe structure of a defensible position and head there immediately."

"That makes sense. "

"Also Commander?"

"Yes?"

"Can you put me down now, I want to scan the structure, and maybe some of the plants, see if any have medicinal uses?"

"Sure but either me or another marine will accompany you. You still haven't explained what a Biotic is."

"I understand I guess we have plenty of time now for me and Phe to explain a biotic, but I also have the information on my Omni-tool." I say activating it and pulling up the files on Biotics.

After a few minuets of him reading the information he looks at me. "So it's like telekinesis?" He asked curiously.

"Kind of, it is hard to explain but it has a multitude of uses, but just believe this me and Phe are on your side." I say reassuringly.

"Hey, I'm convinced. I think that the Lieutenant will need more convincing that me." he says smiling slightly. I laugh slightly. "So Commander, You said that you would allow me to take scans of the architecture? May I?" I say keeping eye contact with the taller male. He thought for a few seconds. "Sure, but I did say with supervision, and since your leg is still the.. uh... way it is. I will accompany you." He says wrapping an arm around my waist to allow me to walk properly. I huff in mild annoyance. "I'm not a child you know."

He looks down at me from the corner of his eye as we were walking about the large space of the structure. "Well you sure do act like one." He says mildly amused.

I was about to say something in response but we stop by what looks to be a terminal. "Scan away, Little Biotic." He says almost teasingly.

"You do know I can make you have to cling to the ceiling right?" He gulps.

After a few moments going through the alien terminal, and learning about these Forerunners, and me and the Commander poking fun at each other.

We both hear the Lieutenant's voice ring through, Commander picking p movement outside the door." A few seconds of silence. "It's the Master Chief, sir."

"Affirmative Lieutenant." As he wraps his arm around my waist again. Escorting me back to the main area.

#this is cringey #i am sorry #captain lasky x oc #mass effect x halo #Across Dimensions

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 years

Text

Makeover fic. This is for my love @amethyst1993

---

Part 3

“If your name is Kenneth, then why do these bills on your table say Trent?” Ken lifted the long white envelope from his glass tabletop and he came closer to look at the name from over her shoulder before falling back.

“Sometimes I go by Trent. Sometimes I go by Kenneth. Depends how I’m feeling.”

“That's weird.” Ken dropped the envelope calling bullshit in her mind. Why he'd lie about his name was beyond her. She watched him remove his jacket draping it over the couch. He loosened his tie before sliding it off his neck and laying it over his jacket. He unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt and her hand rose when his shirt hung completely open. He'd already begun taking it off.

“Pause. I'm not having sex with you in the open out here like this.. and what about atmosphere? No candles? Flowers? Music? You're not gonna set the mood?”

“If you ain't in the mood by now baby.. all with all that wine you drank?” He pulled his shirt off and laid it over his tie. “Okay what's up. You were just with it in the restaurant. Did something happen? You must be thinking about your friend. He got in your head.”

“It's what I said it was. Learn to listen. You need to woo me or something, don't just take your clothes off like that's it..” Ken dropped on the couch confused and going back and forth in her mind. On the one hand she wanted to have sex and she was ready to do it asap. On the other hand, this was not what she imagined when she fantasized about the magical moment. There was nothing romantic about this setup. This was ghetto quickie sex and he hadn't even laid down a towel. The red stain on the carpet was all she could think about. As horny as she was, she knew she couldn't go through with it. She'd regret it.

“You want atmosphere?” Kenneth left the living room heading to a back room. He came back with incense and a burner along with some tea candles and lit them on a table. “Lil mama wants atmosphere, she'll get atmosphere.” When the candles were all lit, he swooped onto the floor to stare into her eyes and remove her heels, sliding his hands up her calves and under her dress to her thighs. Maybe, it might be okay, she told herself appreciating his new approach. This was something closer to what she'd imagined. He slid his hands over her thighs, gripping her panties and a small movement caused her to look up, catching one of the doors as it closed.

“Who's here,” she asked pushing his hands off of her and sitting up. Her eyes were still focused on the door and Kenneth rubbed his face in annoyance, his elbow rested on his knee as though she'd ruined the mood but she ain't care. She wanted to know what was going on. Standing, she walked back and tried the knob. It wouldn't open which made her more suspicious.

“Nope. I'm out,” she said grabbing her bag. Kenneth pulled it gently, holding a hand up to stop her. She waited, watching his back as he walked casually to the locked bedroom door and knocked.

“It's me. Open the door,” Kenneth called. It opened and Ken's jaw nearly dropped.

“Damn. You done already,” the man joked. When Ken saw both of them side by side she could hardly tell them apart. Twins.

“Nigga I thought you had it,” the twin said looking over at you. “You asked me not to come in yet.” Kenneth sighed, irritated, and Ken’s eyes widened. For a long moment she was lost for words, blinking rapidly in attempt to process what might’ve been happening. They were identical TWINS. “Just chill.. Let me talk to her.”

Turning back to a confused Ken, the twin licked his lips, slipping his hands into his pockets. The name on the bill suddenly made sense. Trent. “Here’s the situation.. I'm the one who asked you on a date, but you went out with him.” He pointed to Kenneth who poses with his hand on his chin rubbing his bit of facial hair. Finding her voice, Ken looked closely between the two of them.

“I’m confused. You asked me out,” she pointed to Trent and he nodded patiently waiting for it to sink in while her finger moved to Kenneth. “But you went out with me, why?”

“You asked me out first at the mall but.. I kinda fumbled that so this was my time to redeem myself.” Kenneth stared at Ken and she blinked back silently, still confused by the trickery and tactics. It was a lot to process. She asked Kenneth out. He thought she ugly and turned her down. Trent got at her on campus.. “So when you approached me,” she pointed at Trent, did you already know who I was?”

“I just thought you looked good but then you said I turned you down and,” he chuckled “I knew for a fact I ain't turn down shit. That's what told me who you were because my brother told me that story.”

Kenneth smirked and it irritated Ken though she didn't show it. It felt like they'd talked mad shit about her and then turned around and hit on her like they hadn't. Then they'd traded her off back and forth like she was an object and she didn't like that either. Regardless of how interesting Kenneth had been on the date, there was still a strong superficiality and sheistiness in him that she felt had no room for accepting her in her rawest form.. or at all. She was conflicted because despite all of that logic, they were both fine and she was still horny with years of pent up sexual frustration to loose and a whole night to do it. She looked to Trent. He looked to Kenneth and they exchanged a conversational glance that spoke volumes that Ken couldn’t interpret.

“Have a seat on the couch,” Trent waved kissing his teeth when she chose to stand. “C'mon. Just sit down and I’ll finish explaining.” He and Kenneth waited until Ken rolled her eyes and sighed, sitting on the middle cushion of their black couch, then Trent drew closer. “I need to tell you something about me and my brother over there.” Squatting so that he was eye-level, he stared into Ken’s eyes like a predator and she could feel her inner muscles twitch. He looked her over, up and down with a blink before continuing. “My brother and I are very.. competitive. If I see something I want, he wants it too. When I see him get something, I can’t help myself. I’ve gotta get my hands on it. He get it? I need to taste it. You feel where I’m going with this? This competition we got together isn’t about you, but you’re the pretty little toy we wanna play with… together.”

“I think I can eat it better. My tongue more flexible,” Kenneth shifted, crossing his arms. Trent scoffed, keeping his eyes on Ken. Her hormones were in overdrive but so was her confusion. She had to be honest with herself. Although she was pressed for a sexual release and she craved the experience, this was not it.. at all. She felt uncomfortable and ready to leave. When she pictured her first time, she imagined herself in love, safe, and happy. This wasn’t it at all, plus they were liars. It definitely wasn’t the move. When her phone rang, she rushed to answer it without looking at the name, standing from the couch and walking to stand in a corner a few feet away to get some space.

“Hello,” she said a little too eagerly. She was still nervous and wired from her predicament.

“Where you at? Where y'all go?” It was Erik and he sounded like a concerned older brother. She could hear the annoyance of his date in the background as the woman told him to ‘just leave the girl alone and let her enjoy her date.’ Ken respected her for that. Erik obviously wasn’t listening. “Just tell me where you at for safety reasons. You a young lady now, you can’t just disappear with a nigga without letting someone know your location.”

“I was a young lady before, bro, and y'all did not care, not one iota where I went and with who. Nope, you sure didn’t.” She found it humorous how suddenly everyone was worried about her sex life. Suddenly it was a thing to be policed and it mattered. Where were they when she couldn’t get a man to look in her direction on her best day? She’d talk about sex before and they’d laugh like it was cool since she was the homie, an honorary nigga. “I’m with Kenneth and his brother Trent over in Cambridge,” she finally said. “Pacific Street. They’re twins and we’re thinking of having a lit threesome right now. My first time and I get to be the connector for two chords, don’t ruin this for me!” Honestly, she just wanted to get under his skin since he was suddenly so concerned.

