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rtheott · 10 days

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Inovaire Chronicles: Smoke Rises Yet Again...

Disclaimer: I am tired as I edited this so blah. Also, I do plan on making this into a comic some time. This is a rough draft of the first story. Let me know how I could improve!

Ms. Desiree dons her press hat on her head, grabs her coat, and leaves the abandoned building that she converted into her own newspaper manufacturing area and ventures into the city to hopefully find her daily scoop. The best place to look for news is the Harbour, so she heads that direction. The city around her grows dirtier and slum-like as she nears the docks. Desiree lived in the Harbour section of the island city known as Inovaire. Inovaire has three sections of cities, separated by class. These sections are known as the Harbour, the dirtiest and most crime ridden section; the Factory, the most commercial and crowded section; and the Plaza, the ritziest section where the most exclusive and powerful families live. The Harbour was where Desiree felt most comfortable in, due to her upbringing. She lived in the Harbour section until the age of 20 when she had finally scraped up enough money to purchase a printing press and an unused building in the Factory. Though, that took years to build up as her mother and her had to work hard in order to even be able to afford a full meal. She hopes that offering well paying jobs only to people from the Harbour would help them be able to avoid most if not all the hardships that she had experienced. Desiree nears the ocean where the city opens up revealing docks that constantly bring in goods, food, and visitors. These docks that border the entire island are why this section of the city is called the Harbour. After a bit of walking on the docks, her train of thought is disrupted as she smells a mix of smoke, smoldering wood, and melted bronze. Her eyes land on smoke that slowly billows out from the now almost fully incinerated Yuress Warehouse before they land on several soot-covered people sitting on a nearby dock. The Yuress Warehouses are where most of the city's imports of building supplies come from. This is what caused the Yuress family to reach such a high status and become one of the select families who have the most power in Inovaire. She approaches the dock, preparing to interview the workers as she readies her trusty notebook and pencil. As she reaches the group of workers, she hears one of them, a bear, talking. The bear’s voice has a deep baritone dripping with a thick accent that accompanies his stocky frame and large belly.

“-tried tuh stop da fire, but it spread too fast tuh completely stop it. ‘S almost like dey knew where tuh throw dose fire bombs for it tuh get outta control.” The bear was telling the other workers. Desiree jots down in her notebook the word arson. She waits for the bear to finish his retelling and asks him if he would be okay with an interview. He nods at her and they both leave the group of other workers. “So, mister…” She starts, hinting for him to tell her his name. “Shirjay Ritley, but jus call me Shirjay.” He answers.

“So, Shirjay. You mentioned that someone threw fire bombs. Did you manage to see who threw it?” She asks. “Well, uhm… All dat I wuz able tuh see was a gas mask. It coulda been dat gang… uhhh. What were dey called again?” He asks. “The Firebrands.” Desiree quickly answers, writing down the name in her notebook and underlining it with one loud scratch of her pencil. “Thank you for your time Shirjay. I’ll make sure to have this in the paper as soon as I can. Try not tell anyone else about any more information. We don't want to spread any misinformation.” She tells Shirjay as she starts walking away. “Alright, miss…” The bear hesitates, “Wait! I nevah caught ya name!” He shouts. “Desiree!” She shouts back with a smile. “See ya ‘round, miss Desree!” He says with a wave as she disappears into the city. After a while of walking, she reaches the station and goes inside. She walks over to the desk of one of her workers, Veiryl Keeley, who had also been Desiree’s closest friend since childhood. Veiryl had a thin, yet sturdy physique and she could talk her way out of any situation. Desiree tore off the page about the fire from her notebook, making sure that she still had the page with the mention of the Firebrands in her possession. “V, start writing the paper for me please. Give it to Rayland and Pierre once you finish writing it, so they can print the papers. Tell them to hand all the papers to Barneby, once they have been printed. Barneby will know what to do.” She lists off to Veiryl. “A hello would be nice, D.” Veiryl said in her soft spoken voice. “Sorry V.” Desiree sincerely apologized as she practically ran to her own desk, conducting a search for pocket change so she could get lunch while she was out. Veiryl laughs before speaking, “You know I was just messing with you.” Desiree breathes a sigh of relief as she could never tell when Veiryl was joking or not. “But really, where are you going so quickly?” Veiryl asked. “I have a lead to follow.” Desiree answers as she successfully finds some money. Desiree runs to the front door again. “Alright, I’ll be back sometime after noon. So, I’ll see you all then!” She announces to the room just seconds before she closes the door behind her, leaving the station as fast as she had arrived. Desiree starts walking to a particular bar that she believes to be a common spot for some Firebrands before she stops dead in her tracks. She turns around, worrying that Veiryl might be mad at her. Desiree opens the door to the news station and pokes her head in. “Sorry again V!” She says from the door. “It’s alright D, now go! You are wasting daylight.” Veiryl assures her.

Desiree nods and leaves the station once more. The only thing on her mind now is to find out if her hunch about this bar is correct.

#Inovaire Chronicles #furry #furry writing #aspiring writer #Desiree #Shirjay #Veiryl #mystery #arson

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saltypiss · 1 year

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In of itself having a gun to protect yourself shows the country has a gun problem, but when you're keeping guns off their safety because you see it as a hinderance in a self-defense situation, that right there's the nail in the coffin for their arguments.

If Instant Point and Click Kill Tools are at the point you need 0.2 seconds more instantly or else they're utterly ineffective, we're at an impass where the only obvious solution is gun control.

If the boogeymen have a gun, yours ain't making the difference in any measure. We're at a point where we're discussing letting yourself be robbed or actually die trying to kill in self-defense, and I need people to understand this discourse only occurs in America due to it's overwhelming gun problems and culture wars republicans propogate.

Vast majority, vast vast, majority of the time a gun is never used in self-defense. It's used for murder, and far more for suicide. And it's not effective for suicide, leaving prolonged issues often. So if you're aiming at the "self-euthanasia" angle, it's a shit one and we should just do what Canada's doing, outside of a tiny handful of morally corrupt doctors mis-using it who should be barred from any professional settings for the rest of their life, put in therapy and psychiatry, and then a list. Anything less is irresponsible.

I just don't get it. Why do people need Instant Point and Click Kill Tools? Because others have them? Where do you think they got them? Are you fighting gangs? Well, you're not, or your Gravy Seals figure would be a mound of swiss cheese, because you're not winning in a driveby or gang-shoot out.

In general, everyone who says they have a gun for self defense should look up statistics. You're pretty much safer not pulling the gun out, which is usually because the gun is pulled out idiotically as you, I, nor the police, are even trained to use one effectively outside of safety practice and how to aim down a sight. Your whole body is apart of it at that point, and your fat folds show past corners.

All in all. Guns are a problem. The idea that "people are the problem" revolves back to "because they have a gun" none of us own explosive devices for a reason. None of us can instantly kill from several miles away. We aren't a species that can handle nuclear warfare, much less a version that mainly focuses on one target at nearly any realistic distance.

I'd just like to ask, what are guns for? Self defense? Well that means they're for murder and robbery too. Just...inherently. And they don't seem to get that? Why need a gun if a gun isn't involved? Self defense? It almost seems like the opposite situation occurs too...

Man it's almost like guns aren't just one thing. It's almost as if they have a variety of uses, all, all of which end with "I shot it to kill it" and I must ask at that point why you have a gun.

That question's not going away as long as you're holding a weapon. It is a weapon. If you go out in public with one, people see a weapon, not safety, they see this fuckhead Gravy Seals in a maga hat over there yelling at the fast food worker over some dumbshit, and the gun on his back or hip left unsecured for "quicker protection" getting closer to his hands.

Over all, what republicans are asking for is a way to Point and Click kill someone if they want to. How do I know? Well, republicans aren't too far off from children...and they have shown they aren't emotionally nor inteligiently capable of understanding the seriousness of a gun, the nuances of one, nor anything. They see a solution, which is Murder. Which is Guns.

And the government isn't sending the military in. If they do it's going to be against minorities, not republicans. What republicans are actually saying is they want guns to join in when the innevtiable republican administration comes in and starts doing the same shit they've been saying they're going to do for years now. They know the military isn"t being sent in for them. If it is, it's going to be poc, trans, gays, etc.

Not just americans you fucking idiots. It makes 0, absolutely 0 logistical sense. Of course some of the military would be eager to kill minorities, but "regular citizens?" Nah. That shit won't happen in any lifetime. It's a LARP. A LARP that's also projection. One we should start taking seriously ans treat the way it is: Yet Another Excuse for Cruelty.

#school shootings #shootings #gun #guns #republicans #point and click kill tools

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darlingsdevil · 3 years

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Forever Preserved in A Frame

Summary: The Van der Linde gang is notorious for their outlandish Christmas parties, but John Marston will have none of that. It’s Christmas after all.

A/N: A Secret Santa gift to Seb from the @real-rdr-facts server! I hope you enjoy!

Tags: 1920’s AU

RDR2 Masterlist

Merry Christmas !

•••

The Van der Linde gang was notorious for its outlandish and extravagant Christmas parties. No expense was spared. The finest food, champagne, music, everything about the party was big. The gang’s largest speakeasy — a grand basement decorated with imported luxuries was the center of it all. The speakeasy was hidden underneath a bookstore, the gang owned the entire block of buildings, entrances could be made through any of the buildings. Bouncers stood watch at every hidden doorway, waiting for the passerby to mutter the password to get into the party.

Anybody who was anyone was at the party. Which meant Arthur was required to go. He hated those things. They were obnoxious. He hated making small talk with stupidly drunk corrupted politicians, bigwigs in companies who exploited their workers, rancid people he had no interest being near. But following Dutch and Hosea meant all the politics. They had a reputation to uphold, the entire party was one big business transaction. A show of sorts.

Arthur tightened the tie around his neck and placed his hat on his head, feeling the dread of the party creep on him.

“Come on, John!” Arthur yelled as he walked towards the front door, his voice booming through the spacious apartment. He tapped his foot impatiently, looking at the watch on his wrist.

Arthur sighed. “John!” He shouted again. No response. Where was the little bastard? He already had a headache..

He found himself at John’s bedroom door, he knocked on it loudly.

“Open the damn door, John.”

No response again. Arthur managed to get the door open, only to find it was empty. A cold chill filled the room. The window was wide open, the bedroom vulnerable to the frigid night.

Arthur cursed and rushed to the window. Footprints were on the fire escape, they were fresh too. The raging blizzard hadn’t covered them up entirely. John must have just left.

Arthur made it to the street shortly after that, following John’s footprints down the street into a back alley. They were going to be late. All because John decided to play runaway for the night.

He examined the footprints, they led up to a large electrical box, big enough to climb onto. The snow had been disturbed at the top of the box. John must have climbed on it. What the hell was John doing? From there, he could have jumped onto the fire escape and made it up to the top of the building.

Goddamnit.

Arthur would have to explain everything to Dutch and Hosea. Though he was worried about the younger boy, Arthur wasn’t foolish enough to search for him in a blizzard. John was smart enough to handle his own, he had been on the streets a majority of his life, one night was no trouble.

•••

The bouncers let Arthur into the club, he didn’t even need the password. The party was booming downstairs, as he walked down the steps he could feel anxiety bubbling in him. Small talk, stupid dances, schmoozing with rich folk was far from his style. Dutch and Hosea wanted him there.. so he had to be.

He fidgeted with his cufflinks nervously as he examined the crowd. Not many people he recognized, some people he recognized from TV, other people he had become acquainted with through business deals, some people just had the face of looking familiar. The crowd wore their finest clothes, pearls and lace, white gloves and fancy dress shoes all hidden behind snake eyes. It was all very nauseating to him. The chandelier and ice sculptures reflected the fakeness of the crowd.

He would have to grab Dutch and Hosea when they weren’t entertaining a large group of guests. The two men dazzled in the room, if it wasn’t for all the expensive decor they would be the brightest thing in the room.

Arthur was stuck sitting in an uncomfortable party while John got to do god knows what out in the middle of a blizzard, it was almost unfair. He grabbed a champagne flute from a server and leaned up against the wall.

“It’s almost romantic, isn’t it?”

Mary-Beth found him first. A young writer sponsored by Dutch because he was fascinated with her work.

Arthur looked at her curiously. She looked out into the crowd of people.

“You know, the waltzing, the music, the fancy dresses. It’s all so Victorian,” She said dreamily.

“These things get boring after awhile,” Arthur replied, boredom apparent in his face.

“It’s my first time coming to a party like this. It’s all so elegant.”

“I wouldn’t call it elegant.”

“Well, what would you call it?” Mary-Beth asked him, looking at him with curious eyes.

“Loud. Fake. Annoying,” Arthur grumbled.

Mary Beth scoffed humorously, “Aren’t you a Scrooge.”

“Only during these parties.”

“Well, Mr. Duffy has been eyeing me all night, I’ll leave you alone to whatever,” She gestured to Arthur’s wallflower appearance, “This is.”

“Hope you enjoy the rest of the party, Miss Gaskill,” He called out to her.

“As to you, Mr. Morgan,” She smiled sweetly as she waltzed over the room to Kieran.

The dancing picked up, Arthur watched as Mary Beth led Mr. Duffy to the dance floor, he looked nervous and giddy. The music was fast and fun, most people began gravitating to the floor.

Sean MacGuire, head of the smuggling business of Irish cream and whiskey danced drunkenly with Miss Karen Jones, heir to a banking fortune. She blushed each time Sean’s hand slipped further down her waist. Lenny Summers who owned a prominent publishing firm chatted with the drunken fools as well.

He wasn’t much for dancing, no one would ask him anyways.

•

It was only a matter of time before Dutch and Hosea found him. They came knocking midway through the night, when all the introductories were finished. Arthur had drank two glasses of champagne, it was rare he got to entertain himself with such a fine bottle. He didn’t even really like champagne but it was Christmas, he deserved to let loose through the only viable option.

“Arthur, my boy!” Dutch called out to Arthur, arms outstretched for a hug. Arthur hugged him,

“Where’s John?” Hosea asked, glancing around the room to spot the teenager.

Arthur drew a breath in as he began, “About that.”

Dutch and Hosea’s happiness fell from their face, that line was never good, especially coming from Arthur.

“He escaped the apartment right before we were going to leave. Followed his tracks, went to the rooftops, I wasn’t going to break my damn neck looking for him during a snowstorm so I came here instead.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Hosea asked.

Arthur shrugged, “Didn’t want to bother you. Figured he could handle himself for awhile.”

“You sure he wasn’t kidnapped?” Hosea said quietly, leaning in close to him.

Arthur nodded, “Only one set of footprints, I followed them all the way to the roof until I couldn’t anymore.”

It was silent for a moment as Dutch decided what to do.

“We can’t send any men out tonight, they’re drunk out of their minds and we can’t pay anyone to look for him. Streets are bare. I don’t think even the cops would look for him on a night like this,” Dutch replied, his brow furrowed as he worried about John.

“What should we do then, Dutch?” Hosea asked.

“Let’s get our coats. We have to look for him before it gets too late.”

•••

The whole car ride was near silent, the street was eerily but expectedly deserted. The streets felt almost ghostlike. It was late enough into the night that most people had retired from a night of partying, it was early to a gangsters standards but civilians were schedule abiding people.

They checked Arthur’s apartment first. He had slipped a paper in the door to see if John had come by. He hadn’t.

Then they checked the alley in which he had made his grand escape. Not there either. His prints were mostly covered. Arthur cursed John for being so foolish, he would no doubt get a scolding and Hosea’s unbearable look of disappointment. It’s what the little brat deserved, running off like that on Christmas.

They decided to check the waterfront. Dutch drove the car wordlessly as Hosea and Arthur both checked their sides of the street to see if there was any sign of him.

Nothing. Streets were bare. It was hard to see with all the snow too.

They decided to drive by Sisika Center, the tree loomed tall with its bright lights in front of Saint Denis’ largest building complex. It had been packed leading up to Christmas, but now not a soul was out. Couples and families gathered by the tree, but Arthur was never much fond of looking at a lit up dead tree.

There was no one there as expected, Arthur sighed at the sight. Where the hell was the stupid boy?

Suddenly someone jumped in front of the car, Dutch swerved the car quickly, swearing loudly as the harsh snow littered the windows.

Dutch lost control of the car for a few seconds until he regained it, he slammed on the brakes and everyone held their breath until they were sure the car had stopped moving.

“What the hell was that?” Arthur asked, his heart still beating loudly.

Hosea was already halfway out the car. “John!” He shouted.

Arthur and Dutch stepped out quickly, John was standing in the middle of the road, standing with his hands on his hips almost annoyed.

“Took you long enough!” He shouted over the storm.

“John! Get over here now!” Dutch bellowed, the headlights illuminated John in the road as snow swirled around him.

“Come on!” John shouted, turning tail and running down the street.

Arthur shared a glance with the two.

“Well go after him, Arthur,” Dutch said to him, pinching the bridge of his nose, muttering all sorts of insults.

Arthur set off after him, except John stopped right in front of the tree. Arthur was damn near ready to tackle the foolish boy, but there was something serene about watching his brother stare bewitched at the twinkling lights. Arthur caught up with him and stood in silence for a moment.

“Before you say anything let’s wait for Dutch and Hosea,” John said, his eyes remaining fixed on the tree.

Arthur let out a sigh of annoyance. Eventually they heard the crunch of footsteps against the snow.

“John! What the hell was that?” Dutch called out.

John was dressed for the cold, he had mittens, boots, a large coat and a hat. The rest of the men only had on their tuxedos and furs.

“I’ve been out here all night. I knew you’d show up.” He began to explain, turning to Dutch and Hosea.

“You’re always at that stupid party, I never get to see you during the holidays, and if I do you only show me off to your rich friends like I’m some charity case,” John said, frustration filled his voice.

Dutch and Hosea both frowned.

“For once, I want a real Christmas instead of some party with a bunch of strangers. Like a family would have.”

The storm had let up, instead the snow twirled lazily through the sky, causing the snow from the bright lights to look like diamonds falling from the heavens.

Dutch and Hosea looked at Arthur for some confirmation.

He shrugged, “I don’t like the party either.”

