#'why are you doing homework instead of talking to the man that molested you and the woman that enabled it and obviously favors him?'

[depresseddepot]

I wasn't ready when I was 18 but goddamn am I ready to move out now

[avyssoseleison]

Funnily enough I was going through a lot of your old fics yesterday for nostalgia reasons and now can't stop thinking high school enemies to lovers deancas ideally with some punk!cas nerd!dean maybe? Fully understand if that prompt doesn't tickle your fancy though

Please enjoy these 3.2k of enemies to homework buddies!

“Winchester.”

Dean will ignore him.

“Hey, Winchester!”

Dean will most definitely ignore him. Just keep on walking. If Novak thinks he can’t hear him, surely he’ll leave him alone. He’ll go bother someone else, and Dean will finally be free of him.

“Winchester!”

Dean hears, but doesn’t listen. He starts humming to himself when there’s suddenly a hand on his shoulder, ripping him out of his thoughts.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, you assbutt!”

And there he is, of course: Castiel Novak. With his dumb boots and even dumber leather jacket, and, dumbest of all, that small little frown that slowly morphs into a way too pleased smile the longer Dean glares at him.

Christ.

By the time when Novak’s smile turns into a full-blown grin, Dean finally musters up the strength to look away. The soft rustle of tree crowns in the distance reminds him of what a great morning he has been having, and what a perfect day it could have been, had Novak decided to leave him alone. As it is, his day might turn out a bit marred, after all. A bit more normal, perhaps.

“‘Assbut’?” Dean quips, way too late. “What kinda insult is that?”

“What kind of delayed comeback is this?” Novak counters. 

“It’s not as delayed as your…” Dean doesn’t really know enough about Novak to be able to insult him in any meaningful way, and what he knows of him, he doesn’t want to use. So, instead, he finishes lamely with, “...development.”

Novak could not look any less impressed, especially because the raise of his eyebrow alone continues their little banter in a manner that clearly suggests that if anyone’s development is delayed, it has to be Dean’s. However, that level of insult is apparently not one Novak deigns to lower himself to, as he continues to look smug while busying himself with lighting a cigarette and blowing out a lungful of smoke with obvious relish.

Dean makes a face and pointedly waves his hand in front of his face. “Smoking’s bad for you,” he simply states, making Novak chuckle lightly.

“So’s a lot of things, if society is to be believed. I am not much of a believer, though, and I do enjoy the small pleasures in life.”

The small, self-satisfied smile Novak shoots him sends a strange feeling through Dean’s body, from his lips down to his very toes, and everything in-between.

Dean swallows. “What do you want, Novak?”

“Oh, nothing much.” Novak takes a drag while trotting along Dean who starts moving again, trying to put some distance between himself and the self-proclaimed anarchist. “I just have a small favor to ask you,” he says, sounding as though whatever he is asking for is actually not that small at all.

“Again?” Dean grumbles, thinking of Novak quickly copying his homework last week, secluded in that small parking lot that no one but Novak and some people in the know ever seem to use, and of what Novak did in return. “I’m not doing you any more favors, man,” Dean scoffs, and stomps on.

Nonetheless, Novak stays hot on his heels.

“Why not?” Novak presses, “I’m not asking for much -- I just need today’s Math homework. I didn’t hear Mr. Singer give us any, but Meg just told me he wanted us to solve like 15 fucking problems, and she didn’t do them either.“

“Of course not.“ Anything else would’ve been shocking enough — if Novak has a bad reputation, Meg Masters‘ is even worse. All kinds of rumors are going around about her, ranging from drug use to prostitution to downright witchcraft. Although Dean cannot confirm nor deny any of the rumors, he is inclined to believe most of them. And Meg Masters herself would probably laughingly accept any accusations -- she is that kind of person. And although Dean cannot help but grudgingly respect her for her attitude, he also resents her for it: and how could he not, when he works so hard to do what is asked of him, and stick to the rules? Yeah, the only way someone like Meg could shock Dean would be to actually do her homework for a change.

“Now, now,“ Novak chides playfully, even if it doesn’t seem like he cares all that much about it. “Meg does her best.“

“Just like you do, huh?“

At that, Novak‘s grin turns darker, a bit more dangerous. “So harsh, Winchester. I think you know better than most how sometimes, things are not as easy as they seem. That circumstances are different for everyone.“

“Yeah, yeah,“ Dean dismisses, with a pang in his chest, though he gets it. Unfortunately, he really does. “Anyway, I won’t give you the homework.“

“Why not?“

“Because why would I? I don’t like you and you only hit me up when you need stuff from me. Besides...“ he begins, then swallows back a proper explanation. “You know why.“

“Oh, I do?“

“You damn well know you do.“

“Hmm, alright.“ Novak takes another drag, unbothered. “Listen, if you give me today’s homework, I’ll make it worth your while.“

“Not interested,“ Dean says, already having a hunch of where this is going.

“No? Could be something similar to last time. You liked last time’s payment, didn’t you?” Novak asks, and it’s just like Dean expected.

Dean avidly fixes his gaze on the school building, still hidden behind some trees, but not too far off anymore. He will be safe there -- Novak would never dream of bothering him where anyone else could see. 

“I fucking did not,” he argues, already feeling heat creep into his cheeks.

“Really? I could’ve sworn you did, what with all the blushing and squirming and your pants going--”

“Novak!” Dean barks with a swelling sense of despair. His entire face feels hot by now, and is probably as red as a tomato, “I sure as hell did not enjoy whatever you call ‘payment’ for last week. Besides, I wouldn’t even call it ‘payment’ so much as fucking ‘harassment’.”

There is a beat of silence. Then, “Are you serious?” Novak asks, in an unidentifiable tone of voice.

“‘Harassment’, ‘molestation’, ‘taking advantage’,” Dean recites, enjoying this now that he is gaining momentum. “You call it payment, I call it an affront, and--”

“Is that really what you think, Winchester?” Novak cuts in at the same time he stands still, his eyebrows drawn together in an unfamiliarly serious way. “That I harassed you?”

Dean stops as well. He looks back at Novak, his straight back and straightforward face, the way that he seems not just annoyed by the accusation, as Dean would have expected, but unsettled. As if he were taking Dean’s half-joke seriously, and reconsidering his own course of action.

Guilt wells up in Dean, and he holds his hands up in reassurance. “I didn’t--” he doesn’t know how to actually finish that sentence, so he just leaves it hanging.

There is nothing to say there, not really. What Dean said was half in jest, and half in… half in what he knows anyone else would think of the situation, or should think. It’s what Dean himself should think: that it was unexpected, unwanted, unreciprocated. That his animosity towards Novak just grew over it, that he truly hates him now. That there was no part of Dean that enjoyed any of it, no part of him that longs to do it again.

Novak keeps staring at him, though, reassessing. His stillness is as unnerving as his little smiles and contemplative looks usually are, even if in different ways. Regardless, he seems to come to some sort of conclusion as he takes in Dean’s still figure, the flush in his cheeks and whatever else there is to see, since he suddenly steps forward, closer towards him again.

“Harassment, was it?” Novak says, now with cold fire burning in his eyes that takes away Dean’s breath for just a moment. “Because I do seem to remember that you were the one who not only told me it was okay if I gave you a kiss on the cheek, but turned it into something more. By turning your head, parting your lips, not letting me go. You were the one who slipped me the tongue and kept going and going. You were the one who begged me to do more, kiss you more, touch you more, fu--”

“No!” Dean interrupts him, with burning cheeks and a stomach that has already dropped all the way down. “S-Stop making shit up, Novak. You know I’m not like that -- I’m not like you --, so I’d really appreciate it if you could leave me out of your fantasies. You were the one who harassed me--”

“--I just said--”

“--who pushed me to give him my homework in the first place--”

“--I asked you if it was okay to--”

“--and who made me do something I sure as hell neither enjoyed nor wanna do again.”

“Oh, really?” Novak asked, raising an eyebrow, in what might constitute a challenge or a feeling of false imputation, or both. “So, if I told you I’d love to kiss you again if you let me copy your math homework, you’d tell me no? Would what, cry harassment again if I dared touch so much as your wrist or even came close to you again? Or,” he continues, voice dropping into a darker tone while he does indeed inch closer towards Dean, close enough to touch him, and who remains where he is, rooted to the spot, “would you tell someone about it? Mr. Singer, perhaps? Or the counselor? Hmm, one thing’s for sure, though.” He laughs, but there’s no humor behind it. It sounds pained, even to Dean’s ears, knowing. “You wouldn’t tell your dad, would you? That you made out with a guy, and liked it? That you wouldn’t mind doing it again, given the right circumstances, some good excuse? Such as taking the long way to where you’ve parked your car, past the small parking lot you know where mine is and where I usually hang out? So that, I don’t know, perhaps I might come over when I see you, and all you had to do was bat your long lashes at me, bite your pretty lips, and wait for me to make a move again?”

It feels as if all the air is sucked out of Dean’s lungs. Standing there in front of Novak, feeling the heat of both his words and his body, he feels seen-through, known; and as lacerated and repugnant as an open wound.

Dean  wants to draw back into himself, into his safe shell, but he can’t. “You’re ridiculous, man,” is all he can mumble out in return as he twists his gaze away from Novak.

They remain there like this for God knows how long. Dean, looking somewhere between their feet and Novak’s almost heaving chest, and Novak, with his face hidden from Dean’s view, but his hands clenched into fists.

By the time Novak’s hands open again, it feels as though an hour has passed, though it probably were mere minutes.

“Alright,” Novak blows out on a breath, “let me make you a deal. Just so we’re on the same page, and we’re both absolutely clear on what is okay and what might be harassment or anything of the sort.”

Hearing Novak say that word again revives the feelings of guilt in Dean, but he knows he’s made his bed, so now he has to lie in it. So, he swallows and nods, feeling all of his body tense. “What kinda deal?”

“It goes like this: you either refuse to let me copy your homework and I won’t ever touch, much less kiss, you ever again. I’ll leave you alone. Or, you allow me to copy today’s homework at the very least, so Mr. Singer won’t call my foster home again, and you can choose whatever payment you want, as long as it’s somewhat reasonable. Money, cigarettes, beer, anything you want me to do, you name it. As long as you name it. I won’t give you what you’re not explicitly asking for.”

Dean frowns. “What? How is that a deal? It’s either you win or I do, no in-between. I mean, fine by me, but you get nothing out of it, so what gives?”

“It’s not that bad of a deal,“ Novak says, finally flinging his cigarette to the ground and grinding it out. 

He gives no further explanation, though, which gets on Dean’s nerves even more. “You suck at coming up with deals, you know that?“

“Not really,“ Novak says, shrugging a little. “As I see it, it‘s win-win for you and win-lose for me. Which, for me, too: is fine. It all depends on what you want.” There’s something strangely soft in the way he is looking at Dean, something almost wistful. “And on whether you’ll actually express it.”

Put on the spot yet not, there isn’t much for Dean to do but nod in acquiescence. He’d like to pretend he still doesn’t get what Novak is going for, but he does, deep down. It’s both an in and an out -- what he was hoping for, but couldn't have asked for. Now he has to ask for what he wants, and if he doesn’t, he won’t get it. And he’s not sure he can. Not when there’s rules and expectations and the shadow of a man larger than Dean, larger than life itself, endlessly looming over him.

“Okay,” Dean says, pinching the bridge of his nose. Novak keeps staring at him in that stiffly intense way of his. “Alright. I mean, it probably would be pretty bad if you turned up without homework again, huh? Last I heard, you got into some pretty dire straits when Mr. Singer called your foster home, right?”

Novak huffs out a sound of amusement, his shoulders sinking in what looks like relief. “You’re well-informed.”

A furious blush threatens to stain Dean’s cheeks again. “It’s just what I heard. People talk. About you. And, uh, everyone else, I guess.”

There it is again, that soft expression. And Dean thinks he might recognize it now, impossible enough: Novak looks fond.

“They do,” Novak agrees, showing no offense at any possible implications of him being the talk of the school, which he most definitely is. “And yes, it was ‘pretty bad’, as you’ve said. I’d much rather not have a repeat performance.”

“Easy way to avoid it.”

“Yes, I’m working on it at the very moment.”

In spite of himself, Dean huffs out a laugh. “I meant doing your own damn homework. I know you’re smart enough to do it, even if you barely show up in class. You ace all the tests even when you weren’t there, so I don’t believe you couldn’t just as well hand in your homework if you fucking wanted to.”

Novak hums in open amusement. “Is that your own observation or people talking again?”

Feeling as though caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Dean just lamely stammers out a, “It’s-- it’s common knowledge, okay?” before setting into motion again.

Novak’s laughter follows him the first few steps, then he is beside him again.

“Who knows, maybe you’re right and I could take care of my own homework. But maybe I like not doing so, and asking certain other people for it instead.”

It’s obvious what -- or rather, who -- he means by that, that Dean is pretty sure his skin will never be anything but pink again. “Oh yeah?” he needles, “You got many people doing your homework? Giving them the same payment, too?”

“No,” Novak replies surprisingly quickly, “there’s only one person, and only one time I offered that type of payment.”

For a minute, they walk in silence as they almost reach the stairs of the school house. There’s few other people around, most of them just entering the building or looking at their phones, unheeding of the pair.

“So, we have a deal?” Novak eventually asks into their waiting silence.

“You can have today’s homework,” Dean relents, holding out on what he knows Novak is actually going for.

“Thank you, Dean,” Novak says with a gummy smile.

The sound of his name stirs Dean him up a bit more, reminding him of the only other time when Novak called him by his first name: when he was crowding Dean up against a wall, removing his glasses, and kissing his cheek so softly that Dean needed more, needed to be closer to this other guy, to this enigma of a person.

“Don’t mention it,” Dean mumbles.

“As for your payment…?” Novak probes, though with his voice in a whisper as they are close enough to other people now that they might otherwise be overheard.

“Don’t know yet,” Dean says, his voice clipped.

“I’m sure you already have something in mind.“ It’s completely uncalled for Novak to say this in such a low and heady way.

“Maybe you do, but I don’t.“ He doesn’t know, he thinks. He can’t, is why. He won’t, he tells himself.

“Dean,” Novak says, using his first name again, as if they were friends or something more, sounding intimate in the most casual way, and that does it.

“Damnit, Novak, I want—“ Dean bursts out.

Novak looks at him in expectation, all of him turned towards Dean, listening.

He won’t, he won’t, he can’t.

Can’t he?

“—time,“ Dean finishes lamely.

Novak pulls a face that clearly says, ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed.’

Which is all the worse.

“Listen, Novak, you… you might be right.“ Dean pulls a face. “I can’t believe I just said that. But yeah, I might have an idea of what I want, what I’d like to have,” he pointedly does not look at the other boy or anything else but straight towards the school. “But you’re also right in that my dad wouldn’t— I can’t--” He swallows, tries to shake the thought out of his head, but it unfortunately stays stuck. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll think about it, okay?”

“You will?” Novak asks, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah, sure. Maybe.“ He blows out his breath, scrubs a hand through his own hair, and continues, “Might take me some time, though. Maybe a long time. Maybe forever.“ He laughs mirthlessly. “So, today’s homework might actually turn out to be a freebie for you.”

The expression on Novak‘s face is hard to read, but undeniably one he usually does not show in public. For a second there, Dean thinks Novak wants to reach for him: his hand lifts and opens just so, swerving in his direction. Before anything comes off it, though, he drops his hand again, burrows it in his pocket and says, “Take all the time you need, Dean.“

He might have to, Dean thinks. Probably nothing will come of this, not right now, maybe not for as long as he is as young as he is, dependent on his father’s will, bound to him for freedom. Perhaps, though, some other time, in some distant future, or hidden behind some bleachers, he might find a taste of liberation, or the touch of Novak’s lips again.

Dean turns away from the other boy as the school bell rings, the call-back to the present not quite as oppressive with blue eyes and a soft smile still impressed on his mind.

[randomdcfangirl]

Jason x Superman's daughter!reader

Request: Hi can i request a jason todd x reader where reader is a daughter of a hero and defends jason infront of the jl by @illzarr

(A/N): You didn't specify if you wanted them to be a couple or not but I made them one, hope that's okay :) Also I made it Superman's daughter.

Tags: @redhoodieone @avengerdragoness @comic-nerd-dc

Keys: (Y/N): Your Name (Y/S/N): Your Superhero Name

Word Count: 1,381

Warning(s): Cursing, arguing, mention of child abuse, talking about Jason's death, league may be a bit rude and ignorant when it comes to Red Hood, also a bit insensitive

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

Being on The Watchtower wasn't something Jason liked doing, especially since he wasn't Robin anymore. As Robin it was fun and he liked it but after everything it wasn't a fun experience. Red Hood isn't seen as a hero in the hero community like he is down in Crime Alley. Moral codes got in the way of that.

How the hell Jason got (Y/N) Kent or (Y/S/N) he has no idea, no fucking clue. Why did Clark allow it you may ask? He did not, he doesn't know, good thing Jason carries Kryptonite around, he's not dying a second time to Superman.

Jason doesn't even really know why he was called to this mission, it wasn't hard and they wouldn't need backup so he was a bit on guard because of that. He was walking with his Nightwing, his brother of all people, to this meeting that Jason is pretty sure isn't a meeting. Jason's pretty sure he's getting set up but he was going with it for now, well somewhat.

"Wing, you need to tell me right now, am I getting set up?" Jason asked him.

"I'm not going to take you to get arrested, Hood. If I wanted that it would've happened a long time ago." Dick let out a laugh.