“Kendra, I’m trying to be patient but you’re trying the hell outta me right now moving so fast.”

“Erik, with all due respect, you my nigga and I fuck with you.. but you’re not my dad.”

“Oh, I’m your dad! I created this beast I’m on the phone with right now. I created a damn monster.” His date told him to chill.

“Erik! I want to have sex, okay? I want to!” That was true. It wouldn’t be with the twins, but she still wanted the experience.. on her own terms. “As a matter of fact, speaking of dads? I might make Trent and Kenneth my daddies for the night if everything goes well.” She felt a slap on her behind and flinched. It was the first time for that happening.. and also the last ‘first’ she planned to have in that house at the hands of the twins. She didn’t want to hang up and face them, but she had to. She hung up the phone in Erik’s ear before turning to the twins.

“You’re a virgin,” Kenneth pointed catching Ken off guard. “Makes sense,” he replied to her nod. Trent rolled his eyes and turned on the television, dropping onto the couch.

“You not trying to fuck.. are you,” Trent asks, seemingly irritated. “Not even getting this tongue?” She shook her head no.

“Not gonna to happen,” she shrugged, “Sorrynotsorry but uh, it’s been an interesting night.” She picked up her bag ready to leave again. Looking at each other with confused glances, the twins blinked slowly before Trent shrugged, seemingly relenting.

“Alright then, virgin,” Kenneth smirked, ”But you don’t have to leave, you could just hang around. It’s still a date afterall. Plus, that same nigga calling to check on you is making my night right now. I’m flattered to be the competition. Although I ain’t getting no ass and I want some.”

“I'm gone,” Trent blurted getting up to return to whatever back room he’d come from. Ken heard keys jingling and then he left through the front door. It was just her and Kenneth. For a while they just watched TV.

“So y'all really lied to me,” she said suddenly, causing him to look at her. “And you weren’t interested in me until my glow up. That’s fake.”

“Would you have gone out with you though? Be honest.. You wouldn’t right? I turned you down but I was still nice because I didn’t wanna hurt your feelings. Because you’re still a person. You gotta give me that. I was respectful.”

“But still-”

“I got a right to have preferences and to like what I like.”

“You do, but-” A heavy drumming on the front door distracted them both and for the first time, they exchanged the signature telepathic stare. They both had an idea of who was at the door and his voice removed any doubt.

“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR, KENDRA.” Rolling her eyes, Kendra lifted from the couch, but Kenneth pulled her back down, whispering in her ear a plan. She looked at him wide-eyed, Erik still banging on the door. Kenneth nodded, mischief in his eyes.

“Uuuuh, oh my gosh, yes daddy, right there daddy,” Kendra gasped and moaned loud enough to make Erik stop knocking. He was too busy listening, his ear pressed against the door. “The fuck,” he whispered dumbfounded right before kicking the door so it nearly gave out. “OPEN THIS DOOR.” The door quickly opened to a fully clothed Ken. Kenneth was still in the same spot on the couch.

“You know, there are better ways to express that you like a girl. For example, you could start by telling her,” Kenneth deadpanned, unbothered. Ken faced Erik with a questioning expression.

“You know, everyone’s been acting extremely weird around me since I started dressing and looking differently. I didn’t think it necessary before, but now I need to ask you. Do you like me or something?”

“Or something,” Erik says just as flatly as Kenneth. “Ain’t no trains being run tonight on my watch. I’m drawing the line. Get your bag and come on.”

“And if I happen to like trains,” Ken asked crossing her arms in defiance.

“Ken?.. As your friend?.. I'm telling you. I'm not letting that happen.”

“Whatever.” Ken started to cap but she was ready to leave anyway so she said goodbye to Kenneth and walked out toward the parking lot. Erik's date was in his car, her head leaning against her hand in irritation and he’d parked in a disability-reserved space without a tag or permit. “So you abandoned Ms. Lady to run interference on my sex life? Why do you get to be Casanova? I haven’t even seen that young lady before. I bet you just met her a week or so ago. Probably less than that, am I right?”

“Get in your car I’m a follow you to make sure you get home.”

“I bet you don't know her from Eve. Am I right?!”

“GET IN THE DAMN CAR.”

“YOU DON’T INTIMIDATE ME. DID YOU FORGET I KNOW YOU? STOP TALKING TO ME LIKE YOU CRAZY.” Her ladylike facade had melted away in a matter of seconds as she yelled, her fists balling and shoulders moving like a nigga ready to pop off, returning heavy eye contact. She waited, not backing down. After a long pause and an exhale, Erik nodded in relent breaking the stare.

“Touche’. Look, Ken, I just feel responsible for you. I don’t want you getting into trouble or doing something you’ll regret because it’ll be partially my fault.”

“Is it though? Is it really? I’m an adult and I make my own decisions. Just like when I came to you for help originally, that was my decision. You need to trust and respect my judgment. This is my life afterall.”

“Erik, leave her alone and let’s go! I can think of more fun things for us to do and she is 100% of GROWN,” the date shouted from the car.

“This don’t concern you, Kayla,” he sang loudly in irritation.

“MY NAME IS LAUREN,” she yelled hitting the dashboard.

“KAYLA, LAUREN, SHIT.. WHATEVER!” Sighing, he rested his forehead against his fingers rubbing the tension out. “I’m bout done with her ass,” he mumbles. “Look, Ken, I’m a be a hundred with you. It makes me uncomfortable when I see you with these guys trying to run and you just started crawling. I don’t wanna make you feel like I’m trying to run your life, I want you to be happy. They just ain’t right for you and I’m a be tough on any nigga because I don’t feel like they deserve you.”

“Then help me find someone who deserves me,” Ken pleaded. He shook his head, looking off into the distance at nothing, hesitating before stepping forward. He was directly in front of her now, looking her in the eye and she suddenly understood his overprotectiveness. He had feelings for her. “Why now? Why after the makeover? You had ample time to step up,” she fussed, angry now. She’d secretly harbored a crush on him for the longest, but it’d seemed like an impossible dream she could never voice. “WHY NOW,” she repeated. In her eyes, he was no better than Kenneth or Trent at this point.

“I slept on you, it’s true and I’m sorry for that. I truly am. But I’ve always been there for you.” He was actually serious.

“So has Travis and you looked at him weird! Woooow,” she stepped back. “You know, it’s true that I’m a piece of work. That much is known, but you? You are a.. whew, wow.”

He nodded, masking his hurt feelings and she knew the look well. She’d had the same look many times and no one had noticed. She paused, not wanting to go too far. She did still see him as a friend, however, she had to speak her mind.

“In all fairness, Erik? You’re no better than any other guy who’s only interested because of what he sees now. You didn’t want me before I changed. It’s your own fault for sleeping and I can’t be penalized for that. I liked you for the longest and you never looked my way. How is that what I deserve?”

He opened his mouth and shut it immediately. He was speechless. Nodding, he had no further comments, just a sore looking expression like he'd fucked up and he had! He couldn't excuse or defend himself. There was nothing he could say and he knew it. He was wrong! Eventually he turned and got back into his car sitting and resting his head on the wheel before driving away with his date leaving Ken to sit in her car and think... about everything. Things were falling apart and she needed clarity. It was becoming impossible to know who really cared now and who was perpetrating because they wanted something from her. Who could she trust?

—

For the next few weeks, she felt herself deteriorating. She didn't want to get up, but she forced herself. She slept all the way up to the last minute, rolling out of bed to throw on sweatpants with a dingy t-shirt. She didn't care anymore about an image. It seemed that no matter what she did, things wouldn't go her way. Why try? One day while she was sitting in class, she smelled something funky and looked around before subtly sniffing the armpit of her t-shirt. She was musty but she still couldn't get herself to really care. If it repelled people, good riddance.

Days more passed and she'd gotten so much work done after throwing herself into completing assignments. She didn't dare skip a class but she hardly spoke to anyone or looked up. Her spare time was spent keeping to herself. She was lonely and sad, but who could she trust? Everyone she trusted to have her back had switched up. Everyone was treating her differently. Everything was dependent on how she looked and she was sick of it all. "I wish I were invisible," she muttered rubbing her sleepy eyes in class. She hadn't been sleeping well.

The weather reflected her mood. It was a miserable day.. raining cats and dogs, big muddy puddles covering the sidewalks. In her car, she threw her umbrella on the floor of the passenger side laying everything down and sighing with her head on the steering wheel. With the heavy rain masking her and sliding down the windows, she let her silent tears fall. Tears of stress from being overwhelmed. The rain poured on loudly as she sat in wait for her next class, laying on the wheel and trying to keep herself calm and steady. A knock on the window snapped her out of it and when she looked Erik was standing there with his umbrella signaling for her to roll the window down.