Dutch and Hosea stared at each other for a moment.

“Then let’s stay away from the party for the rest of the night, what do you say, Dutch? The boys deserve a real Christmas,” Hosea suggested. John broke out in a bright grin.

Dutch sighed and nodded, “Alright.”

Arthur was surprised at the stunt John had pulled, as much as he hated the party, it was definitely out there. In truth, he expected nothing less from the delinquent. Running off wasn’t anything special to him, but on the night of the party was. All to get Dutch and Hosea’s attention.

“Thank you,” John said sincerely, he was relieved Hosea and Dutch hadn’t yelled at him yet.

The snow continued to swirl, almost like ribbon.

“I almost forgot!” John said quickly, digging into his pockets, he pulled out a slip of paper.

He handed it to Hosea. Hosea smiled warmly and showed the picture to Dutch, then Arthur.

It was a photo of the four of them, sharing a laugh at a table, Arthur had placed his hat on top of John and John barely fit into it, the hat covered most of his view.

It was a nice memory, a few months back. So much had happened since then it had slipped all of their minds.

“Where did you get this?” Arthur asked, examining the back of the picture.

“Albert Mason took it when we were at the grand opening of Pearson’s restaurant, remember?” John replied.

“Ah, yeah, now I do.”

•••

They returned to the apartment, Dutch and Hosea swinging by their respective homes to retrieve the gifts they had bought.

John was ecstatic to open gifts in a home next to a fireplace rather than a spiffed up basement. He had gotten everything he had wanted. Arthur smiled warmly at the sight of it all. There was no party chatter, no drunken fools, no fakeness, it was all genuine. It was no performance. It was cozy and homely, and joyful and everything Arthur had secretly wanted out of Christmas.

The framed picture sat on the fireplace for years for many more Christmases.

Sometimes John liked to pick it up and show baby Jack the photo. The infant recognized all of them, and giggled happily at the sight of his father’s family. Many more memories had been made since then, but John liked to think this was where it all truly started. The parties were still thrown, this time moved from Christmas Day to Christmas Eve. Both John and Arthur were forced to attend.

John looked at the back. It was a distant memory now, though the picture had not collected dust.

John, Arthur, Dutch & Hosea

Circa 1924.

•••

#rdr2 #Arthur Morgan #dutch van der linde #Hosea matthews #John marston #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #1920’s au #au #Christmas

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sunflowersunshinevol6 · 4 years

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Pomegranate

Part One

Pairing: Harry Styles x OC

Warnings: gang activity, drinkng

Summary: A retelling of the myth of Hades and Persephone with a modern mob twist.

Word Count: 4.1k

Stephanie has spent the first twenty four years of her life sht in away from the world by her worriesome mother, who refuses to let anyone hurt her daughter after her lovr abandoned them. But when Harry Styles, one of the big three Olympi ‘brothers’, stumbles upon her, he has to have her, at whatever cost

A/N: I really loved this one. It’s one of my favorites. I hope you guys enjoy it. PLEASE send me feedback, questions and asks are always appreciated. Love you all!

“What if the real story was completely different? What if it was Persephone in control and not Hades at all? What if she was bored of the flowers, discontent with her situation and wanted to make more of her life than the grass and trees could offer her?”

-Nikita Gill

24 years ago

Demetra shook as the tears rolled down her face. Her fingers flexing on the steering wheel as she watched Zeke kiss Hellen again. Every look of fondness, every touch, was another stab to her broken heart.

She watched them enter their home, as the door shut all the promises he had made to her falling down all around her, she placed a hand on her swelling belly, rubbing in smooth and slow circles. She hated him. She hated men.

“I promise you little one….You will never ever feel this pain.” she narrowed her eyes as she put her car in drive. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Present Day

“Find me in the garden there, meet my eyes with lovely stare, take my heart and take my love, a wonder of my life,” Stephanie sang quietly to herself as she brushed her long black hair. Today was an important day for her and she wanted to look her best, it was the day her mother would be bringing her into the family business and teaching her how to run it. She gazed at her face in the ornate gold mirror on her vanity, studying her features, trying to gauge if she looked like a mature woman or rather a scared little girl.

She felt like a scared little girl.

The family business was ruthless, cutthroat. And she had never been one for cruelty, she had a kind soul as her mother would say. But a kind soul could weaken the Kingdom they built, and as a woman, this high up, anyone was looking for an excuse to snatch the Kingdom keys from them.

Stephanie had never been told exactly what it was her mother did, but she knew people feared her. Overhearing phone conversations and hiding under the table at dinner parties, she heard the way people spoke to her and the way she spoke to them. She knew what her mother did was dangerous and she knew it was a big responsibility for her, to make sure she held the Kingdom up with as much grace and cutthroat as her mother did.

She just wasn’t sure she had it in her.

“Never trust men. Men are cruel, evil. Once they get what they want from you, they toss you aside.” her mother brushed her fingers along Stephanie’s cheek fondly. “That’s why I have to keep you hidden away. To keep you safe.”

Her mother’s words rang in her mind.

She never knew her father. Her mother never spoke of him. The only thing she knew was that he headed an organization that worked in conjunction with theirs. She didn’t know if he knew of her existence or if he and her mother ever worked directly together. Any attempts to ask about him were shut down swiftly and harshly.

“Stephanie?” her mother’s voice rang through the door, accompanied by a light knock. Stephanie stood, smoothing down her pink and yellow sundress as Demetra opened the door. “Oh look at you.” she smiled wide, making Stephanie feel proud, Demetra locked her arm through her daughter’s, pulling her out of the room. “Are you excited today?”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to go out and see what you do.” Demetra was an overprotective mother. When Zeke, Stephanie’s father, went back to his wife and abandoned them, she vowed her daughter would never experience the hurt and rejection she had faced. And so, Stephanie had been homeschooled, had limited access to the outside world and people. Her friends were her books and her films. She had been hidden away.

A guard stood outside the front door, and one stood next to a white buick with the backdoor open. Stephanie held her mother’s hand as they walked to the car.

“Hi!” Stephanie said pleasantly, the guard only nodded, shutting the door after Demetra climbed in beside her daughter.

“The Warehouse please.” she said to the driver. The man started the car and Stephanie looked outside with fascination.

“I’ve never left the property before.” she said absentmindedly, Demetra only smiled, extending her hand to her daughter.

“I know you’ve waited years for this.”

-*-*-*-

“What do you mean you can’t find him Niall? That’s your job.” Harry turned away from the boxer practicing, he was going to ring necks if someone didn’t find Hayden, and they better find him fast.

“Look all I know is that Amelia said he was going to Demetra to drop some product off and then he’s going to Zeke. I can text Zeke-”

“No,” Harry interrupted, grabbing his coat, Alan was a winner, he would be the one to bet on in the fight so he wasn’t worried. Business before pleasure. “I’ll go to Demetra’s Warehouse, maybe catch him outside.” he ended the call after Niall said good bye.

Harry had been apart of the Olympi Gang since he came to America. It felt like years ago he’d arrived with dreams of being a musician, but rejection after rejection left him heartbroken and destitute. That’s when he’d met Louis, another Brit from Doncaster,a sassy motherfucker who had helped him learn how to navigate the streets and do what needed to be done to survive. His initiation had been one hell of a beating, but he got that OG tattoo the very next day, busted eye lid, cracked ribs and all. The pain had been worth it. He’d moved up quickly, hustling with his good looks and charm. Zeke had said he was born for this when he finally made him one of the ‘brothers’. He was the youngest-by years. But he had sharp tongue and a wisdom of the streets that couldn’t be matched. He couldn’t even remember why he really came here in the first place.

But only sometimes.

Demetra’s territory was on the other side of the city. Rural area. The last place you’d expect major operations like theirs to go down. But she had a green thumb, and worked her magic in gardens, growing vegetables and fruits, grains, flowers, she single handedly fed the city with her crops, having bought out all the farming land. It was the perfect cover.

-*-*-*-

The car pulled into the warehouse parking lot. ‘Demeter Organics’ was painted in bright red above the warehouse doors, trucks were being loaded, people were walking about here and there. Stephanie was excited and amazed, she had never seen so many people in her life.

“Come on sweetheart,” Demetra said, touching her daughter’s arm lightly as the car door was opened. Stephanie followed her mother out, taking her hand once again as Demetra led the way into the warehouse.

Stephanie was amazed. It was huge, large fluorescent lights hanging overhead, people standing at tables or on forklifts, lifting and loading boxes, shelves stacked high with an assortment of things. As Stephanie looked around she could see many of the people were manufacturing weapons. Demetra cleared her throat, grabbing her daughter’s attention.

“I know this must all be overwhelming for you,” she said, walking Stephanie down between the isles of workers. No one dared look up, everyone continuing to work hard as they walked by. “I want you to know I’m not a bad person. When your father and I started this years ago...This,” she waved at the workers around them. “Is what we had to do to survive. To thrive….All of it for you.” She smiled at her daughter. “But as the years past I was able to step out on my own. To create something of great value to this city and the world.” The stopped outside another door. Demetra turned to Stephanie, taking her daughter’s hands in hers. “Are you ready?” she asked. Stephanie’s hard was pounding.

“Im ready mom.” a guard opened the door behind them. It creaked and groaned as it moved, the warm summer breeze hitting Stephanie’s face, as sunlight shone in.

“Welcome to the garden Stephie,” her mother pulled her outside.

Two large greenhouses stood side by side. Men in white suits with netted hats, tended to bees just to the left of them and beyond that was fields of vegetation. Tractors pulled and people picked fresh food and flowers, working at benches to clean and package the fruit. The smell in the air, the heavy scent of flower perfumes invaded her senses. She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face.

“It’s beautiful.” she whispered in awe. Demetra wrapped an arm around her, kissing the side of her head.

“I know I’ve been difficult. But everything I’ve done was to protect you.” She let go of her. “But now I think you’re old enough. All this,” she waved a hand at the beauty around her. “It’s yours. The workers work for you. Everything but the business deals and contracts you are in control of.” She looked around in wonder.

“Thank you momma.” she hugged her mother tightly, burying her face in her shoulder.

“Hello Ms. Demetra.” Stephanie turned her head to see an older woman with thinning white hair and wrinkles walked up to them. She shook Demetra’s hand, before turning her grey eyes to Stephanie. “You must be Stephanie. Pretty as a lily you are,” her hand felt rough and hard, she was a woman used to hard laboring.

“Hello,” Stephanie chirped with a grin. Demetra watched her daughter with fondness.

“This is Annabeth. She’ll be working directly under you. Whenever you have a question or need something go to her.” Stephanie nodded, glancing behind her mother to see a security guard approaching.

“Ms. Demetra, Hayden is here to see you.” Demetra let go of her daughter.

“Alright. Set him in my office,” she touched Stephanie’s cheek gently. “Are you going to be alright?” Stephanie nodded, stepping back away from her mother.

“I’ll be fine. I want to explore the garden if that’s alright?” Demetra chuckled.

“Of course.I’ll find you when we’re done.”

-*-*-*-

Harry pulled up at the back of the Warehouse. Whenever he came to visit Demetra, he always went through the garden entrance. Something about it felt so comforting and familiar. Maybe it had to do with his mom, he wasn’t sure, but Demetra could be a handful and he needed the walk to relax.

Soft giggling met his ears when he shut the car door. It was a beautiful sound, like a melody. he looked over into the sunflowers, blooming proudly and felt himself take in a sharp breath.

The girl was like a vision. He watched as she walked through the flowers, touching them gently, with reverence, her long dark curls flowing behind her. She was barefoot, in a pink and yellow dress, it was the simplest thing, and it made his heart pound. Never had he felt that way before.

He didn’t realize he had approached her until she gasped, startled by his appearance.

“I’m sorry,” he said, she had beautiful dark eyes and full pouty lips that were turned down as she frowned at him. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She smiled, “It’s alright.” he liked that it met her eyes, he watched her visibly relax. “Do you work here? In the garden?” he shook his head.

“No. Actually I’m here to see Demetra.” he stepped closer, unable to keep much distance from her. There was something warm and safe about her. He wanted to be around her and feel like this always.

“She’s talking with Hayden right now.” So he is here. That was good. Harry could see the freckles beneath her eyes, that crossed the bridge of her nose. His hand twitched, he wanted to touch her, caress her face, play with her hair. Was this what love at first sight was? He hoped so. He smiled down at her. It was small and private. Just for her.

"What is your name?" He asked, reaching up to brush his fingers against her rosy cheek. He couldn't help it, he hadn't meant to. But there was something about her that made him weak. Weak in the knees. He would do whatever she asked, no request was to great.

"Stephanie. I'm Demetra's daughter."

"Oh?" He was surprised, "I didn't know she had a daughter." The girl blushed, looking away from him and down at her feet. She was good. So sweet.

"She kept me hidden very well." There was slight pause, he studied her features, big brown doe eyes, looking anywhere but at him, soft pink, pillowy lips, long lashes, she had the cutest little nose, golden brown skin. She was soft. He wanted nothing more than to take her home with him.

"Look at me little one." He put his finger under her chin, tilting her face to look up at him. Their eyes met once more and he watched as her body visibly relaxed at his touch. She was astounding. "You are....a masterpiece." He leaned down, nose brushing against hers. He could hear her heart pounding in her chest-

"Steph!" Harry pulled back sharply as she whipped her head around. Hayden was making his way towards them, a suspicious look on his face.

"Hayden," Stephanie's cheeks were full on red with embarrassment now, hands clasped behind her back. Hayden put a protective arm around her shoulder.

"Your mother asked me to take you to Hollyn. We've been looking for you." He turned his eyes to Harry, stood expressionless. "Harry."

"Hayden....please come see me after you're done here with Demetra. I have some packages for you." His expression changed when he looked back as Stephanie, it softened. "It was lovely to meet you my dear." She smiled. It was breath taking.

"Likewise Mr. Styles." Hayden steered her away, back into the large warehouse, once out of earshot, he gripped her arm.

"You listen to me Stephie. You stay away from him. Understand?"

"But he was so nice. He was kind. Why?"

"Just remember your mother's teachings. And stay away from that man."

Harry called Zeke as soon as he got into his car.

"What?" Zeke's tone was annoyed, Harry heard the whimpering of some poor fool in the background.

"Did you know Demetra had a daughter?" He asked, he heard the sound of bones cracking and a scream of agony.

"Yes. She's my daughter. What of it?" Harry felt his blood run cold. It had taken him years as an affiliate to gain the position he had now, as one of the kingpins of this organization, but he still worked under Zeke. He would have to be careful.

"Nothing I just....I was surprised is all." He finally said, chewing his bottom lip nervously.

"She's beautiful isn't she?" Zeke asked, a fondness Harry had never heard in his tone before.

"Yeah. She really is."

"Harry? Do you like where you are? Your position in my family?"

"Yes. I'm grateful for it. I worked hard you know that."

"I do." Zeke hummed. "So let me give you some advice. You want to last long with us, you stay away from my daughter."

-*-*-*-

The ride to Hollyn’s house was quiet.” Stephanie thought about what Hayden had said. He didn’t press the issue and when they said good bye to her mother he didn’t mention their encounter with Harry Styles. So she kept silent, hand on her chin, gazing out the window and soaking in the new sights all around her.

Hollyn lived in a little cottage in a neat suburban area. There was a lake and forest behind her house. When Stephanie was little she would bring trinkets and spells for her that she made herself. And pictures of the cottage so she could picture it in her mind. She was a self proclaimed witch and healer but was also Stephanie’s God mother and dearest friend.

“We’re here.” Hayden said. He pulled up beside the cottage. It was cobblestoned, ivy climbing high up the side, the terrace wrapped in blood red roses, shrubs covered the front yard, a willow tree hanging over the roof. And fairy lights, leading all the way up to the house.

“Wow.” Stephanie whispered, going to unbuckle her seatbelt.

“Stephi.” Hayden put his hand over hers, she looked up into his hazel eyes. “You know...I’ve known you for years...what I said about Harry...I just want to keep you safe.” Stephanie leaned forward, kissing his cheek lightly.

“I know Hayden. My mom couldn’t have gotten on without you. I love you too.” With that she hopped out of the car, bounding up the steps to her Godmother’s house.

-*-*-*-

“Did you know Demetra had a daughter?” Harry asked Niall. They sat in his living room, watching football, Niall shrugged, taking a sip of his beer.

“I mean, doesn’t everyone in this bloody gang have kids?” Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious.” He couldn’t get her out of his head. “Nobody even knew. How fucking crazy is that? She kept her hidden.”

“Not to be an ass but why do you care so much?”

“I don’t.” Harry defended, he could feel himself blushing, Niall giving him a knowing smile. He licked his lips. “She’s Zeke’s daughter.” Niall raised his eyebrows at that.

“My advice as your friend then...stay the hell away from her H. That can and will only bring trouble.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Harry snorted. “I just wondered if you knew.” They watched the rest of the game quietly, only commenting on it here and there. When it was over Niall stood up to leave.

“You doin’ the ball thing tonight?” Harry rolled his eyes. Of course he was. He was one of the Big Three. Any major event he would be in attendance. “You bringing Marlene with you?” Marlene. The girl he fucked on the regular. Not his girlfriend, but familiar enough she usually went with him to events like the Ball.

“Of course.” Harry said. Niall gave him a cheeky grin.

“Just checking.”

Alone with himself Harry’s thoughts went back to Stephanie. The way his stomach flipped when he pictured her face made his hands twitch. Why did he have to want the one person he could never have.

-*-*-*-

“Welcome home Stephi.” Hollyn said, embracing her Goddaughter gently. Stephanie held onto her, breathing in the familiar smells of Frankincense and lavender. She felt like she was home.

Hollyn was older, around Demetra’s age. Her hair was jet black, tight curls that ran down her between her shoulder blades, and was always frizzy. Never one for makeup, her skin was smooth and soft, albeit there were some crows feet around her brown eyes. She always wore tank tops and long flowing skirts, gems dangled off her body. She was the most magical person Stephanie knew.

The house smelled of patchouli and sage. Plants grew and hung all over the place. Stephanie felt an odd calmness fall over her as Hollyn led her to the living room. She took the Laz-boy, while Hollyn sat on the couch.