"Wow thanks, glad to know you don't want me in prison." Jason joked. "But actually, this isn't a mission is it?"

"To be honest, I wasn't told anything either. So I honestly don't know." Dick replied.

"Okay, now I know it's not a mission. They were prepared for me to ask questions so they didn't tell you anything." Jason sighed. "Guess I'm arguing with somebody today."

Dick shrugged and they continued on their way to the conference room. That conversation didn't give Jason any information at all. They arrived in the conference room a few minutes later and everyone was there, already waiting for them. There was a seat for Jason at the table between Diana and (Y/N), Jason cautiously walked up and sat in the chair while Dick walked around to sit next to Bruce and Clark.

"Now that we're all here we can get started. So, it's not really a mission." Superman said. Jason's suspicions were confirmed.

"I had a feeling, so why am I here?" Jason sighed.

"Think of this as sort of an intervention, Batman has no say in anything we've done and he cannot stop it." Diana said.

"Intervention for what?" Jason asked confused.

"Your actions as the Red Hood." Clark replied.

"If this is about killing I haven't killed anyone in the past year, bats already beat you to that "intervention" a while ago." Jason said with finger quotations.

"Not just the killing, there's a lot of younger heros that look up to you and you're too aggressive out in the field." Diana explained vaguely.

"But yes mostly the killing." Flash said.

"I didn't sign up to be a role model, that's not my fault. All I do is mind my business and do my job, I don't think that's a need for an intervention." Jason replied.

"Okay, let's talk to Jason instead of Red Hood, drop the persona." Superman said. "Clark to Jason."

"Sorry but Jason isn't any different, I think the person you're looking for died in a warehouse 8 years ago." Jason replied, Clark flinched a bit at that remark. "Just spit it the fuck out, why exactly am I here?"

"They don't like the way you act and work down in Gotham like they have any authority down there in the first place." (Y/N) said from her place next to Jason.

"(Y/N)." Clark warned.

"No, all you guys ever do when he's here is criticize like you have authority over him. Well guess fucking what, you don't. He's a grown man who can make his own decisions and you're not his family. Maybe you were considered so at one point but in my opinion you lost that privilege a long time ago!" She exclaimed to all of them.

"(Y/N) you don't hav-." Jason started but she cut him off standing out of her chair.

"No! I do! I'm sick of all of you trying to change who the Red Hood is! Just because he has a different moral code? Also did you know that he's never once killed an innocent person? Did you know Red Hood has only ever killed murderers, rapists, child molesters, because I don't know about you but those people don't deserve to be breathing in my opinion anyway." She said darkly then turned to Jason and talked softly. "They brought you up here because Joker is dead but they wanted to know if you did it or not. They wanted to see if they could make you say it without straight out asking you."

"He's dead? When? Who?" Jason asked quietly in shock.

"We were hoping you knew." Green Lantern said with a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

"If I was never stopped he would've been dead a long time ago. But no I didn't kill him, I wish I did but nope." Jason was keeping himself composed from the shock.

"Okay, he didn't kill him, like I told you many times. But you wanted to know how I knew so you know what I'll tell you. I was with him for the past 2 weeks every single night and day. He's my boyfriend and he's the most kind hearted, hard working, strongest and intelligent man I've ever met. I've never been treated with such respect and love so I'm not going to sit here and let you tear him a part in lectures anymore. He does too much good down in Crime Alley to deserve it." She said strongly to everyone in the room. Bruce sent her a nod because he's glad Jason has her.

"Oh really, what good has he done?" Green Arrow said.

"When was the last time you guys gave out food to street kids or an orphanage? How many of you guys help kids with homework or the kids who have to cover bruises on their arms or legs while at school? When was the last time you gave a sexual assault victim peace of mind knowing their attacker can't hurt them anymore? When was the last time you worked your asses off every single night to bring kidnapped children home from a trafficking ring? Probably never for most of you but Jason does it every single day while dealing with his own demons up in his mind because guess what he's gone through literal hell and back and that shit ain't easy!" She exclaimed more. "C'mon babe, you have no reason to be up here. Let's go home."

She grabbed his hand after they both stood up and they walked out of the room. They left everyone in the room including her father who didn't know what to think.

"That's three bats now somehow involved with my family." Clark sighed.

"It's not fun from my side either, Clark." Bruce replied standing up. "Also don't ever call a meeting to do with any of my children again. Especially not Jason, he deals with enough already and you have no authority over Gotham so your input on my city is not accepted. Leave my family and my city out of League business, this meeting is over."

Batman is scary but Batdad is scarier.

When Jason and (Y/N) got to his apartment they changed out of their gear and into sweats and comfy clothes.

"You didn't have to do that you know." Jason said wrapping his arms around her from behind while in their bedroom looking out the window.

"I did, I know you won't defend yourself with actual facts and would likely turn to anger to protect yourself so as your girlfriend I decided I'd take it upon myself to protect you the way you try to protect me, even though I'm Kryptonian." She replied. Jason huffed a laugh because he does do that even though she doesn't need it.

"I love you." Jason told her kissing the side of her head.

"I love you too." She replied and turned to give him a real kiss.

They'd deal with Superman later.

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

Hi, I haven't wrote is fic in a long time but here this is. I'm still doing the Jason x Bermudian!reader I'm sorry that's taking so long. But I love you guys and hopefully I'll be more active on here :) <3 (Also I couldn't think of a title lol)

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Sink Or Swim

tag list: @cleocc @feeling-kinda-so-so @hopelessromanticvirgo @dreamy-slytherin @adora8 @lockerfivethreefive @painfully-oblivious @poeticinemaa @jjustonemorething @saraben00 @wedarkacademia @coolguyssyndrome @hischbabe @suckerforsobbe @tayspots

previous clip

~^~

Sunday, 13:49

Song: Cook Thugless - Lockjaw

This is the point in the week where Jens regrets not doing the homework due for Monday. This is the point in the week where he realises he’s a total fucking idiot.

He’s at the stage where he’s tempted to just give up. Abandon it and play a video game with Robbe, or if he’s not free, maybe find a movie. But he also knows he needs to have this in. He needs to keep his grade up in this class. Still, it doesn’t make the words on the page easier to focus on. It doesn’t allow him to feel any less frustrated. It only stresses him out more and leads to a bigger mess of his hair, his hands forever running through it and tugging in distress.

His biggest mistake is attempting to do it at the kitchen table. Lotte is the first distraction, but she lets him be after a simple explanation. Then there’s a cat at his feet, trying to climb into his lap. Then his parents come home, and the sudden onslaught of various noises makes him want to pull his hair out. School work is probably the only thing that drives him to such a point of frustration. School work and, occasionally, his family members. Letting the two combine is his biggest mistake.

His mother is the first to enter, arms laden down with grocery bags. She spares Jens a glance as she deposits them on the counter. “Homework?” she questions. Jens hums. He does his best to keep his attention on the material in front of him as she begins opening cupboards. It works, mostly, if he considers reading the same line over and over as working. The delayed entrance of his dad once again drags him away from it, as he enters the kitchen still in his blazer and lays a heavy hand on Jens’s shoulder as he passes him.

Jens looks up at him and raises a brow. “You wore your work clothes to go grocery shopping?”

He gives a small laugh. “I dropped your mother off at the store before I called into work.”

“It’s a Sunday.”

His dad takes a seat at the table and tosses his blazer over the back as he looks at Jens. “I’m aware, son. Some of us need to put in the extra time, you know.” He glances over his shoulder at his wife. “Are you making lunch, Ellis?” She gives a nod, holding up a salad pack in question. He responds with a thumbs up before turning back to Jens. “I’m surprised to see you doing work in the afternoon rather than at this time during the night.”

Jens just shrugs. “I’ll probably still be doing it then.”

“Well, it’s good to see you putting the effort in. The last few marks could have been better, no?” Before Jens can agree, he’s adding, “I understand, though. Now you’ve got yourself some more outgoing friends, you want to join them all the time. I understand that.”

Jens raises a brow. “I don’t think Robbe has suddenly gotten more ‘outgoing’. His grades are better than mine.”

“I’m not talking about Robbe. Moyo, and the other one. I know Robbe isn’t the rowdy type,” he gives another little laugh. “Robbe hasn’t been around here much recently. It’s nice to see you with some new friends, I mean.”

“I’m still friends with Robbe,” Jens points out, getting a little confused. “He hasn’t been around as often because he’s with his boyfriend. That’s all.”

“Well then, maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t around so much.”

“Vince,” Ellis interrupts, in a way that Jens first thinks is berating, but realises is just an attempt at gaining his attention. “Brown bread or white?”

“Brown,” the man answers. Jens sits and stares at him, waiting for him to continue, to give some kind of explanation. Instead he picks up the newspaper at the end of the table and acts like that’s a suitable end to the conversation. Was he implying what Jens thinks he was? He wants to shake the thought away, but the longer it sits in his head, the more convinced he is that it makes sense. That he realises he isn’t actually all that surprised. He stares at his book, debating just letting the topic drop.

Then he sits back and says, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vince looks up at him and purses his lips, shrugs. Jens raises a brow, waits. “Well, Robbe’s always been a little fonder of you than necessary, no?”

Jens blinks. “He’s my best friend. Isn’t he supposed to be?”

“It’s not really a friendship kind of fond though, is it?”

Understanding sinks in under his father’s prompting gaze, in the hint of laughter in his tone. He remembers all the times Vince had come home and ushered Robbe out, with a wink at Jens or a pat on the shoulder, as if to say ‘you’re welcome’. He remembers all the curious looks, the over-exaggerated joy at Moyo’s appearance. He can’t believe he’s only noticing it now, until he realises he isn’t. He had noticed it before. Clearly he had, if it so easily comes to mind now. He’d just chosen to ignore it.

The horrible thought comes to mind that, if he’d seen it, it’s possible Robbe did too.

“So what?” Jens demands. “If Robbe liked me, what difference would that make? It’s Robbe. It’s not like he’s going to molest me in my sleep.”

Vince makes a face like he doesn’t entirely agree, but he doesn’t argue. Instead he says, “It’s just better that you’re not around that type of influence so much, yes?”

Jens glances at his mom, who’s still standing at the counter, taking her time with the food and obviously hearing everything. Obviously not caring. Obviously in agreement—or at least, she doesn’t disagree enough to argue with her beloved, businessman husband. Jens huffs something like a laugh, then stands up and begins collecting his books from the table. He definitely isn’t going to get any work done like this.

“Where are you going?” Vince asks.

“To do my work in my room.”

His dad rolls his eyes. “Come on now, Jens, don’t tell me I’ve hurt your feelings. I just think it’s nice that you’re spending less time with just Robbe and more with people who are into the same things as you. If Robbe’s gotten himself a little boyfriend, you can let him be. Branch out a little.”

Jens snaps the last book closed and tucks it under his arm, sparing the man one last glance. “Thanks for the advice, Dad. I’ll keep it in mind.”

He pushes down the uncomfortable feeling in his chest, brushes off the lingering cloak of anger as he jogs up the stairs, and manages not to slam his bedroom door behind him. He dumps his books on his desk and flops back on his bed, heaving out a sigh and rubbing a hand over his face. Now he really does want to give up and call Robbe.

He debates for another moment before picking up his phone, but he opens Instagram instead of his messages. The first story that pops up is Robbe’s. A simple image of a laughing Sander, uploaded twelve minutes ago. Jens locks the phone and tosses it aside.

He goes back through the conversation and tries to figure out if he made it out to be a bigger deal than it was. If maybe it wasn’t what it seemed, that the dig wasn’t that deep. He’d occasionally thought of his father as stuck up, but he hadn’t gone as far as prejudiced. He doesn’t want to go there now. It really isn’t that big of a deal. So what, if his dad’s a bit of an idiot? It’s not going to change Jens’s thoughts on the subject, and it definitely isn’t going to take him away from Robbe. Or Sander, for that matter. The best idea would be to just brush it off and forget about it. It doesn’t matter. He never lets this stuff bother him.

So why can’t he let it go?

[elysiashelby]

In Another World - T. Shelby Imagine Ch. 4

Paring: (Eventual) Thomas Shelby x Aliena Welsh (OC)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Word Count: 5, 257

WARNINGS: Angst, Cursing, Explicit Attempted R*pe Scene, Descriptive Murder Scene, Recollection of Past Molestation

Summary: Aliena Welsh has been living in the universe of the show Peaky Blinders for 8 months now. She feels like family more now than ever since she has a role for everyone in the family. But as she delivers the Shelby Brothers’ their food at the Garrison, trouble brews. She will commit something that will never go away for the rest of her life. 

MASTERLIST  CHAPTER 3.3  CHAPTER FIVE

A/N: HI! If you skipped to this chapter, that’s completely fine! I tried including the most important parts that took place in the extras. 

READ THE WARNINGS! THE 1ST LINE BREAK IN THIS CHAP MEANS THE SCENE IS STARTING!! LOOK FOR THE 2ND IF YOU WANT TO SKIP THE SCENE!! 

THANKS FOR READING!

It's been two months since the incident happened. Meaning I have been with the Shelby family for eight months in total. I did not get over it the night after, it took a week. 

Instead of getting over it the next day, I had tried drowning myself in work but they didn't let me, which led to me breaking down. It was embarrassing. Another bath was drawn for me and on that night, I had smoked my first cigarette. It made me both calm and riddled with anxiety. So, I haven't touched one since. 

I call Thomas, Tommy now. It happened after the incident. It was like I was a part of the family, in a way. I mean I hope I was considered family. After all, I do cater to every emotional need in the family. I act motherly/older sister-like to the children including Finn, a younger sister to Ada, a daughter to Polly, and I'm a coping mechanism to the rest of the boys. The nights that I'm not soothing Arthur, I'm with Tommy. John is pretty alright. To be frank, he has a tighter grip on demons than his brothers. However, I believe that's only because he doesn't want his kids to ever find out, or he has his different outlets that I don't know about. 

It has been really nice to sleep beside someone. By someone, I mean Tommy. You see, we had this agreement that I would just talk his ear off throughout the night, and he wouldn't use his opium pipe anymore. Now, I know he doesn't see me that way, but c'mon! He's just so fit! I honestly don't know if he's aware that I got a crush on 'em, but I just hope he's kept it to himself. I was never one for subtly in any of my pursuits. I always had a habit of staring. 

As I was sweeping away all the dirt in the house, I got incredibly bored. Since it was only Finn around, hopefully, doing his homework that I gave 'em! I began to sing. 

"Bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." 

It was so liberating to be able to comfortably sing. I started to get more into it. 

"You're a supermodel, shaped just like a bottle…" I held on to the broom, but made an outline of an hourglass figure with me free hand. 

"He could run his fingers through your hair." I raised my hands, ran my fingers through my hair, and jerked it behind my shoulders. 

"I bet you're a good time girl. But don't you know he's mine though?" I danced around my broom and then pointed to meself on the last lyric. 

"I was running around for a minute. Now he's the only one who can get it." I sang while smacking me hip lightly, trying not to make any other unnecessary noise. 

"So bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." While singing, I put on a sad expression. It was more like a childish pout. 

"Maybe I can fake it. Fake it 'til you make it." At this point, I had me eyes closed and was zoned in on singing. I started to dance slowly. 

"I can't promise, I'll be cordial. Got a mouth just like a trucker." Oddly enough, I started to sink down till I was crouching, but me knees were touching. I was also patting parts of me body as I went down. 

‘I really can't describe movements to save my life!’

"I can't even be a lady. Out in public for my mother, motherfucker." On the last lyric, I immediately stood up. I turned around, opened me eyes for a split second, and grasped the broom again. 

With me eyes now closed, I continued. "But bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." I put on the same sad expression to really feel the song. 

With the broom hugged against me body, I began to sway with it. "I won't blame him if he leaves me for you, oh." 

Me swaying came to a halt. "I won't even blame him if one day he runs off with you." I felt me own heart break for me imaginary lover's affair. Me voice came out softer than I expected.

 I didn't like that so I tried singing the next lyrics with a more happy tone. "Bitch, don't steal my man. He's got a weakness for girls like you. We both know you can. But I really need him more than you." I danced around the broom with more energy. I felt the sway of me dress with each turn. 

"Yeah. Oh, oh-oh. Oh, oh, oh. Don't steal my man. Bitch, don't steal my man. Don't steal my man." As I sang out the last of the lyrics, I stood still and opened me eyes. 

I expected silence, maybe even just Finn peaking in but it was worse. I was met with thunderous applause from the Shelby brothers, even Tommy. 

John hooted and whistled while clapping. "Whoo! We got ourselves an exclusive singer!"

"You're fucking right, John-boy! We 'ave our very own songbird." Arthur shouted. 

Tommy just had this smug smile on his face. 

I cringed at their "compliments''. I cringed very harshly from their comments! The worst part is that I can't tell if they're being sincere or not! "Piss off! Why didn't youse say anything? I'll make yez your scran then do one." I balanced the broom on the wall and shoved meself past them into the kitchen. All three of them started to fucking giggle. 

"Don't tell me you got so flustered that we brought out your scouser! Eh, Ali!" Tommy shouted. 

I sucked on me teeth. A habit I picked up from Tommy. I adopted it before I came here, though. It was actually a tick from Cillian, but he did it so many times as Tommy in the show, and well the real Tommy actually does it a lot. So, there was no getting rid of it!

‘I don’t why Tommy is acting so smug as if I don’t ‘ave to sing ‘em sad songs every night just so he can fuckin’ fall asleep. The bastard!’ 