"Come over to my house this weekend, I'm making curry goat. You missed two Sundays and the boys miss you. I fucked up, but Shawn ain't do shit to you. Stop being stubborn."

Wiping her face, Ken shook her head looking to the opposite window.

"Look you coming over or we poppin up on you and you gonna have to clean your place up." Ken thought to the empty pizza boxes in beer kitchen and the clothes, shoes, books, water bottles, and papers everywhere. Sobering, she looked back to Erik and nodded.

"Mhm," he hummed knowingly. "We still friends and shit. Me and Travis over it. Just come by, chill like we usually do."

"I'll be there," she promised genuinely feeling better.

"And wipe your face," Erik grimaced. She rolled her eyes with a smile, wiping her eyes again.

"Fuck off nigga," she grinned with a playful side eye. He turned to leave and Ken opened her car door stepping out into the rain to hug him. He didn't push her away this time, letting her hug him as the umbrella covered them. His body was firm and she could feel his muscles through his clothes. She fought the temptation to feel on him, her mind flashing back to the times she'd seen him shirtless back when she really wasn't on his radar. He was cut. Her crush was in full effect in those times. She couldn't help it, she had to feel his back. She did it as slick as she could manage.

"You good," he asked, a knowing smirk in his eyes gone unspoken. She let go abruptly having hugged him for an inexplicable amount of time.

"I'm great. You?" She climbed back into her car and closed the door. The rain had fell in through her window and wet up the inside of her door.

"Yep. See you Sunday." He walked off and she rolled up her window, a burden lifted.

---

When Sunday rolled around, Ken rolled out of bed, but she showered and put on a clean t-shirt and jeans. Shawn's was the first face she saw. He opened the door and grabbed her hand, wrapping her up in a bro hug welcoming her back.

"You missed the lil enchiladas my nigga did. Them shits was hard," he boasted leading her into the living room where Travis sat leaning back on the couch legs wide. He was on his phone.

"Them clearweathers," she said noticing his shoes. He looked down to see what shoes he had on an his excitement kicked up.

"Yeah nigga, this shit fit like a sock. I just got em Thursday I think.. yeah, Thursday."

"They look comfortable. I've been thinking of getting some. I still got my white VC's that I ain't showed y'all," Ken pointed.

"Maaan, I got the all black I'm a break them bitches out," Travis grinned. It was good tho know things were back to normal and that she hadn't completely lost her friends.

"I'm hungry as fuck. When the food coming out," she asked rubbing her stomach.

"E, when the food finna be ready," Shawn asked as Ken followed him into the kitchen. Erik was cheffing it up as the only one in the circle who could really cook. He looked back at Ken and smiled turning his attention back to the stove. There was rice and snowpeas and something that looked like a stew. She was salivating. She attempted to sneak a taste dipping her finger in the hot stew, but he popped her hand with a wooden spoon before she could.

"Get out my kitchen it'll be ready when it's ready."

@muse-of-mbaku @imaginewhoever @whoramilaje @panthergoddessbast @thadelightfulone @misspooh @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @marvelmaree @youreadthatright @forbeautyandlife @theunsweetenedtruth @bidibidibombaclaat @myboyfriendgiriboy @dameshaemonique @blackpantherimagines @vikkidc @hidden-treasures21 @mysidefanting @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @syndrlla97 @winteroflife @thotyana-in-this-hoe @texasbama @gingerylimonte @princessstevens @magic-madness-heavensin @wawakanda-btch @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @wakanda-inspired @blackgirloneshots @thegucciwaffle @thiccdaddy-mbaku @monogamous-nympho @drsunshine97 @purplehairgawdess @trevantesbrat @indigoxsummers @cccccx1 @dynastylnoire @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @fonville-designs @they-call-me-le @theblulife @raysunshine78 @sheisexcellent