“So how are you? Today was your first day off the grounds.” Hollyn smiled. She loved Demetra dearly, but felt her helicopter parenting style was harmful. It broke her heart to never be able to take Stephi anywhere. A real life Rapunzel, except her mother wasn’t evil, just afraid.

“It was so exciting!” Stephanie gushed, her face lighting up. She talked about the garden and her mother believing she could do a good job managing it and how she couldn’t wait to get started.

“It’s all so new I just...I want her to be proud.” Hollyn smiled.

“I’m glad Stephi. Truly.”

“Hollyn?” Stephanie asked nervously. “Do you know who Harry Styles is?” she watched Hollyn stiffen, she sighed, setting her cup of tea down.

“I do….You met him today?” Stephanie nodded. “You like him don’t you?”

“N...No! Of course not!” Hollyn chuckled, amused at how red her Goddaughter’s face went.

“I would never tell you what to do. You’re a woman now. You make your choices but,” Hollyn lifted a finger, a small smile on her lips. “I caution you my dear. Just be careful. I’ve heard things. Though I’ve never met him, so who’s to say they’re true. I just ask you to use your head as well as your heart.”

“You make it sound like we’re dating.” Stephanie said playfully. Hollyn shrugged.

“Call it an old woman’s intuition.” she laughed. “Now,” she stood up, walking around to extend her hand to Stephanie. “Did your mother tell you why I wanted you here?” she shook her head. “The Summer ball is tonight. And you, my darling, are going.” Hollyn flinched as Stephanie let out a squeal, throwing herself at her Godmother.

“How many strings did you have to pull?!” Hollyn nuzzled Stephanie’s nose affectionately.

“A true witch never tells.”

-*-*-*-

Harry checked himself over in the mirror. A lavender colored suit with black velvet flower designs. He liked this one a lot. He was adjusting his pants when a soft knock on the door let him know his date had arrived.

Marlene was a lower level dealer, but she was cute and they had met at a party about a year or so back. She was blonde, with green eyes and beautiful red lips. Some likened her to Marilyn Monroe. Harry didn’t really care, she was a good fuck.

“Hey.” Marlene leaned up to kiss him, sighing when he cupped her cheek and kissed her back, but he wasn’t into it. Stephanie’s face flashed in his mind and he wondered what it would be like if he had kissed her. How soft would her lips be?

“Hello love,” Harry said, pulling back to take a look at her. Red bodycon dress, with matching pumps and a clutch, didn’t really match him, but they weren’t a thing so that didn’t matter.

“You ready to go?” she asked. “The driver is waiting downstairs. Harry nodded, locking his apartment behind him.

The balls were usually held at Zeke and Hellen’s home. A mansion on the outskirts of town in a gated community. Harry could have been their neighbor. But he liked his little loft apartment and the noise the city made at night.It was his lullaby.

The house was already bustling with activity, lights shining in the driveway as couples chatted, and butlers served horderves. The gang would have these parties once every season, to bring the ‘family’ all together and to discuss how the business was running,the profit turns and fatalities.

Hollyn squeezed Stephanie’s hand as their car pulled up outside of Zeke and Hellen’s house.

“You look beautiful.” Hollyn complimented her. Stephanie took a shaky breath.

“I’m nervous.” she confessed. Hollyn chuckled, brushing hair back out of her Goddaughter’s face.

“Don’t be. You’ve got this.”

The Ball was in full swing. Harry stood with Marlene on his hip, talking politely with Zayn and his girlfriend. A few more minutes of chatter and maybe he could convince Marlene it was time for them to head back to his place. He had some big shipments coming up and exhaustion wouldn’t be an excuse if he fucked things up.

“Oh my God.” Gigi gasped, she was pointing at someone behind the group. “Who’s that?” when Harry turned, he had to force his jaw not to drop to the floor.

It was Stephanie, Demetra’s daughter, coming down the staircase with Hollyn, arm in arm. She wore a simple white dress with spaghetti straps and a slit that went just above the knee on the left side. It looked soft, like it was made of silk, white sandals on her feet, her toes and fingers painted a baby pink. Her hair was pulled into a simple messy, but classy bun and the only makeup he could see on her face was the ruby red lip stain on her lips.

Stephanie’s heart was pounding as she ascended the stairs with her Godmother. She held onto Hollyn tightly, terrified she would fall over. She could feel the eyes on her and when she did look up she saw a pair of familiar green eyes staring back at her, her heart fluttered and her lips parted in a silent gasp. Harry looked as handsome as he had in trousers, a black t shirt and sunglasses. She couldn’t help but smile at him and give him a little wave. And her stomach flipped when he gave her the tiniest smile back and winked.

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles friends to lovers #harry styles serial killer au #hs #hs imagine #hs one shot

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ficdump101 · 4 years

Text

THAT’S MY GIRL

ALFIE SOLOMONS

WORDS: 1105

You and your boyfriend, Alfie, were sat in his office at the bakery. You were sat on a chair, flipping through a book that was slowly losing your interest and Alfie sat behind his desk, doing whatever he was doing. He always told you not to involve yourself with the work he did and you trusted your big old brute, so you never asked questions. Due to you visiting a lot, you had become familiar with a few workers like Ollie and the 2 men (Robert and James) who were always on the door; these 3 where the only one’s who didn’t feel the need to gawk at you every time you made your way through to the office. Now, don’t get me wrong, you were a confident woman. Gawking men didn’t bother you in the slightest, but what did was the whispers and backhand comments workers threw your way. Whilst they did try and make these comments quietly and under their breath, they were not very good at it at all so you would always hear their remarks. They ranged from you being a whore who was sleeping with their boss to make ends meet, to you being in a rival gang and working on both sides of the table as a spy, to you being a bigamist married to multiple men for their money and power. Of course this was all bullshit. You were a simple seamstress who sold her handmade clothing to those in the marketplace, more often than not, you gave out newly made coats and blankets to those who couldn’t afford - this did cause a dip in your income but it was worth it at the end of the day. This was how you met Alfie, he shuffled past your stall with Cyril and you couldn’t help but notice the gaping hole in his coat. You offered to sew it up for him, which he refused because he assumed he’d have to got to the shop. However, you had stated that you would happily do it at the stall (which you did). Since then, he’d always tip his hat and talk with you before going on his way to carry on with what he was originally. Fast forwarding over dinner dates and late night walks, the London gangster eventually worked up the courage to ask you to be his and you were thrilled. You were infatuated with the man; how he could go from his stereotypical rough demeanour to a gentle giant who’d wait on you hand and foot if he had the choice.

“Alf, when are you finishing up tonight?” You asked, placing you book down on the side and stood up, making you way towards the man in question. He grumbled a little, wrapping his arm around your waist from where he sat when you came to meet his left side. His glasses sat upon the bridge of his nose as his pen scratched at the paper on the desk.

“I don’t know. Apparently the Tommy Shelby, yeah, is paying another visit. You need to leave, yeah, leave before then because I don’t want them lot eyeing you up, right. I’ll see you at home though.” His gruff voice came out on the quiet side as he finished whatever he was writing. He set the pen down, let his glasses hang round his neck by the gold chain and tilted his head up to you; your eyes roamed his face as your arms moved to wrap around his neck. Smiling, you leaned down to place a kiss on his lips before you took your leave, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. You let your arms drop as your straightened yourself up and Alfie got onto his feet with a groan,

“What?” He called out as he helped you put your coat on and pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. The door swung open, as Ollie strode in, accompanied by 4 other gentlemen.

“Ah, Shelby.” Alfie nodded to a smaller man, dressed in expensive clothing and cold blue eyes. The man, Shelby, nodded back before his eyes darted to you, taking in your figure. Of course, Alfie noticed this.

“Ollie, right, show (Y/N) out and come back up here to write notes, yeah.” You let go of Alfie’s forearm and made way to follow Ollie out the door. A hand stopped you in your path. You followed the large hand, up a brown coat sleeve, to see an oldish man supporting dark eyes and the well known peaky cap.

“Ay lets not be too rash. ‘Ow bout you let this pretty whore here stay.” He spoke in a thick, Birmingham accent. Smiling to himself as his eyes drifted up and down your form. Before Alfie could lash out at the man, you grabbed him by the lapels of his coat close to his neck and pushed him to the wall behind him. His body slammed into the wall and his face was stuck in surprise. With a set jaw and narrowed eyes, your tightened your fists on the man in front of you.

“You think just because I am a woman, that I am automatically a whore? Did you never get taught manners eh? I may be a lady but I will gladly put you on your arse, yeah. So do not even think about challenging me or I’ll fucking cut you up so bad that your own mother wouldn’t recognise you, I couldn’t give two shits if you’re a Peaky fucking Blinder.” After you rage filled speech, you let go of the man and straightened the front of his coat, stepping away from him. You turned to face Alfie.

“I’ll see you at home Alfie, don’t forget to see Mr. Cameron for Cryil’s food, we’re running low.” You nodded your goodbyes to the rest of the men before following Ollie out of the room.

Arthur Shelby let out a low whistle,

“Nah then Solomons, you got yourself one hell of a lass.” Alfie nodded, turning to his desk to receive the deal papers.

“I ‘ave. That’s my girl, yeah. Most protected woman in Camden, right. Now, what of this deal then, Tommy?”.

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Text

Until My Heart Stops Racing

Pairing: Mitch x Mike (or Bitch as I like to call them, ya know cause Believe x Mitch.....nvm lol)

Fandom: The Powerpuff Girls

Note: This was a commission for the wonderful @lisathefan who gave me the cutest prompt and I know she loves her crack ships. I hope you enjoy my dear and thanks to my beta, Faxx for helping me!

Word count: 5538

---

The car whipped into the parking space, dirt flying around us and I felt my heart rate finally go back to its normal beating. I looked over to Butch who had a goofy grin and ignoring everything he just did.

“Butch your driving is terrible. Now I get why you fly everywhere.” I groaned as I finally got out of the car. “I swear if Brick saw how you drove this thing... actually I don’t want to think about it.” I thought that speeding was illegal but apparently if the cops can’t even see your car, it's a free pass. And being in touch with the puffs might be a bonus we all have.

Butch let out a laugh before locking the car. “Relaxe Mike, what Brick doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” He shrugged and sometimes I wondered how he could even say that. Brick could kill someone with just a glance but when you are a superhuman, and his brother, maybe the effect doesn’t work.

Maybe I should ask Blossom about that.

The beeping of other cars brought me out of my trance as I followed him on the dirt path.

“Anyways, why did you drag me all the way out here?” I turned to see the lights and the signs. “The fair?”

In front of me was the entrance to what could only be deemed as a somehow legal way to make people shell out three hundred dollars on cheap food and even cheaper ride systems. Every kid wanted to go to the fair and, yeah, it was fun when you were five, but now that we had just graduated high school, it seemed more dangerous than fun.

“Yeah, why not?”

I glanced at him and he only smiled widely but something in his eyes had mischief written all over it. “What's the deal?”

He sighed and smirked.

“A little birdy told me you got heart eyes for a certain someone.” Butch threw his arm around my shoulder. “And as the king of romance, I’m gonna help you out.”

Theres always a small tinge of fear whenever Butch gets an idea. It either ends badly where someone gets hurt, usually him or bad in the way that we all get in trouble and the notorious Powerpuff Girls have to get us out of it. But this...this was much worse.

“Butch, what did you do?” I said through gritted teeth. He only laughed at me instead of answering and pushed up towards the gates.

“Relax. Look they are here.” He pointed.

I followed his sight and walking up towards us was Buttercup, Robin and Mitch. Butch let out another laugh, probably because he could hear my heartbeat. Fuck superhearing. Of course Robin opened her mouth. You tell a girl while you’re throwing up that you have the biggest crush on your best friend who wears dark leather, has piercings and makes your heart swoon and think that she can keep her mouth shut. But no, she can’t.

“Hey guys.” Butch waves to him before leaving me to wrap his arms around Buttercup and ignore the public by kissing her square on the lips. PDA is always gross unless you’re the one doing it, so I can’t blame them. Also it's funny to watch her smack his arm.

“Sup Mikey.” Robin smiles smugly. Little demon.

“Hey. Hi Mitch.” He gives me a wave and a nod of the head and I have to mentally tell myself not to blush. Stupid hormons.

“Come on you two.” Robin says and grabs my arm and Mitch’s and forces us towards the carnival’s entrance. “Lets go!”

One of the perks to being besties with the puffs is the mass amount of freebies. Buttercup swiftly pulled out a ticket for each of us and handed it to the ticket collector.

“Sweet, free entrance.” Mitch smiled at me and held up his hand for a fist bump.

I gladly returned the gesture and every time I did so, I wondered if he could feel the electric spark between us. God, I need to stop reading romance novels.

“Alright losers. We’ll see you all later tonight, meet up for fireworks at 9?” Buttercup said and apparently everyone already had a plan that I was not aware of.

“Sounds good to me!” Butch smirked. “BC and I are going to do coupley stuff no one wants to see and Robin said something about henna soooooo.” He looked at me. “Guess Mitchy boy and Mikey are on their own.” I didn’t miss his wink and before I could protest, everyone was walking away.

My mind was now racing as I tried to comprehend what was happening. I realized in this moment that the group had ganged up on us, well specifically me. Mitch probably didn’t even think twice as the group broke up but they were out of their minds if they thought something was going to happen.

“Wanna hit the rides?” He asked.

I take a breath before nodding. We turn into the direction of the ride area and I have to remind myself that he is just a friend. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less. I usually have my emotions in check but for some reason, they want to act up now. All I have to do is get through tonight without embarrassing myself or giving Butch the satisfation of him being the king of romance. As if that were possible.

The area is buzzing with so much energy. There’s little kids whining and screams coming from the various rides. The smells of corn dogs, popcorn and, oddly enough, waffles mixed in the air and I can’t tell if it smells good or not but I know my pockets are gonna be much lighter by the end of the night.

We get into the shortest line for the tickets and it's truly a scam that each ride is a separate cost.

“I don’t feel like dying tonight so I think two rides is good for me.” Mitch says and I laugh a little because it's true. Just watching the swings makes me feel like one of them unhinge and plummet to the ground but that's what I get for being a paranoid person.

“I feel you. How about the rollercoaster and ummm... the spinning ride?” I suggest.

“Sounds good to me.” He smiles and god fucking dammit, those damn dimples.

The line moves as we chat about the newest horror movie coming into theaters and how Mitch saw a certain pair of redheads making out in a car.

“Wait for real?”

“I swear to god dude.” He raised his hand. “Unless some other chick wears a big ass bow, it has to be them.”

“Interesting.” I smile and soon we get called next.

“Hi there boys, how many tickets can I get ya?” the older woman asks.

“Ten.” Mitch says and I reach into my pocket to grab my wallet, that may or may not have a photo of all of our friends and definitely not for the reason that I can see his face at any given time, but Mitch stops me and places the cash in the tin. “I got it.” he says casually and something inside me felt all warm and fuzzy as the row of blue tickets was handed to him.

“Have a nice date night.” The woman says as we walk away and I almost do a double take thinking I heard her wrong. But when I look over to Mitch, he seems unaffected by the words so I just let it slide.

The rollercoaster isn’t as grand or cool as the ones at the theme park, it doesn’t even go upside down but it has a good bit of hills and bumps to give some air time so i guess it will do. The only problem is that these workers don’t care and make Mitch and I sit in the same cart as these two younger kids.

After we get the bars onto us, the ride starts to go. In front of us the girl grabs the boy's arm and I give a small eye roll as we start to climb the lift hill.

“Babe I'm scared.” She cries and he wraps an arm around her shoulders and I’ve never been so jealous of middle schoolers before.

“These carts are so damn small.” Mitch complains. And it's true. The two of us squished in this together leaves no space for our arms. The pressure of our shoulders touching isn’t too bad but it's to the point it almost hurts. “Hold on.” He says and I feel him pull his right arm away from mine and throw it behind us. “Sorry this is better.”

“No, it's cool bro.” I say even though I realize that this boy really just made it ten times harder to breath now.

I can barely grasp my surroundings as the rollercoaster takes its first turn before the drop. I can see the ending of the track as we go down but the only thing my brain is processing is the fingers tightening on my shoulder.

“Holy shit.” I mumble hoping that Mitch doesn’t know how he's affecting me.

We let out screams and shouts as we go up and down, flying around on the track and I try to enjoy myself, I really do. Before long, it's over and Mitch reaches his hand out to help me up and I take it with silence.

“That was fun.” He smiles and I am really happy he ignored his moms protests and got that lip piercing. It suits him.

“Yeah.” Is all I can muster and he gives me a look before walking towards the next ride.

Luckily as we enter this ride, there’s more room. Only our knees touch as we buckle in the seatbelt and I feel myself being able to breathe better.

“Good thing we didn’t eat before getting on here.” I laugh as the lights start to flash.

He snorts and nods. “Robin would have blown chunks either way.”

The ride is a simple circular track with small hills. All it does is follow the path and goes around pretty fast. Simple but a classic. The music begins and soon we feel the cart shift. I'm sitting on the right while Mitch is on the left, next to the exit and he wiggles off his black beanie just for good measure. His light brown hair, slightly damaged from dying it black back in freshman year, is ruffled from hat hair and my god is it cute.

“Fucking love this ride.” Mitch smiles and it begins to pick up the pace.

Soon, we are at full speed, which is fine. Perfectly fine. Except for the fact that the gravity from the ride is pulling me towards Mitch and no matter how tight I hold on, I end up smacked against him. Shoulders touching and I can clearly smell his cologne. It's the scent of sandalwood and campfire and my god does it smell heavenly. Men just smell like nature and I am more than okay with that.

But Mitch doesn’t mind, because why would he? Instead he's laughing and truly enjoying the ride. I smile and laugh too because honestly, it's just fun to spend time with him. The ride is over faster than I wanted and we hop off, slightly dizzy and I walk a little out of line but he catches my arm and pulls me to him.

“Easy dude.” He chuckles and I nudge him playfully and ruffle his hair before he plops on his beanie. Goodbye cute hat hair.