"Shut up! Now, are youse gonna eat leftovers or am I making sandwiches?" I reached for plates that were in the cupboards and put them on the counter. 

"We'll have the leftovers, Ali." Tommy replied. 

I walked over to the icebox and took it out.

After they finished with eating and teasing, I had to finish cleaning up. It was especially difficult today because I decided to do a musical fucking number and Finn managed to work up the courage to ask me for help on his homework. 

By then, I was working on dinner with Polly. I did the peeling and chopping of the potatoes and carrots. She was making soup. We were debating about who Ada had been sneaking off with at night. I knew it was Freddie Thorne, but I was not going to be a snitch. Besides, she’s been using me as a scapegoat and I’m fine with her racking up her “I.O.U’s.”

The phone went off which Polly answered. I heard bits of it, but I was really trying hard not to be geggin' in. 

Polly sighed before saying, "Tommy rang said that they'll be eating at the Garrison. Go and take it to them, yeah?" 

I nodded in response. I got up and put our bowls into the sink. 

"Don't worry about the dishes tonight. I'll do those. Just give this to them and you'll be down for the night." 

I got me basket and put in three bowls and spoons. I lowered it ‘till it rested in the crook of me elbow, and then carried the pot of soup using both of me hands. Polly got the door. We said our goodbyes and I began me journey. 

As I was walking, men tipped their hats to me or bid me goodnight. It was strange to me for months in the beginning, but I've gotten quite used to it. It happens anytime I'm out and abar. 

As I got closer to the pub, I noticed these three young lads leaning against a wall outside. I wasn't sure at first but as I drew nearer to the door, their heads followed me. The middle one must have known the jig was up ‘cause he actually had the nerve to whistle at me. Like a dog. 

It stopped me in me tracks. I've never been treated this way in me whole life. After I became the Shelby family's maid, Tommy made it clear that nobody could touch me. I was off limits. Everyone in Birmingham knew that. But that didn't stop this cheeky lad who kept catcalling me and inching closer. I shook me head and then continued on. 

A man who was walking out greeted me, saw I was holding a pot, then held open the door for me to walk in, and even opened the second door. I thanked him. I walked over and knocked on the door to the snug. Arthur opened it after like five minutes of me waiting. 

"Here's your dinner. I'm off." I said while placing both the pot and the basket down.

"Oh c'mon, Ali. Stay 'n 'ave a laugh with us!" John shouted as he passed out the plates and spoons to his brothers. 

I shook me head with a smile on me face. His loud behavior made me want to laugh. But there was this sense of anxiety that washed over me.

'Maybe I should stay.' I thought. 

Me nerves were unsettled by the lads who were outside. I didn't want to know if they were waiting on me to come back outside. 

‘I would be safer in here.’ 

I stroked the edge of the table and took notice of its coldness. 

'Maybe I was just being paranoid. I should just go home. I would just ruin their fun.' 

"Aliena, are you alright?" Tommy asked. His eyebrows furrowed in worry. 

I smiled. It was, secretly, a sad smile. "Yeah, just grand. I'mma head on home. See youse tomorrow. Night!"

They all shouted back the same and I left. I kept the image of Tommy in me mind as I walked out of the pub. The cold air was nice against me hot face. But it didn't stop me from seeking warmth. I crossed my arms over me chest and hid me hands with me arms.

"Oi! Pretty lady! Wanna have a good time with us?"

"Yeah, come on! Show us a good time."

"You know, we're not from here."

I knew they were trying to close the gap between us. I tried walking faster. 

I could hear the pounding of their footsteps before I could react. Suddenly, there was a tight grip on me forearm and he yanked me toward himself. I gasped in surprise. 

"Come on, love. We came all the way from London to this shit city. Staying at this shitty hostel called… Something with Betty in it. So, how 'bout you fucking show me and my mates a good fucking time?" He squeezed me face in his hands. 

Me breathing quickened and heart was caught in me throat. 

"Le-Let me go! Fuck off!" I screamed. 

I managed to tear his hand off me face and I kicked his knee. He groaned in pain while doubling over to support it. I started to run, but I didn't manage to get very far. One of the others caught up to me. He caught me arms, swung me 'round, and slapped me across the face. 

Me ear rang and I felt a lot of pain. "Let me go! Stop it! Help me! Somebody help me!" I yelled as I tried putting me feet down, but he just kept dragging me. 

Nobody was helping me. 

'I'm scared. I don't wanna be raped!' I kept chanting over and over. 

Eventually, the guy tugged me into his arms and shoved me into an alleyway. I groaned on impact. Me stockings ripped and me hands skidded on the cement. I raced to get back up, but the man that threw me, bunched up the collar of me coat and threw me against the wall. I yelped and started seeing stars. Pain exploded throughout me head. But even then I knew he was taking off me coat. 

I heaved out a breath. He took that chance to shove his tongue in me mouth. It was so revolting. He tasted of booze, ciggies, and pure bad breath. I bit down on his tongue. He cried out in pain. He held his mouth. His grip was still tight on me collar. I tried running the other way since his friends were blocking the entrance of the alleyway, but he tugged me back and punched me. 

Now, that fucking hurt. I froze instantly. The pain was too much. I started sobbing. 

"Shut up!" He demanded. 

I didn't listen. So, I got a knee to the stomach. I grunted in pain and doubled over. He didn't let me soothe meself as he yanked me back up and started to attack me neck. 

I heard and felt as he ripped me dress open. I tried harder to push against his torso. I tried pushing him off of me. He ripped me bra and I felt his tongue roam me chest. I cried out. I was disgusted. Me stomach was churning. I reached up and yanked him by his hair. 

He shouted in pain and punched me in me ribs. I groaned. 

From the corner of my eye, I could see his two friends just staring at us. They were enjoying watching me struggle. They were smoking and sharing a bevvy. They were smiling at the sight of me, they were laughing at me!

He didn't stop there. He grabbed me by me arms and threw me against the wall multiple times. I tried sticking out me neck forward. It was an attempt to protect me head and it worked… a little. I was completely out of it by the time he stopped doing it. 

I could feel yet I was also numb to it. It was like the incident all over again. I still thrashed me arms around, but it was so weak. I was so beaten. Me body was not used to this. It wanted to shut down. I knew it did. But then me fingers grazed something on his upper torso. Me breath hitched. 

It knew this spot to be special. Tommy had a special spot here too. It was a gun holster. I felt me attacker raise me left leg and push my panties aside. 

After that it was such a blur. It all happened so fast. 

I took the gun out of its holster, pressed it into his torso, cocked it, and pulled the trigger. The shot rang through me ears. All I heard was white noise after that. 

I held onto the back of his neck, supporting his weight by leaning him on me body, looked to my right and saw that his friends had run off. It was then that I heard his choking gasps. I felt nothing. I pushed his body off of me and cocked the gun again. His fingers started to outline his bullet wound. He stared up at me in shock. 

He held his hands up, begging for his life. I looked down and stared at his leg. I aimed and fired. He screamed in agony. I cocked the gun. I aimed at his shoulder and fired. Another scream ripped from his throat. 

At that moment, I felt me mouth twitch upward. I felt meself smirk. Me eyes widened like a madman. I felt powerful. I walked closer to him and stood over his body. Slowly, I cocked the gun. He whimpered and put his hands up slowly. Hands covered in his own blood. I relished the terror in his eyes. 

I felt the smile expand on me face and I aimed for the middle of his forehead. I exhaled sharply before closing me mouth up. The action caused me to giggle uncontrollably. He sobbed louder but also somewhat slurred. He was dying. I knew that and he knew that. 

So, I withdrew the gun and took a small stumbling step back. I contorted me face in fear— it was all an act, and watched as he put his guard down. I stayed like that for about a minute before I couldn't manage to hide me smile anymore even while biting me lip. In a flash, his face lit back up in terror and that's when I took a step forward and pulled the trigger. The smile fell from me face. His hot blood had splattered all over me face, blowback I heard it was called.

"Oi!" A man shouted. 

I looked up to see no one that I would know. However, the man was wearing a peaked cap and was accompanied by three others. All guns were raised and pointed at me. 

They inched closer to me and I took a real stumbling step back. 

One man gasped. "That's Aliena Welsh. Mr. Shelby's maid!"

They put down their guns and rushed to me. I just stood there. Then, I looked down and stared at the gun. Me hands were trembling like leaves, but it was all an act. One of the Peaky men held out his hand toward me, I flinched and he stopped. 

"Miss, let's get you home. We'll take care of 'em. Come now, dear." He gestured to the gun and reluctantly I gave it to him. Another man gave me his coat. I wrapped myself around it. 

"Come, Miss." He waved me to follow him. 

I looked back and watched as the other men started to deal with the body. One man hauled him up by his armpits while another picked him up by his legs. 

Almost in a trance, I said. "No. I'm going home by meself. Go 'n tell, Tommy, what’s happened." 

Then, I rushed past him. At first, I was speed walking and then I was running. I was running with one hand holding onto me torn dress. The man’s coat had flown off of me shoulders. I was basically just covering me chest. Me stomach was on full display, though. 

But, of course, me suffering would not end. Me heel got caught and I tripped. I caught meself but it made me pre-existing wounds hurt even more. I sat there in the middle of the sidewalk. Panting for breath. Me lungs, no, not just me lungs. Everything hurt. Especially, me head. 

'I'm finished,’ I thought, ‘I can never go back now. I can’t go back to my family after I’ve killed someone. I-I can never be saved by any higher power, or have salvation for my soul. I... I killed him.’

I started to laugh, maniacally. I just giggled and laughed. Until they turned into blood curdling screams. Once I lost breath, I desperately inhaled and then sprang myself up. I continued running until I got home. With the door in sight, I started to sob. The worst part of it was that I wasn't crying because of what happened. It was because I knew I needed to look distraught. I knew deep down that I had absolutely no regrets pulling that trigger. 

I probably even liked it. 

I started banging on the door. I could hear Polly yell for me to stop. I didn't. Not until she ripped open the door. I saw as her gaze contorted from angry to something else, maybe astonishment. She brought her hands to her mouth. Her eyes watered which made me look away. 

"Oh my god." She whispered. Polly sounded so choked up. Her sadness seeped into her words. 

Her hands slowly reached out to me. They were shaking so much. And I broke. I started to cry, sob, wail. 

"Polly! Polly… " I repeated her name over and over. She drew me into a hug and helped me inside. I hid me face in the crook of her neck. 

"Sh! It's alright, love. I have you now. Ada! You're safe now. ADA, GET DOWN HERE THE FUCK NOW!"

I knew she was leading me into the living room. She helped me sit down and she never stopped stroking me hair. 

Before Ada could ask any questions, Polly told her to bring the tub in and to draw me a bath with hot water. I was still crying. I sounded awful. 

"Pol, what's happened?" Ada asked as she poured the hot water into the tub. 

"I don't know! Just focus on what I've told you to do! Ali, love, I'm goin' to be right back. You need ice for your face." She kissed the temple of me forehead and then unwrapped me from her. 

I looked at her empty spot with hollow eyes. Then, I trailed over to Ada. Her mouth hanging open slightly. 

I gulped. Me mouth was completely dry. The tub was full. I stood up slowly. I didn't even realize it would hurt. Hell, I didn't even realize that there was blowback on me breasts and neck, not just me face. I slipped a finger under the strap of me bra and carefully slipped both it and me dress off of me body. 

As I went to take off me panties, I suddenly remember I had thigh high stockings. I closed me eyes shut and sat back down. A wince left me mouth. I kicked off me heels, reached down, and tugged them off with very strained effort. When I stood back up, heels clicked on the floor meaning Polly was back. I slid off me panties and then entered the tub. 

Ada tried to protest but it was too late. I had already submerged me body in the scathing hot water. It burned and yes, and Polly yelled at me for it. But then I got used to it and she was holding the makeshift ice pack against the left of me face where the bastard struck me the most. Ada, with a towel in hand, was scrubbing the blood off of me body. She was being so delicate with me.

That was when the door flew open and in came the Shelby brothers. The sound of the door banging on the wall made me cringe. I closed me eyes at the sound. Just as I was tipping me head back, me face was grasped and inspected. 

"Who did this? What the fuck happened!" Tommy shouted. 

"Stop your fucking shouting! She hasn't said a word… Aliena, love. Can you tell us what happened?" Polly asked. 

Languidly, I opened me eyes. Tommy's eyes were blown wide. And, I could finally read his face. He was angry and worried. I looked behind 'em and saw John and Arthur were doing no better. Arthur was raising a fist to his mouth repeatedly before striking the couch. John was pacing back and forth while sniffing a lot. Ada was crying beside me. She took her hand in mine. 

I felt loved. I felt safe. 

I exhaled loudly with me cheeks puffed. I made a kind of "oo" noise like when women give birth. I swallowed a sob and began to speak. 

"There was these three fuckers outside the Garrison. They were eyeing me real hard before I went in. I thought I saw wrong because well, no one in the city disrespects me. Ha!" I looked away from Tommy as I ran me tongue over the inside of me cheek. "When I went back out, they had already gotten like closer. They were catcalling me. Saying things like I should show them a good time. That I owed it to them since they were from out of town." I scoffed and looked down at me chest. 

Me bare chest. It was still covered in blood. Me face contorted. I was filthy. I had a disgusting man's blood on me body. I raised me hands and started rubbing on me skin. It had dried somewhat. It wasn't coming off! I started to hyperventilate and scratch at me skin. 

"Eh, stop that, Ali! Eh! Aliena, stop that!" Tommy took my hands from me neck and into his. Me eyes widened and I could feel me head twitching to the right. 

His thumb made small strokes up and down me hand and I started to calm down. 

"One of them ran to me when I started speeding up. He grabbed me and I screamed for help. I tried fighting. Kicked his knee and ran for it. But another one caught up to me, swung me 'round, and slapped me. I kept screaming for help, but nobody was… " I took a deep breath. "They threw me in an alley and then against the wall. I kept on fighting. The guy who was gonna… Well, he was wearing a gun. So, I… I-!"

I shook me head, violently. "I shot 'em, Tommy. I took his gun and shot 'em. His mates ran off. And yeah…" I slipped me hands out of his grasp and finally allowed me head to tilt down as I rested me eyes. 

I muttered. "Me virtue lives to fight another day." I snickered, mirthlessly.

I felt rather than saw Tommy's explosive response. He slammed his hands against the tub while screaming, "Fuck!" 

Polly and Ada both gasped. 

"Did they tell you anything else, love? Like where they were planning on taking you? Or where they came from?" Polly asked, always quick to regain composure. 

I nodded. "Said they'd come from London. Staying at Betty's. I think that meant that lodging place that's run by that… "

"Semi-retired prostitute." Tommy finished. "Right. John, Arthur! Let's go!" 

Polly didn't even try stopping them. The door closed with the same bang. I started to cry again and this time I had two women soothing me. 

They cleaned the blood off of me. They washed it off of me body and hair. They put me in a nightgown and Polly brushed out me hair. Afterward, Polly sent Ada up to bed and we cuddled on the couch. 

I cleared me throat. "This isn't the first time. Not even when Tommy brought me home that day two months ago. No. The first time it happened was when I was 13 or 14. Me ma’ let me have a bevvy for the first time. It was Thanksgiving 'n all. I got so bevied up that me sis offered me to sleep in her room. I wanted to see the baby, so everyone went along with it. You see, I was supposed to sleep at the end of the bed while she was supposed to sleep next to her husband. It didn't end up like that. I slept next to 'em with the baby in the middle of us, and my sister was at the bottom. 

It was fine 'til I woke up and he was fondling me. He was playing with me breasts and kept running his hand up and down me thigh. I fucking froze, Pol. I froze for so long. But I managed to get away. I went running to me room. I told me ma’ in the morning and she told me sis. They didn't believe me. Me ma’ wanted her granddaughter to grow up with both parents, so she hid it from me da’. Me sis just thought I was lying for attention. I had to be in the same house with 'em for so fucking long!" 

Polly sucked on her teeth and held me closer to her. She held me so tight that I could hardly breathe. Tears escaped me eyes but me face wasn't contorted.

 I was so tired. 

As the night went on, Polly eventually walked me to bed. She tucked me in like I was a child. She kissed me forehead before walking out. Once I hit the bed, all fatigue washed away. I was left with me own thoughts. I couldn't fall asleep now. 

I brought fingers to me face and lightly pressed on the outside of me bruises. I hissed in pain and withdrew me hand. 

'I don't wanna see me face.' I thought. 

But because I acknowledged it, I wanted to do it. I slowly got up from the bed and walked over to the mirror. Me left cheek and eye were both bruised. It wasn't absolutely horrible, but I've never seen me face like this before.

I huffed as I dropped me hand from me face. I opened the palm of me hand and traced the outline of me scrapes. They burned like a bitch when I was in the bath. I slowly crouched down and did the same to the scrapes on my knees. But as I did so, pain shot up throughout me body because I neglected the bruises on me stomach and ribs.

 I was littered with fucking bruises. 

I sighed, running a hand through me hair as I tilted me head back. I pinched the bridge of me nose. I was brought out of me trance when three soft knocks rang through the room. I jumped at the sudden sound. 

"Ye-Yes?"

The door opened and it was Tommy. He had dressed down. He was in his pajamas. A white long sleeve shirt and pants. I never asked if they were his work pants, but they were eerily similar. 

He cleared his throat and flicked his nose. "It's done. We found 'em and dealt with them." 

I let out a loud breath of relief. They were dead. I wouldn't have to worry about them at all. Unlike in me original world where I couldn't sleep because I feared he'd come for me and me family. 