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

Text

Sick Kids

gotspoons: [A chatroom/forum situation for teens with invisible illnesses/disabilities, a resource that is recommended when you can't go to IRL groups for your health/they aren't in your area etc] gotspoons: Ticked one whole thing off my to-do list today, feeling like a champ 💪 also feeling like a 2-hour long nap, who here relates? 🥱 tigerbalm: 🖐 took my nap earlier & yet 😴💤 brainpain: 💕🛏 brainpain: long lasting relationship with my memory foam mattress gotspoons: There is NO limit on the number of naps necessary to make it through the day tigerbalm: or the number of abandoned to-do lists, what was your 1 thing? gotspoons: 🚿 looks like breakfast will have to wait tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: @brainpain I have so many memory foam pillows in every room of my house I'm basically a shareholder 🙌 brainpain: @tooexhaustedtolivevicariously same but I've got my fave, I call him Edgar tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👏🙏 thank you for your service, Edgar tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: must name mine, only named the chariot 🦼 Charlton gotspoons: [ihatemyguts has entered the chat] gotspoons: A newbie, welcome! tigerbalm: 👋 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: love the username, what ails ya? tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: because this is the only place it's acceptable to ask 'what's WRONG with you?' but not the only place you encounter it, right brainpain: but you don't have to answer cos it's also somewhere where you're encouraged to 'express yourself' translation: be an arsehole if you want brainpain: if you don't go hardcore enough to get blocked brainpain: @fibrofog LMAO tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: the normies get to be rude as their default, and it is NOT encouraged to hit people with your cane, let me tell you ihatemyguts: Hi, everyone ihatemyguts: I'll do my best not to be an arsehole, even if my problem only lie directly above said orifice, which makes it a struggle not to be at times ihatemyguts: UC, first flare totally fucked over the family holiday 😬 sorry to that hotel toilet and my long-suffering parents and brother brainpain: newbie got jokes AND comedy timing ihatemyguts: 🚽 humour isn't all I have, I swear, though my life now does revolve entirely around the porcelain throne so it's no surprise I'm anally expulsive, thanks to Freud for that read tigerbalm: Freud's the perv, am I right? ihatemyguts: Totally ihatemyguts: and a big believer in the cocaine cure-all, which my Doctor just wasn't going for, shame tigerbalm: sounds like my sleazy uncle in every way tigerbalm: why does everybody get one? gotspoons: 😂 This chat is worth keeping my eyes open for gotspoons: every family is a play, and we're destined to be the 'sick kid' part gotspoons: other players react accordingly, from the 'can't look at you without crying' to the 'thinks you're making it up for some reason' brainpain: I vote we all go off script like @fibrofog 🤬🚨👿❗️ ihatemyguts: I guess I'm lucky in the sense that if anyone doubts the legitimacy of my illness, I can offer to show them the contents of my stomach/toilet bowl ihatemyguts: that shuts them up relatively fast, not had to go full 🐒 and throw it at anyone yet ihatemyguts: though I'm intrigued by the infamous @fibrofog, who are they, where, and why the infamy? Fill a girl in brainpain: the myth, the legend brainpain: so angry cos I turned 'em down for a romantic rendezvous ihatemyguts: No way! ihatemyguts: I'm glad that napping isn't the only action the memory foam is getting ihatemyguts: we're just like any other teens, right guys? 💁 tigerbalm: @brainpain you know the rules, fedora pics or it didn't happen! tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: you know what they say about disabled chicks, grateful 😉 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: #dontkillmeladies #iamnotasleazyuncle tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: don't think Mr. Fog was even a legit 🥄 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: total predator tigerbalm: if it was my uncle I'm SO sorry 😂 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: family who piggyback are THE worst tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: no, MY disability doesn't make YOU automatically WOKE for not drowning me in the tub or throwing me off the nearest high place I can access ihatemyguts: Honestly, I've never felt as simultaneously popular and unpopular in my life ihatemyguts: people 💬 a big acceptance game on the socials ihatemyguts: but no one wants to actually hang with the girl who can't eat shit and will spend half her time in the 🚽 gotspoons: Everyone's supportive until your disability gets in the way of THEIR perfect life even slightly gotspoons: imagine if they were one of us 👽 brainpain: speak for yourselves, my slurred speech makes me a hit with all my hard partying peers brainpain: get weird without a 🍹 ihatemyguts: hey man, don't let us drag you down 😎 ihatemyguts: if @fibrofog was feeling you, you're WAY too cool for this chat right now brainpain: never have, never will, baby 😉 brainpain: [inandout has entered the chat] gotspoons: OH MY GOD, that's a whole different story...my parents = you need to socialize more, live life! my parents = I don't know if this group is good for you, we think you're being encouraged to display and give in to even more problems gotspoons: thanks guys, you're literally making me more disabled with your disabledness 😂 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: It is a cult, well-known fact, leave your productiveness to society at the door and let's all lie here and feel sorry for ourselves, doesn't that sound like fun, kids? 😈 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and 👋 sup, inandout, not seen you in a while tigerbalm: my parents act like y'all are catching too! Would you like to cage me like a legit 🐅 or? inandout: baited breath inandout: out living that life like @gotspoons parents want tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: It'll be the Olympics next tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 🥇 Hero status with the normies, inspirational, dude inandout: if it'll make adults I've never met proud of me ihatemyguts: I can't believe I've not checked if I'm disabled enough for the paras, oh my God ihatemyguts: are there enough of us for a basketball team? brainpain: if ONLY my former lover were here brainpain: he's gotta be so tall ihatemyguts: Pining for @fibrofog is productive, yeah? ihatemyguts: can pine from my throne just fine brainpain: hands off newbie! I will throw mine brainpain: LOL imagine gotspoons: This group has always had a bias towards too many girls gotspoons: it's almost as if even disabled boys don't wanna talk about their feelings gotspoons: what say you @tooexhaustedtolivevicariously and @inandout? 🤔🤴🤴 inandout: I'd bring friends but you know us CF kids aren't allowed to congregate inandout: and what could I possibly have in common with someone who doesn't share my disease ihatemyguts: So, what is the deal with that, are some of us catching? ihatemyguts: 🐅 parents might have legit concerns inandout: cross infectious but only if you've got what's got me inandout: none of you do so you'll need another reason to turn down hanging out in person tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: my fedora is in the wash? inandout: Fibro could easily say it's my jewishness brainpain: but it's your hunkiness, babe 💪😉 inandout: I'd whistle back at you, Lauren but.... inandout: let's just say you leave me breathless tigerbalm: No names, Zach tigerbalm: it's like a rule ihatemyguts: uh-oh ihatemyguts: if you had a name, Tiger, in theory, like ihatemyguts: 🧐 tigerbalm: Robyn ihatemyguts: Pretty, you others may as well just come out with it now ihatemyguts: even if I'm a massive perv with mad hacking and tracking skills, I pinky promise I won't be able to find you from your given name alone brainpain: give us yours, newbie ihatemyguts: I will, but you'll think I'm giving you a fake one ihatemyguts: it's the gift and curse bestowed upon me at birth, along with potentially dodgy genetics brainpain: your life is 💩 brainpain: but still ihatemyguts: Zelda ihatemyguts: a reference I'm sure you won't get, 'cos you're so 😎 brainpain: I game, the stream was fibros fave hunting ground brainpain: no 💩 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Turns out being a nerd is way easy from the relative (barely but beats death, yeah?) comfort of the memory foam tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and Rich 👍 only in name, destitute until my next pittance comes in tigerbalm: she's not supposed to 🎮 -headaches -dizziness -light & sound sensitivity but she's a REBEL brainpain: 👌 MOM maybe I'd love a seizure, what do you know? ihatemyguts: I respect it ihatemyguts: gonna be fondly reminiscing over all those dirty, evil trigger foods when they're resecting my bowel 🖕🚔 brainpain: I had a life before I had a TBI, no offense to 👶 Zach inandout: none taken gotspoons: You're all being bad and I cannot support it 🤐😜 gotspoons: and I'm Rosie, I will just 😴 out on you all the time and yes, it's a fantastic excuse for when you don't wanna respond ihatemyguts: I'll commit all of those to memory in a normal, non-creepy manner ihatemyguts: but whilst I'm allowed to be a n00b, what do you all do for school? brainpain: I was nearly done before 🤯 which got me my pity pass ihatemyguts: pity with a point, at least, alright tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I'm waiting to start uni, absolutely no thanks to my school and their totally ableist refusal to make reasonable adjustments for accessibility tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: but fedora or not, I can be a real arsehole, a loud, persistent one at that tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: take my applause now brainpain: 😍 brainpain: take my 💘 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: as long as it's not heavy, m'lady brainpain: you could 💔 brainpain: hold the pieces tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 🧠 just isn't poetic enough brainpain: you know me gotspoons: you guys are so cute 🥰 and your broken brain is beautiful, Lauren gotspoons: me though, I'm barely struggling through school still, so many sick days, so much catching up to do 🥱 just thinking about it and therein lies the problem tigerbalm: my parents are trying to get online classes set up but my headteacher is like a million years old inandout: is he a demon? inandout: that was some scary fiction brainpain: or was it? brainpain: cue up those sound effects tigerbalm: if we're gonna talk about hypnosis, I'm out ihatemyguts: that was some serious creepy uncle vibes ihatemyguts: why did he need that level of control ihatemyguts: 🐘 in the room tigerbalm: I have a hippie cousin too, alternative therapy talk is so triggering ihatemyguts: I need a memoir re. your family sitch immediately 😂 ihatemyguts: you get the food purists coming @ me as if I just eat the right thing I'd be 'cured' tigerbalm: I'm working on a screenplay but I've never written a script before, I did find an online class for that easily though ihatemyguts: that's actually 😎 ihatemyguts: soz, Lauren brainpain: she's our lil busy 🐝 brainpain: step your game up, Zachary brainpain: supposed to be you, bro inandout: let Robbie have it, she has more sick days to fill up ihatemyguts: always have your 🥇 inandout: I can pin it on like a star when I got to school with the masses inandout: let them know I'm not what normal looks like ihatemyguts: only the others like you need to have the scoop on that though ihatemyguts: really fucks with the segregation in a big way inandout: “I feel like someone breathed new air into my lungs. I am not Abnegation. I am not Dauntless. I am Divergent.” ihatemyguts: Tattoo idea inandout: if I make it to 18, I'll do it ihatemyguts: how long you given yourself there? inandout: I turned 14 in may, the party was a full blown rager inandout: 🏥🎂 ihatemyguts: you like ruining events too? ihatemyguts: what a coincidence, don't just do family holidays inandout: if I can't blow up 🎈 nobody can ihatemyguts: 🥳 smug bastard inandout: I find that party blower offensive inandout: Rosie! That's a strike for the new girl ihatemyguts: Come to me when it's as culturally iconic as 💩 ihatemyguts: my next (first) tattoo right there inandout: how long are you waiting for that masterpiece? ihatemyguts: was 14 in March ihatemyguts: if we both make it, it's a date inandout: cool inandout: way I'm going that'll be my first one brainpain: now I feel like a pervy OLD uncle brainpain: thank you 👶s ihatemyguts: Lemme guess? ihatemyguts: I'm thinking 19 brainpain: spooky brainpain: I'm an Aquarius if anyone cares ihatemyguts: our 🌟s aligning might be too close to alternative for comfort tigerbalm: I'm a cancer, which is awkward tigerbalm: not my diagnosis ihatemyguts: at least it's memorable ihatemyguts: literally tacked on at the end, who's remembering 🎣 tigerbalm: I hope my 16th will be, for the right reasons tigerbalm: I've still got 5 months left to plan ihatemyguts: 🤞🤞🤞 tigerbalm: I'll add your name, the others know they're all invited ihatemyguts: that's so nice ihatemyguts: considering this introduction has given away nothing if not I am a terrible guest brainpain: another chat about online safety, Robyn, REALLY? 😏 brainpain: did my failed romance teach you nothing? ihatemyguts: if that isn't a challenge to send a photo and make you feel really weird ihatemyguts: why are we anon anyway, to stop us uprising? ihatemyguts: metaphorically if not literally, no offense xoxo brainpain: f it brainpain: I need you all to sign up to my stream to pay my bills anyways brainpain: [a selfie] ihatemyguts: @fibrofog, I get it brainpain: don't flock to tell me how sexy I am, that'd make it weird brainpain: plus, I know tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I picked an awkward time to check back in tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Rosie falls asleep and anarchy reigns? tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I'm proud brainpain: 💔 YOU haven't showered me with compliments, but hey tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: if I made it that easy you'd never be 💘 brainpain: 😩 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: to save any of the rest of you following such a hard act tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: [pic] tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: it's old but still a rough estimation of what I look like on a good day brainpain: 😍 brainpain: You're up, girl Z ihatemyguts: if you're all good looking though, I'm so mad ihatemyguts: [a selfie] ihatemyguts: 💩 inandout: I'm not good looking, I'll go next inandout: besides, Robbie would never bow to peer pressure and Rosie is out for the count inandout: [a selfie] tigerbalm: I am 🙀 tigerbalm: but everyone else has tigerbalm: [the shyest selfie of all time] ihatemyguts: 😻😻😻 ihatemyguts: seriously ihatemyguts: representation done us dirty on so many levels now ihatemyguts: when we're not invisible, why we not so gorgeous tigerbalm: there should be a blushing 😸 tigerbalm: that's the representation I need ihatemyguts: Call me out all you need but I was convinced this whole thing would be a lot more tragic than it has been inandout: tragic Tuesdays are a thing brainpain: no they are f-ing not brainpain: Zachary, just cos the new girl's in your age bracket + shares your 1st initial brainpain: she is not corruptible to you inandout: check us on our date, Lauren inandout: but watch your profanity brainpain: watch me give you a DIY lung transplant gotspoons: Excuse me gotspoons: what is going on here brainpain: nothing babe, it's all a dream gotspoons: 😖 gotspoons: if it was, none of you would be here gotspoons: sorry to say brainpain: we love you too brainpain: hit us with that sleepy selfie gotspoons: You know we aren't meant to give out personal info in the public forum gotspoons: if you choose to privately, that's okay though gotspoons: also I don't look any better for my shower now 🥴🤫 brainpain: you're a hottie gotspoons: 😘 gotspoons: well, my blog IS going to be featured on [insert disability awareness news moment] next month, so it isn't as if you couldn't find 🖼 if you really wanted gotspoons: [photo] tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Congrats, Ro tigerbalm: a genuine 👏👏👏 tigerbalm: I love your blog gotspoons: Ty, ty 🙇 gotspoons: it's the same as my username, if you wanna check it out, newbie 😄 brainpain: but have you been on the news for being the victim of a violent crime? 😏 just me LOL inandout: Lauren's trading on her fame again inandout: let Rosie have her moment ihatemyguts: pass along all relevant info and I'll 🤓 right up brainpain: @inandout 🍒😃💩👅 brainpain: enjoy the profanity, bro inandout: today's highlight tigerbalm: Zelda could take offence at that, Zach tigerbalm: I think it was nice to meet her ihatemyguts: Not at all ihatemyguts: though it's cultural appropriation to use that emoji without my permission, I'll let it slide 😉 ihatemyguts: nice meeting you all too tigerbalm: I really am gonna have to tell you about my family now ihatemyguts: All I wanted, tbh tigerbalm: everyone else knows this but my parents are white Americans & they adopted me and my brothers who are Native and African American respectively tigerbalm: & you saw me, the Korean girl so ihatemyguts: Ohh tigerbalm: it sounds like a show that should air on ABC family, right? tigerbalm: hella awkward ihatemyguts: I'm brainstorming (p. sure we're not meant to say that, soz) titles rn ihatemyguts: inappropriate question alert, verbal smackdowns appreciated if needed ihatemyguts: did they adopt you knowing you were disabled or is that a new development? tigerbalm: I was gonna call it building bridges but we can't really say that the USA has wronged Korea like the other nations tigerbalm: though they did adopt me knowing so maybe it still works 😄 ihatemyguts: it's got legs tigerbalm: 🦿 ihatemyguts: Ugh, must dash ihatemyguts: 🩸💉s tigerbalm: best of luck ihatemyguts: 💕 total pro by now 💪 brainpain: if I don't 👀 you on my stream I'll 🔎 you here in the forums inandout: a threatening goodbye inandout: can't compete tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👋 Hope to see you back here, Zelda tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: though you wouldn't be the first person to 👻 after dropping in, so no pressure, @Lauren gotspoons: but actually, we're always here, some of us more than others, but you'll always find someone to chat to about the things you can't with non-spoonies ihatemyguts: ✌