All of a sudden, my shoulder is hit. It was a pretty hard smack and my body jolted to the side as Mitch grabbed me from falling.

“Look a bunch of homos.” I look up and realize that it's some assholes from our school.

Duke Jones and Mark Dalton. Some of the few people who actually try to be douchebags on the regular.

My eyes do heavy eye rolls and I want to scream at them but I've never been a confronting person. My voice is in my throat but Mitch takes a step forward, his hand never leaving my arm.

“And what of it? Really dudes? You think some lame insult is gonna hurt our feelings. You’re lucky I don’t just kick your ass, better enough I can call Buttercup in a second and have your bodies all the way across this place. Grow the fuck up and maybe don’t choke on your toxic masculanity.” He sneered and sometimes I forget that Mitch can be pretty intimidating.

Their eyes widened as Mitch pulled out his phone to show BC’s number. They mutter something before turning and rushing off in a hurry.

“You okay?” He asks me.

“Yeah.” I say. “Sorry you got caught in that.”

“It's not a big deal.”

But it is. It's not a secret that I'm out and proud. Yeah its cool and all to not have to be closeted, even Princess came out last year so its nice to know that someone higher up won’t pick on me, but even then, it sucks. No matter where I go in life, someone will be there with a flame thrower of slurs or anger for something I didn’t choose. As for Mitch, theres something about him being called gay and him not having a hissy fit about it that makes me feel safe. Uhh fuck.

I take a second to recollect myself and Mitch just pulls me from the herds of eyes that saw that fiasco.

“Lets go here.” He points to the hall of mirrors and for some reason it's beginning to get extremely hard to be around him.

But I take a deep breath and push those feelings to the side once again.

The hall of mirrors was by far the lamest thing the fair could have done. Sure, as a little kid it was cool and slightly scary but now, all of our heads could see just above the tips of the mirrors making it lose the effect. It probably would have been more fun if the others were there. Butch would hide behind the mirros trying to scare us before Buttercup sent some lasers his way causing them to bounce everywhere and making us duck and cover. Good times. However, it was just Mitch and me.

While Mitch was walking, I couldn’t stop thinking about those jerks just now. Of course everyone already knew about my preference but Mitch seemed unbothered by being referred to as gay. Probably because he's not some asshole that thinks it's a bad thing, I mean if he did, why would he be friends with me for all this time? He’s just a good person, that's all.

Not to sound like the coming of age kid, but I knew I was into dudes before I could comprehend the idea of love or romance, I just thought they were pretty to look at. Moving to a new city at such a young age was hard for me, not to mention the whole invisible friend that tried to kill everyone. But after everything was said and done, I did in fact make some friends.

The famous superheroes had become my pals and when Buttercup introduced me to Mitch, I think that's when it all went downhill. We became the dynamic duo and everyone always paired us as the best friends, which is true but...it makes me feel guilty.

He turned a corner and I stopped walking. All of a sudden I was lost and staring at a mirror. Just me in my beat up sneakers and the uncertain face I seem to be wearing a lot lately. There's always a time in your life where you stop and contemplate everything, question all your decisions and how nothing truly matters.

“Hey you stopped walking?” Mitch said to me and I looked at him with a shaky smile.

“Sorry. Lost in thought I guess.”

“Care to share?” He asked and leaned against one of the mirrors.

I laughed to myself thinking about what I could possibly say. “Yeah sure Mitch, why don’t I just tell you that I’m in love with you and how it pains me to wake up to know that you will only see me as just a friend. Why don’t I just rip out my heart and put it on a silver platter for you to squash or just confess and kiss you here, ignoring all the states and hopefully pissing off some people?”

“...What?”

My eyes shot open and my eyes met his. He looked at me with confusion and shock. His mouth hung open slightly and it took me a solid three seconds to relaize that my dumb ass had just blurted that all out.

Panic. That's all I could feel as he stared like a deer caught in headlights. I could feel myself on the verge of tears and suddenly the air was too thick as I turned and ran, not caring about the employee telling me I was going the wrong way.

Mitch’s voice echoed behind me but I couldn’t stand to turn and look towards him. To hear the pure rejection and probably the disgust. Throwing away years of friendship for some stupid feelings? What was I thinking?

After nearly hitting my head several times, I made it out and ignored the weird stares and glances people were giving me. All I wanted to do was find Butch and get out of here and hope that I can just pack up and move away for college. Maybe even change my name.

Instead I found myself pushing my way into the bathroom stall and biting my arm to stifle my sobs. I felt like my heart was about to shatter, that all my nightmares where coming true all thanks to my stupid mouth. I was a fool to think that someone like him would even consider me as something more, a complete and utter fool.

“Mike?” A voice called and of course the sneakers peaking outside the stall belonged to Butch.

“What?” I spat bitterly. “Go away.”

I barely heard his sigh. “Dude, I don’t know what happened but suddenly Buttercup saw you burst into here. Really dude, is everything fine? At least come out and talk to us. Plus it smells really bad in here and there's a line of dudes.”

There's some truth to the matter and I wiped my face and pushed open the stall with a little too much force but luckily he grabbed it and just nodded towards the exit.

Robin and Buttercup are standing outside and luckily, I don’t see Mitch.

“Wanna explain what happened?” Robin asks as she hands me a tissue from her purse.

“No. I just wanna go home.”

Buttercup looks arounds then back to me. “Where's Mitch.”

“Probably somewhere and never wants to see me again.” I mumble.

“What?” She asks and looks towards Butch then back to me.

Butch raised his brow. “Mike, did you tell him?”

“Tell him what?” Buttercup asked.

It was at that moment that Buttercup didn’t know that I was practically in love with her best friend. Maybe Robin and Butch planned this together but it didn’t matter, not anymore. I would be losing two friends after this. Great.

“Look. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same way.” My throat is dry and it hurts and there's no doubt that my face is red and flushed with tears. “I'm just gonna call my mom to come get me.”

“Come on Mike don’t go.” Robin asked and she padded my arm.

“You don’t get it, Robin.” I spat. “You don’t understand what I just did. Thanks to someone’s dumb idea, I now lost my best friend. And for what? Did we really think he would like me back? That he could even see me in such a way? I don’t even know if he’s gay or let alone into dudes. But who gives fuck? I don’t.”

Butch took a step towards me but my anger only rose. “C’mon Mike I'm sure-”

“This was a stupid idea Butch!” I yelled and at that moment I didn’t care what anyone thought. I was embarrassed and hurt. “I just want to be alone.” I pushed past him and the others, ignoring everything they were saying because it didn’t matter any more.

It didn’t matter that my friends tried to help something that shouldn’t have even been considered. It was just a stupid crush. Nothing more, nothing less. Hopefully by the new semester, it would be gone and out of my system…. hopefully. A stupid crush that I’d been harboring for years and titling on a scale of something more.

It wasn’t long until my tears dried and I found myself among the section of carnival games. All of the rigged and hard to win and if you did win, it would be a small sappy prize that you would toss into a garbage bag or try to sell for a nickel at a garage sale.

There were darts and guessing the weight of a small pig. The basketball tossing and hitting the giant hammer looked tempting but instead I walked to the game that no one had ever won. Ring toss. A game of chance and so incredibly rigged, it's a miracle if one prize is won in a year.

Without a second thought, I gave up a fresh twenty dollar bill and the girl working, who clearly hated her job, handed me the biggest bucket of rings. Enough to keep me entertained until I call my mom or muster up enough courage to ask Butch for a ride back like a dog with its tail inbetween its legs.

I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I could be okay with this. But I was stupid. Stupid to think that the boy I had a crush on, one of my best friends, would like me back, or even be into dudes for that matter. But no, instead of having my secret crush kept, ya know, a secret, the one person who shouldn’t know, did.

I tossed another ring into the sea of bottles, the high pitched clinking echoed for just a moment as another was tossed. Maybe this was pointless. Maybe trying to figure out feelings was a waste of time because in all honesty, I never knew.

Like the plastic rings people pay way too much for, you jump and you think you’ll land on that bottle, secure the prize and show everyone up. Prove that you can do the impossible.

But then you miss and reality comes back. The bucket dwindles down and soon you’re left with nothing but regret for trying and shorting eight bucks.

“Hey.”

I turned, of course he would follow me. Why wouldn’t he? He was probably here just to tell me to let it go and sweep it under the rug, and say it's not weird when it totally is. Or he was going to come out and say that maybe our friendship has come to its expiration date.

“Oh. Hey.” I threw another one, missing again.

I tried not to care as he stood next to me but I passed him the bucket and he took his own shot, missing, just like me.

“Have you been crying?” He asked and there was no way around it.

“Yep.” I popped the p and threw another ring. “Look Mitch, I’m sorry what I said-”

“Don’t be.”.

“Most guys would just push someone like me away if that happened.”

He hummed and tossed a ring, missing. “Well, I’m not like most guys and I thought that was pretty clear. Especially after those jerks. I value your friendship too much to get worried or upset.”

I looked over at him, and that in itself was a mistake, because it would be just my luck that the other carnival games with their bright flashing lights would surround him and make it seem like he was glowing. The lights soften his features, a small twinkle on the black orb of his earring and making those very so light freckles appear.

Almost like a painting hung up in a museum. You think the trip is boring, and for the most part it is. A few interesting things here and there but just as you are about to leave, you find a room you hadn’t explored. It could be nothing and you could leave, forgetting everything in the last three hours and moving on with your life.

Or it could be life changing. As if when you walked in there, the most captivating painting was on that wall and you wonder how you skipped it in the first place. You stare at it, taking in the picture itself and the meaning. Stepping closer and looking at the paint strokes, the time taken to make this is clear and it's full of questions and mystery. The small plaque on the wall fails to answer.

He picked up the last ring. It twirled in his fingertips unsure of where to go.

“I kept thinking, you know.” He said. “I remember watching a show, a random cartoon and an ad for a pride festival popped up. I thought nothing of it, didn’t know what it meant at the time but my father did. He was outraged and changed the channel, screamed and shouted saying that if his son ever was caught doing something like that…” Mitch paused and closed his palm.

I could see the hurt in his eyes as he sighed.

“Then he would have no son. So when I found out what it all meant and learned about myself....I thought it would be best to never act on it. No matter how much I wanted to look towards another guy, I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry Mitch, I didn’t know.” And it was the truth. I wanted to mentally slap myself for not realizing that he was, in fact, gay as well. Way to go Mike, your gay-dar is broken. But then again, you can’t just tell a sexuality clear as day. I can’t blame him for hiding it, after everything with his dad.

He sighed again. “But when you told me that. Told me you wanted me, I think I started to realize that I would rather have something I want no matter what others think of me. I envy how you can just come out and be proud, as you should, but I wish I was that brave instead of a coward.”

“Mitch.” I slid my hand on top of his cautiously. He didn’t flinch or have any indication of pulling away. “I’m scared every day. Scared that someone might yell something offensive or even try to hurt me. Just like those assholes did earlier.But I can’t stop those things from happening but I can choose to not let them affect me. It's hard but you know you’re surrounded by people who care about you. Plus your best friend is an actual superhero.”

“I know, I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to date such a fuck up like me.”

Fuck up? Did this boy really think that?

“I would never see you as that.” I said honestly. “It's normal for us to have conflicting feelings when someone in our life isn't supportive. It's never gonna be a walk in the park or smooth sailing but when you're with someone who cares about you, it makes it easier.”

He sighed for the hundredth time. It was clear the gears in his mind were running at full steam and he looked at the ring in his hand then to the bottles.

“I guess you’re right Mike. I guess I was thrown off that the dude I've liked since kindergarten likes me back.” He looked towards me and tossed the ring, not bothering to pay attention. “I just hope you haven't changed you mind-”

The next thing I know, my hand is tugging on his worn leather collar and his lips are pressed to mine.

I never thought that my first kiss would be as enchanting as this. You always think it's magical and fulfilling but in reality it's probably a mess of lips that don’t move quite as well and somehow there's a tongue doing whatever it wants. I guess I can’t count this as my first kiss because Robin had peaked me on the lips in third grade, also giving me the clear sexual awakening of how I never want another woman to come near me again, but this was different.

He tasted like cotton candy which I should find gross and oddly weird but I didn’t mind one bit. At the beginning there was a bit of hesitation, or maybe he was caught off guard since I did interrupt him but I couldn’t help myself. Stupid hormones. He wasted no time kissing me back and I even felt a hand on my waist pulling towards him. Although it lasted only a few mere seconds, it was like a lifetime of waiting had lifted.

When we pulled apart, loud speakers and alarms went off above us. I looked towards the game, I noticed one single plastic ring was stuck on the bottle. The worker smiled at us before nodding.

“Wow, I can’t believe you made it, especially without looking.” She said and I looked to Mitch who just shrugged.

“What? You kissed me, I just threw it.” He smiled brightly and I hugged him.

“So what will it be?” I asked him and he turned towards the prizes.

“Well, what about that dinosaur?”

“I love dinosaurs.”

Mitch smiled. “I know.”

The worker used a ladder to climb and retrieve the massive blue dinosaur prize. As a kid, i used to dream of winning such a cool thing but know, I think I got something better. Mitch handed it to me with a blush and I looked at it with just as much pink on my cheeks.

“Ya know.” Mitch started. “I have enough tickets for one last ride. Maybe the ferris wheel?”

“That sounds good.” He reached out his hand and I took it. Before I could blink, I felt his lips press against my cheek.

“I don’t like to see you cry.” He said.

I simply hummed and we walked hand in hand to the ferris wheel before deciding to give the prize to some kids. He handed the tickets to the worker as we climbed into the cart and began to go up. He threw his arm over my shoulder like he did on the rollercoaster, but this time, I leaned against him and let those emotions I tried to keep at bay, run wild.

“I’m really glad Butch dragged me here.” I said honestly and Mitch only laughed and silenced me with his lips pressed against mine.

“Me too.”

When we pulled apart, a few questions still lingered in my mind.

“You mean, you’ve liked me this entire time? And you knew I was gay?” I asked hesitantly. It wasn’t a secret, the last part at least.

He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he's had since he was little. “I mean I wasn’t hundred percent sure, I thought maybe it was a one time thing or just happened occasionally. But as we got older, more specifically high school, I think that's when it hit me.” He sighed. “All I knew was that I wanted to be with you until my heart stopped racing.”

His eyes met mine. I’ve always hated when people didn’t see the beauty in brown eyes. They think they are dull and lifeless, only one hue but that's far from the truth. Mitch’s eyes had spots of gold and a slight tint of green, breathtaking to say the least.

“I mean it’s a shame we spent our high school years just as friends.” My hand went on top of his. “But I’d rather have you as my friend instead of losing you so I understand. But what about your dad? Will be okay with us dating-or well I assume we should-”

“I don’t care about his opinion of us. Plus we would be idiots not to date at this point. If he doesn’t accept. That's his loss not mine.” His gaze went to the sky where a firework exploded.

The colors lit up in the sky and we realized we got lucky as our cart stopped at the very top. It felt unreal to be sitting next to my best friend and now, boyfriend. There's always moments in your life that you feel like were meant to be. Maybe it's the career you chose or the person you marry. Milestones that are already set in stone and fate just happens to bring you together, all that stuff. And as I looked at him through heavy lashes I thought that maybe, just maybe, the stars aligned on this one.

That or I would have to admit that Butch is the king of romance, even though he did literally nothing today and this was all me. Either way, Mikey boy’s got a man.

I hope you enjoyed love!!

#Mitch x mike #mike x Mitch ppg #ppg #ppg fic #fanfic commissions

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theyearoftheking · 4 years

Text

Book Forty-One: Wizard and Glass

“His heart had been broken. And now, all these years later, it seemed to him that the most horrible fact of human existence was that broken hearts mended.”

It was 1997 (you know, like 20 years ago) and I walked into my local bookshop (that would later employ me); and found this beautiful, pink, dreamy looking book on the new release shelf. Yes! Another Dark Tower book was released! I took Wizard and Glass on vacation to Maine with me, and my seventeen year-old, romantic self immediately fell in love with it.

Like, hard, all consuming love.

It still might be my favorite book in the series, even if I am a hardened old lady now. I’m more Rhea of the Coos than Susan Delgado. Okay, maybe no... But this book is timeless. And I love the fact I still have my original copy of it... first edition, bitches!!!! As you can see, it’s well-loved and timeworn. But I love coming back to it.

So, there was a six year gap between The Wastelands and Wizard and Glass. And the story picks right up where it left off: with Roland and the ka-tet stuck aboard the murderous Blaine the Mono. Blaine had challenged the ka-tet to a riddle-off; and if the ka-tet won, Blaine would not kill them. However, if they were unable to stump him, he’d continue on his suicide mission.

Roland and Jake are busting out all their best riddles, but none of them are working. Finally, Eddie decides it’s his turn. He starts riddling some pretty awful puzzles (”Why do people go to bed?” “Because the bed won’t come to them!” “Why did the dead baby cross the road?” “Because it was stapled to the chicken!”).

Eddie’s groan-worthy riddles melt Blaine’s mind; and the ka-tet lives to riddle another day. They emerge from the mono and find themselves in Kansas during The Stand times. They find a newspaper warning of Captain Trips; and graffiti telling them to, “Watch For The Walkin Dude!” and “All Hail the Crimson King!”

But here’s where it gets all Dark Tower-y... it’s Kansas, and Captain Trips is a thing, but it’s an alternate version of Kansas. The baseball team is the Monarchs, the Takuro Spirit is a popular automobile, and Boing Boing Burgers is the fast food establishment of choice. Hmmm.

So, the ka-tet picks up a new wheelchair for Susannah, and they take off turnpikin’. But there’s this strange sound... Susannah compares it to someone bending a saw back and forth. It’s a thinny. Roland has everyone tuck bullets in their ears, and continue on. But the thinny is getting to him... it reminds him of another thinny a lifetime ago. And that night when they sit around the campfire, he regales them with a story from his youth.

Buckle up. This one is a doozy.