I ran me hand through me hair, and bunched it at the front. I looked up at Tommy. "Thank you." I whispered. 

With his hands now in his pockets, he nodded. 

I knew what I was doing. I knew that I probably shouldn't ask, but I didn't want to be alone tonight. I ran to him and hugged him. He returned it, hesitantly. He soon rested his chin on me head. 

I felt him kiss me head and he whispered. "Sleep with me tonight, eh? You shouldn't be alone tonight." 

I nodded with me head still buried in his chest. Slowly, he guided me to his room. I climbed into his bed and he did after me. I faced the wall and allowed his arm to be me pillow. I gathered me hair and put it all to the side where his arm laid. 

I could hear his breathing and that's all it took for me to start drifting off. Me eyes fluttered open when I felt his fingers comb through me hair. He couldn't fully thread his fingers through me hair, but it was still soothing. 

"You're safe now. You'll be okay." He whispered over and over. 

His voice is something I always want to fall asleep to... 

It didn't take me long to fall asleep at all. I was safe in the Shelby house, in Tommy's arms. 

TAG LIST: @amirahiddleston​ @nemesis729​

[inkdheart17]

One thing I hate most is being judged, accused, and/or scolded without being confronted. I know the things I've done weren't always great, but i also know that I've never done anything so bad I would later regret it.

Yet, it seems that more and more people seem to think that my silence means I'm guilty. It definitely doesn't. If I decide not to speak of an event, then it's probably because I was the victim, and I'm still hurting.

The most recent big event that's causing a lot of issues for me is a falling out with a person I used to think of as a best friend. I had trusted this person with... Well, everything. I always went out of my way to help them feel comfortable about who they were and tried my best to boost their confidence. I felt that it was necessary, as a friend. I thought all friends did that to each other. Little did I know that very few did that to me.

I didn't need it as much, thankfully. I have my sister, who's my own personal hype man. My mom also supports me. We may be closer than most families i know, but my mom and I aren't close enough for me to come out to her. About anything, actually. Still, i trust her with most things. So, I never needed my friends to truly be there for me. Except once.

I had just broken up with my first and to this day only boyfriend. I had been extremely cautious on who I accepted to date because I was acutely aware of how toxic people could be. My own father and his family being a prime example of that. I had already given up on trying to date someone when I noticed my feelings for my ex. We went out and after the honeymoon phase, I began to notice how similar he was to my father. I became anxious. I tried to reach out and instead was cut off.

Many of the people around me don't know the details. Not sure if I want to share them anymore either. But I'm writing this to vent and hopefully help someone else that went through a similar experience.

You see, the break up didn't hurt so much because he left. It hurt because I lost so much because of him. I lost his family. Whom I had gotten very close with as he refused to ever visit my family. So, we only ever went to his place. I lost my friends, because some of them refused to interact with me after he left. And I lost my peace. My anxiety was once again in control and I was fighting hard to keep everything together once again.

This was the one time I begged for support from those around me, and I quickly found out who to cut off from my life.

At the time, I had moved in with friend A and coworker B, who was dating another guys friend of mine at the time, C. They all faked being supportive at first. Telling me I should just ignore my ex and forget everything. He was never worth my time. Things like that. I had actually called C the night my ex broke up with me. I thought of C as my brother and all I wanted was for my bro to come over and comfort me. He didn't. He had things to do early the next morning and was in bed with B. So, neither of them were going to be there for me. It was only A who kinda distracted me with a drive, but she was so quick to add venom into me. Almost as if she wanted me to hate my ex. Which I did for a while. But it wasn't until I spoke with my still best friend, J, that I found the support I needed.

While all this was happening, i was struggling to finish my final semester before graduated with two bachelor's degrees. You can imagine the kind of stress I was going through as I was also fighting with the University to keep my scholarships for one last semester so that I could graduate. The funny part is that J knew exactly how I behaved. He knew the difference between the times I kept our talks short because I was busy, and when I kept our talks short because I was in distress. He asked me to hang out with him for a day. A day he could've easily filled up with catching up on school work, or being with family, or even spending time with his girlfriend. I still feel very touched remembering how he decided to try and help me instead. All because I didn't react like usual.

He didn't push me to say anything, but my ex came up in conversation and I had to tell J that we weren't dating anymore. That then spiraled into how pressured I felt with school and how unsupportive my roommates and C were being. I told him how A would react aggressively when were alone. Straight up calling me a bitch for ignoring her when I had homework to finish, but would then cry and say I was the abuser as I had blocked her on everything whenever B and C were around.

I told him how I had turned to B in hopes of getting advice, as she shared a room with A and would probably know what was going on with A. Instead, B had told A about all the negative things I said in a fit of rage and never once mentioned how I did want to fix our relation, but A had really destroyed my trust in her and had (has) yet to apologize. I told him how my ex would ignore me on dates and would only pay attention when we were physical with each other. Which made me want more physical interactions despite my general apprehension due to past trauma. And how my ex unceremoniously texted me that he was done because I got mad he wouldn't pause his game for like 5 minutes just to hear me out during an anxiety attack.

J calmly took all this in and advised that I move out. Not back in with my parents, but that it may be inevitable for me at the time. Then he warned me not to bottle up my hatred for my ex cause it would make me hate men in general. And I tried not to, but that hatred started with my dad. So, when C blocked me out of the blue, with no confrontation what so ever, I lost all the trust I had left. I mean, if the guy I thought of as a brother would rather listen to two women who know nothing about me just cause he's dating one of them, then how low were my standards? Why was it so easy for me to get betrayed? It happened with A, it happened with B, it happened with C.... And now he's happening with another friend, D. Who has yet to respond to any of the text messages I've sent her and has now started to hang out with A.

I once again turned to J. Asking if it was normal to feel hurt when a friend was still friends with someone who hurt you. J agreed it was painful but that ultimately I had to remember that they were their own person and that they were going to make their own decisions on what relationships to keep.

I felt discouraged but knew he was right.

As I type this up, I've had to pause a few times to wipe away tears. I think they sting when you feel a bit if anger when crying. Not sure.

Anyways, all this is to say that you'll never be free of selfish assholes. You'll live with them, you'll work with them, you'll move in with them, you'll befriend them, and nothing I say will help prepare you for the pain you'll feel when they reveal their true colors and destroy some part of you. Still, you should never change because of them.

I've given up on dating and friends because of these new experiences topping old traumas. I've been groomed, molested, raped probably, psychologically and emotionally manipulated and abused, all before entering seventh grade. I can't remember my childhood thanks to dissociative amnesia. So, instinctively, I no longer trust humans. It's a lovely existence and despite having won this battle before, I'm looking at suicide once again and am having to remind myself that I've already been through hardships. That all will be fine again. It's just a matter of time now.

But, fighting suicide is almost impossible without help. Without support. So, if you find yourself stuck with toxic people, with selfish assholes, with treacherous friends, cut them out.

We don't need them. They're a cancer that feeds off your good intentions and then blame you when they've dried your soul. It'll hurt a lot at first, but eventually, all will feel better. You'll find peace again. Maybe you'll connect with an old friend who'll always be there for you, like I did with J. Perhaps your siblings will be your own hype man like mine is. Maybe your relationship with your parents will get better like mine is with my mom. You'll finally start feeling better about yourself and try things that cancer wanted to steal from you. I've just gotten through a job interview and hopefully I'll be working at the office I've been trying hard to get into some time next week. Perhaps you'll also take the next step in your career?

So, to by fellow disappointed-in-humanity victims, sometimes it takes swimming in shit before being able to relax in a healthy mind. Take off those rose tinted glasses. Harden your heart and cut out people you know are hurting you. Don't listen to them, and if they take others with them, know that they also aren't worth your effort.

I would much rather be alone than be with a friend who believes I abused another person without ever talking to be about it. That's a person who'd rather believe your abuser than try and figure out why you would ever dare hurt someone. You don't need them.

I probably should like a bitch. Trust me, I get it. I often feel like I'm too harsh and that I should just unblock people to settle things down again. But you know what? I was very complacent and unmotivated when I had the people I blocked on my life. And now that I cut them out? I'm taking my first steps to establishing a career here in my town. Which is arguably a very hard town to settle in as a non-retiree.

Free yourself. Cut them off before they bleed you out

[sky-colors]

Minors will still search for R-18 content - Personal experience

I think I should talk about it here instead of on my main blog because it’s more related to my own content.

I can relate to Missy from Big Mouth [happily not at everything (?)]

I was around 9 when I discover how masturbate [I never was sexual abused, unless you count being molested on the bus or streets] I was doing exercise when cross my legs felt good and that... GOSH, I did it once in front of my mother and she just ignore it like the mom of Missy. I ask her and she told me about yoga, I don’t know if she realiced what I was doing, after all I was just crossing my legs and full clothed.

I was 10 (a week for being 11) when I read my first lemon fanfic (it was straight... more exactly, it was Shesshoumaru x Rin, he was my first top husbando (?)). This fanfic has all the warnings, I could skip the lemon part and still understand the story, the author pointed the start and the end of that part, and I still read that part. I can remember how I felt, I had a lot of curiosity about that, and somehow I recognice the other feeling and associate that to the one mentioned the previous paragraph... so it’s obviously what I did.

At that time I <<knew>> “a man and a woman should share a bed and then they can make a baby” I though they search something on the bed and somehow put it on the woman. So it was also funny discover how wrong I was.

After that, time to time I started to search that kind of fanfics(full straight). When I was 11, my last year on elementary school (because that’s the systen on my country) they left us a homework about choose a book write by a Nobel Prize and read it. I read “La tía Julia y el escribidor”, there the autor points he was around 12 when he “has sex” with a woman (I surprissed, even if I already read fanfics with that that book was autobiographic! Just few years after that I recognice that was abuse); many of my classmates read “Las aventuras de la niña mala”, that book was full of ero things, then I knew I wasn’t the only interested on that, and inside I was also feeling better than them because I already “knew” about that and even more detailed.

Maybe I was 13 when somehow I discover doujinshins.

I never told about that to anyone of my family except my twin, I didn’t think I was doing something so bad, but my parents were so old that I think they weren’t gonna understand, and I tought if I told that to another of my sibblings they could said about that to my parents, and I was on a Chatolic school... 

I was 15 when my twin told me about “yaoi”, so “Junjou Romantica” was my first yaoi anime. Before I saw it I thought that was gross because ass was not a clean part of the body, but I saw it anyway. It was a big “Oah...!!!” I liked it a lot and seached for anothers animes like that. I had a lot of questions, but they didn’t matter a lot. So I watched others yaoi contents (Okane ga nai, Boku no Pico, and -my favorite even now- Koisuru boukun), I was a weaboo who didn’t know some of the things I read and though was normal were actually abuse. I was the kind of weaboo who tough rape was bad but still means love and that stupid things. 

Until that time I dint’t think an homosexual relationship was possible. When I was a kid I wish I was a male because I had more male friends and if I were a male I could play with them on Physical Education, but then I though “I like X guy and he's male, if I was a male probably I will still like him, and maybe other males, but that’s not possible, males don’t like males, so I will end alone, but I will have more friends...even if I end up without a partner I want more friends. I wish I were born male”

There was a memory... one day a policewoman came to my school and told us that rape was really bad and it still counts even if the persons were married.

Somehow I entered a Hetalia facebook group. I was terrified because I didn’t talk a lot and I hadn’t many friends (I was ever a quiet person) but I wanted to share my emotion for that anime... so I entered and discover rolplay! I was excited because that was so fun, like writing a fanfic betwen two people without know how it will end. And... I started to rolplay yaoi hard with other girls around my age. In the group were a woman that was 23 I don’t remember rolplay yaoi hard with her, but she did it with a guy that had 14 (I was 15), she never tried to do something real to us (she molested us, but it was full joke and I’m absolutely sure it were jokes, I know how is a real attempt, I was to experience it on messenger if I didn’t recognice some signals). They (the woman of 25 and the puber of 14) teach me some things, like recognice that some things were abuse, preparation is important, most yaoi content is stupid (by the way they manage the relationship and romantice rape) but there is nothing bad on like it if you don’t associate that with reality.

I already didn’t associate fiction with reality (mostly because I didn’t care about reality), and because when I seach for doujinshis some pages show gifs of real porn and I found that really gross. The real thing was (and is still) vulgar and gross to me, I don’t like it. [Well I could said I’m only interested on male gay porn because I like male muscles -not exagerated-, but even that I wont watch it because I felt bad]. I like certain styles of drawing that just manga/anime has (and some cartoons).

Like a year ago I discover “Uncanny Valley” and if you read about that I’m sure you will understand why style is so important on the moment of said that we can separate fiction of reality when it comes from drawings. [Please read about Uncanny Valley is a deep studied thing.]

So since that time I read fanfiction or doujinshis or mangas and understand that there are things that we can explore in fiction but don’t touch on reality and even find gross and that didn’t mean we are just dennying we like it on reality.

It’s really simple, it’s not just with some kind of r-18 content, if you think about a character you really love but is bad or has bad acctitudes and then imagine him on reality probably you want to punch him because he is a trash (my personal example is Kacchan), but you still love him because he belongs to fiction.

I don’t think that is bad that an young adult guide a puber/kid/adolescent about sex things (obviously without touching and without the intention of abuse) because most of them didn’t have someone near who they can feel safe talking about that, but you should learn to recognice when they are trying to take advantage of you (some signals are: try to get your number, where you live or study, your schedule, your full name or your family’s, “inocent” photos that gradually demand more...) Intenet has a lot of answers but just if you had THE question, if you didn’t, you could find wrong things,

Well, it’s my personal experience. I wish I found that fanfic latter, at least when I was 15. R-18 is signed like that for a reason, but even that the curiosity is here since he were kids and even much more when we were pubers or adolescents; the changes, the hormones guide us to search more about that and it’s pretty normal (that didn’t mean we should obsess about that. It’s also normal don’t feel interested about that, just less common). It’s ok to ask an adult with whom you feel confident about that but don’t let your guard down, and... Liking something in fiction doesn’t mean liking it on the reality!

Pd: Since it’s impossible to full avoid adolescent from r-18 content I think the translators or fanfic authors will help them to don’t think abuse is romantic putting warning messages on the first page and tags

Pd2: If you are an adolescent I recommend you to watch “Big Mouth”, the artstyle makes you felt unconfortable, but it’s perfect for their message.

[yes-supreme-justice-blog]

Open Letter To Forsyth County

FORSYTH EXPOSED

Open Letter

An Open Letter To Forsyth County

August of 2018, a 19-year-old UGA student didn’t return home on time, the overly zealous and dramatic parents of Byron Grogan, contacted the police. The Forsyth County Sheriff’s department, outside standard procedures in a missing person, is reported, initiated a full-scale search effort. Enlisting the help of Park Rangers, members of the community, the media, and even police dogs. Byron was safely found alive when he stumbled into his parents Suwanee home in the wee hours of the night. Forsyth County utilized the best of the best, of their resources when a 19-year-old white resident sent all of his parent’s calls to voicemail. Three months later, Tamla Horsford, also a resident of Forsyth County was found dead, in the backyard of her friends home. Forsyth County then assigns it’s the dumbest investigator to supervise the case, Andy Kalin. Byron Grogan got helicopters, boats, community shock and worry, and even a police dog and all Tamla Horsford got was Andy Kalin. Tamla Horsford was black.

Dear Forsyth County, I have some questions.

I have poured over hundreds of hours of video and social media post, before writing this letter. I wanted to get a better understanding of, what #blacktwitter was calling a murder and a poor attempt at a cover-up, in Tamla Horsford’s death. And like Forsyth County, I spent all that time investigating and I am still not any closer to understanding any of this. But, unlike the Sheriff’s department, I actually proofread my stuff before releasing it.

This subject matter evokes a lot of emotion within my soul. This letter has been weeks in the making, I did not want to get too far off topic or too deep into my feelings when addressing this subject matter. But music has been my outlet since I was a child, it has given me a way to express my emotions when I had no words, it has been the noise I needed when I could not sleep. And music has been the soundtrack of my life. My favorite artist is Michael Jackson, his music moves my feet and my soul’s conscience, with his help, through his lyrics, here is my

Open Letter To Forsyth County.“Carry me / Like you are my brother / Love me like a mother / Will you be there?”

November 4th, 2018 Jeanne Meyers made a call to 911 to report her friend was unresponsive in her backyard. As per her statement, she began to call 911 before even seeing the lifeless body in her yard. What stood out to me the most was her tone, it was flat and had no emotions.

So this is where it gets odd for me. During the 911 call, Jeanne’s voice is, slightly labored but calm, she’s middle-aged and out of shape. She speaks in a very matter of fact tone. Without being prompted, she gives the 911 operator her alibi, which is again, is odd to me. Her friend is lying lifeless, and instead of asking how to help, she’s walking the 911 operator through her version of events. This is called an alibi.

Jose Barrera then takes control of the call and talks to the 911 operator. He introduces himself to her and I am sure they know each other. As if almost on cue, with no prompting, Jose begins to walk the 911 dispatch operator through his version of events. And refers to his girlfriend’s friend, as “the woman we believe to be deceased.”

Looking at her as she lay motionless, probably pacing back and forth, walking the 911 operator through his poorly constructed alibi. Jose continues on, the 911 operator asks him, repeatedly did he assess her, or did he check her pulse? “NO, but I did bend her leg back, and she appears to be stiff.”

During the entire 911 call without “assessing her,” he believes that she is dead, not one of the 4 people present, attempts to provide aid to her when the police arrive no medical personnel accompanies them. No statements are taken that day, her car is driven to her home be police, and aside from crime scene tech taking photos to illustrate how her body was positioned, no evidence was gathered and no statements were made.