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wftc141 · 4 years

Text

Voltron: Global Military Intelligence and Counter-Terrorism Unit-Chapter 9: Kingfish

1300 Hours

02/13/18

Goiânia, Brazil

While the analysts continued to go through intel on Sendak's location, the Voltron Lions spent the rest of the night at a local pub for some quality time together. Lance, Hunk and Keith competed against each other in pool while Pidge watched with her glass of Coke. Hunk however stopped the entire game with a story of his life when Lance asked him.

"So you're saying you set off a fire bomb during senior high?" Lance repeated.

"Yep," Hunk answered. "My stupid ass thought it was a good idea to light a firecracker with spray paint in the bathroom. I was a firework enthusiast back then. I ended up with a three day suspension but somebody from the Army was impressed about it and recommended me to the military. So I took that offer after graduation. Got into the EOD for a couple of years before I joined the Rangers."

"That's one way to get noticed."

"So, how many bombs did you defuse while you were in the army?" Keith asked.

Hunk paused for a moment while his eyes remained fixated. Lance lifted his beer to his mouth and took a swig.

"Well...I would say 50 and during my time with the Rangers...250."

Lance suddenly spewed his drink out, spilling it onto the pool table. Other bar goers glanced at them in confusion while Keith and Pidge were equally surprised.

"250 bombs?!" Lance blurted out.

"Holy shit, dude." Keith muttered.

Hunk chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah. While we were on tour, there was this Taliban, don't remember his name. Had a record of planting and detonating IEDs on Afghan troops, including a Blackwater patrol. He planted one next to where me and my unit were while we were on overwatch. I managed to find that bomb and disarm it. And that was not all. When me and my team evacuated from the building we were in, the guy was stupid enough to check on his IED. Once he got there...let's just say he now knows what it feels like to get blown up by his own bomb."

The team already surprised and astonished than they usually were. Lance in particular was confounded and invested for more.

"Yo, that was pure badassery," Lance said, pointing at Hunk with his beer. "You gotta tell us more while we get some more drinks."

Lance and Hunk moved away from the pool table and headed for the bar, leaving Keith and Pidge by themselves. Keith watched as Lance slapped Hunk's back, laughing his head off.

"Wish we had him in our Battalion." Pidge commented, grabbing Keith's attention.

"Yeah but you forgot our C.O was an asshole and would probably be less welcome about Hunk." Keith replied.

"If he saw what Hunk did, he'll probably piss himself and would rather hand his leadership to him."

Keith nodded, silently agreeing before looking away.

"So, how's things with Lance?" Pidge's asked.

"Hm?" Keith glanced at her who was smirking in a teasing manner, in which Keith wasn't fond of.

"You two seem to be getting along really well."

He sighed and looked away once again. "Yeah...he's alright."

"Oh my goodness. It is true! Keith Yeun has admitted that he likes Lance!"

Keith was unable to control his smile before letting a chuckle slip out of his mouth. "Stop."

They went at it for a moment before calming down. Keith then glanced at Pidge's who took a sip of her drink. There was something he wanted to ask. Tensions with NATO is potentially going to escalate if nothing's done to persuade them in withdrawing their decision to shut them down. But Keith felt like there were ulterior motives inside, besides their experiences.

"What's your opinion on NATO?" He asked.

Pidge lowered her glass, sighing. Her eyes gazed forward without a glimpse on Keith.

"We've made some mistakes but that doesn't mean Voltron should be to blame for," She answered, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Either NATO's scared or they just don't trust us."

"Makes sense. Hopefully it won't come to this and they'll allow us to go after the real enemies before more casualties arise."

"Amen to that."

Suddenly, Keith felt his pocket buzz. It was another text message to report back. He got his phone out and read the message before looking at Pidge's who also received one too. They both finished their drinks and headed for the door, alongside Hunk and Lance who had just paid for their drinks. One part of Keith's mind thought that the meeting would be bad news but they'll have to see for themselves.

1320 Hours

The team arrived at the hideout where Shiro and Allura were both waiting for them with Colbert accompanying them. They took the seats allocated for them, facing the board full of intel and pinned photographs. Once they were seated, Allura began her briefing.

"We finally have confirmation on Sendak's whereabouts," Allura said. "The satellite pictures we were provided has found him at the favelas in Rio de Janeiro with his Galra forces where a local militia is assisting them."

"What is this, Modern Warfare? Are they taking it straight off the game or somethin'?" Lance asked.

"Dunno," Colbert shrugged. "That part of the slums is a haven for shady business and organizations as there's no chance you'll find a good place for cover. The locals who live there may join the fight too and eventually vanish off the surface. This militia isn't a bunch of thugs. They're trained killers. They were responsible for multiple murder counts and all that bad shit for the past ten years. It's been giving the military a headache in dealing with them, especially with the casualties they suffered."

"The BOPE were more than happy to lend support and they will be taking point to lead us to the militia's district. We'll need to be quiet on this because the militia does use locals as spotters."

"What about the situation with NATO?" Keith asked.

Everybody turned to Allura and Shiro who were silent. There was still nothing they could find or hear from as of yet.

"We're still working on that," Shiro said. "For now, our mission is bringing Sendak in."

The team began to file out of the room, leaving Shiro and Allura together.

"Hopefully Coran and his analysts know what they're doing." Shiro commented.

"I'm sure they're getting to the bottom of this," She replied. "We just need to bring in Sendak and then we'll focus on the rest."

"You're right."

Allura glanced at Shiro who looked as though he was concerned about something.

"Will you be alright?" Allura asked.

"I will," Shiro answered. "We just have to reach him before he does anything else."

1333 Hours

Coran hung up on the phone and let out a sigh. The damp, lukewarm air floated across the room with the ceiling lights barely bright. The others were already getting themselves ready for another operation that isn't NATO-approved yet a worthy risk. Coran can hear the keyboard tapping near him where Gold was.

"Sir," Gold suddenly called out. "I'm in the servers."

Turning around, he approached Gold who was fixated on the bright screen.

"You're in?" Coran asked.

"Yep, only got a short period of time before they find out who's snooping around."

"That's all the time we need."