So, after Roland was able to best his teacher Cort in a duel to prove his manhood, he promptly lost his virginity to a sex worker (as you do); and was then visited by his father. His father informs him that he knew all about his wife’s affair (you know, the one with his most trusted advisor... the one that caused Roland to duel in the first place). But he tells Roland he drew a shit-ton of attention to himself during his duel, and now he needs to get the hell out of Gilead, and lay low for a while. Maybe take some friends along? But not the goofy one. Spoiler: Roland totally takes the goofy one along.

So, he and his pals Alain and Cuthbert (the goofy one) set off for the Barony of Mejis where they’re going to pretend to work as inventory specialists for the Affiliation: they’re going to count every horse, fishing net, and other assorted good that could potentially be used in a war against John Farson. They’re working under assumed identities, and under the guise of boys from New Caanan who are being sent to Mejis as a form of punishment for some kind of boyhood shenanigans.

Roland= William Dearborn

Alain= Richard Stockworth

Cuthbert= Arthur Heath

So, while the boys make themselves comfortable in the seaside and ranching town of Mejis; young Susan Delgado is off on a most torturous mission. Susan lives with her evil aunt, Cordelia, and since the death of her father, Pat, they have fallen on hard times. Cordelia has resorted to pimping Susan out for money. So, Susan is on her way to see Rhea of the Coos, the town witch to prove she’s “onnest”. Yeah... Rhea needs to feel her up, prove she’s still a virgin before she’s given to the Mayor Hart Thorin as his gilly: the girl he gets to knock up since his wife is old and barren.

So, Rhea tears herself away from her magic, glowing pink ball (more on that later), feels Susan up, scrawls her symbol on a little strip of paper, and sends the girl on her way after hypnotizing her, and whispering something sinister in her ear. Susan all but runs from Rhea’s shack, and directly into Roland/William.

Boom.

Sparks.

Chemistry.

Instant love.

But like all good lovers, they’re star crossed. Roland doesn’t understand it, he thinks they’re well met. But Susan knows she can’t mess up this gilly situation, so she tells him, “...if ye see me at Seafront- Mayor’s House- and if ye’d be my friend, see me there for the first time. As I’d see you.”

Susan is resolute in her words, but can’t help herself, and kisses Roland.

Swoon.

Roland knows he’s got business to attend to, but he can’t get the pretty, blonde girl off his mind. So, he and the crew start introducing themselves around town, and are invited to a celebration at the mayor’s house.

You already know.

Roland and crew show up to Seafront, the mayor’s pad, and are introduced to all kinds of nefarious characters; including Eldred Jonas, one of the Big Coffin Hunters. The Big Coffin Hunters are nothing more than a group of guys with a blue coffin tattooed between their thumb and forefinger.

Lame.

Of course Roland spots Susan, he finds out about her gilly situation, and during a dance he tells her, “I can be discreet, sai... As for propriety? I’m amazed you even know the word.”

Sick burn!!!

Later on that night, Roland is brooding about Susan (there’s a lot of brooding), while Alain and Cuthbert are out and about, and find the Big Coffin Hunters ganging up on Sheemie, a simple but sweetly loveable barkeep at the Travellers’ Rest Bar. There is a slingshot, and guns drawn, and the Big Coffin Hunters are pissed Roland and Crew ended up getting the jump on them. This causes some serious tension between the two crews. The Big Coffin Hunters get the idea that Roland and his crew are not the innocent boys they claim to be. Could they be... gunslingers? Nay! Too young... Or are they?

Roland and Susan make up and make out (if you catch my drift); and The Big Coffin Hunters scheme. Reap Night is coming up, which is the big fall celebration in Mejis. They decide it might be fun to kill the mayor and Kimba Rimmer, his Chancellor and Minister of Inventory; and blame Roland and Crew for the murders. Bam! Immediate execution, problem solved. Oh, did I mention The Big Coffin Hunters are sneakily working for John Farson? Yeah, that’s a thing.

Roland and Crew start noticing something is rotten in the state of Mejis... there are WAY too many horses. And oil tankers? Who needs oil tankers? And then their suspicions of support for Farson are confirmed when they find out Rhea has part of the Wizard’s Rainbow: thirteen glass balls, one for each of the Twelve Guardians of the Beam, and one that represents the nexus-point of the Beams. They’re basically magic balls that suck the user into it, and can show them things happening in the present, or the future.

Rhea’s currently guarding the pink one, and it’s sucking the life out of her. She spends her entire day sitting and staring into it, learning about all the misdeeds of the people in Mejis. Including Susan and Roland. She even sends a cryptic note to an already suspicious Aunt Cordelia. Not good.

So, the murders go down, and The Big Coffin Hunters leave a bird’s skull at the scene, which had been Cuthbert’s main accessory. So, Roland and Crew are arrested, Susan and Sheemie free them, and the mayor’s wife tries to get her out of town quickly.

Meanwhile, Roland and Crew have a showdown with The Big Coffin Hunters, where Roland asks Eldred Jonas who his teacher had been. Was it Cort? Cort’s father? Jonas is rattled. But Roland and Crew kick some ass, kill The Big Coffin Hunters, blow up the oil rigs, and send most of the horses into the thinny. Deuces, Mejis!

And... then Roland knows he’s faced with two choices: he can find Susan (currently pregnant with their baby) and live his happily ever after out in some shanty town, or he can metaphorically tip his hat to Susan, and continue on his journey for The Tower.

Decisions, decisions...

I shouldn’t need to give you a spoiler alert. If you’ve read the other books in this series, you should know Roland is the ultimate Fuckboy: he’s heading out for that Tower. I couldn’t stop thinking of the Joni Mitchell song Case of You, “Go to him, stay with him if you can, but be prepared to bleed...”

Or in Susan’s case, burn.

Oh, Joni Mitchell just gets me so damn good.

So, before their untimely death, The Big Coffin Hunters had brought Rhea down from her house on the hill, telling her she needed to turn over the pink ball. She wouldn’t turn it over, but she would accompany them as its protector. In the meantime, she manages to bewitch the town, and convince them to burn Susan Delgado on reap night. Charyou tree... death for you, life for the crop...

Susan dies on a burning pyre, screaming, “I love thee, Roland!”

Roland sees this all go down in the pink ball he steals from Eldred Jonas right before his death, and is an numb mess. He knew he and Susan were not fated to be together, but this wasn’t the end he had in mind. Honestly, not the end any of us had in mind. And every damn time I read this book, I wish it would end differently. Maybe Roland and Susan could have ended up together. Maybe baby would have made three on their search for the tower. Imagine the selfies they could have taken in front of the tower with Baby Suland. Suland: Susan and Roland... get it? Suland? Rolsan? Ok, maybe not.

So, Roland wraps up the tale, and his crew is transfixed by the story. They ask all kinds of good follow-up questions, and keep turnpikin’. At one point, they find ruby red shoes for all of them, and end up in a strange Dark Tower/Wizard of Oz mash-up where they find the man behind the curtain is actually the Tick-Tock Man, who made it to Kansas (?) by some kind of underground network. He tries to kill them, they kill him, and then Marten appears. You know... the evil wizard. He tries to warn them off their journey towards the Beam, they refuse, and he sends them on their way with backpacks full of food. And this cute little note, “Next time I won’t leave. Renounce the Tower. This is your last warning. And have a great day!” RF

RF is of course Randall Flagg, who is the main baddie from The Stand. He wears a lot of hats, y’all. It must be a bitch keeping all his business cards straight.

So, the ka-tet continue on. The end.

God damn, I love this book so much. It’s got it all: romance, suspense, gunfights, bad guys getting it in the end, and crossovers into the Constant Reader universe. So much good stuff.

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 27

Total Dark Tower References: 38

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

Needful Things: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

The Tommyknockers: D-

Next is Bag of Bones, which I haven’t read since it’s initial release. Yep, I’ve got that first edition too, bitches!! I’m 100 pages in and have caught so many references that went over my head the first time I read it. It’s fun. Stay tuned for that review very soon.

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights, Rebecca

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whirlybirdwhat · 5 years

Text

Compass Left Behind

Ao3 - One Piece, Gen, Modern AU, Look for Warnings! (See Ao3), Focus on Straw Hats.

Word Count: 2,847

When Ace dies in a flurry of fast motions and undeniable death (gun fight – a gang fight, Akainu fire arson why were you born- oh god it burns) Luffy screams at the pain of being alone. His brothers are dead, Shanks spirited away into the wind, Garp, military (abusive) and untrustworthy, and Makino and Dadan’s gang, underserving of this mess.

Luffy is 14 when he becomes completely abandoned, and he is 14 when the thought whispers into his mind

Why? Why am I alone? It shouldn’t be this way - Never should be this way. Where are they?

And so he starts to search.

Monkey D. Luffy first whispered into their lives with the soft smile on Zoro’s sunlit face as he wandered home from school. This smile last for the week, a week of Koushirou’s adopted son seeming more complete and alive than he has ever before - and then he is gone, katanas packed away with sturdy clothes and tracking chip pulled out of his phone

Koushirou wonders about the boy who Zoro mentioned only once (I met someone today – his name is (and the way he said the name sounded like a king)) but accepts it. Zoro always had the spirit of a wanderer in him - but it never seemed to belong just to him.

He reports Zoro’s disappearance to the authorities but it gets buried. Somethings were not meant to be - somethings were meant to be lost to the world (Zoro had always been lost – always had an internal compass that only pointed at one person.)

Koushirou hopes the boy he raised (in place of a daughter who died) is happy now.

They meet Nami in the mall, her life safe at last and her family and their tangerine farm whole and unharmed. There is nothing stopping her from saying no when Luffy stretches out hand, to stay with her family who have no recognition of the name Arlong.

But she takes the hand anyway, the weight she never knew was there lifting off of her. She was supposed to be a navigator for a big company in the fall, with big rewards, perfect for a girl who had no interest of spending big bucks at college

But she drops it all and takes the hand offered.

And well -

That is that.

(They, piled into Luffy’s (Ace’s) old custom flame-detailed Camaro, make for an odd bunch with Luffy’s scars and Zoro’s swords and Nami’s maps and money bags (and three shriveled tangerine tree seeds kept in a golden locket) but they could not care less.)

Usopp joins them three states over and for once does not lie - he speaks truthfully about the pull he feels, like waves to the moon’s commands, like a compass to the north and laments that maybe he’ll meet his dad on the road - out in the big wide radiant west.

He brings along a ride and tall tales, a reminder that there’s joy in the smallest of things.

(Kaya, they learn, is a name not to be spoken for she died a year ago, officially due to an illness. Unofficially, Usopp tells them of a butler who had a history in poison and botany, and how his claws quickly sunk into the family riches once the orphan girl passed away suddenly.

This is not a tale of heroes or interference in carefully laid plans- this is a tale of people finding home and family.

And Kaya, while she had a place in Usopp’s heart, never had a place aboard the sunny, beloved ship (home) in their dreams of before.)

Sanji kicks them from his restaurant, freshly inherited from Zeff who died three months previous, four times until he finally caves and agrees to go with them.

The chefs and waiters are happy to see him go, even if his boyfriend, Gin, isn’t (he’ll miss him, can’t he see that?).

The restaurant was never the twenty-two-year old’s dream, only a prison made of a debt and a soured paternal love and the staff knew that.

They do not understand what makes these strangers so important to him, but they do not stop him from leaving, from kissing his mafia boyfriend one last passionate time, from signing restaurant over to his most trusted workers and hopping in the car with two teens and a young adult.

It was never their place to know what made him so weary of food being stolen.

(Besides. His cigarettes were clogging up the air.)

They never meet Vivi. They only ever hear of her in newspapers clippings, proclaiming that the last princess of Alabasta perished during an uprising in her kingdom.

(It’s not a world of heroes and happiness, in this life)

The story is sad in general, but they are even more so because more than it being a tragic tale, they never got to meet her again.

(But they knew she would never, ever stay, no matter how hard they begged. Her heart belonged to the desert sun and the sand beneath feet, and the people hailing her name. Some things are constant like that.)

Chopper, prodigy and fully-fledged doctor at the age of twenty-six, takes one look at them and quits his job at his adopted father’s old clinic.

No one comments on how though he is the eldest, everyone ruffles his hair like he is the youngest.

No one talks about the little cherry blossoms and antlers embroidered on his sweater, or the way he despisesmushrooms.

No one mentions the way he gapes at Zoro and Luffy, one with too little scars (though they are thankful for that) and one with far, far too many.

(He’ll pass creams to both of them, helping smooth it over Luffy’s back and arms and chest and face and just anywhere really (so many scars - skin didn’t scar this easily before) and letting Zoro do his own, spreading the cool substance over his chest and ankles and face (but never his back - would be a shame if he did), places that had always ached mysteriously previously, and always during storms like Luffy’s did now)

Robin comes into their lives silently, appearing in the back of the Merry (Usopp’s mothers old Volkswagen van that he inherited, that he and Kaya had painted with pictures of seas and sheep and dreaming words before ... everything) one day and never leaving after that.

There are no doubts that she belongs with them - not this time, and not ever again. She brings a multitude of books with her and helps finishes Zoro’s and Luffy’s spotty education, filling in gaps of knowledge with care and love.

She never speaks of genocide, never speaks of the circling brand on her left shoulder blade, and the haunted look in here eye but she doesn’t have to.

Like before, the past does not matter here, with them.

(Unlike before, the only thing that does matter is them - there are no dreams in this concrete world, only slowly filling in the ache of where were you and I was alone.)

The blue haired man who tried to steal their car is Franky, and this time only his arm and nose are metal - it doesn’t make him any less strong or big though. Once he sees the little keychain of a straw hatted jolly roger, custom made, hanging on the mirror, however, he stops, sitting there in the front seat, the wires already hotwired, and smiles. That’s where they find him, and after only the briefest of introductions (for they all know each other already, really, in some inescapable way) and goodbyes (the Franky family are still family but the world is crueler now then then, and bonds like that aren’t meant to stay (but bonds like theirs are)) they leave after a small pitstop.

Merry cannot hold him (cannot hold three more people, they need more) and so it is a near blessing in disguise when Merry is forced to be ripped away from them by a bad car accident - a cop careening down the road after a clown with a sword (an odd sight but not the oddest. They were all more worried about clinging together and making sure they were all alive). No fights happen between them (they do not know how they would take it if one of them walked away - they don’t know if they even can now that they’ve found each other).

Instead, they watch as Franky commandeers his brother’s company for one week, and creates a home on the road for them. Simple and deceiving on the outside yet extravagantly homey within, the extremely luxurious and custom RV is familiar enough with a small shielded garden on the top, a library within and couches and bunks soft and plush to rest their weary head.

Sunny, they decide to call the RV, now detailed on the side in bold, dreamful lettering with a painted lion face, for all the sunny days they will have together.

(They’re almost complete.)

Brook sees them in the crowd and steps off his stage, disappearing into the night. His fans are disappointed and the rest of the world confused - where had the man gone?

The man himself is gaunt, brittle and bone like, which is only accented by his skeletal make up, but he laughs and cracks jokes with them all, one more puzzle piece, one more weapon to defeat the battle that is loneliness.

His music soothes them to bed with the sweetest tunes, and the songs he releases to the public are more popular than ever - for they have something the old Brook used to have but thought he never would again.

The love of family.

(He does not speak of years spent by the coast, playing songs with other folk and whales, as they danced happily to the breeze. He does not speak of tsunamis and death and wondering why he above all others survived because he knows why - so the loneliness would end when he was with them.)

Jinbe is last and when they break him free from the prison on the coast, it is all they can do not to cry with relief. They are whole again, never mind the mafia and government after them thanks to Jinbe’s escape, they can breathe again.

When they collapse inside Sunny, far away from the lights that searched for them, bandages applied to broken boys (why did he have so many scars?) and smiles given, they do cry, and Jinbe envelopes them all with a hug until they fall backward into a giant, happy dog pile.

He is warm and big and steers them in the right direction, just as he always did. The last part of the puzzle is complete and now they can be free with each other instead of trapped alone.

(Jinbe is the first to know about the beginning, what happened to their captain in this life, (for he knew Ace as well) and he does not forgive himself for not being there like he was before. But he does pray to and thank every god he knows that Luffy was able to get up alone - and find them all.

It’s a miracle, really. (It’s what he was known for))

Together they travel, making money in dubious ways (street performance and thievery among them – stealth is a skill that Luffy has somehow acquired now but they do not like to think about how) and having as much adventure and life as they can before their time inevitably runs out.

They travel and learn about each other what makes them different from before (they learn what before was.)

They learn of new ages (Luffy 14, Zoro 16, Nami 18, Usopp 20, Sanji 22, (Vivi would be 24) Chopper 26, Robin, like before 28, Franky 30, Brook 32, and Jinbe, 34 - two years apart for the two years they spent apart. They wished their youngest weren’t so young,) new habits (video game design was what Usopp was going to go to college for, once he had saved enough) and the things that stayed the same (Nami can still haggle prices down to a quarter of the original price, and Zoro still uses three katanas.)

It’s a good life, a happy life. They found each other again - how could it not be?

Of course - not everything’s perfect. It comes back to them in the little moments

It’s In the way Zoro will sit himself beside the door on rainy days, ready to catch anyone who slips; in the way Nami hoards money like she’ll die without it and what she’ll be willing to sacrifice for it (herself and others but never her family), in the way that Usopp, though understanding, will lurch whenever someone seems just a tad too sad and frantically tell a tale as if everyone’s life depended on it, and the way he’s wary of every trusting, loyal servant they come across.

It’s in the way Sanji won’t eat if someone else wont (all too common, none of them are okay with food sometimes, even Luffy, who will sometimes stop eating randomly, or Zoro, who occasionally forgets he can keep eating) or in the way Chopper will quadruple check every medical thing he does when not in an emergency.

It’s in the way Robins mind goes blank at certain books and the way her fingers tremble even when doing something she loves; in the way Franky will ghost his hand over his nose and arm and belly and scars and remember the day everything was lost; in the way that Brook can’t stand foggy nights that become like his mind occasionally, clouded and alone.