According to online training documents that I found online, basic standards for training of Probation officers involves CPR. Jose Barrera failing to administer aid to Tamla Horsford, given his training and employment background and after repeated prompting by the 911 dispatcher is somewhat suspicious

Responding officers, crime scene techs, and the coroner where on scene, but medical professionals were noticeably absent from any of the reports given to open record. By Georgia law, a medical professional has to present to declare a person dead according to § 31–10–16.

As Michael Edward Christian, walks around Jeanne’s backyard and speaking to his pal Jose, he requests that all the guest present who left return. As they do, I am sure he probably trips over his own two feet somehow and notices an inanimate object in the grass, and declares she had a medical emergency from a ground level fall and then succumbed to her injuries a few hours later. Remember Byron Grogan got police dogs, Tamla’s death investigation was done by Michael Christian and Andy Kalin.

“If they say, why, why, tell them that it’s human nature.”

And 2 weeks later, Jeanne produced an email from ARLO stating the batteries in her camera were dying, and they needed to be replaced. And in the forwarded email to Detective Christian, Jeanne alluded that she was not astute enough to know how to replace the batteries in the cameras.

A quick trip to Best Buy and a phone call with ARLO determined this to be a lie. If Jeanne has ever replaced batteries in a child’s toy or even a sex toy, I am sure Jeanne would have been able to change them. She has 3 sons, a boyfriend under 30 and an ex-husband, and none of these people were able to help Jeanne change some damn batteries, I call foul.

From the beginning, this investigation clearly was not a significant concern or important to Forsyth County. “Persons of interest” interviews took place days later including one that happened 3 weeks later. More than enough time for possible corroboration, cover-ups, and lies.

As Jeanne sat next to her aunt Madeline Lombardo, as if she were assisting one of her children with their homework. Jeanne Meyers directed her aunt on what to write in her statement. And while her aunt gave detectives her oral statement during her interview, Jeanne barged her way in yielding gifts in the form of gift cards for the detectives.

“Situation, aggravation / Everybody allegation / In the suite, on the news” “All I want to say is that / They don’t really care about us.”

As I look back on the history of Forsyth County, mainly racism. I wonder did that have any bearing on the handling of this investigation? According to his self-written biography, Ron Freeman started his career over 30 years ago, in 1987. The same year that was plagued with racist counter marches by white nationalist and hateful bigots in robes calling themselves the KKK. Did any of this history have a part in the way this case was handled?

Sheriff Ron Freeman, Judge Jeffrey Bagley, District Attorney Penny Penn, Judge David Dickinson, Coroner Lauren McDonald, and Judge Phillip Smith this letter is too you. You all are elected officials and are in place for two purposes, to serve the citizens of Forsyth County and to protect their constitutional rights.

But instead, you misuse the authority and power you are given in its complete capacity. I will provide you with some examples:

Bagley, Dickinson, Smith, and Penn, you 4 especially Bagley are amongst the top 5 corrupt officials along with Sheriff Ron Freeman. Instead of using the authority given to you to protect the community that has elected you, you instead use it to further create a racial divide within Forsyth County. How many wealthy defendants have you given a “sweetheart” deal too? How many rapist, child molesters, and sexual predators still roam the streets freely because of the “sweet deals” their overpriced attorneys have afforded them?

Seriously how many sexual predators are going to be able to be free of the label of a “registered sex offender” when their probation is done, but their victims will forever carry that burden of pain. You, Judge Bagley, are a despicable round little man, you like the lack as mentioned above any sort of integrity or moral compass. How do you from an ethical standpoint preside over a case that you are friends with the defendant and the attorney. Is that why Frisky Hands Frank Huggins got off with only probation for sexual assault on a teen.

“Tell me what has become of my rights / Am I invisible because you ignore me? Your proclamation promised me free liberty, now /I’m tired of bein’ the victim of shame.”

Ms. Penn how many DUI’s has the sheriff’s office covered up for you now? I lost track when you were required to pay for the damages out of pocket. Can you also explain to me why you love sending blacks to prison? The question, for you, Penny Penitentiary Penn, wasn’t your job as a public defender to keep your clients out of prison, so why did the majority of your cases end up with plea deals that ended in prison? I mean the number alone would make even Dickinson blush.

Dickinson, what about you sir, you old grumpy goat. Why the significant disparity in sentencing and bonds when it comes to black defendants? But you give rich white kids breaks? Like the kid a few years ago who was already on probation for underage drinking, has a serious DUI, kills his passenger and you give him a low bond, and you sentence him on the low end for his offense so he can “enjoy his life” and he will also be able to get his license back? I know you remember Adam Robert Joesph Di Millo. You sentenced him to just 5 years in prison, you gave him a low bond you even let him “stay in rehab” before going to prison. It’s not like in prison he is going to have access to an open bar now is he Dicky?

And you Ronnie or do you prefer to be called Ron? I really could care less. You ran this big campaign hinged upon you’re more ethical, you’re smarter, more qualified, and hell you probably think you are better looking than Piper(no, you’re not). But I hate to tell you bud, the results have come in and that sir, like everything out of your mouth was determined to be a lie. I am not sure if it is because you have low self-esteem and you just want to have friends, and you desire to be liked, or is it you like to have the authority to selectively, administer the law.

Like all of these scandals that are popping up like teenage acne out of your office. Todd Maloney, Chris Barrett, and I hear you may have dug a hole and stuck Ben Finley in it because you don’t want his sexting scandal to get out. Why is it hard for you to be ethical and adequately administer the law. And why are you still friends with Creepy old man Frank Huggins? Why do you sympathize with racist Ronnie? I mean, that’s the reason why you are no longer at the City of Brookhaven, you stuck your chubby little neck out for Chris Shelton after he was fired, right Ronnie? For that photo, he posted of himself online in blackface. That’s the real reason you needed a two-year head start, to start your campaign. Now Chris Shelton is a deputy coroner, who got him the job? The man was fired for having poor judgment in thinking it was ok to be a racist, yet here we are again, and you have re-hired someone who was already fired, and fried for good reason. Ironic how you went on about Piper being dumb and turns out he was quite the opposite. When he fired the 11 of you, Barrett and Shelton included, that was one of the best things to happen to Forsyth County. So

And what do you do Ronnie? You come back and you bring the unwanted guest with you. Maybe instead of acne, you’re more like herpes? You know you were fired, and you and the other 10 rightfully unemployed people went to court on 4 occasions trying to get your jobs back.

And here we are, and no one has been held responsible for the death of Tamla Horsford. Ronnie, can you explain to the people why?

Nichole Lawson

Matt Meyers

Let’s backtrack a little bit there Ronnie back to your campaign. Anna DeBlois was your campaign manager, right? Didn’t her husband Brian give a hefty donation? Stacy and Tom Smith are friends with DeBlois, they are also good friends with you and your wife, right Ronnie? Did this have anything to do with the way Tamla’s case was handled? Brian was one the 11 fired by Piper, he also got creepy Frank the job at Lanier Tech, and he knew Huggins was a sexual predator right? Which is why Paxton forced him into early retirement..

“Tired of injustice / Tired of the schemes Your lies are disgusting / What does it mean”

Ronnie my boy! So let me make sure I got this correct, the Deblois’s are good girlfriends friends with your wife, and the Deblois are really good friends with Nichole and Steven Lawson as well as Stacy and Tom Smith. Jose Barrera and Andy Kalin are also really good girlfriends, back when Andy was employ be the courthouse. Then you brought him over to the sheriff’s department after he helped your campaign, right?

So just off things, I can prove on paper, you and 4 persons of interest have a connection and a friendship, Jose Barrera knows personally at least 75% of the people that work at the courthouse or the Sheriff’s department. Not only that, you got racist Chris Shelton working at the coroner’s office, where Tamla’s body stayed for two days.

So Ronnie, why wasn’t this case turned over? Clearly, there are conflicts. No one within Forsyth County clearly has any ethical values. Penn, Dickinson, and Bagley don’t keep getting re-elected because they are just great people, they keep getting re-elected because no one is running against them. So, this is what I am going to do, I have written an identical letter, with just a little less satire and I have emailed it to every elected official in the state of Georgia. I also have crafted a message to more progressives encouraging them to run. And just like Penny Penn can indict a ham and cheese sandwich, I am sure someone will be able to successfully run against you all ending your corruption and conspiracy.

Truly Yours,

Supreme Justice

www.forsythexposed.com

[trialtribandtestimony]

His Mercy

A lot of the time we find ourselves asking, "is there really hope for that person?". Usually not thought aloud, but we can see someone so deep in despair it's almost impossible to imagine them any other way. When I look back on my life, that's how I view where I was at.

What was my life like before Christ? Well defining what that means is difficult. Honestly my story starts even before my birth. I was conceived out of wedlock and I was born to my mother when both of my parents were 19. A wedding was set in place before my birth but was canceled at the last second by the grace of God. My mother had been made aware of how disgusting a man my father, Michael, really was and didn't even want him in the room when I was born quite understandably.

Of course when I was born many a court case took place. My last name, custody rights, and etc. My mother was genuinely scared for my safety, along with my grandparents, because my father already was a drug user. The judge decided that, and he stated, my father would "grow out of it", and granted him visitation. The judge was wrong, and this decision has affected my life ever since. But I believe that this decision was not an accident, I don't believe God's plan is an accident at all. He works all things for good.

Despite the chaos of events when I was a baby, my early childhood years were not anything particularly bad. All of my special talents started emerging, I loved to act, sing, and paint. I had a vast inner world which still exists. I was quite outrageous and special to my family, out of a difficult situation I felt like a blessing. I would sing to strangers in the grocery store and capture the heart of everyone I met. I was saved at four years old, my grandmother genuinely believing I knew what I was asking for and I believe she was right. That's why my testimony really isn't about my life "before" Christ. He died on the sins for all of the world, my name was written in the book of life before the earth was set in motion, Jesus was always there because according to Calvinism (a philosophy I heavily agree with) he knew the decision I would make to follow him. Unfortunately tragic events would make me question that decision in a few years to come.

When I became about 8 years old it seemed like everything started hitting me at once from every possible angle. My mother would get divorced from her husband whom was the father of my sister. My third grade teacher noted to my mother that every-time id come home from Michael's house I would become extremely pale. I physically started to become extremely thin. At this age my father's controlling tendencies consumed him and increasingly became worse. He would force me to watch demonic horror movies, I'd cry because of how traumatizing it would be and tell my mom, but unfortunately she didn't have much control over those things which terrified me. My mom was always my superhero, and realizing that not even my mom could protect me rocked my world. I believe this is the time period he started using heavier drugs, but many memories are fuzzy and still blocked out to this day. This is when his behavior became worse, but the true intentions and twisted behavior started to appear. He pawned all of my Christmas presents, begged people for money on the street, stole children's bikes for drug money

How did I cope with feeling utterly powerless? I became obsessed with weather. I would check the weather on my computer every day before school. I recall writing a goodbye letter to my mother during a storm in third grade one day because I genuinely thought I was going to die. I was consumed in fear and weather was the only way my child brain could rationalize it.

Another difficulty at this age was that I had undiagnosed ADHD. I have type two, which is inattentive, which means I'm not hyperactive, just deeply consumed in my own world at all times. I have always felt I was on autopilot about 75% of my life. A combination of both adhd and anxiety meant I failed to thrive at school. I had to sit out during recess every day because I couldn't do my homework. That's when I remember first feeling depression in my life. So because I had to sit out, and visitation every other weekend with my father, I was not socialized at all. In fact, when I was at my father's house I wasn't allowed to even play with my cousins. I remember looking out the window crying and crying because I was not allowed to go into the backyard on the trampoline. Ever. I still suffer with social integration, I've always wanted many friends and to talk to people, and I know what to say but it always comes out odd to me. I missed out on fun adventures and bonding with kids my age, and that lead to me never really having any friendships, honestly to this day I'm still not sure how to make friends which is horribly embarrassing to me and always was. The one time I was allowed to have a birthday party at Michael's house, a few friends from my elementary school came to a pool party I had. We jumped on the trampoline in our bathing suits, as Michael pulled out a random camera to take pictures. My step mom told him it was odd but he wouldn't stop taking pictures of me and my friends.

This would continue into middle school, when the abuse also started to happen. At first in my elementary years it was psychological. "Always make sure to lock your doors, someone will break in and kill you", I can still hear my father say over and over. Forcing me to watch the lovely bones, a movie about a girl getting kidnapped and molested as I panicked watching it as a young child in absolute fear. Now he became physically and sexually abusive as well as psychological. What went along with this was people being invited to friend's sleepovers which I was NEVER allowed to attend, and watching other kids my age form groups as I sat alone for lunch every day.

Around this time I recall starting to self harm, I didn't even really know what it meant at that point. I would get a comb and scrape my arms with it just to relieve intense fear I experienced. I had frequent stomach aches, not knowing what the concept of anxiety even was. I was skinny, pale, and always felt sick. I barely ever ate. My two younger siblings were born and he threatened to throw them down the stairs, and often neglected them. When my stepmom would leave for work I had to change their diapers and feed them. If I didn't, Michael would let them sit in their filth all day. One of my brothers developed selective mutism from the abuse and fear caused by Michael. I tried to care for them as much as a 10 year old could.

In this time period, about 6-7th grade I remember Michael using drugs and alcohol clearly. He would talk to himself while intoxicated and make absolutely no sense. He would claim to see demons, which may have actually been considering his involvement with psychics and satanic movies and music and necrophilia he watched. This is when the actual event of molestation happened but I will save the gory details on that. He would often tell my stepmother at the time odd and inappropriate remarks about my appearance as I grew older, and that I would grow up to be a prostitute. One time I wore skinny jeans and he talked to me for hours about how inappropriate that was and what boys at school would think. I was not allowed to wear shorts that were above my knees or any colorful clothing.

At this point I found a youth group I loved. I was supposed to see Michael on Wednesday nights, but I told him I just wouldn't go. He'd have to move it. So he demanded I see him Tuesday AND Thursday instead. I said fine, because this feeling I got from God is something I'd never had before in my life. I remember listening to "How He Loves" and bawling my eyes out as my father sent threatening texts to my mom. I brought a friend that night, and somehow he found her parent's phone number and called them saying that my mother took us to church on his visitation time. Because of his psychotic actions she was no longer allowed to hang out with me. But just in that chaotic moment and listening to the song "How He Loves", That became God's love song to me, and he has played it during significant times in my life ever since. God gave me this comfort that I could cling to, a comfort of hymns and nursery rhymes and bible stories like I had as a child. I experienced His absolute precious love which is just inexplicable.

During this time the abuse increasingly became worse with the drug use. He would drive me and my siblings around drunk in the middle of the night. He would stalk me as I slept and never really leave me alone. He would walk into the bathroom and stay in there while I showered. At this point I had developed severe depression and anxiety. All I could think about was escape. I escaped with boyfriends and art and music. I had one boyfriend who my father found out was African American, and called his number leaving a message of racial slurs on my phone to his number. A phone my mother bought me that he stole from me when I tried to bring it with me to his house.

My mom called CPS (again) when I told her I'd kill myself, (at age 11), if I ever had to see Michael again. There was not enough evidence to support a case so it was dropped. I prayed and prayed, and mentors in my life had prayed for me as well. This may sound odd but I could feel certain times where they currently prayed for me. And then, a miracle happened. Michael signed over his rights.

My family on his side no longer talked to me. During this time my ex stepmom divorced Michael and took my two brothers and had a restraining order filed. My family on that side didn't support her, and I was not in contact with her yet, she was forced to live in a shelter for a while because of the absolute neglect on my father's side of the family. Luckily now we got back in contact and she is my absolute best friend and I get to see my brothers whenever I please. But back to the fact that they divorced- Michael had an arrest record made public online of his drug use. It was getting worse. He became homeless, voluntarily living on the streets, but still using payphones to harass my mother and ex stepmom. He would steal pictures from my mother's Facebook of me and say, "she has my eyes" and post them online, which still haunts me. He would threaten to break in or harm us, and he threatened to kill his own parent's dog. His mother tried to get in contact with me, she told my mom that he got into an accident, looking for sympathy or something. The accident was that he overdosed on drugs. They claimed he fell off a bridge, but later confirmed to me it was drug related

The one friend I did have was my cousin, who to this day has no communication with me. She was my only friend when I had none. Even after my mom trying to make contact, and seeing them at my grandfather's funeral, no one believed my story of abuse.

I thought my pain was over. I was FREE. I could forever live with my mom and go to church and have friends. Unfortunately it just didn't turn out that ideally.

I still had depression and anxiety. It didn't go away. I still didn't know how to make friends, I started to become bullied and changed schools frequently. Now the suicidal ideation would come to play at age 13-14. I still believed in God but I just felt so hopeless. I believe the only reason I never fully attempted suicide was because the Holy Spirit left this lingering light in my heart. It was inexplicable, but it was there. Something just told me to look up to the heavens, no matter how dim and dreary the sky may be.

Despite this hope my mind was broken. I started my 9th grade year in an outpatient school, where I met my therapist who has been a gift from God. This school was for high risk suicidal adolescents, no phones were allowed and we were patted down on the daily. It was quite dreary but here I learned about coping skills and boundaries which were crucial for me to learn, I still didn't get the concept for a few years and honestly I'm still improving on these things. I was quite codependent on boyfriends I had and didn't know how to talk myself down from panic attacks that produced frequent vomiting and dizziness almost daily.