Gold began to tap away. Coran watched the screen as he scrolled and changed tab by tab. His experience with the Intelligence Corps and Interpol did pay off after all. Gold was one of those focused and dedicated people Coran knew back in the day. Although he maintained an easy-going attitude outside of work, Gold was quite the magic when Coran first met him. Shortly, Gold stopped typing.

"Found it, sir." He said.

Coran leaned over for a closer view. The screen showed several files inside a folder involving Voltron. There was a lot of files which could contain something useful. Coran ordered him to get the files copied and Gold was already on it. He continued to tap on the keyboard, getting all the files in their drive.

"What is Codename Osiris?" Gold asked.

Coran leaned forward and looked at where the cursor was on. There was a file document titled 'Codename: Osiris'.

"That was the name of our mission in Prague…" Coran muttered before shaking his head. "I don't think it matters. Just get everything copied and we'll sort them out later."

Gold nodded while seemingly disappointed about the response. As he got on with his job, Coran couldn't help but wonder about the operation in Prague. Was there something off behind the reason for the operation?

0700 Hours

02/14/18

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

The Voltron team were immediately greeted with the bright, golden sunrise from the distance as soon as they got off. Dressed in full combat gear to match with their fellow BOPE soldiers, they followed the nine-man team taking point through the cramped streets. The BOPE seemed to know more about the favela more than Voltron does, taking them through areas that aren't usually open to attacks. But the team as always, was accompanied by their recon drone hovering above them with thermal lens.

The streets were eerily quieter than usual, as described by their team leader Cardozo. The shops and houses were barred shut and the windows were pitch black. Shiro glanced around the empty pathway they were on while still keeping his guard up. He couldn't help but feel as if they were being lured into a trap. No favela would be this quiet, even for a place that is infested with armed killers. But the locals at this time would still be fast asleep. Shiro briefly glanced at Keith who was beside him sharing that unsettling feeling.

As the team moved forward into the darker area, Shiro looked up to the rooftops where the buildings cut the sun off. He could feel his heart pacing but he had to keep calm, no matter what.

"You think they would be nice to offer some breakfast? Cos' I'm a little starving." Lance whispered, tugging his shirt collar.

"Santos, focus." Shiro replied.

The team continued to walk down the path in the midst of dead silence. They felt like prey walking into the den of the predators. Something was already off. But they couldn't tell what it was. Once they reached another street, everybody's comm buzzed.

"Lions and Apex 5, you got contacts above you from both sides!" Allura warned.

By the time they heard the news, gunfire erupted from above like a supercell. Everybody was dashing for cover, even though there was not much to hide from. The team lost two BOPE soldiers to the militia. Shiro dived behind an old truck with Cardozo as bullets hailed against it while the others are scattered around the street.

"Seriously? No breakfast?" Lance joked through the gunfire.

"Not now, Lance!" Keith replied.

Shiro risked a peek through the windows to count about a handful of militants with Soviet weapons on each roof before firing back. He managed to shoot one of them trying to load an RPG, causing it to discharge and blow up the entire roof he was on alongside the militants near him. Debris began to scatter around the street and the team began to fight back. Shiro quickly changed mags as Cardozo approached him.

"My men will stay here and hold these Filhos da putas off! You go find the target!"

"Got it," Shiro nodded. "Lions, fall out on me! Apex 1 will stay and hold these guys off!"

The team began to cross the intersection and headed down the alley as the gunfire behind them continued to rumble throughout the favela. They advanced down the narrow hill while reloading their weapons.

"Zero to Black Lion, Kingfish is at the red building near the soccer field southeast."

Shiro said into his comm. "Copy, Zero. Out."

As they reached the alleyway, a loud crack from a distance erupted and Keith fell backwards. Sniper fire. Shiro and the group quickly took cover as another shot went for them, hitting a car windshield nearby.

"Keith!" Pidge's called out.

He was still clinging to his chest where he was hit, gritting his teeth to the pain. Keith was not to move so the sniper wouldn't focus on him. He could still feel the 7.62 round to his plate carrier. All he could do was cough out short, detached breaths. Shiro noticed Keith reach for his comm.

"Sn-sniper...400 yards front...sc-scope flash from the center window of the blue house."

Shiro glanced at Lance who was immediately on it. He positioned his HK416 with the sniper scope on the car he was hiding behind and scoped out for the sniper. He calculated his shot for 3 seconds before pulling the trigger. The flash from the window disappeared and he noticed the rifle fall off the window.

"He's down!" Lance called out.

The team got out of cover and quickly set up a perimeter around Keith. Shiro and Hunk kept watch while Lance and Pidge checked on Keith.

"Keith you good?" Lance asked, lending him a hand.

He didn't hesitate to grab it, although his chest still hurts. "Yep, thanks for that."

Shiro approached Keith and checked his plate carrier for the bullet wound.

"How bad is it?" He asked.

"Its okay," Keith assured, tapping the bullet area. "Only hit the plate. Nothing fatal."

Shiro nodded, relieved of his safety. Without wasting anymore time, the team continued their way to Sendak's location.

Allura tapped into Shiro's group after watching the feed of them taking cover from gunfire.

"Zero to Black Lion, status report, over."

"Black Lion to Zero, Red Lion was hit by a sniper round but the shot wasn't fatal. Heading towards the location, over." Shiro replied on comms.

"Copy Black Lion. Out."

Allura then changed channels to the BOPE team. They were still covering fire for the Voltron team.

"Zero to Apex team. Status."

"This is Apex 5-1, we're still holding position and covering for Lion team!" Cardozo said over the firefight. "We're still going to hold as much as we can, over!"

"Copy, Apex. If you're taking any casualties pull out immediately, over."

"Copy. Apex 5-1 out!"

Once the feed was cut off, Allura stepped back and sighed deeply before glancing at Colbert who was still controlling the drone.

"I hope your team completes this mission, Major." The BOPE captain said.

"I hope so too, Captain." Allura replied.

There was silence in the room other than distorted gunfire. Then, Shiro's comm buzzed.

"Zero, this is Black Lion. We have finally reached the building."

Shiro breached the door into the house. After a quick sweep with a group of militants down, Shiro advanced up the stairs with the rest following him. They stacked up behind a closed door and after a countdown, Lance stepped forward and kicked the door down and the team stormed in with weapons raised. As predicted, Sendak was inside but surprisingly, he was sitting at a table with a tea set unfazed by their intrusion.

"DON'T MOVE!" Lance yelled.

"Now, now, boys. No need for the hostility." Sendak said and stood up with both of his hands raised. "I surrender."

Shiro approached Sendak up close. He was already feeling that urge to act up and do something horrible to his face after all those years Sendak put him in. Those scenes were vivid. Shiro could immediately picture his fallen comrades' bodies and Sven… he deserved something worse. But he knew better than to let his anger take control, especially after what happened back in Al-Khor.

"Nice to see you again, Commander Shirogane." Sendak said, giving him that smirk. It was enough to drive someone mad.

"Keep your mouth shut and maybe you'll see the sunrise again." Shiro hissed.

He pulled him away from the table and cuffed his hands. Once he was fully secure, Shiro tapped into his comm.

"Black Lion to Zero," he said. "We have Kingfish. I repeat, we have Kingfish, over."

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron fanfic #voltron fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfics #fanfictions #my fanfic #my fanfictions #my fanfics #my fanfiction #voltron: global military Intelligence and Counter-Terrorism unit #modern covert counter-terrorist au #modern covert counter-terrorism au #covert counter-terrorist au #covert counter-terrorism au

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violetsmoak · 4 years

Text

Appetence [11/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #haunting #paranormal investigator

First Chapter

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

Author’s Note: I decided to upload this today instead of tomorrow as I have a final paper due Friday and if I'm gonna concentrate on finishing it and not writing fanfic, I need to put this up now :P Enjoy the BatFam feels.

________________________________________________________________

A day later and Jason is still stewing in anger—and, if he’s being honest—a bit of hurt. Even after reuniting, even after listening to what Jason had to say, and trying to get him to come home—Bruce still can’t be convinced to deal with the Joker.

Or at the very least stand aside and let Jason do it.

It’s like he’s trying to protect my non-existent virtue or some kind of innocence I never really had.

Does Bruce even actually remember him anymore? Or has he built up some false memory in his head that’s turned the boy Jason was into some clone of Dick?

The obvious, adult way of finding out would be to drive over to the manor and go for Round Two in confronting Bruce, but that’s a journey he’s not ready to take yet. Especially since the emotionally stunted man child that is the Dark Knight might take that as Jason coming to grovel for forgiveness, which just…no.

It’s decided. Jason will sit and sulk in his office and pretend Bruce and all of his Bat-drama doesn’t exist. He has work to do, anyhow.

The phone rings and Jason smirks.

“Like I said,” he tells himself smugly and picks it up, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk. “Beyond Investigations, Victor Shelley speaking.”