And especially it’s in the way the Luffy, Luffy who used to never be afraid (because rubber couldn’t hurt, at least not easily), will flinch and snag fingers in Zoro’s or Jinbe’s clothing, arms taut and eyes wide, trembling and so abruptly quiet and push whatever food on his plate away whenever voices raise or fists fly in the kitchen (only ever the kitchen), and will shriek and go silent, crouched in a ball if its directed at him - (The kitchen area is a no fight zone now, if they have to do it they do it beyond the divider and in the other areas while the rest distract Luffy.) It’s in the way Luffy has far too many scars (from punches and kicks and being thrown off balconies and cliffs from supposedly loving hands, from fights in back alleys and scrambling to survive – he’s only 14 and before it wouldn’t faze them but this world is so much more real in the way the other wasn’t) and in the way one used to be able to count each individual rib on his side.

No.

It’s the little moments that hurt the worse.

But there are also happy moments, happiness found in places one wouldn’t think to look.

Like being chased by cars flashing red and blue lights, in a flame detailed beat up Camaro, like seeing how high cola rockets could blast, like finally hearing the end to Robin’s memorized bed time story that spoke of pirates of old and new, and sunny days always looking toward the horizon.

Like being there to see Zoro and Luffy, always on the same page, experience something for the first time, like the high school dance they snuck into or the stars on the unlit coast (well that was a first for most actually). Like seeing Brook’s guitar strum a special song just for each of them, or having Chopper give special band aids for each of them (Luffy’s had pirates, Zoro’s tigers, Nami’s tangerines, Usopp’s birds, Sanji’s hearts and Franky’s gears. Robin and Brook were more careful so everyone was still vying to see what design they would get)

It was the joys that built them up again

And it was the experiences that reminded them of who they were

Because no matter the world, no matter the life now or the life before, Luffy would always have the soul of a conqueror, of a king- and the rest of them would always be his most loyal crew.

These experiences included back alley fights and dealings and tussles with gangs, included hunting down Ace’s killer and killing him in return (because none of them are perfect, even now) in breaking out of prison as a family (whoever thought of imprisoning them all together made a mistake) to shielding Luffy from his grandfather when the mere mention let alone actually meeting with the man made him tremble and near cry.

It was falling from the mountain Skypeia, miraculously making it out alive and visiting Fishman Island off the coast of the southern continent. It was visiting Venice and Antarctica and the pyramids and breaking into historical places (but being respectful because robin loved history) and everything amazing in-between.

And it was being together that made it all worth it - because in this life they didn’t have dreams to reach for, to strive for, to devout their lives towards. They just had each other.

And that was enough

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spooksmooselives · 5 years

Text

wuas notes

i found my old document full of notes and ideas and just random stuff for this original story that’s been swimming around in my head for a long long time now and my god i am so funny i had forgotten about a lot of this god i’m a genius

Locations (think up Real Names for these):

The Spooky Woods, which are supposedly cursed and have a spooky wish granting shed in it. Also absorbed the ruins of the old circus set, meaning all the amusements and rides. It’s off limits, technically, but everyone ignores that.

The Circus Grounds, where half of our cast lives. It’s been stuck there for about a decade since the town closed off. Tents for people living there, performance ring, outdoor seating area, caravans, the usual. No rides though, so what’s the point of going?

The Neverending Lake, which has a gate to the underworld at the end. There’s a monster that lives in it, as well as the ghost ship of legend that ferries across the dead. They offer paddleboat rides, but safety isn’t guaranteed (and it’s totally overpriced.)

The Underworld. It’s where you go when you die, once you’re ferried across the Endless Lake by the local ghost ship. Apparently the wait to get in is hell. Some people think that the wait itself is actually Hell, and that there is no true Underworld past the winding single-file line. Some younger demons give out water to those in line as a volunteer effort.

The Origin Tree. Said to be the beginning of the entire town, planted right in the middle of it. Huge. Is something buried underneath…? Really popular picnic location.

The Slums, where Amy lives. So do all the multiple gangs and their members. It’s the hotspot for crime and violence, mainly tied with the illegal tooth trade, as well as a fantastic place to find some cheap housing and delicious street food.

The Marketplace. The perfect location to buy some fresh produce grown at local farm, as well as sell homemade foods and goods. Also a great advertising spot, what with all the streetlights. Attracts local police officers, who should probably be more worried about the Slums.

Fast Food Place. The singular local fast food place, right on the border of the Slums. Known to attract unhappy employees and shady individuals. The food isn’t good, either, but the rollerskates and hats are cute.

The Library. Holds an expanse of books within its walls, as well as hosts LARPing events in the basement. There’s a hidden section of off-limit books in that same basement said to be magical in nature and full of dangerous information. They make good props.

The Farm. Run by Max’s family and feeds the entire population of trapped residents. Pretty big, lots of crops, some of the only animals in the area, not that many workers, and perfect for hiding dead bodies.

The Mountain Range. Surrounds the majority of the valley where the town is located, and cannot be climbed on most sides. Acts as a wall. The Sunkissed village is up in them somewhere, but isn’t exactly a popular travel location for the local town people.

A mall. So much shopping. SO much shopping. Too bad the total lack of imports takes away any and all significance of such a place.

The Hospital. Where uh sick people.

Fire Station. They set the fires, but are responsible for their actions and do put them out.

Police Station for all the police officers. When they aren’t at the Marketplace.

Outdoors Land: Perfect for dead bodies. And like, people who are alive too? Next to the lake or the mountain I guess. Either is good. Technically a camping grounds for all those people who want to fight bears. Has a visitor center and observatory.

Cementary. Gotta stick at least some people not in the corn fields. This is where the flesh vessels of the dead go before their soul moves on to the Underworld. Do they just wander the mortal plane until they get a proper burial? Probably not but it makes the living feel better anyway.

The Movie Studio. They make a lot of great flicks there, like “Please Don’t Take My Teeth” and that’s it. They don’t make that much money because their audience is too limited, as well as all the bootleg copies going around the Slums.

#wuas #spooks #god i'm a savant

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nightcoremoon · 3 years

Text

tw death cw death trigger warning death etc

let's look at some statistics.

(don't worry, I'll do the math.)

in 2015 there were 320.64 million people in america. 2.71 million died. 0.84% of the total population of people died that year. to match 2016's total population it would need to rise by 2.3 million, meaning 5 million babies were born (or people who immigrated).

in 2016, 322.94 lived here. 2.74 died. 0.85%. 4.75 were born.

2017, 324.99 alive, 2.81 died. 0.86%. 4.5 born.

2018, 326.69, 2.84 dead, 0.87%, 4.4 born.

2019, 328.24, 2.85 dead, 0.87%, 4.5 born.

and in 2020, 329.88 lived. the population slowly increased, the death rate slowly increased which makes sense exponentially, and the birth rate was pretty standard. it's fine.

but... this is sobering.

out of 329.88 million people, 3.36 million died. that's 1.02%. that's a jump by 0.15%, which when you realize that's 494,000 people...

usually it's been so far that the number of people who died each year increased an average of less than 0.01% aka 33,000.

461,000 extra people died in 2020.

but that's just the beginning.

691,000 people died from heart disease which happens every year because people die from being old (or 400 pounds overweight and I do mean that literally) and their hearts give out. but you know what, if less than 700K people die and over 4 million people are born that's totally fine. people gotta die, it's a fact of life.

600,000 people died from cancer. fuck cancer.

192,000 people died from accidents. oopsie.

160,000 people died from strokes. if your heart is stronger than your brain then you're probably gonna die by one of these. it sucks but again old people gotta die somehow.

151,000 people died from their lungs. smoking does that. it sucks but it makes sense. it's easy to die from any of your major organs failing.

133,000 people died from alzheimers which is, again, something that afflicts mostly the old. it's a shame really because of how much of a cruel fate it is to slowly lose your memories instead of just passing away all at once if your heart just decided to stop beating while you slept.

100,000 people died from pharmaceutical companies hoarding insulin for money like the greedy corporate fucking morality-whores they are diabetes. unfortunate. mostly preventable. insulin should be free, fuck you if you disagree.

53,000 people died from pneumonia and the flu. so you know what if you think that it's a valid talking point to say "nobody gets the flu anymore" you're a goddamn idiot so shut the fuck up you stupid cunts.

nearly the same amount died from kidneys.

and 44,000 people killed themselves. sad. although I'm surprised as hell that the number of reported suicides went DOWN??? during pandemic? which seems contrarian but hey it's good news.

now, I'm gonna take a brief segue to point out that cancer stayed at the same number and this probably shows something nefarious about cancer research and big pharma because it stayed scarily static and I might put on a tinfoil hat and say it's because I think the government might be infecting the population with cancer in order to get more money from people through cancer research as a big money laundering op to finance their underground secret wars and the black market because that's something they would totally do. but that's unimportant.

also, heart disease noticeably increased over the years but like, as time goes on and the population increases more age demographics get larger and older so that makes sense. stroke, alzheimer's, kidney disease, them too. but what's REALLY WEIRD is just how many accidents increased exponentially. I can't just attribute it to dumbasses with gender reveal parties and dumbfuck republicans having huge fuckass fires, something nefarious is going on.

and one last thing... look. gun violence is bad. mass shootings, gang warfare, cops, they're out of control. and they mostly target children, people of color and/or religious minorities, and the lower class, homeless, impoverished, etc. it's not as bad as the left makes it out to be in terms of pure numbers but it's worse than the right makes it out to be in terms of statistical analysis and common sense. more people die by their own hands than by guns. just like the war on drugs is a colossal fucking waste of time and taxpayer money, a gun ban would be an expensive waste of time, and if you are out here advocating for BANS then you're a moron who doesn't understand basic fucking civics and is doomed to never operate a successful government and probably shouldn't even vote, because all we need is treating them the same way we treat cars, this is a perfectly reasonable compromise between the "ban everything we find even slightly morally questionable and yet ignore why that's a fucking stupid mentality so says every single queer who's ever been victim to religious based oppression" left, and the "we hate black people but not as much as we love our rooty tooty point n shooty and we will never accept any bill that limits military expenditures because GUN GUNS GUNS YEEHAW" right, because you have to appeal to the majority in a democracy and if you don't like that then fine go ahead and wave your pastel hammer/sickle because you've already given up your rights as a voting american and you live in this system so you have to abide by it unless you're willing to get your hands dirty and actually get off your ass and do some direct action and pipe bomb tesla microsoft apple sony disney or any other actively harmful corporation. didn't mean to go on this tangent but oh well. the highest stats I could find say that less than 15K people died at max in 2015 and honestly given that in the past 20 years it's been between 10 and 15K yearly I gotta say that 30 per day is really not that high and the best way to prevent these is control & reform & prevention strategies and not waste the government's time because they can barely pave the roads (AND CAR ACCIDENTS KILL SO MANY MORE PEOPLE). anyway this is one of the dumbest hills to die on and it's not that high a number and every single person who wastes all their time arguing about guns and ignoring diabetes and cops and suicide, the much more important issues in our society (defunding the police and putting that money into free insulin and mental health care will save more lives than the piggies ever will), is a moron who's missing the big picture.

now back to my original point

345,000 PEOPLE DIED FROM COVID.

THIS IS INDISPUTABLE.

WEAR A MASK, DIPSHITS.

OR I WILL COUGH ON YOU ON SIGHT.

and stop calling it a hoax. you look like an idiot.

and either pay fast food workers more or stop filling the mcdonald's line three blocks every friday night because you're too stupid and lazy to cook real food and NOT scream at a 15 year old because they didn't give your disgusting cheeseburger 16 pickles or they gave you 5 instead of 6 mcchickens or fucked something else up because you suck shit at speaking clearly and ordering politely, dumbass karen. pick one, you ungrateful fucking assholes.

rant over.

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fleetwoodmoth · 7 years

Text

Living

A small Southwestern town is experiencing viscous vampire attacks the source of which is assumed to be from the remnants of the Deadlock gang. Overwatch hunter Lunnaea Steele and Blackwatch hunter Jesse McCree are sent in for simple recon. Both of them will learn that a lot can happen in one night.

tw: Gore

Lunnaea watched as the sun began its slow decent towards the horizon, the blocky mountains in the distance starting to go from their warm red to dark purples as the sun dipped beneath them. A cold wind billowed through her hair, causing her to pull the collar of her jacket up closer to her neck. It was late winter and despite what one might assume about the desert, their nights proved to be treacherously cold. She stood on a deck made into an outdoor seating area for some bar and restaurant combo, the low hum of an acoustic guitar drifted through the airwaves. It was a nice place compared to the rest of the town which sat just North of Deadlock Gorge. In the past year or so it had been peaceful, ever since Blackwatch came through and dispatched most of the Deadlock vampire nest save for a feral that had been taken in by its commander, Gabriel Reyes. Luna’s watch beeped, prompting her to bring it into view. Your partner should be there soon, hunter – A.

“Thanks Athena,” Luna sighed.

She wasn’t used to working in a small pair like this, usually she was with a larger group of hunters, Lena, Ana, Reinhardt and the like. For now she felt anxious having someone she didn’t quite know at her back, not that she was planning on getting into any fight or die situations while she was here. They were merely supposed to pick up leads on a recent spike in vampire attacks that may be attributed to a few Deadlock stragglers that didn’t go down with the ship. It was mainly sex workers and homeless that were ending up mutilated and drained of blood in alleyways and shitty hotel rooms. It was sad really, which only cemented Luna’s resolve in taking down whoever was behind it. An added horrifying bonus was that they seemed to… play with their food, strangulation, mutilation, severed limbs that were said to be removed before death all pointed to one seriously twisted individual.

The sound of cowboy boots on wood shook Luna from her thoughts as she straightened, not bothering to glance at whoever had joined her on the patio. At least, not until they took up a spot next to her, leaning on the railing, the sound of a lighter sparking to life. Luna turned slightly, immediately cocking an eyebrow to the man beside her. He looked like something out of an old Western and if it hadn’t been for the Deadlock badge clipped to his belt she would have mistaken him for some strange local. He wore a cowboy hat, which was… unique to say the least, the tight black under armor that all Overwatch and Blackwatch agents were given was just peeking out over a worn brown leather jacket. Luna took another second to take him in, noting the six-shooter just inside his jacket, a belt with large golden letters that spelt out BAMF, chaps over dark blue jeans and of course the cowboy boots that looked just about as old as the hat he wore. He’s really wearing chaps? Is this really the supernatural I was waiting for?

“Take a picture, it’ll last you longer,” he flashed her a grin, sure enough the fangs were there, sharp and pearly white.

“You must be the partner I’m waiting for?” She asked.

“They not give you a name?” He asked, taking a deep drag from the cigar he had lit up.

“Jesse? Jesse McCree?” She asked after a moment of trying to remember what the forms had said.

“That’s me, pleasure,” he offered a gloved hand and Luna shook it.

If she was honest she was exhausted from the past few weeks that had kept her in constant action and she was a little more than a bit tired so her welcome wasn’t as warm as it usually would have been, but the tall stranger didn’t seem to mind as he turned back to the horizon which was now thoroughly cloaked in darkness, probably the reason he didn’t come out earlier. She had been working with naturals for so long she had to get used to a supernatural’s schedule again.

“You have a game plan?” He asked casually.

“There are a few places they seem to like, I thought we could hit those places first, see if there are witnesses, basic canvas.” She shrugged.

“Alright, there’s apparently a bar not too far from here, supes only. I could check that out too.”

“A supernatural only bar? In a town like this?” She asked.

Miracle Springs, an admittedly ill named town, was small and modest, places like them weren’t necessarily supernatural exclusive but didn’t quite welcome them with open arms, not to mention the fact that this one in particular seemed to be devoid of all omnic presence which was surprising in this day and age.

“It’s small don’t mean it doesn’t know how to have a good time,” Jesse winked at her, Luna surprised to find butterflies in her stomach immediately present at the sight.

She shook herself. It was a stupid girlish feeling that she didn’t want to admit she liked.

“We can hit the crime scenes and stalking grounds then you go to the bar, sound like a deal?” She asked, turning to head back inside, ready to leave the cold behind.

“Sounds good to me.”

Canvasing had, not surprisingly, been extremely boring. Not that Jesse was boring. No, Luna hadn’t had such interesting conversation while examining blood splatter before. Apparently Jesse was from around there, not Miracle Springs but somewhere nearby, he was pretty vague with the specifics. Luna had told him about her home in Kauai, the basics. It was unexpectedly quaint for such grim circumstances.

“You’ve never ridden a horse?” Luna snorted, removing the rubber gloves she had brought with her as they made it out onto the streets, the alleyway devoid of anything but vague red stains.

“Look I haven’t had the opportunity okay,” he said, sounding somewhat if not falsely hurt by her tone.

“I guess most ranches that offer horseback rides aren’t open during the night, you’d have to find someone who owned them to lend one to you.” Luna shrugged, shoving her now chilled hands into her pockets.

Despite the biting wind that whipped past them Jesse simply had one hand loosely slipped into his jean pocket, not even flinching as the gusts nearly knocked his hat from his head. They were making their way towards the end of the main strip where a corner bar was lit up in purple neon signs that they could see from quite a distance.

“That’s the place?” Luna asked.

“Mmm, The Hunt,” Jesse drawled.

“Sounds cozy,” Luna deadpanned.

They stopped a few storefronts down watching the entrance as people came and went. The windows were blacked out, the only thing evident were the various neon signs. Some customers meandered outside, talking and laughing and smoking just like the outside of any bar in any town.

“Are you sure it’s supernaturals only? Maybe I could-“ “-don’t tell me you were about to say sneak in. They can smell you a block away and you’re not the most easily resistible scents either.”

Both Jesse and Luna blinked at each other for a moment, the look on his face saying that he hadn’t meant for it to come out as suggestive as it had.

“S-So.” Luna cleared her throat, focusing back on the bar, sure that she could blame the pinkness in her cheeks on the weather.

“You go in and I wait out here?” She asked.

“In this temperature?” He asked.

Luna shrugged. True her feet were freezing even through the thick socks and boots, but she wasn’t about to let him go in there alone and not have back up.

“I’ll be fine. The motel is what? Two blocks from here? If anything were to happen you could probably hear it from your room.”

“How did you know where I was staying?” She asked, a sly smile on her lips.

“Because I’m not an idiot, and we’re staying in the same place dumby.”