After outpatient I went to high school, but not much changed. I felt so alone, even with the few friends I did have. I felt like no one really still understood me, I felt suicidal again and went to inpatient. This honestly didn't change much for me, and I had to go to inpatient again not long after. It's basically just 24 hour supervision for high risk patients.

I just couldn't cope with feelings of isolation and not receiving the love I would find in Christ. I hopped from relationships which made me feel even worse, although I regret nothing and I learned quite a lot, some of which as a teen produced lifelong friends. I started to hurt other people, something I NEVER wanted to do in my wildest dreams. I didn't even know who I was anymore.

I started experimenting with different things and engaging in risky behavior. I just kept trying to fill the hole in the pit of my stomach. On a bad trip I had with a drug I tried, I had to go to the hospital. I never was addicted to drugs but recreationally tried things at parties which I shouldn't have dabbled with, but God used it to bring me back to him. All I remember with this trip is feeling so far from God and so so scared. No thoughts went through my head and I thought I would have a seizure. My mind was completely blank. When the ambulance arrived I sobbed as I called my grandfather and family to meet me. Their disappointment was the worst thing I would ever face in my life. The still loved me, but they were heartbroken. In the ride to the hospital I cried out to the EMT, "is God going to forgive me?" It's all I could ask as I sobbed and violently shook. He told me God will always love me in response, and I will always be grateful for the sensitive nature of that man, I could almost start bawling while even writing this. The sedative they gave me was supposed to make me forget but I never forgot that man's kindness.

You would think this would revert me right back to God but not entirely. I faced YEARS of abuse, and it would take years to know who I even really was, being allowed to be myself. I never tried anything like that and will never again, but then codependency reared it's ugly face into my life. Luckily in this time period though I still searched for God and prayed to Him. I read a book called The Shack which forever changed my view on Him, (highly recommend it.). I felt the Holy Spirit in my life but I couldn't let go of the control I needed. So what did I do? I ran.

First I ran to a new school. It was an alternative school but you could go at your own pace. For once I could do work in the way my brain functioned and I made A's, and graduated at 16 years old. I then went to cosmetology school, swicthed schools again, and finished it out even though the environment there was extremely toxic and self-indulgent in an appareance and narcissistic way that I started to loathe. During this time my paternal grandfather passed away. I attended the funeral along with my stepmother and brothers, mother and sister. We weren't allowed to sit with the family during the funeral. My paternal grandfather was extremely racist and homophobic, and also a Baptist Sunday school teacher. The whole funeral they bragged about how godly he was. I just wanted to shout "if only you knew the vile disgusting secrets of this family!" But God gave me the grace to be respectful during this time, so I was silent. When my father was notified of his father's passing, he stated "I'm hungry. I want Arby's." Shortly after the funeral my paternal grandmother took me out for my 18th birthday to Chili's. I thought this was a time to reconcile, so I accepted trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. During the dinner she tried to claim it was my fault Michael turned out this way, and it was horrible of me to not speak to them before my grandfather's passing and not to see Michael after the "accident". She said a phrase I've heard all throughout my life. "You need to forgive and move on." How could I possibly move on from a thorn that grew with me as I aged? This pain had become who I was. But I told her the honest truth. "I did forgive him long ago. I wish no harm upon him. It's just unsafe for me to speak to him." She couldn't grasp the concept of forgiving at a distance, which is something very important to learn, and it helped me move on in a sense, but some tragedies cannot just be forgotten. After that she has tried to make contact with me, but I have not spoken to her. This decision was not because I have any ill intentions towards her, I really hope she gets help. I just can't be the one to help her learn about boundaries, and she shows no remorse for her involvement and defense of Michael. I don't need an apology but I feel that would be necessary to move on in a relationship with her, just so I know she wouldn't be toxic for my health and well-being.

I moved out of Texas to Colorado with my parents. I felt alone, so I ran to Chicago at age 18 with a man I barely knew. Then something just clicked. I will never get this love and attention I seek from a human being, it's just not possible. I moved back to Texas and jumped into another relationship even with knowing this information. I wanted to date around but on the first date I fell absolutely in love.

This person often ignored me and abandoned me for days, yet all I could do was try to make him love me for so long. I would sit in my room and sob. Who could help me? Not a hospital, not a drug, not even my own family or myself. After he broke up with ME, (thank God because I wouldn't have broken up with him at the time), I started going back to church and I found a job. I became a hard worker and just started to seek God and pray everyday. What's to lose? My skepticism and cynical heart started to burn off like deadwood.

This job became extremely stressful, so I sought God even more (along with returning to see my therapist who I saw for years). One night after a particularly stressful Wednesday afternoon a call was made to the altar, and something just told me to go. I asked my grandma to go with me though because I was too scared to go alone, which she did. I started sobbing because once again, God spoke to me. "Why don't you trust me like you did when you were a child? Don't you know I will hold you? Just lean on me, I won't disappoint you.". I figured hey I had nothing to lose, and decided to take that risk.

I met a pastor at my church named Dr.Marti, and started many amazing friendships as I was prayed over after a service of other's testimonies. Dr.Marti stayed many prophetic things about me that night and wanted me to take part in Bethesda School Of Ministry, which I desperately wanted to do, but was unable to because of my job. Then came a blessing in disguise- I was let go from the job. When I was let go I asked God "what am I supposed to do?, I know you work all things for good and this has some kind of meaning but what do I take from this?" , and I heard a clear voice state "remain in me". Odd. Not a way I'd word something in my head, quite frankly I didn't understand. The next day on my Bible app a scripture I didn't recall every reading was John 15:4 "Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me." Needless to say I was shocked. I see now I lost this job in order to take part in ministry school at Bethesda while I could. I learned not only how to minister to others, but these codependent tendencies were restored into learning about healthy boundaries and how to be happy AND alone with God. (Also confirmed by Dr.Marti who stated she had a feeling God wanted me to be like a nun for a while. I laughed because if only she knew how true I knew that was.) So many behaviors in my life started to change, along with perspectives. I became patient, enduring, developed a sound mind, and fruits of the spirit. I learned not how to be normal, but how to find my unique identity in Jesus. The raw, blunt yet sensitive, fighting-for-the-underdog, intellectual, philosopher, artistic yet gentle and kind person I was designed to be.

In the school of ministry one night I remember asking God to heal me, to make me who I was meant to truly be at last. I love God's sense of humor. Dr.Marti after giving a message on healing that Sunday night called all of the students to pray over anyone who needed it. I was shaking in my flats. I'd NEVER done that before. As soon as she called us, I heard a voice from God which made me laugh in awe. He said "You will be healed not by being anointed with oil, but by anointing others with oil." This symbolism showed that when I take the first step to seek God He will reward me and I will be made available to find His presence even more, which heals and delivers. I prayed for an elderly man, spilled a little too much oil on his face as it almost dripped in his eye, and smudged it in with my thumb sheepishly and cracked up about it later, but it was such a sweet moment.

So through God healing me, what's changed? Well, I still have depression and anxiety, and adhd. Could God deliver me from it? Yes. Will He? Maybe. But if it's in His will I carry these things so I serve others and am reminded to think about myself less and others more, than these things will remain until I'm given my new body and these illnesses did with my old body. However, my daily vomiting panic attacks turned into at most bi-monthly anxiety attacks, and suicidal ideations turned into bouts of random melancholy. After being told I functioned at a rate of 15% out of 100% at a mental hospital, and being told be a psychologist he's surprised I still function in society and haven't lost my sanity is pretty astonishing. When I told the psychologist my backstory he was amazed I was still standing, and quite frankly so am I. I believe with my whole heart it's only by the grace of God, and the help of my unconditional loving and supporting friends and family. I have a new job at the church daycare which I love, and I would like to pay off cosmetology school debt and start college soon to continue healing other's through Jesus's name and prayer like He called me to do in more abstract means like psychology, reaching every kind of person there is, innocent children or addicts and thieves.

I was promised life more abundantly and that promise was fulfilled more than I could ever imagine. God gave me impossible endurance, yet didn't make my heart cold and cynical despite all of life's circumstances, I give all glory to Him for always keeping me close and loving me no matter what. I don't know where we'll go together in the future, but as long as God is with me I will march on, praising Him for his one million "second" chances and grace. I feel that my "rebirth" was more of a process. It didn't happen overnight, but over a long stretch of time. I feel I have the freedom to actually chose who to be and what I want to do, and I am so grateful for this new chapter in my life.

[irrlicht-ghostfront]

past the horizon.

The preview looks weird?! Dunno. It looks fine on the blog. Or check it out on Ao3 (:

 The man in the trenchcoat has blue eyes and a blue umbrella in his hands. Dean meets him first at the bus-stop in the rain. The man talks about the rain, and the water, and the horizon and the mermaids. Somehow, Dean keeps meeting this man and despite everything, this man makes perfect sense when he shouldnt. The umbrella belongs only to important people, after all.

“I like the rain. It’s very hard being upset while watching the sea, don’t you think?”

~

Dean sees him the very first time at the bus-stop, in the rain. Well, he sees the bright blue umbrella first, but he doesn’t let that count. When he sees the umbrella, Dean decides he doesn’t like this person. Clearly they had listened to the weather channel and came prepared, while Dean himself hadn’t. Not only hadn’t he not listened to the weather channel, he overslept and barely managed to dress himself in proper clothing. And, of course, his idiot of a little brother was perfectly set up by the time Dean stumbled down the stairs. That reminds him, did Sam take an umbrella? Do they even own an umbrella? Somehow, Dean has his doubts. But Sam is smart. Perhaps this girl Jess will share hers? Maybe Sammy even planned that, that sly fucker. Dean grins a little, as he comes to a stop next to the blue umbrella guy.

“Do you like the rain?”

It takes Dean a moment to realise the guy is talking to him. “Huh?” Dean utters, looking over. The guy with the blue umbrella looks at him, with eyes as blue as his umbrella.

“You were smiling. And you don’t have an umbrella? Were you smiling because of the rain?”

Dean isn’t sure how to answer that, but the guy – who looks to be at least ten years Dean’s senior – surely looks at him like he’s expecting an answer.  “I don’t...” he starts, but the stranger simply interrupts him: “I like watching the rain. But I don’t like getting wet. People do call me weird for that, but I’ve learned to cope. They say I should just stay inside, but it’s not the same, you know? Just like there’s a difference between running on a treadmill and running outside.” The guy twirls his umbrella in his hands, and turns to Dean again, smiling. “Well, what about you? Do you like the rain?”

Dean slowly shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t... I mean, not really... uh, no.” To his credit, the smile on the stranger’s face doesn’t falter one bit. “That’s alright”, he says instead, “I’ll just enjoy it for the both of us.” Dean makes some sort of sound – he isn’t quite sure how to describe it – and decides here and now: this guy is very strange and probably ran away from a mental hospital. Now he can only hope the bus hurries the fuck up.

He hears the stranger shuffle, and then it stops raining. Dean looks up just to see the man stands closer now, including Dean under his umbrella. His closeness does make Dean slightly – scratch that, largely – uncomfortable. And yet he doesn’t move away, because the uneasiness is probably better than getting even wetter. Subtly, Dean glances at this weirdo. He wears a trench coat. Who the hell wears these things except child molesters? “What’s your name?” the stranger asks and his tone is very soft. Dean squirms a little. “Dean”, he says then, utterly unsure why the fuck he just gave that up. What if the molester was going to look for him now? Oh god, hopefully he wouldn’t find Sam.

“Your ride has arrived”, the stranger says and Dean almost fucking bolts. For a moment, he is terrified if the stranger will also be coming on the bus – are there even driving multiple ones on this route? – but when he looks behind him, the man in the trench coat just smiles at him from under his blue umbrella with his blue eyes and just says: “Goodbye, Dean.” Then the door closes and Dean can’t see the man anymore. Dean feels something strange in his chest and he decides to just forget about it as quickly as possible.

 ~

 “Ever since the very first time, hearing the waves reminds me of whom I used to be.”

 ~

 Three weeks later finds Dean brooding over homework assignments. In fact, he is very close to giving up. Why doesn’t Sam just do this stuff for him? Dean could probably fluke the tests. But no, Sammy just had to insist Dean do his own stupid homework. How was he supposed to go buy groceries if he’s stuck on this crap all the time? And later, Sam will all be like “Dean you’re starving me on purpose”. Geez that kid would be the end of him for sure. Sometimes Dean wishes their dad wouldn’t be driving a stupid truck for a living. Having him here would make things a lot easier. But alas, it is not so, and Dean must see where he’s at.

Also, he’s got a date this weekend. He’s almost very much sure this date will result in sex, and somehow he doesn’t really feel up to that. Tomorrow will look different, hopefully. Giving up, finally, Dean collapses with a sigh. Homework really sucks all the energy out of him. And he still has to go grocery shopping. He groans and flops away from the table he’s been sitting at. Being sixteen and having to maintain an entire household really sucks.

Maybe going shopping now would clear his head – at least a little. And then Sam (and himself) would have food and his brother couldn’t bug him about it later. Yeah, that sounds like a very god idea. Dean grunts as he pushes himself up his chair. He pops his head into Sam’s room and asks if he needs anything, knowing full well Sam would try to educate him about the importance of greens. Ugh. He’s wondering who raised Sammy to be so healthy. It had probably been school.  And, of course: He’s told to buy salad. What’s ever wrong with pizza and fast-food? Sam would grow up to be a damn hippie, and that would just be embarrassing.

 ~

 Of course, it’s fucking raining. And of course Dean didn’t bring an umbrella; again. So now, he trudges through the stupid rain in his way too-light jacket and hopes he isn’t going to freeze. He’s sure Lisa wouldn’t like him as a Popsicle. So he grumbles and moves faster, hoping by the time he’s finished in the grocery store, it stopped raining.

So yeah, he spends a little more time than necessary inside the store. He pretends he’s looking for salad (he isn’t) and actively avoiding the fast food section (he’s there the whole time). But eventually, he has to pay and leave the store. And of course, the rain hasn’t stopped. It got better, but still... Dean sighs. Now he can just hope his groceries don’t get wet.

“Hello, Dean. Do you still dislike the rain?”

Dean whips his head around at the sound of the voice, and, sure enough: it’s the stranger from the bus stop with the blue umbrella and the blue eyes. Dean just stares at him; because he has honestly forgotten all about him. The stranger just smiles at him. “Would you mind accompany me a while? If it still rains after, I will escort you home with my umbrella.”

He doesn’t wait, though. The stranger just turns around and starts walking, and Dean struggles to catch up to him. Why, he doesn’t know. For all he knows, this man is insane, a child molester and god knows what else. Don’t go with strangers, dad used to say. Yeah, that seems to have stuck perfectly well. Hopefully Sam would evolve to be smarter than that, but he was eating salad too, so... that might help.

The stranger walks a steady pace, just slow enough for Dean to keep up. “Hey, what’s your name? You know mine, but you never told me yours.” The man doesn’t even spare a glance at Dean as he keeps on walking. “Hey, did you hear me? I asked what your name is! Or do you want me to call you weirdo?!” The man keeps ignoring him. “Fine!”, Dean shouts. “Weirdo it is, then. You wanted it, buddy.” Apparently, that name doesn’t seem to concern the man, as he just keeps walking. Dean grumbles and walks at a faster pace. He doesn’t even look where they’re going. He was stupid. Why did he agree to walk with this lunatic? And yeah, Sam knows he’s out for shopping, but that’s not really helping now.

Angrily, Dean keeps following. “I could just leave, you know”, he says then, and the man simply responds with “Yes.” Gods, Dean hates him so much. And yet, Dean doesn’t leave. Somehow it feels important to follow, even if he can’t understand it.

They’re heading for the shore. “Uh, buddy, if the thing you wanna show me is the sea, then, uh... I’ve seen that before.  And I think my brother’s waiting for me, so...” “Your brother shall be fine waiting. I do not wish to show you the water. I have come all this way for you, Dean, and now you will simply follow me. I asked; and you agreed. Why do you complain so constantly?” Dean just stands there, stunned. The man didn’t even turn wholly to face him, just glares at him out of the corner of his eyes. And then he again doesn’t wait, just keeps going and Dean has to hurry to catch up again.

Well, that outburst had been weird. But the rain has gotten worse again, and the prospect of walking home under an umbrella was a little tempting. Concerning, considering this man would still be with him, but strangely, very strangely, also perfectly alright.

 ~

 They reach the shore, but due to the heavy rain it’s very hard to see the sea properly. The man doesn’t seem fazed though, as he heads down the stone stairs onto the sand and Dean finds himself running after him again. Apparently, that was becoming a habit.

As soon as Weirdo steps on the sand, he gets a little slower, as if he’s concentrating. Dean has to listen close, but he hears the man counting the steps under his breath. Why, Dean wonders. They stop at exactly 27, and he turns towards the water. Dean’s been quiet, because Weirdo surely had a reason to bring him here.

“I’d ask you to sit”, he says then, “but I’m afraid that might be unpleasant. Sadly, that is a side effect of the rain. Are you comfortable standing here with me?” Dean just nods. “Why have you brought me here? What’s so special?” The man smiles brightly; and he seems happy at Dean’s question. “I brought you here because of the mermaids. Have you ever seen the mermaids?”