“First of all, you have a really warped sense of humor choosing that as your civilian identity,” a familiar voice tells him, and Jason’s stomach flips a little as he nearly slides off his chair.

“Well, if it isn’t my esteemed former stalker,” he drawls, then winces because it’s not exactly his best line. “You can’t tell me it’s not funny, in the gallows kind of way.”

“If you wanted gallows, I’m surprised you didn’t go with Vlad Stoker,” Tim Drake remarks.

“That would be cliché. And Stoker’s overrated. Also, he once demanded all the gay writers be imprisoned, which ain’t cool,” Jason replies with an easy enjoyment. “But I doubt you’re calling to talk early horror literature with me. Gotta say, it’s the first time I’ve ever waited more than two days for someone to call me when I give them my number.”

Shit. That was a little more flirting than he intended.

“That leads to second of all,” Tim says, either missing the innuendo or ignoring it completely. “Care to explain why, after you asked me not to say anything to B about you being here, you ratted me out to him?”

That’s…not what he was expecting. Jason sits up, suddenly serious. “Ratted you out? What are you talking about?”

“He came back home after that thing downtown with Freeze yesterday completely shaken because he ran into you, and apparently you let it slip that I knew you were back and didn’t tell anyone.”

There’s more than a little irritation in Tim’s voice there, and Jason’s heart picks up a bit in worry. He thinks back to the encounter the night before, trying to figure out when he would have outed Tim. He can’t think of anything.

Then he remembers his parting words.

The blood rushes to his face.

If Bruce figured out he was talking about Tim with such a throwaway comment, he worries what else he might have inferred.

Don’t think about it too closely. Worry about putting Tim in his crosshairs.

He groans. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Apparently I should have been the one asking for a week’s grace,” Tim goes on dryly.

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking,” Jason tells him. “Talkin’ to B always gets my blood pressure up, and then my mouth just starts to run.”

“No kidding.”

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

There’s a pause, and then, “No more than normal. A couple of years ago that sort of thing would have really messed with my head, but these days I can deal.”

“What happened a couple of years ago?”

Tim pauses again, and even though Jason can’t sense auras or ghosts through telephone lines, he’s pretty sure that the dark aura constantly surrounding the younger man is behind that.

“Let’s just say I learned that Brue can be myopic about certain things,” Tim says at last. “Either he’s entirely focused on what’s right in front of him, or some arbitrary future end game. He doesn’t really…absorb the things that happen between those two points.”

Jason blinks. “That’s a scary kind of accurate.”

“That’s what I do. I think and I know things.”

Jason can’t hold back a scoff.

“Did you…did you just misquote Game of Thrones?”

Tim lets out a somewhat startled laugh. “I guess I did. Totally unintentional, I promise. Although, you get points for catching it.”

“Points for what? Is there a prize?”

“Even if there was, I’d be keeping it. I’m still ticked off at you for telling on me to B.”

“And I still feel bad about that. I owe you a drink.”

No, no you don’t. No drinks, no nothing. Off-limits, remember?

“Still not old enough to drink, Jason,” Tim replies, voice sounding less irritated and weary and more…amused? Fond even?

Then he hangs up, leaving Jason staring at the receiver of his phone in puzzled frustration.

“This isn’t going to end well for me, is it?”

“No,” Sheila tells him from where she’s lingering across the room, “it’s not.”

Jason lets his head fall onto his desk.

With the ice now broken with Tim and Bruce (or at least as broken as it can get given the latter’s inability to process anything resembling emotions), Jason pretty knows his days of privacy are likely at an end.

He completely expects the requisite visitations of various Family members who will no doubt have been told he’s alive.

Both the ones I knew and the one I didn’t…

If he weren’t pretending indifference, he would have expected Dick to be the first to show up, all passion and anger. He doesn’t have many memories of his predecessor-slash-older-brother-figure where he wasn’t furious about something—almost always Bruce related. To Jason, he only seemed to have two settings: coddling and wanting to pick a fight.

Jason’s not sure which of those he wants to encounter just now.

Turns out his intuition about Dick being his first visit is completely off.

Instead, he wakes one night from a dead sleep by a sense of presence, both physical and spectral.

There’s a kid standing at the edge of his futon, swathed in Robin’s colors but with the aura of a predator lying in wait. He can’t be more than twelve, and there’s just something about the set of his shoulders and clench of his jaw that screams Bruce.

He’s also not alone.

Outside the open window that the kid obviously used to break in, a ghostly figure in a voluminous green robe looms, hissing imprecations at Jason’s wards from the decapitated head it holds in its hands.

Jason blinks, intrigue cutting through his sleep-dulled senses. Considering the kid is Talia’s, he obviously has some League of Assassins training. Given that, Jason would have expected there to be a lot more ghosts following the kid around. Either he hasn’t killed very many people beyond the one by the window, or the ones he has didn’t leave anything unfinished.

Either way, this brat’s dangerous.

“You know who I am?” Robin challenges although it’s more a statement of fact.

“Chip off the old block is what you are,” Jason grumbles, sitting up—slowly, in case the hard-looking kid thinks he’s about to try something. He’d rather not get into another Wayne beatdown so soon after his encounter with Bruce. “Did he actually teach you the menacing-people-in-the-dark thing, or is it genetic?”

“What is your purpose for returning to Gotham?” the boy demands, ignoring the question.

“Best chili dogs in the world,” Jason shoots back, reaching for the small table beside his fold-out bed and the carton of cigarettes there.

“Stow your flippant remarks, Todd, I will have my answer whether you give it voluntarily or after I’ve loosened a few of your teeth.”

“Big words for someone probably still losing their own baby teeth. What are you, six?”

“I won’t tolerate any attempts to shove your way back into Father’s life,” the boy insists. “We already have one failure lingering about where he shouldn’t be, no need for a second.” He pauses, tilts his head to one side, and his mouth pulls into a cold smirk. “Or rather, you were the first, weren’t you?”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You know there’s a headless guy in a green curtain following you around, right? I’d think really hard about what B considers a failure before throwing that word at other people.”

The kid’s mouth goes white around the edges—touchy subject, apparently—and moves into a crouch like he’s about to dive across the room. He pauses though, fingers touching his hear, and then scowls.

“That Daddy calling you out for missing curfew?” Jason prods.

“This isn’t over!” the kid snaps, and then like he’s making a point, whips a Batarang at Jason’s face.

By the time Jason’s reached up to catch it, the brat and his ghost have vanished.

“Well, that was fun,” Jason mutters, bemused and confident he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

He spends the rest of the night and early morning first checking emails and then researching. John sent him a bunch of information on kodoku, the technique Jason couldn’t remember in conjunction with the thing attracting negative energy to Tim.

It’s not exactly what he was thinking of, but even if it doesn’t help him figure out that conundrum, it might offer an inkling or two of how to deal with the ever-present Joker problem.

Need to read up on it more before I can know for sure.

His stomach growls and he decides to table it for now. There’s a 24-hour breakfast place down the street actually does bangers and mash, which he’s been craving since leaving London.

Instead, there’s a knock at the door.

Guess I’m putting off breakfast for a bit longer. Oh well. Potential client.

Jason forces himself to put on a normal, welcoming face and goes to open the door.

What he doesn’t expect to find is a certain English butler standing in the shitty hallway just outside his office, with a bulky canvas bag in his arms and a disapproving look on his face that only just falters as their eyes meet.

It’s as if the air has been punched out of Jason’s lungs because if there’s anyone he has missed than anyone else since he’s been away, it’s Alfred.

“Master Jason,” the older man says, somehow managing to keep his voice from wavering, and god, he sounds the same. “I am sure in instilled at least a rudimentary etiquette into you as a boy. Therefore, you can imagine my disappointment upon learning you have been in Gotham for several weeks now and did not come to call at the manor.”

Jason can’t hold back the slightly hysterical chuckle at that, because trust Alfred to act like he’s been on some kind of extended vacation, instead of six feet under and insane. Yet, it doesn’t feel as dismissive or repressing as it would from Bruce.

“You know me, Alf,” he says through a suddenly dry mouth. “That stuff never took.”

“So it would seem.”

They exchange looks, both sizing up the other and then Alfred raises an eyebrow. Jason shakes his head like a sleepwalker and indicates the older man should come in.

Alfred moves smoothly across the threshold of the tiny office, frowning at the disarray (and mostly at the futon).

“Given the fact you’ve only recently, er, moved in, I thought it best to arrive with provisions.”

He sets the paper bag down on Jason’s desk and removes a box containing a hot plate, a kettle and what appears to be a package of tea. Though his back is turned, there’s a tension in his shoulders and a minor tremor that, when Jason cranes his head, he realizes are from shaking hands.

When Alfred turns around, Jason can’t hold back from reaching over and enveloping him in a hug.

It’s so different from the awkward thing with Bruce, and even though Alfred has never been the hugging type, he holds Jason just as tightly.