Luna smiled at the weak insult, he had thrown around all meanings of cusswords during their casual conversation, the change was somewhat endearing. Luna sighed, she was extremely cold.

“Fine, but I’m calling you after fifteen minutes in there. Got it?”

“I only have fifteen minutes? C’mon, I gotta built a rapport, flirt a little.”

“Fine, twenty five. But then I’m calling you.”

Jesse beamed “deal.”

“I’ll head back, if anything feels wrong just leave. There are other ways of finding out about the local supernaturals.” Luna warned, worrying at her lip as she stared down the establishment.

“Okay mom, I got it. Go get warm, I know you naturals like that kinda shit.”

Luna smile, a tired weary smile. She nodded and turned before stopping.

“Hey, McCree.”

“Hmm?” Jesse paused, walking backwards so he was facing her.

“Be careful.”

“You got it.” He winked before spinning around and heading for the door.

Luna shook her head, feeling somewhat like a school girl again on the first day. She had made a friend. Not that she didn’t have friends back with Overwatch, but she had to admit she hadn’t hit it off with someone so fast before. She found herself smiling at the thought before shaking it off. This wasn’t the time for a high school crush, she needed to get to the motel where it was warm and wait for when she was to make her call.

The motel in question was L shaped around a parking lot that extended out into a dirt lot and which then stretched out into the empty desert night. Only two cars were parked in the spaces, a beat up old hatchback of some kind and the pickup that Luna had rented from an elderly lady that lived out on the range. It was better than renting an actual new car, one with that new car smell that was a large blaring signal that you were strangers. Not that it was easy to stay anonymous in such a small place, the eyes of the locals had been lingering on both her and Jesse all afternoon. But it helped, there were a lot of travelers passing through, looking for something out there in the desert, people who just wanted a place to stay for a few days before passing on. The office to the motel was lit up from the inside with a warm yellow glow, an older man sat at the counter with a book in hand and small oval glasses perched on a crooked nose, not even glancing up as Luna rounded to corner, fishing her keys from her pocket.

The sensation in her fingers had dulled from the cold, making it somewhat difficult to unlock to door. The room was simple, a square with a small room at the back which housed the shower and toilet, a countertop with a sink just outside of it. It was a strange sensation to wash your hands while your feet were on carpet. Surprisingly there was not only an old tv but also a freezer fridge, no mirror however. The bed itself was a queen with those tan brown motel sheets with a scratchy comforter over the top, one with a muddled and confusing print on it. Luna sighed as she clicked on the bedside lamp before falling backwards onto the squeaky mattress. As uncomfortable as it was she was exhausted and at this rate she would probably have fallen asleep. If it weren’t for the distinct sound of footsteps from the bathroom.

Jesse meandered into the bar, the interior looking just about how he had guessed. It was a bar trying to be an upscale club. Deep red sofas were scattered around against the walls, everything else was painted black, the dark wooden floors showing the actual age of the place despite its want to be young and new. Surprisingly though there were quite a few patrons littered throughout, some in small groups and others just sitting at the bar on their own, no one however was dancing to the poorly mixed dance music that blasted over the stereos. The bar tender was a young man, mid-twenties with dark black hair that was pulled back away from his face, he tended idly to the glasses and taps, pacing ever so slightly between a couple and a lone man on either side of the bar. Jesse rolled his shoulders back, straightening himself slightly before approaching, getting a leg up on one of the vinyl circular bar stools before leaning forward and flashing a grin his way.

The man smiled back, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What can I do for you?” He asked, although it was in a somewhat level tone and would have been inaudible to naturals over the music Jesse could hear him just fine.

“Whiskey, straight up,” Jesse gave him an affirmative nod.

The bar tender returned it before going to collect his drink.

Luna shot up, her hand going to her pistol which had been neatly tucked under her jacket. The figure moved quickly, slashing at her and knocking her back sideways onto the bed with tremendous force. It was obvious she was dealing with a supernatural, the action had been almost lazy, a slight tap if they had been a natural. Luna rolled off of the bed and onto the floor as the intruder lunged, trying to get a good look at them as she pulled herself to her feet. They were male and honestly they looked like an elderly man in a teenager’s body. He was lean, with short choppy sandy blond hair, but his face looked like it had aged unnaturally with the rest of his body, sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, his irises a deep angry red. He was blood crazed, a certain kind of feralness that took over after one gorged themselves to excess. He looked dirty, a formerly white shirt was now covered in red dirt and what looked like grease and poking out just below the sleeve Luna could see the beginning of a tattoo, a Deadlock tattoo. Luna fumbled for her phone as she put a bead on the advancing vampire.

“You don’t want to do this,” she warned, her voice dark with warning.

When Luna’s fingers found the cool case of her cellphone the feral leapt, slashing at her with sharp unkempt claws that neatly slashed through the sleeve of her jacket. Luna’s heart jumped into her throat as she felt the sudden numbness followed by the heat of thick blood soaking into her jacket arm. This was bad.

“Here you go.” The bartender set the glass in front of Jesse.

“Thank you kindly. Say, you wouldn’t happen to be willing to give a bit of a newcomer some advice?” Jesse asked.

“What kind of advice?” The bartender asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Jesse leaned in, motioning for him to do the same.

“I’m looking for… treaty free meals if you know what I mean,” Jesse purred, trying to put on the best mischievous grin he could, making lazy eye contact as he did.

The bartender’s gaze dropped, a genuine smirk breaking his stoic expression.

“I’ve heard of a few places…”

Luna was thrown, hard, against the wall, her head ricocheting off of the drywall with a sickening crack. The cuts on her arm were bleeding profusely and her grip had weakened on the gun as she lay on her side trying to stop the world from spinning out of control. Clutched in her other hand was her cell phone, the screen bright as she tried to comprehend how to work it again, her mind sluggish from the impact. She tapped the phone icon, smearing blood across the sturdy glass like surface as she went.

“Athena call Jesse—“ Luna was wrenched from the ground by her hair, a yelp leaving her throat as she was half pulled half dragged backwards.

In the chaos and pain something slipped from her hand, either her gun or her phone but she was too disoriented to tell. She was pulled up to face her attacker who smiled hungrily at her before letting her drop. Once again Luna was able to take a second to recuperate, in her hand a phone number was being dialed.

“There’s this feral that likes to fuck with naturals, it’s kept the heat off of those of us who like to… hunt a little more freely. If you want I can—“ Jesse felt his phone buzz in his pocket, leaning away with an apologetic smile. He checked the number and sure enough it read Lunnaea Steele across the top despite him not having her number in his phone.

“I thought you said twenty five minutes,” he chuckled as he answered, sure she had gotten anxious.

What he heard on the other end made him freeze, if he wasn’t long turned maybe his blood would have run cold. There was the distinct sound of a strangled yelp followed by a heavy thud. Jesse didn’t say anything as he stood and headed for the exit, trying desperately to listen to whatever was happening on the other end.

“Luna? Luna can you hear me?” He asked as he stepped outside, there wasn’t a reply, only the sound of a sharp intake of breath before he was sure he had heard something snap followed by a blood curdling scream.

Jesse took off at a run.

Luna lay holding her now very broken arm to her chest as the feral loomed over her, he had brought his boot down on it with barely any effort. Through blurry tears and her own waning consciousness she could see the little metal pistol only feet from her. It was a pathetic attempt but she pulled herself forward with her bleeding arm, a deep red trail spreading beneath her as the feral watched, a twisted laugh bubbling up from his gut as he rolled her over onto her back before pinning her to the ground.

“So stupid to send such a weak hunter,” he hissed, the voice so warped Luna wasn’t sure if it actually came from him or from within him.

Luna could see the pistol now, barely out of reach, she returned her gaze to her attacker for a moment, steeling herself, trying to hide the absolute terror that was tying her stomach in knots. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging for her life. It was a quick movement, a flash before he was at her throat and she felt the hot sharp edges of teeth pierce her skin. She let out half a scream but it was cut off by the feeling of suffocating.

Jesse neared the motel, his pace not having slowed and the phone not having left his ear. She was dead. She had to be. He tried to keep up hope, he tried to convince himself she was okay but as he neared and the pungent coppery sweetness of blood met his nose he knew if she wasn’t dead already she was well on her way. Jesse didn’t even try the door, he slammed himself into it, barely a challenge as it nearly flew from its hinges. The scent hit him like a freight train, he could nearly taste it in the air, that almost florally honeyed smell he had been idly resisting while he was around her was now the only thing he could even remotely sense. Outside of that however was the fragrance of a different kind, it was nearly putrid, rotted like roadkill. It was the feral, the blood crazed one that had risen slightly to look at him.

Jesse barely had time to take in the scene before he moved, at the foot of the bed was Luna, her blood soaking the gold and brown carpet, her arm bent at a strange angle cradled against her chest, her other hand was outstretched, fingers digging into the carpet, nearly an inch or two from her fingertips was her gun. Jesse drew his Peacekeeper swiftly, the feral barely had time to howl a plea before he was dispatched, his body slumping onto Luna’s. Jesse couldn’t hear much, only his panicked breathing as his mind tried to cope with the blood and the fear that clouded his senses. He shoved the limp body from Luna, pulling her face towards him, shoving her hair from her eyes so he could see her properly. Her eyes were blown wide, terror evident as she tried to fumble for words, instead only blood came, pouring from her lips as she tried to breathe, the action making a wet sound. Jesse pulled her jacket collar and shirt from her throat, the four puncture wounds deep and messy, he clamped his hand down over it, trying to apply pressure without cutting off her windpipe.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

This was supposed to be a recon mission, nothing violent, nothing complicated, he had never anticipated that they would have been spotted as hunters so quickly and easily. He wasn’t prepared for this, he didn’t know how to heal a natural. But this, this was unhealable right? There was no way she would recover. On top of the anxiety that rushed through him he felt the distinct sharp pain of hunger in his gut, the viscera covering his hands not doing anything to help quell it.

“Do you want to live?” He asked, holding her face with his free hand, trying to get her to look at him and not through him.

“Luna do you want to live!” He nearly screamed.

She shuttered slightly, mouth gaping as she tried to talk, choking on whatever it was she was trying to say. She nodded, a strangled ‘yes’ freeing itself from her throat before another surge of blood filled her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse said before lowering himself and biting down on what little skin was free from punctures, creating his own, although they were much cleaner. She writhed under him, a gurgling yelp making him feel dirty as he gently as possible stopped her from tearing way from him.

It was quick, he had to be quick, as much as he wanted to linger and drink a little longer he pulled back, replacing his hand on her throat before biting into his wrist. Luna sputtered, gasping wildly for air as her consciousness grew thin, it was the final convulsions of a suffocating human. Jesse pull his wrist over her mouth, holding it there even as she struggled to breathe around it before there was a distinct moment of stillness and quiet. Jesse sat there in stunned silence, unsure if he had succeeded before he felt her hand grasp his arm with the neediness of a starved animal. Her eyes were half open, her breathing slowly evening before she relaxed, her entire body going limp.

Jesse sat back for a moment, his entire body shaking and breath heavy. What did you do? Jesse blinked a few times, looking down at his blood smattered… well everything. He was dead. What had he done? He had broken so many laws, so many treaties and rules. Commander Morrison would have his head. He had panicked, he had tried to save her life that’s all but… but like this? He had asked, that was true, but when someone is in their final moments of suffering an excruciatingly painful dead what else would they say? Maybe no, maybe end the suffering, but she had said yes. She said yes. The sound of sirens somewhere across town broke him from his stupor. This had likely not been a very quiet ordeal, he need to think dammit. Jesse spotted Luna’s duffle bag under the bed, pulling it out and rummaging through it to find the keys to the old pickup out front. He had to get them out of there, that was just a given, he’d figure the rest out later. Jesse pulled off his jacket and worked Luna into it before throwing her gun and cellphone which was still in a call with his into the bag. He slung it over his shoulder before collecting her from the floor and dashing to the parking lot.

As gently as possible Jesse laid her across the bench seats before climbing in and tossing the bag on the passenger floor. He kicked over the engine and sped off into the night, hands gripping the steering wheel like it was going to come off. It was all a massive blur, hell he didn’t even know what direction he was headed in other than away from the little town that had caused so much trouble. He held out fine for a while, eyes straight ahead, thoughts quiet before finally it all came crumbling down. He pulled off to the side of the road as he tried to calm the frantic breathing that tightened his chest.

“Fuck. Fuck.” He hit the steering wheel with such force it dented slightly.

“Goddammit what the fuck did I do,” he shoved his hands in his hair, his hat falling to the side as he struggled to keep himself from imploding. He paused a moment before reaching into his pocket with shaking hands.

The number was easy, like remembering a home address, it was the agonizingly long dial tone that made him feel like he was going to throw up.

“Hello?” a gruff voice answered.

“Gabe? I—I fucked up—“ he looked down at Luna who hadn’t moved since they left the motel “—bad.”

#my writing #vampire/supernatural au #Lunnaea Steele #Jesse McCree #Overwatch OC

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zimboxl · 7 years

Text

The Tearful Run Home

Highlands Junior School taught children between the ages of five and thirteen, grades one through seven. It became a government-run institution some time in the late 90s or early 2000s. “It used to be so good,” is the refrain often muttered by nostalgic alumni of all races, although some of the older Rhodies do seem to take a special pleasure in seeing their world views affirmed. “Ay, it was good man!”

Kudzai attended the school in the mid-nineties, his parents lived nearby, and its standards plus the convenience made it an obvious choice. All the students wore anonymizing grey uniforms with red trimming, knee high socks with shorts and short sleeved shirts for the boys; and knee-length dresses and socks for the girls. All topped off with a fashion crime of a floppy hat that was essential for children frolicking for hours daily in Zimbabwe's sun. Perhaps if more of our melanin-deficient comrades heeded the verbal warnings of earnest teachers about sun damage, more of them would have avoided morphing into red-browed reptiles in their mid-to-late thirties.

The Highlands School grounds seemed intentionally designed to instill nostalgia years later. The property was large for a school catering to a few, if not just a couple of, hundred students. There were open sports fields, tennis courts, and a consistent style to all the architecture with regularly retouched paint to match the students' uniforms. On any given day the air would be alive with the smell of freshly mowed grass and children playing outside during class hours. There was a tiny peep hole between the girls' and boys' change rooms by the swimming pool. An open secret that enabled an improv game of voyeur and exhibitionist between the naughtier kids at an age when nobody cared to ask what comes next. The 'Upside Down Tree' was a convoluted dwarf tree which that was simultaneously grotesquely malformed, and cutely endearing. This tree is well engrained in the mythology of the place, taking on Tolkienesque proportions if you bring it up in conversation, just don't sully the memory by actually going to see it again. It still stands there, decades later, looking dejectedly over a set of unkempt tennis courts and the large grassy playground-cum-cricket pitch.

As is the norm, the students were split into streams. The dumdums and later bloomers were abandoned to the lower streams to contemplate their inadequacies, while the more cognitively gifted were placed in the upper streams to cultivate arrogance and a sense of entitlement. This was largely done fairly via standardized tests, but politics did play its part. Especially as one particular teacher, Mrs. Stenben, had two children, one year apart, enrolled in the school. A viral rumor once spread among the students that this she had conspired with her athletically challenged, overweight, and lazy older son to help him cheat during the compulsory cross-country run. She did this in typically crude Zimbabwean fashion by picking him up in the parking lot and dropping him off further down the course.

Break time, at about 10am, was a highlight of each day. Most children would split off into their groups and sit in circles, chatting hot air. They'd bring out their pack lunches, share jokes, mockery, play games. The livelier ones would run around playing more active games while dodging the seated groups. The main playground was vast, comprised of two adjacent cricket fields bissected by a straight walkway between the main classroom block and the boarding house. The flatness made it possible to see and hear hundreds of kids all at once. The sounds blurred into a cacophony of chatter, laughter, and the occasional scream.

The Gang was a group of five generally unremarkable black boys who Kudzai often hung out with during break time. Farai, the ring-leader, was arguably the least intelligent. He had a somewhat misshapen, but functional, head and a jarring laugh that demanded a victim. At break time The Gang (TG) would slither about the large playground looking for naive cheerfulness to sully with their rebellious anti-social experiments. In hindsight, this was just a gentle introduction. The full extent of the casual cruelty of children would be revealed later in high school, long after The Gang had disbanded.

When kicking a tennis ball back and forth became boring, the Gang sometimes looked for someone to laugh at mercilessly until they cried. They almost always succeeded, in large part due to Farai's maniacal cackle and talent for accusatory pointing. They would just walk up and start laughing. No verbalized reason was needed, the mere sight and sound of the laughter was enough to prompt tears from the more sensitive children.

Once, again for no reason, Farai turned his talents against his fellow gang member Kudzai. Kudzai was caught off guard and felt a horrible nauseating churn in his belly, but he managed to avoid the final humiliation of tears. For revenge he later hid a soft-core porn magazine (tits only) in Farai's desk, which an appalled teacher later found. Farai was punished and Kudzai never confessed his role in the debacle. It was easy for all to accept that Farai had naughty magazines, just as it was easy for Farai to accept that one of his many victims over the years had finally struck back.

The Gang was over after the boys passed their Grade 7 examinations and returned to the bottom of the social cesspool as Form 1 students at their respective high schools. Years later Tapiwa, one of the quieter Gang members, would win an athletic scholarship to an Ivy League University in the US, rumored to have been Harvard. A scholarship which he never used because he tragically got a girl pregnant a few months before he was due to depart to what would probably have been a better life. The rest blurred into obscurity over the years, either leaving Zimbabwe quietly or settling into well-adjusted, socially acceptable Zimbo routines.

Classes ended at 1pm and the students either went home, ate lunch, or starved before afternoon sports. Since his family lived closeby, Kudzai usually walked home to for lunch, even if he had to come back for sports. He alternated routes between Kew Drive and Dromore Road. Both were about the same distance, conventionally pretty streets with a variety of flowering trees and domestic workers passing time and braiding hair outside their gates. Kew Drive had more traffic, while Dromore Road was a quieter and shadier street. Most of the children who took that route walked alone as opposed to the groups on Kew Drive.