Dean blinks, because what? Did he just say mermaids? Is this lunatic serious? But the man just smiles. “Don’t worry, Dean, I’ll tell you all about them. And one day, I will have a boat and I will sail just past the horizon. Did you know that that’s where they live? Someone told me once, and they were really sure, and I wanted to believe.” The confusion must have shown on Dean’s face, because the man just shakes his head. “If you wish, I will tell you more. Will you return tomorrow? Right here again, 27 steps from the stairs? I would enjoy your company.” Then he hands over his umbrella. “Take it home with you, Dean. If you want, you can return it to me later. And I ask you to look after it, yes? Someone important gave it to me once.” Dean looks up at the umbrella in his hands. If it was that important, why give it to Dean of all people, a stranger? He doesn’t want that responsibility, so he makes a move giving it back, but – but the man is already gone. Dean is left alone at the shore, 27 steps from the stairs, blue umbrella in his hand.

 ~

 “I wish to go so far that there is no land anymore. Just me, and all the waves of the world.”

 ~

 Sam never gets to see the blue umbrella. It belongs to Weirdo, and it seems to be an important keepsake. Of course, that makes Dean wonder again why it was given to him. Look after it. Yeah, he could do that. And tomorrow, he’d give it back, easy and simple.

Dean hides the umbrella in his room. He makes food, he calls their dad and then the day is over.  Lying on his bed, Dean thinks about Mystery Man. He’s very irritated about the fact that this guy seems perfectly alright there where he is. Dean wasn’t waiting for him, never missed a person in that spot, and yet – this man feels familiar. Dad once talked about a “soul bond” or some shit with Mary. At that time, Dean thought that was stupid adult bullshit. And, to be honest, Dean doesn’t want such a bond with a man so old. And any man in general. Also, mermaids? That guy had to be nuts. No other way, he had to be.

 ~

 And yet, the next day, Dean goes back. It rains again, and Dean takes the umbrella. The guy doesn’t ask for it back. He asks to meet again, and Dean says yes. He doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t believe in mermaids, but...

Dean thinks there might be something past the horizon.

 ~

 Every day, Dean returns. It’s raining quite a lot. And when it’s not, the guy is surrounded by fireflies. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say the guy is dancing with them. Dean brings the umbrella and never offers to return it. Sam started asking if Dean finally made friends he’d meet outside school (except for drinking) and he just glared; because Dude is not his friend.

Dude is weird, and strange and just... just something else. So what if he’s been neglecting Lisa for this guy? So what if this guy made Dean read up on mermaids? If anything, Sam should be happy Dean is picking up books once in a while.

His phone vibrates and Dean huffs with a sigh. That would be Lisa, again. And surely she’s gonna be bothering him about the party next Saturday. He’d promised her ages ago they would go together and he really should do that, considering how less she’s actually seen of him lately. People had even asked him at school if they were still together. Dean grumbles and he throws the book in the corner.

He doesn’t go to the guy at his usual time. He misses the mark, somehow, and then it’s suddenly so late he’s got to shoo Sam to bed. It’s school tomorrow, after all. As Dean gets ready for bed himself, he glances out the window; and sees the pouring rain.

He thinks of Dude, in his trench coat, without an umbrella. The guy must be drenched. And yeah, Dean knows logic says the guy is long gone when he realised Dean wasn’t gonna come, and yet... Dean thinks about this guy, sitting on the sand, 27 steps from the stairs, watching the sea.

And then Dean runs. He doesn’t even grab the umbrella, barely puts on shoes; and runs. He runs the whole way to the beach, because Dude has been waiting for him the whole day.

 ~

 Dean arrives at the shore, completely out of breath and drenched to the bone, just fifteen minutes later. He doesn’t even take a minute to catch his breath; he stumbles towards the shore immediately. “You’re still here”, Dean cries and he starts running. The man gets up and catches Dean in his arms. And no matter how weird this should be, it feels good. “Sorry”, Dean breathes, “I wanted, but then it was so late and then there was the rain and I thought about you and the umbrella, and...”

“Shhh”, the man shushes him and Dean stills, taking a few deep breaths. “You’re here now. I never mind waiting, Dean. I’m glad you came. But we should not stay too much longer. It’s quite late, I’m afraid and you are wet, as well.” Dean nods against his chest and takes a step away. “Yeah, I just... I just didn’t wanna you thinking I dumped you or something.” The man smiles broadly at him and not for the first time Dean is intrigued by that and wondering what was going on in his head, as well.

“I know you wouldn’t, Dean.” He turns his head and looks at the water. “I think I can hear the mermaids coming. I observed them tonight, and they seem to come closer. They’ll reach the shore soon.” Dean takes a step closer. “I thought they live just past the horizon?” The man nods. “Yes. But why should they not travel? Furthermore, I fear I lured them here. I’m afraid I stayed a while too long“. There is some panic in Dean’s chest. This sounds like a good-bye. Dean doesn’t like good-byes. They are often forever, and for some reason he doesn’t want this guy to leave.

“Tell me your name”, Dean says then. “If you have to go, at least tell me your name.” The guy turns and smiles at him. “If I do, will you promise me something? It’s very important and you can’t break your promise.” At Dean’s nod, he continues: “Next Saturday, the mermaids will reach the shore. I need you to be here, Dean. Right here, 27 steps from the stairs, at the exact time of 18:03. Not sooner, and not later. If you can’t manage that, don’t make a promise to me. It’s very important, because I can’t be here, Dean. Will you promise me?” Dean hesitates. Being somewhere at the exact minute might be tough. “If I don’t”, Dean starts, “what will happen?” The man simply smiles: “Everything will change. But then, it’ll be alright. It’s your choice, Dean, and whether you promise me or not, your life shall still unfurl as it will.”

Dean looks at him. The promise doesn’t sound like much. And, if it’s really that important... what’s the harm? “Okay. I’ll be here. Saturday, 27 steps, 18:03. I promise.” Dude hugs him again. “Swear onto me, Dean. Swear onto your car, your dad, your brother, your life. Don’t make empty promises to me, Dean”, the man whispers, but to Dean, it sounded like a shout from the breaking waves. “I swear”, Dean whispers with such a tiny voice he can’t believe is his. The man strokes his hair lightly, and speaks again.

“Very well. You shall receive your reward then. My name is Castiel.”

 ~

 “The more I walk the sea, the more I understand; and the more I do, the less the water understands.”

 ~

 “That’s an angel’s name”, Sam says after he overhears Dean muttering it. And that, somehow, makes absolute perfect sense, Dean thinks.

“The blue umbrella”, Dean says and Sam looks at him. He lets Sam see it, now. Somehow it feels like something’s ending, like... like Castiel is gone. Sam opens the umbrella and holds it over his head. “It’s like I can hear something”, he says and looks at Dean. “The waves, and... something beyond that, too. But it’s really faint, though.” Dean takes the umbrella back and closes it. “It’s important”, Dean says. “Castiel said that. Someone important gave it to him once and...” “Why give it to you, then?”

Dean doesn’t know. “Maybe I’m meant to pass it on to someone important.”

Sam just looks at him. “Maybe you’re important”, he says and then leaves to go to bed.

 ~

 “Dean”, Lisa says at school to him. It’s the few precious minutes before classes actually start and Dean planned to use them to sleep – or hastily copying some homework. And while, yeah, he did ignore Lisa, it’s not making it any better. “Yeah?”

“You haven’t forgotten the party, right? Don’t stand me up. Almost everyone's gonna be there and half of them are thinking we’re not even together anymore.” Dean waves a hand at her. “Who cares what they think? We know we’re still on, right? And don’t worry; I wouldn’t miss a party for anything.” Lisa smiles at that and softly kisses him. “Okay. Don’t fall asleep now, I know how much you love Literature.” Dean grunts, Lisa laughs and everything’s all right.

Later, at lunch, Dean almost asks Charlie to work her magic to see if she can turn Castiel up; find out if he’s local or if he stayed in a motel somewhere. And yet, he doesn’t. After all, what would he do if she couldn’t find anything?

 ~

 Dean goes back to beach. Somehow, he knows Castiel won’t be there, and yet, he still has to go. As expected, Castiel isn’t there. There’s someone else, too. Dean doesn’t get too close, but the other one doesn’t seem to have noticed him. He just stands there, watching the water. It’s by no means very warm around here, and the guy just wears a hoodie. Transfixed, Dean stares at him. Somehow, there’s something, but surely he’s just imagining it. Instead, he looks at the sea. Castiel said the mermaids were close to shore. Whatever that means. Dean really wishes Castiel was here to explain, or, well, to spout more random facts. He turns his head again and the guy now looks at him. He’s too far away to really see him, but something makes Dean flee, and he isn’t sure what it was.

He doesn’t tell Sam, and hopes to forget about it soon.

Later, he texts Lisa, and that boy floats out of his mind.

 ~

 As he promised, next Saturday Dean dresses up. He’s gonna pick Lisa up and then they’re gonna show at this party together and finally, the rumours are gonna die down. Then, Dean is gonna get drunk, maybe have sex, and then Lisa – ever responsible – is probably gonna get him back home. Yes, that sounds like a good plan.

“You’re going out?” Sam asks from the doorway and Dean nods. “Yeah. I’m gonna leave you some money for pizza or something, okay? Don’t wait up on me either, I might be late.” Sam just nods. “Take an umbrella, though. The forecast said to watch out for rain.” Dean laughs. “Yeah, okay, whatever, princess.” Dean ruffles Sam’s hair and grabs the umbrella next to the door. “I’m heading out now. Don’t nerd too hard!”

Dean takes the Impala, and drives over to Lisa’s. She’s clearly flattered being picked up in his Baby; and not having to ride the bus. The party is about twenty minutes from Dean’s place, so if the worst comes to pass and he’s completely smashed, he can technically still walk home. Or Lisa organises a car pool or something. She’s very good at that. They arrive at the party at around 17:45. They’re a tad bit early, but better than being so late all the booze is gone. It actually enables them to find a nice cuddle spot before the party really starts. Lisa’s words, not his.

Benny greets them at the door and ushers them inside. “Nice umbrella you got there, brother”, he says, “didn’t take you as the colourful guy. “ Dean frowns a little at that and looks down at the umbrella he brought inside with him.

Castiel’s umbrella.

Oh god.

Next Saturday, 27 steps from the stairs, at 18:03.

Next Saturday, have a party with Lisa to show you’re still a couple.

Swear onto me, Dean. Swear onto your car, your dad, your brother, your life. Don’t make empty promises to me, Dean.

17:49. Twenty minutes until home. Five more minutes to the shore. He won’t make it. He won’t make it. Dean turns around and runs to the car. He ignores Lisa’s screams and jams the gas. He has to make it. He promised.

He promised.

The mermaids are so close to the shore.

 ~

 “Look upon me. Look upon me and witness the sea I carry within.”

 ~

 Dean ignores all and every traffic rule he ever heard or read about. He couldn’t even say why this is so important. It just was, and that was reason enough. Dean doesn’t know what will happen if he doesn’t make it – at all; or just not on time. Castiel said everything would change, and yet Dean’s life would not be affected. So he shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care as much as he does.

Someone important gave it to me once.

Maybe you’re important.

Dean’s knuckles turn white. He doesn’t dare checking the time, way too afraid he would be too late. What would happen if he didn’t make it? Castiel made it sound so important. They’ll reach the shore soon. And then what? What would happen? He doesn’t want to find out. He should’ve asked. Castiel would’ve known. He floors the gas even more and barely makes the green light. Not that it would have mattered, anyway.

He won’t make it.

He won’t make it.

He won’t make it.

But he has to make it.

Something’s terrible gonna happen if he breaks his promise. He doesn’t know what, but if it’d been so damn important to Castiel, it would be huge. Dean has the urge to check the time, but he doesn’t dare. Right now, he can live in blissful illusion.

 ~

 Finally arriving, Dean doesn’t bother turning off the engine or even really locking the car. Maybe, by small chance, it just turned 18:03 and he’s just on time. He flies down the stairs and stops 27 steps after it. He looks onto the sea but nothing’s there.  It’s just the water, and an advanced sunset. Irritated, Dean takes a step closer and almost stumbles over something.

Shoes.

What are shoes doing here? If someone took a swim, Dean would see them; also they would have probably taken off more than their shoes. He frowns and looks at the water again. Perhaps they’re diving right now?

There – there’s something in the water.

But it’s not moving. Perhaps it’s driftwood?

There are shoes here.

That’s just driftwood out there, drifting.

Everything will change. But then, it’ll be alright.

No.

It won’t be alright.

Dean screams and runs for the driftwood.

It needs to wear its shoes.

 ~

 The driftwood isn’t breathing.

But Dean doesn’t give up. He messed up, so he’s gonna make it right again. What would Sam think of him? Worse, what would Castiel think? He needs to make it right. He can make this right. He’ll get the driftwood up and breathing, he’s gonna make it wear its shoes and then he’s gonna tell it all about the mermaids and how careful you have to be when they’re this close to the shore.

“Come on”, he says, “come fucking on!”

“He’s dead”, someone says behind Dean and he ignores them. No. The driftwood is not dead. It doesn’t matter what someone else thinks they know. Dean’s here, he saved the driftwood and now he’s gonna get it upright again.

“You promised me”, the one behind him says and Dean freezes. “You promised me, and yet, you failed me.”

The worst part is maybe the complete lack of disappointment. Dean turns around and there he stands, in the last strands of dying sunlight, making him look almost ethereal – Castiel. Castiel with his tan trench coat, his blue tie, his blue eyes and his blue umbrella. Dean wants to curl into himself. Castiel took the umbrella back. Apparently Dean wasn’t important enough.

“It was just driftwood”, Dean replies weakly. “I just wanted to have it wear its shoes.”

Castiel actually smiles at that. “That is very kind of you, Dean. And you’re right. The driftwood couldn’t go anywhere without his shoes, now could it? Why do you think he left them behind?” Castiel stands next to Dean now, and the umbrella almost makes it look like there’s an ocean behind him.  “I... I don’t know”, Dean admits. “Maybe so they don’t get wet?” Castiel actually looks like he’s considering that option. “Perhaps. But with the rest of him wet, the shoes wouldn’t last long. Tell me, Dean, without the shoes, would have watched the water closer?” Dean grabs the driftwood’s hoodie tight.  “What if he left his shoes behind so someone would look and see him?” Castiel looks at him and smiles. “And you did”, he says. “You saw his shoes and you saw him, too.”

“But I was too late. I didn’t see him early enough, and I messed up and I can’t make it right again. What will Sam think of me? What will you?” It really shouldn’t be important, what Castiel thinks. This man is, essentially, still a complete stranger. But it matters. It matters so much, just because it does. Castiel smiles still. “It’ll be alright. You made a promise to me, and you failed; and now someone is dead. That’s okay. When I asked for your promise, I already knew you wouldn’t make it. You always promise me, Dean, and always you fail. It always happens and will always happen. Yet, I don’t think it was the point. Perhaps I want you to remember what a promise means. Perhaps I also wait for the time where you don’t fail me. Where you come here on time and see his shoes, see him and save him. I wonder what happens then. What do you think? If you were to keep your promise, what would happen? Do you think all of this would stop?”

Dean could just stare at him. Nothing of what Castiel just said made any sense. And, how is he supposed to answer that? “Why didn’t you tell me what would happen, then? Then you would have known. And he... and the driftwood would still be alive.” Castiel almost looks disappointed. “When you are conducting an experiment, Dean, you don’t give away your reason. It would false the results.”

“But he’d be alive”, Dean says almost toneless. “He wouldn’t be dead. He wouldn’t be dead.”

“Do you want to save him?”

“Yes.” Dean isn’t sure if he said that, or if the waves carried it away, but Castiel nods anyway. “Promise me something else, then.” Dean nods. He doesn’t trust his voice anymore. Castiel cups Dean’s face in his hands and presses a soft kiss against his forehead. It feels strange, somehow, like a breeze.

Castiel gathers the driftwood in his arms and stands up. Dean still kneels in the sand, and he lifts his face up. The sun’s almost gone now, but Castiel still seems so bright, like he’s a sun of his own. “I need you to see me. I need you to look at me. You need to see me, Dean. Because when you do, then I can see the mermaids.” Castiel smiles. “Someone important gave me a wonderful gift once. I need it to be you, Dean. If it’s going to be you, I can give it to you, too, and everything will work out.”

Dean just stares, because that makes even less sense than the nonsense from right before. Castiel doesn’t wait; he simply turns around and walks into the water. “No”, he says and wants to reach out and –    

Then he is standing atop the stairs and someone is walking into the water. Even without checking the time, he knows exactly how late it is. He doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t care. There are shoes on the beach and there’s someone walking into the waves and –

“No!”

Dean runs. He runs the 27 steps and he runs into the water. He grabs the boy – it’s a boy, it’s not driftwood, it’s not driftwood – and yanks him back, because he needs to wear his shoes. The boy struggles, but Dean locks his arms around his torso. He’s pretty sure the boy is yelling something but he can’t hear it. He throws him at the sand and immediately sits in front of him. “What the hell are you doing?!” The boy demands to know and looks at Dean. His eyes are blue. His eyes are blue and Dean wants to puke because nothing makes sense.

I need you to see me.

“I saw you”, Dean says. “I saw you; and I saw your shoes and you can’t go somewhere without your shoes.” Blue eyes look at him, unblinking. “You saw me?” he asks quietly and Dean nods and he feels terrible because this is his second chance. The boy is silent and looks down. He doesn’t look happy. He grabs his shoes and puts them on his wet socks. “Thanks”, he says quietly. “But I don’t need you to see me.” He stands up then and Dean doesn’t know what to say to make him stay. “Don’t forget your umbrella. I’m sure it’s important to you.” He turns around and leaves and Dean is lost. He looks at the umbrella lying in the sand and he thinks why the umbrella is important. The blue is almost mockery.