They stay like that for several moments, before Alfred speaks again, his voice tense like he’s speaking around a lump in his throat. “You have certainly grown into your various limbs, my boy.”

“Yeah…yeah, I guess I did…”

Jason tells Alfred everything.

He doesn’t skip any of the details the way he did with Tim and, to an extent, with Bruce. Because the fact is, he doesn’t know Tim, not really, and he knows Bruce too well. Alfred won’t look at him with pity or as something damaged; there’s pain in the way he watches Jason, but also an overwhelming and unquestionable relief.

Alfred isn’t one to cry, but his eyes gleam wetly as Jason relates how he woke in his coffin and the trial of digging himself out.

“I didn’t remember it for a while,” he admits. “Mostly it’s what comes back in nightmares. I guess it’s so clear because it’s the only thing that happened to me for another year. I was in a coma for about as long.”

“And no one knew who you were,” Alfred murmurs dully. “Everyone thought you were already dead.”

“…yeah.”

“My dear boy…if we had known…”

“Can’t change the past, Alf,” Jason shrugs, trying to play it off. “And even if you had known, I wasn’t me for a long time. Wouldn’t have wanted you to go through that.”

“And yet…somehow, you rallied,” Alfred says, determined. “You recovered.”

“I guess you could say that,” Jason says with a bitter twist of the mouth. “Not sure people would call seeing ghosts ‘recovered’.” He exhales. “I do see ‘em, Alf—all the time. I didn’t know what it was I the beginning, and…that made things harder. I was so out of it; I couldn’t tell when I was talking to someone alive or someone dead. Everyone at the hospitals thought I was insane. Bet you can guess what happened next.”

“Master Timothy…was reluctant to tell me when I asked,” the old man admits. “I’m astounded anyone in the system would have thought Arkham of all places was the appropriate place for you.” He clenches his fists together, no doubt imagining using them on whoever made that particular decision. “But Mr. Constantine, he rescued you?”

“Yeah,” Jason leans back, crossing his arms. “If he hadn’t shown up, I’d still be rotting away there. It was completely by chance, too. An old mate of his called in a favor with him, wanted to prove his sister was possessed and not bat-shit crazy.” Alfred shoots him a reprimanding look and Jason shrugs. “Sorry. Anyway, turns out she was crazy. John was keen to get out of there as soon as possible and happened to pass my room on the way out—he heard me talking to one of my many spectral roommates. He could sense the energy and when he went to look, he could see ‘em too.”

“And thus discovered that your supposed insanity was not quite so clear-cut,” Alfred determines, looking a mite triumphant.

“Not exactly. I’d been driven almost beyond the point of no return by then. If I’d been there much longer, it’d have been too late. But John could tell I was a medium. He decided I wasn’t supposed to be there and busted me out—then decided it’d be dangerous to let me wander around on my own like that. Been with him ever since. Three years of trying to heal what that asshat clown did to my brain and train myself not to lose it when I get rushed by a stampede of dead people.”

“Then I can only be grateful to him,” Alfred says. “Should you speak to Mr. Constantine in the near future, do tell him he will always have a place to stay at the manor should he need it.”

Jason laughs. “I don’t see him coming out this way any time soon. And I doubt B would be open to that arrangement.”

“You let me worry about Master Bruce. As for you—is there any point in reminding you that you also have a place to stay should you tire of this…urban setting?”

“This is my home, Alf,” Jason replies, at least halfway apologetic. “The manor might have...become that if I’d been there longer. Maybe.” He spares a moment’s thought for the little boy that wanted nothing more than to become Batman when he grew up. “But not now. I’m too—I’ve got my own mission now.”

Alfred nods, mouth turned downward. Jason tries to pretend he doesn’t notice the sad gleam in his eye.

“In the hope that your mission is not so all-consuming as Master Bruce’s, I shall still keep a guestroom at the ready. I…suspect returning to your old room would harm more than heal.”

And this is why Jason always loved Alfred. He gets it. Even when he’s hoping for the impossible.

“Guess I can live with that,” Jason says.

“I do expect you to call for dinner at some point in the future. Perhaps not until you’re more settled. But surely you can sacrifice an hour or two for a pot roast dinner.”

Jason’s mouth immediately waters.

“Oh, that’s playing dirty, old man,” he tells him seriously.

“Having lived in Gotham this long, it’s hardly a surprise that I, too, can affect nefariousness when the occasion calls for it.” There’s a buzzing sound and Alfred digs into his pocket for his mobile phone and then heaves a sigh in a very familiar way. “Master Damian’s school. I’m afraid I must attend to this.”

“Ten o’clock and he’s already in trouble,” Jason whistles. “Beating my old record, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Alfred agrees seriously. He stands then, looks like he wants to hug Jason again but manages to keep control of himself this time. “Seeing you again is a gift, Master Jason. I hope you will allow me to impose on your hospitality again in the future?”

“You’re welcome here any time,” Jason says, warm and sincere. “I’m…it’s really good to see you again, Alf.”

The old man nods then continues to gaze at Jason a few beats longer, as if to make sure he really is seeing him, and then heads for the door. Jason sees him out, watches him until he vanishes around the corner, and then sags heavily against the doorpost to his office.

A bone-deep exhaustion that has nothing to do with sleep deprivation washes over him.

“'Stay under the radar’, I said,” he mutters to himself. “'Don’t let the Family know I’m here'. That was the plan. There was a reason for the plan…”

A reason that was supposed to guard against an estranged father and attractive replacement and loving butler.

(Well, to be fair, he didn’t know that ‘attractive replacement’ was on his list, but it clearly should have been.)

At least I got the really hard reunions out of the way. Except for Barbie, but I doubt she’d drag herself up a flight of stairs just to see me. Might be able to avoid that one a bit longer…

Honestly, he's kind of afraid of having to look Barbara Gordon in the eyes. There's so much pain between them, all caused by the same evil.

As it turns out, Jason’s next visitor is somehow more overwhelming. Or at least starts out that way.

He’s shuffling through the hallway to his door with a bag of take-out that evening, and suddenly the air becomes cold and suffocating. Jason winces, tries to breathe slow and measured against the cold.

“Whoever you are, can you just…stay where you are for a minute?” he grunts, fumbling with his keys to jimmy the door open. Silence is the only response, but he takes that as acquiescence.

Well, that’s rare. A creepy stalker that actually listens.

He practically falls into the office, the constricted sensation in his lungs vanishing as soon as he crosses the threshold.

Wards are still working. Good.

“Okay, you can come in now,” he says, putting his groceries on his desk and turning around.

He almost does a double-take.

The person that glides into his office is a small Asian girl, maybe an inch or two shorter than Tim, and deceptively dainty looking. Deceptive, because Jason can see the ghosts crowding the hallway behind her, clawing at the doorway and keening and cursing at her in a myriad of languages.

“How in the hell does someone that looks like you have that big a body count?” he asks, halfway between impressed and horrified.

The girl’s face remains blank, but her eyes skitter away, as if in shame. Jason immediately feels like a tool.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…you’re just a kid.”

“Older than you,” she tells him in clear but accented English. She cocks her head to one side, studying him in a way that is almost as invasive as any of the mind-readers he met while working for John. And then she smiles and says, “Little brother.”

Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. Jason blinks.

“…What.”

She points to herself. “Cassandra. Wayne.”

“Wayne,” he repeats, and then makes the connection and snorts. “Of course. Most people collect stamps. B collects orphans.” He wanders over to his desk and sits down heavily. “What’d he bring you in for? Me, it was boosting tires off the Batmobile.”

Cassandra Wayne’s eyes widen in surprise and then sparkle with amusement and delight.

“So, what brings you here? Come to stare at the clan screw-up?”

“Curious,” she tells him.

“About?”

“They said you see…differently,” she says.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s…comforting,” she says, hesitating on the word like she’s not sure it’s the right one.

“Why’s that?”

“I see different too.”

Jason eyes her, then the myriad ghosts lingering beyond the words. He nods, serious. “I bet you do.”

She smiles at him.

He kind of can’t help be charmed by her, despite the vicious insults being hurled at her by her ghostly entourage.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Close that door so I can hear myself think, and you can stay for supper. I’ve got too much for just me.” He nods at the bags which contain what was supposed to be both tonight’s meal and tomorrow’s lunch. “Not sure if you eat souvlaki, but—”

“I eat anything,” she replies and sits in one of the chairs by his desk.

“Same here,” Jason agrees, handing her one of the Styrofoam containers. “Just promise me you won’t eat it with a fork and knife.”

She makes a face. “I am not Bruce.”

“Thank the gods for small miracles…”

To Be Continued

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I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels

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#jaytimweek2019 #jaytimweek #jaytim #fanfic #prompt: supernatural #jaytim fic #drama #family #angst #supernatural #feels #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #cassandra cain

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