On his walks home down Dromore Road Kudzai had observed a mysterious man in a Mazda 323 who regularly came and parked there for about half an hour before leaving. He always parked in the same tree shaded spot furthest from any house gates and the Seventh Day Adventist church towards the other end of the street. The man clearly had a littering problem and was creating a growing mess of discarded fast food packaging and other plastic garbage in his go-to spot. Usually the man wasn't alone, but his companions seemed to have a dark talent for evading Kudzai's curious side eye as he ambled by, slowing down just enough to not make it too obvious that he was watching them. One day the mystery died and it became obvious what was going on. The Mazda 323 wasn't there, but it was clear that amongst the dirt-stained and broken Chicken Inn packs were a lot of used condoms. One of which was still glistening and relatively fresh. Suddenly Kudzai got an idea.

He ran loosely and seemingly tirelessly down Dromore Road. Like most eleven year old boys who ran a lot. Beth, wrong place wrong time, ran breathlessly like a novice, reaping the rewards of having managed to dodge most physical training and compulsory cross country runs with her various parents' and doctor's notes. Kudzai had used a stick to pick up the gnarly condom. He ran with it on front of him, a little to the side just in case it fell off so he wouldn't run into it. He cried ecstatically from laughter as he chased after Beth, leaving a misty trail of tears in the wake of her annoyed screams. This was just the sort of asinine prank that perfectly tickled his adolescent sense of humor. He could laugh so much at times he had to force himself to stop before his jaw cramped or he tweaked an intercostal muscle in his rib cage.

Beth was horrified, and she was tiring. Kudzai, thinking devilishly on the fly, consciously slowed to just the right speed to sustainably keep her running, backpack and all, for the road's roughly three hundred meter length. His intention was not to catch her, only to make her run all the way to the intersection at which point they could turn their separate ways towards their respective homes. Catching her prematurely would only ruin his fun. And if he actually touched her (or god forbid, himself) with the gooey contents of the used condom that would be too gross and probably lead to peeved parents getting involved. Kudzai didn't fully understand the mysterious goo or condom at that point in his life, but he knew it wasn't something he could put on someone forcibly without getting into real trouble.

As they reached the intersection Bertha turned right and looked over her shoulder to see if Kudzai was going to follow her. He did not. He waved goodbye to his classmate grinning, his growing appetite for mischief satiated for one more day.

#non-fiction #true #story #struestory #zimbabwe #harare #highschool #chase #sgort

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newagesispage · 4 years

Text

SEPTEMBER 2020

PAGE RIB

The Rolling Stones have released an old unreleased track they did with Jimmy Page. Scarlet also has a brand new video starring Paul Mescal.** The Rolling Stones will open a store on Carnaby St. in London, Rolling Stones #9 on Sept.9.

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Where the hell is Matthew Gray Gubler??

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Africa had been declared polio free.

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Check out Dream Hustle Code!! It is a worthy cause.

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Iowa has lifted the ban on felons voting. Hooray!!

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They have discovered the longest living vertebrate, a 400 year old shark.

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Hey Clockface is the new album coming in October from Elvis Costello.

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Drunk History has been cancelled. NO!!!!!!!!! Netflix??

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Michigan will pay $600 million to the victims of the water crisis.

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They are remaking The Thing.

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Fresh Prince will reunite for their 30th.

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Scary Clown applied for help to get a sea wall to protect his golf course due to climate change.

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Micky Dolenz is said to be recording Dolenz sings Nesmith, an album of songs written by Mike Nesmith.

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PEAD or the Presidents Emergency Action Documents are periodically revised and nobody seems to know a thing about them. Word is the rules are being revised right now but how will we know?? These are the most secret documents in the government. Congress is not even privy to them. Does that seem right??

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Wendell Pierce will star in The Thrill is On where he will play B.B. King.

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Quibi has brought us the Mapleworth murders with John Lutz, Paula Pell, JB Smoove and Tina Fey.

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Kutcher and Leno have been sticking up for Ellen. Watch your back, girl!!

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The West Wing is reuniting,

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Roman Polanski sued the Academy in 2019 for reinstatement but he has now lost that bid.

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The California Supreme court has reversed the death penalty for Scott Peterson.

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From Beirut to Florida to Belarus to Russia, our leaders never stop letting us down. The state of the world with the anger, the rebellion shows us just how selfish those in power are. ** The military budget: $732 billion, $ needed to bail out the Post office: $25 billion. This one we have to fight for and bring back our mailboxes for goodness sake!!** There are 3 republican Senators who are very uncomfortable with the President’s bashing of the Post Office. **UPS gives mountains of money to McConnell and Trump.

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This is an administration more interested in suppressing the vote than the virus. -President Obama ** Brookings.edu will tell you how well your state runs the vote.

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Sam Jay has a great stand up special to see called 3 in the morning.

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If your religion makes or keeps you stupid, it’s not a good religion. –Michael Mckean

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There are calls to dissolve the NRA because of massive fraud.

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Rep. David Schweikert was reprimanded and ordered to pay a $50 thousand fine for misuse of funds.

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Days alert: Gabi is right about one thing: Gwen seems like a skank.** What must it feel like for Ari Zucker to keep getting dragged back into Trump’s dirty laundry??**So good to see Paige and Eddie again!!!! **Phillip is back!** I wish they would give Eve something better to do and like last month, I wish Jack and Jen could really do something . Perhaps they could hustle stories like back in the day.

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Jerry Falwell Jr. has been asked by Liberty University to take an indefinite leave of absence as President and chancellor. He has now resigned. As I wrote about months ago, the torrid story of the pool boy has finally come full circle. It’s about time!!

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Face the Nation: When asked if he supported the tweet from that seemed to suggest he was ok with Kyle Rittenhouse, the attorney General of Ky. Daniel Cameron Said, “I condone violence on all it’s forms.” So he was of course asked if he meant CONDEMN and he agreed but I am not so sure. The first response seemed closer to the truth.

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Alabama legislator Will Dismukes who was spotted at a celebration for the KKK Grand Wizard, is charged with stealing thousands from a floor company he worked at.

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How many Trump friends own pay day loan places?? They must be making a mint on all the desperate poor.** The Trump administration is scaling back protections for over 1,000 species of birds. ** It seems MAGA hats are made in China and Joe’s hats are made in the U.S. by union members.** A Judge has rejected Trump’s latest bid to hide his tax records.

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Is this true? Cops make $150 thousand in Chicago to police schools. That is about half of what teachers make. Mind you, officers also still make their regular pay. The school district voted that even if a school decides not to use police in their school, that $ is still allotted for the cops and cannot be used for other things.** Baron Trump’s school is under orders to stay closed.** It is a blessing that the WH, the NBA and some companies can quarantine and test often. How about spreading some of that around to the food vendors or people at the bottom of your food chain?? It isn’t fair that so many small businesses are going under because they have nowhere to turn.

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Louis Dejoy was raked over the coals. He claims to have stopped taking mailboxes and sorting machines but the damage is done. He seemed to say ,”no” a lot in the hearing. He does not seem to know much about his post office. Why are the rules different for the Post Office as opposed to other government agencies?? ** Washington postal workers have reinstalled mail sorting machines. Fingers crossed that they keep their jobs.

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Arizona Senator McSally told supporters they might come up with more campaign cash for them if they do a bit of fasting.

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I always get a tear when I see John McCain give the thumbs down that day or when he defended Obama from that awful woman during their campaigns.

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The DNC went off without much of a hitch. Everybody looked and sounded good. Tammy Duckworth was especially noteworthy. Bloomberg seemed to have bought himself a prime spot and lashed out at Trump from the business side of things.** Jon Favreau had a good take that the RNC’s message was that if you’re rich and white, you can do anything.** At the RNC: Tom Cotton just said America is safer now than 4 years ago, but one of the themes of this convention is that America’s cities are more violent than ever, -John Avlon** Pence: Make America great again again! WTF?** The last night of the RNC did not have to compete with sports but the DNC still won the ratings race, if that matters to U.

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The Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has resigned.

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What if we just put confederate General hats on all the mailboxes? –Conan** Hurricane Laura knocked down a confederate monument that they had voted to keep.

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Claudia Conway is seeking emancipation. Her parents Kellyanne and George are stepping away from their respective opposing political roles.

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The Senate intel committee informed the DOJ in mid 2019 that it believed Trump Jr., Kushner, Eric Prince, Manafort, Bannon, Sam Clovis and Hope Hicks all committed crimes.** Bannon was arrested as well as Brian Kolfage, for pocketing funds from the We build the wall fund that Mexico was supposed to pay for. Bannon was arrested by the postal service on a yacht belonging to another alleged criminal.

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Loved the Colbert show talking about “prayers in the air” and Trevor Noah calling out the ‘militia members’ for what they are: ‘gang members.’

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The Nazi brownshirts, or Sturmabteilung were born of unemployed veterans and thugs that the party reached out to act as security for their meetings. –Mike Stuchbery

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A former FBI agent has documented white supremacists and militias have infiltrated police across the U.S.

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It’s silly to believe an illness can stem from having sex with a demon, but just to be safe I’m giving it up anyway. – Emo Phillips

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Kamala Harris means more Maya Rudolph!!!!

*****

So Seth Meyers had a poll about his sea captain and NBC would not let them use their site?? It didn’t matter for it does not seem they took it seriously anyway. The duck, who was not part of the poll is a nice touch though as is the fish. Long live the sea captain!! That is Forte, Armisen and Samberg, right??

*****

Sturgis? Smashmouth ??really??

*****

Sen Penn married Leila George.

*****

If you can convince the lowest white man he’s better than the best colored man, he won’t notice you’re picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he’ll empty his pockets for you. –LBJ

*****

What if we’re the weird ones ya’ll , and he’s just Al Yankovic. –George Wallace

*****

Before Fox news, you actually had to drive to a Klan rally. –LOLGOP

*****

Larry Wilmore will host a late night show on Peacock.

*****

So, the Black*ish episode that wasn’t, will finally air, now how about letting us see the Gary Cole episode of SVU??

*****

I can’t wait for Ratched, the origin story of Nurse Ratched. Sept. 18 will bring us Sarah Paulson, Judy Davis, Finn Wittrock, Sharon Stone, Amanda Plummer, Vincent D’onofrio and Cynthia Nixon.

*****

Jim Belushi stars in Growing Belushi about his new pot farm.

*****

Why is it so hard for humans to open their minds? From law enforcement rehab to using home grown drugs for pain or listening to different cultures and religions, it should be ez to just listen. Doctors are touting psilocybin for everything from quitting cigarettes to depression. The effects can be lifesaving and science can save us all. This is not the dark ages but on some days, we would never know that.

*****

Fire-Nado? Double hurricanes?? Whoa!

***

Many sports teams went on strike.

*****

R.I.P. Reni Santoni, David Rossi, Wilforn Brimley, Gary Knopp, Pete Hamill, John Hume, Daisy Coleman, Helen Jones Woods, Brent Carver, Beirut victims, Brent Scrowcroft, Leon Fleischer, Trini Lopez, Raymond Allen, Sumner Redstone, covid victims, Robert Trump, Matt Heron, Linda Manz, Ash Christian, Robert Ryland, Justin Townes Earle, Allan Rich, Gail Sheehy, Reni Santoni, Jacob Blake, hurricane victims, Kenosha victims and Chadwick Boseman.

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writestufflj20 · 7 years

Text

Looking For Tomorrow

Part 1: The invisible man

As the sun goes down, the weather drops below 65 degrees. Although it doesn’t seem as bad if you live more up North, but in Southern California, this is what the locals would consider “freezing cold”. Outside Raising Cane’s, a fast food restaurant specializing in fried chicken, the invisible man puts on his 3 layers of clothes and an L.A. Kings printed beanie which already has been worn by someone else. Raising Cane’s is stuffed with students who came from nearby colleges, considering it is one of the most popular go to place for a study break. He observes everyone coming in and out, as he lives off based on other people’s generosity.

“I never asked anyone for money,” said the invisible man, “I ask them for food to get through the day, unlike some other guys who ask for money to spend on drugs. I don’t do drug, and you shouldn’t either but it’s okay since you’re in college and I know how it’s like. Nowaday, people would fake a story to beg, steal, and do anything for drug money. I just wanna get through the day, ya feel?”

There are more than 30 homeless shelters within the city and the surrounding areas. Each year, the homeless community in Costa Mesa continues to rise, which recently has gotten the city’s attention to consider it to be a serious issue. “As the community begins to rise, which I don’t think is a good thing, crime rates also rises and night crawlers start to come out more at night,” the invisible man continues, “but almost as if stealing is an essential thing for us to get through the day. I don’t steal, but I know people do, friends of mine do. We also form groups, which normal people would consider us as gangs, but it’s for the sake of our safety. We also don’t use our real name. Friends on the street call me Rocco. I have no idea why, but they say I look like a Rocco and the name eventually grew on me”.

Rocco spends about ten minutes to take off his outerwears as he claims a seat in Raising Cane’s. “See? No belt, just a string to hold my pants together because some ass stole my belt last night when I was sleeping.” Rocco takes off his glasses and beanie once he’s settled and waits for the server to call his order. As the beanie goes off Rocco’s head, a mid-sixty looking man with a figure of a grandpa appears, although he seems well-shaved and more clean compares to a lot more people in his community. He waddles to the soda machine to grab a cup and fills it up with water, then came back and throw himself into his seat.

“Look at all these workers staring at me,” said Rocco, “I came here this morning to shave and do my routine but some of them weren’t so happy. I’m homeless but I like to be clean. Hygiene is important, ya feel?”

To be fair, Rocco wouldn’t be at Raising Cane’s today if his bike wasn’t stolen last night. When Rocco arrived at his usual spot behind a restaurant bar to spend the night, he woke up to find that his bike wasn’t there anymore. The man quickly gathered his belongings and ran around the corner to ask anyone he could find, although none was able to give him the answer he needed. In the distance, as Rocco spotted two police vehicles, he hurried to the officers only to find more disappointment.

“They told me to fill out some lost and found paperwork. That’s how the police are, they’re here to stop crimes and protect the neighborhood, not to go around and look for some dude’s stolen bike,” explained Rocco, “but don’t you worry, I might know who took it and I will get it back” he finished his chicken finger covered by the infamous Cane sauce as he reassured the situation with hope.

Part 2: The Beginning

Years before Pearl Harbor was raided by the Empire of Japan, the Finocchio family migrated from Italy to a small city called Salem, Oregon. As they settled into their new home, Rocco was born not long after, under the name of Peter Finocchio. When the second World War hit, it was unavoidable for Rocco’s father to get drafted. Rocco turned eight, and his father was felled in battle.

“I have little to no memory about my dad, but my mom would always tell me he was a good man, and I don’t doubt it,” Rocco, still in the restaurant, stares into the distance outside the window for a second. “Then it was a matter of time before I became an orphan”.

Rocco turned 16, the peak of a teenager, an age where you begin to see the world with different perspective and an age where you begin to conquer all the endless life adventures. However, for Rocco, it was an age where he lost his mother, who had been battled with cancer for years, then beat it, diagnosed again and finally lost her battle. His mother’s death crushed and caused him to stay back for another year in high school and move in with his relatives. Nonetheless, he was able to finished high school and attended Oregon State University.

Rocco knew how it’s like to be in college. He knew all about the secret parties and the hangover the next day. He considered himself as an alcoholic while in college. However, he didn’t blame himself but rather put it on the unfairness that he was raised without parents and nobody was guiding him to the right direction. “It was nobody’s fault,” Rocco said. Nonetheless, he never tried out any sort of drug. When Rocco turns legal in 1956, two years into his college career, he dropped out and wouldn’t take another shot of vodka again.

Part 3: A New Day, a New Life

After figuring out that college wasn’t for him, in the summer of 1957, he decided to move to Costa Mesa and became a stand up comedian at the local bars throughout the city. Rocco was 22.

“I think I’m pretty funny,” smiled Rocco as he stuffed the last bite of chicken in his mouth, “if you come to one of those bars down Harbor Boulevard and ask some of the owners, they might’ve remembered me if they are still there. It’s been a really long while. I only stop working because nobody needs me anymore since the economy went down back in ‘08”.

Rocco considered Costa Mesa is his home, where he spent most of his life living. Here, he also met his ex-wife and not long after, she gave birth to his only son. It wasn’t long before things went downhill between him and his ex-wife. She moved to Ohio after their divorce, and won the custody of the son in court.

“I haven’t seen my son for almost three years,” Rocco took a sip of his soda and sinked in his chair, “heck, I’m not even sure if he knows where I am nowaday. I am everywhere, I go where I can, I live through the day only to see the next day.”

After losing his job and his family, Rocco wasn’t able to pay the bills so he moved out and live in his pick-up truck for years. Without a job, he devoted his life helping the homeless while he was one himself. He helped them look for food to get through the day and a place to stay for the night. He lived off of people’s generosity. He didn’t ask for cash, although whatever he gets, he called them coffee money, no drug.

“See I have two jackets,” Rocco said as he grabbed them and waved with the eager smile of a kid bragging about his report card: ”A green one, given by some guy just about your age a couple weeks ago, and this black windbreaker is by some dude who bought me food two days ago. It was raining, so he offered me something to keep warm. Still better than nothing.”

About a week ago, on the same day that Rocco received his windbreaker, an unfortunate event happened. His truck got impounded. Coming back to his usual spot from a good meal offered by a stranger, only to find out his home wasn’t there anymore. Rocco grabbed his bike, panicking to the police station and found out that his truck was impounded for illegally parking. “At least it wasn’t stolen,” he said.

Two days later, Rocco woke up to find out that his bike was also gone.

The night casts its shadow as Rocco exits Raising Cane’s, holding a plastic bag full of clothes. There’s a park down Harbor Boulevard where most of his friends take cover for the night. When Rocco arrived at the park, there was a man in his 30s, who covers his long, wavy hair with a hat. Next to him was a woman about the same age. She was staring at Rocco as he approached, flicking her cigarette then put it back in her mouth. Rocco talked to them, who he claimed were his friends. Rocco waves goodbye, then they all vanished, becoming invisible into the night.

- Tri (Wes) Hoang

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