Dean still sits in the sand long after the sun has gone down.

Lisa called a few times.

He ignored them all.

 ~

 “What I am I will gladly give to the sea. But if you’d ask, I would hold your hand until the very end.”

 ~

 Later, he tells Sam about it. Sam, bless his soul, doesn’t say anything and simply sits with him quietly, comforting.

“Do you think you’ll see him again?”

“I don’t know. Maybe if I look for the mermaids. Do you think he knows about the mermaids?”

“Maybe not. Why don’t you show him? They seem to be important.”

“But I don’t know how to find him. How am I supposed to tell him about it if I can’t find him?”

“He found you first. So you can find him, too. You will, because I guess you already have.”

They look towards the blue umbrella that stands in the corner. Its imagery is hope and mockery both.

“I will find him again, Sam. What if he loses his shoes again?”

 ~

 Castiel is not a common name. That’s a definite plus on the side, since the one you find’s likely the one you were looking for. Problem, not every system enters first names as well. Castiel could be every C. he ever found on school websites. Maybe Castiel isn’t even a part of any club, and, therefore, would not be mentioned on the school website either. No, he needs to go deeper, but he lacks the skills to do so. So this would become a group effort. That was okay. Perhaps it would be weird, but Charlie was weird too, so maybe it would be a little less weird.

Lisa yells at him on Monday at school. She can’t believe how he just abandoned her there and then didn’t even contact her. She’d been worried and she’s sorry, but this doesn’t seem to be working. That’s okay. He hadn’t been fair to Lisa these past few weeks, anyway. Half the school was already thinking they were off, anyway, so let’s just make them right. So Dean just nods when she’s finished and she seems to deflate a bit. “I’m sorry”, she says and she means it. She sounds like this is her fault. “It’s not your fault, Lisa”, Dean says. She smiles weakly. “Something’s on with you. You look distracted. I hope it works out fine, yeah?” Dean nods and he smiles. Lisa is a good person and she definitely deserves better than him. She leaves and Dean really couldn’t care less about the busied whispering in class.

At lunch, Dean dashes out of class to try and find Charlie before anything stops him. Luckily, it doesn’t take him long to find her – somehow Charlie’s already always in lunch hall, but that works in his favour this time. “Charlie”, he says, not bothering with any hello. “I need your help.” Charlie looks up at him and frown. “What, you want to ruin Lisa’s online reputation? Cause I can do that. You want me to do that?”

“What? No! I need you to find someone. But I just know his name. I don’t know his last name or anything or where he goes to school. All I know is that he should be relatively local and around our age.”

Charlie raises an eyebrow. “Are you a stalker, handmaiden? Or am I doing this for love? Also, if I do that, I want to be fed.” He nods. “Thanks, Char. The name is Castiel and no, I’m not gonna tell you about our “meet-cute”, because no.” Charlie, the little bitch, pouts. “Castiel’s an odd name”, Gilda next to her says. “Yeah, I thought it might at least make the search a bit easier, you know? I meaning, looking for Tom might be a lot longer, ‘cause there are hundreds of those.” Gilda squints and Dean can see in her face that she’s sceptical. “Look, Charlie, just find him, yeah? I promise I’ll explain. Just, just not right now.”

Charlie sighs. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see what my wizard hands can find. But I want three pizzas, upfront, Winchester.” Dean nods and has hope. He’s gonna find Castiel. He’s gonna find him and then everything’s gonna make sense after a while.

 ~

 It’s been a year now. It’s been a year since he last saw Castiel. A few months ago, Charlie gave up her search. She (of course) found several C.s, but none of them had a first name entered. Dean also looked at way too many class pictures to try and find him, but came up with nothing.

To be honest, he was close to giving up. Even dad noticed his constant sulking and considering that dad was almost never home, it kinda spoke volumes. Sam also tried to help but he didn’t came up with anything either.

In some futile attempt, Dean often went back to the shore. Somehow, he thought, maybe Castiel’s gonna be there, either in the rain, or with all the fireflies. But he never was. And no matter how long Dean stayed there watching the water, he failed to hear the mermaids as Castiel could. He felt like a disappointment. And he’s pretty sure the mermaids were saying that, too.

So, a year later Dean Winchester stands at the bus-stop. It’s raining terribly, but he’s got Castiel’s umbrella on him. Sometimes it feels like sacrilege, using it, but then, it’s just an umbrella and it’s meant to be used.

He hears steps next to him and doesn’t think of anything. He hears Dude shifting next to him – perhaps he doesn’t have an umbrella, and Dean turns to look at the new arrival. And he freezes, because that’s not gonna be happening, now.

It’s Castiel.

Castiel is standing next to him, in the rain, looking just like the driftwood he could’ve been once. A quick glance down tells him Castiel is at least wearing shoes. That’s good. You can’t go anywhere without shoes, after all.

“Do you like the rain?”

He almost chokes it out, because it means so much, on so many levels. Castiel turns his head, surprised, and looks at him. Dean wonders if the boy recognises him. It’s been a year, after all. “What?” Castiel asks, tilting his head a little. “Why do you ask that?” Dean smiles. “Cause you don’t have an umbrella. The weather forecast spoke of rain and here you are and no umbrella in sight. You must like the rain.” Castiel squints. “I don’t have an umbrella. And I don’t think I care particularly much about getting wet. You should know that, yes?”

Shit. So Castiel remembers him. That’s some weird first impression, but it makes Dean feel all warm inside.  “I like watching the rain. But I don’t like getting wet.” Castiel tilts his head again. “Why don’t you just stay inside then? You can watch the rain from inside, too.”

Dean smiles softly. “Yeah, you’re right.” He can see his bus coming and right now, he hates schedules. “But from inside, I can’t hear the mermaids.” Castiel’s eyes widen a little, and he asks “Mermaids?” like he’s never heard that term before and maybe he hadn’t.

Someone told me once.

Dean presses the umbrella into Castiel’s hands. “Here, take that. It’s for important people only, alright? Someone told me once. So don’t lose, okay? If you want, you can give it back to me next time.” Before he could do more stupid things, Dean turns around and starts boarding the bus.

“Wait”, he hears Castiel say, “what’s your name?” Dean chokes “Dean” out of his throat and looks at the boy again.

The boy just smiles at him from under his blue umbrella with his blue eyes and just says:

“Hello, Dean.”

 ~

 “I have no limit at the shore. Wherever I want to go, the mermaids will guide me. Take my hand, and let me take you with me. I can’t find the end alone, but when you’re with me, I just might.”

[sammlethal]

Anyone ever tell you that they do not love you? At that point when you have stars in your eyes and that person fills your heart to bursting? Have you ever given someone every single emotion there is to give? From rage to tears of joy? Emotions from both your personal stock and theirs?

Its like we live in a time period where actual love is dead. Everything is selfish. Everyone. Me included.

My father quit on me. Packed all mine and my siblings belongings into small plastic shopping bags and dropped us off 6 hours away in my mothers neighborhood, not sure which house was hers. I had to hold my brother and sister's hands while knocking door to door, looking for my mom. I was 12.

That was a couple years after the era of beatings, after the era of divorce. After that Friday afternoon day at school; my mother was the school bus driver before the divorce. Everyday we rode home with her. Until my father picked us all up. It was fun for us kids. We NEVER got picked up, and by our father! What a thing! He drove us to our pastors house. We did not see our mother again for almost 5 years. In the State of Virgina, in the late 90s, it wasnt considered kidnapping for a biological parent to take off with the kids if they stay within state lines. And my mother must have given up after that. I imagine the evil that was my real father, and how crushed and scared she must have been. Only now do I know what it is she felt.

That was after the molestation of me and my sister by our God father/Sunday school teacher/the churches singing coach.

Then there was my first love. I was 17. She was 16. By 19 we had a daughter, her name is Serenity. My ex was a freak. My demanded things from me that I could not give her, not physically. So in order to keep her and my kid, I let her have her satisfaction and pleasure.

I guess someone screwed her over because she fabricated these fake police reports about a guy who kept coming after her and she said she called the cops over and over and he wouldnt leave her alone (she was 6 months preggo when this happened) and she didnt feel safe and I beat him up. I beat him up bad. Almost killed him. Turns out she lied and he had been paying her for preggo nude flicks and videos amd she felt he still owed her money. So she used my insecurities and my nature and set me on a course that led me to 5 years in prison. Then she left me. Yeah I know. I'm a fucking idiot. My only defense was that i was young and dumb and in love. Or so I thought. No really...i thought it was the right thing. That I was protecting my small, new family. And damnit man, family means the world to me. Probably because mine has been so fucked up lol.

Anyways I get out in 2015 and I meet a girl. She rocks my world in all new was and we CLICK. Like...humor and taste and the world issues we care about and nerdy things and the SEX IS ON FIRE. And I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I broke her heart. I got drunk. I started the road to becoming my biological father.

Then she left me. Which was biggest, greatest thing she could have ever done for me. I went spiraling out of control and ended up living in the woods.

Until she calls me one day. I had a new girlfriend. We did not CLICK lol...and as soon as me and her spoke I turned to that girl and told her we were not gonna work out.

You see. Me and my lady had a son together. A beautiful, handsome as hell and adorable baby boy. And he really became my world. I walked 7 miles to meet him. My feet had popped blisters by the time I got downtown and saw them. The whole time I'm walking I'm hopping she didnt leave. That she would wait. And she did.

Then I messed up again. I scared her. That time between when we broke up and when she came back...i did not do good. I found cocaine and alcohol and it led to a very big fight between the two of us. That night we fought I have never been more like my father than right then and there. And I payed for it. The next morning I was arrested. No one thought of rehab. No one had the sight to see the root of the issues. Or no one cared. It was back to prison for me. A parole violation.

I got out. We tried again. I failed again. Only this time nothing horribly bad had happened. She just wanted an escape. I know this because she has since told me so. That she wasn't IN LOVE with me and needed an escape. We had been split up almost a week. I will never forget. It started on a Wednesday night, I left and went to my mothers. That following Sunday the police beat down the door and arrested me AGAIN. Only this time nothing bad had happened. Not really. She just didnt want to be with me. And so she sent me away. For two more years. 2!

I get out. I find peace finally. I start taking care of mental health.

She comes back! Again! And once again I leave my girlfriend at the time, who by the way, had a heart of gold and did not deserve to get caught up in mine and my lovers drama. I will forever feel guilty about that and I hope she forgives me over time. But at the end...no one can replace my son's Mother. She is my other half. My best friend.

We've been going since April? May? It had been a few years and I had just gotten out a few months before and the Covid just hit so I was trying to get the family court papers started. I got in touch with a private detective to find her so I could have her served. The the last thing I expected was to get a call from her.

And here we are. I am struggling to learn all the important, fundamental life lessons that my parents failed to teach me. I am struggling to learn those crucial relationship lessons we learn when in our twenties...that era of my life that was spent locked away.

All i want is my family. Is to be loved. And to ve able to return that love. My life could have went a few different ways. But here I am, doing the right things as much as I see them. I beat myself up when I fail. I work hard doing general construction. I'm good at it too. I start school in the spring. Nothing fancy just community college. I am an awesome dad. An awesome lover. And I have a huge heart.

ALMOST every single day I am with my little family. My son's Mother and my son. She doesnt want me to move in...which I understand. She claims to be an introvert. Which I also understand. (Along with beating, my childhood was also spent locked in my room, grounded, for days on days on days).

And dont get it wrong. Me and her have some issues. Mine (I think?) are just basic life things I'm trying to wrap my head around, like I said, the things my parents failed me on. But at least I know that. I admit it. And I'm trying. Because I'm a good man who has been through hell and because of that hell, I love with a feirceness, I don't give up. I am patient. And I generally have a positive outlook on life. I would I am doing good, all things considered. Her issues? Jesus fucking Christ. You would swear the world is ending right now.

She is constantly breaking up with me. For example, this weekend I gave it to her in a way neither of us have had...im talking sex here...we both have this...fetish, both of us (how rare?) And we both click when we do these things. Anyways I left her empty of all juices. Then I massaged her a little that night, telling her how good and amazing she is. Then another nice massage a day or so later. She thanked me after the last one (massage I mean)...saying how her back didnt hurt in the morning and how she got her yoga done.

And now we are broken up. Right now. Again. It was last week when it happened. She calls me on Wednesday or Thursday and says that I got in her head. Then this awesome weekend happens. Then an awesome start to the week. Then tuesday, doing construction, I think i pulled something in my leg or gave myself a small hernia, because after work I was in pain and sore. I asked told her I wanted to stay home. Rest up. That the next day we were supposed to start this big window replacement job. 20 something windows. But no. We argued over it. I dont know why. I think she just really missed me. Or so I thought. And said she needed help with our son. She always says that, then when i get there and dinner is over, the rest of her night is spent on her phone (which she is sneaky with), on the TV, or MAYBE catching up on homework. Says she is tired after a long day of working from home, on the phone and computer. Doing IT. But I do physical labor. And if I complain that I am sore or tired she just thinks i want to sit at home on my PlayStation or watching netflix, instead of taking the responsibility to be there for our son. Which remember, I am ALWAYS THERE. Unless she has decided that I am horrible, in which case she breaks up with me, and I spend the next couple of days hurt and crying and missing my family. I can not move in with her and my son. She does not want her family to know. (My mother told me she would disown me if me and her got back together. But it did not stop me. Because i am a man, and she is my woman. He is my son. And this is my life)....and is so stressed and anxious that will find me over there. I have actually, more than once, had to run and hide because her family popped up.

So yeah, I walk over there. This was Tuesday. The day when I think I pulled a muscle. I walked. She says that the only reason I walked was because she had to yell at me. But man...see these text. You would swear I am the world's largest dick head. In reality she said all these things in front of my son. That night I touched her. Massaged her just a little...soft touches. We made love. I woke up throughout the night with leg cramps. Woke up the next morning so tired from lack of sleep and hurting leg muscles. Called the doctor. Had to miss work. Turns out that yep, I gave myself a small hernia. Then WALKED on it lol.

So when we talked yesterday. I told her that the doc is pretty sure I have a hernia...my appointment was today and yes...yes I do have a little hernia. Doc wants me to rest but I'm pretty sure I have to work. Anyways so yesterday, before she picks our boy up from daycare (by the way, kuddos to you moms who work from home AND have kids to deal with at the same time. You girls are superheros!)...which I agree with daycare. He is an only child and he needs interaction with other kids. It's important for his development. Anywho, she ask me before picking him up if I want to come over. I tell her no, tell her what the doc said. By this point I have been there everyday since Friday. While on parole and breaking cerfew and worried about that. (Which I got questioned on. If I didnt worry about parole before, why now? And I dunno. Thats way of anxiety? But good thing I did because he came by this morning and I was here. Had I been there with her, I would have been here and would be on my way to a big ole parole violation. But no. In her eyes I dont do enough. I have to be there every day, no matter if I'm sick or sore or in pain. That is what she said. That a real parent never quits.

I'm just so confused. I didnt quit. He can come over here to my place whenever he wants. Ive told her this. I have told him that. Of all nights for the two of us to stay at our respective homes, last night was it. I AM IN SO MUCH PAIN AND CAN BARELY MOVE.

But she broke up with me again last night. Or better yet, said that we have been broken up. She said she doenst love me anymore.

How? Literally all we do is laugh. Have amazing sex. We are awesome parents. I literally dote on her. Massage her. Touch her softly. Like for real, I EMPTIED her of all juices, have seen her cry...actually cry, from pleasure. She makes 50x more money than I do, but I still give her money because I don't want to feel like a burden.

I dont get it. I really don't. I give the shirt off my back. Gave myself a hernia. All I want is belong to a family that doesn't quit when the anxiety comes. Who doesnt take a lifetime of anxiety and stress and then blame it on someone else simply because they are what is in front of you at the moment.

How can someone be so smart and not see that? Or not want to?

Its 2020. We live in a world that encourages us to lie to ourselves. To lie to ourselves about our nature. We all believe we are good. Harmless people. Who would never hurt anyone or cause ill will. What we fail to see is that yes, we do cause all of these things, and then some. We are not perfect. We are human. We will hurt other people. We will lie. The great tragedy of the world isnt this in and of itself...these different hurts and heart aches are as old as humanity is....war, peace. Love and hate. The great tragedy is that we have been led to believe that we are beyond that, that we good, perfect people. And so when we do hurt others, its not our faults but theirs because how can I, this wonderful human being in the modern age, ever hurt someone? I have a car, a job, I'm a good parent. I'm a good boss. Whatever it is. We justify who we are by our level of success. And this is wrong.

And when she ask me why I love her after everything. Those moments when we both see the truth and see who we are, those are the moments when she ask me how I'm the world I can actually love her knowing all this. Dealing with all this. How? And I dont have the answer. I just know that my heart beats for the two of them (her and my boy) and it always will and I really hope one day she comes around. I'm waiting for that.

Some men find that one lady, that one lover, and there is nothing else after her that we want. She has it all. And that is me. That is her.

I love you

[contemplationindia]

Intellectualness is not a property of color!

It is a kind of castism which is prevalent in western countries more meticulously than ours..... You never saw any aristocratic family of westerners marrying with black... They are more conservative than Indians... I may be incorrect but except those Kardashian sisters Black people face a plethora of restrictions in so call liberal western countries... And girls are smart enough to decide right person for them..... Some people even think this kind of intermixing is harmful to social cohesion... People start to think like love jihad kind of issues. Let's come back to racism: I sometimes wonder, that until the civil war, they were not allowed to do any humanitarian act, they were being bought, sold, killed, raped. There was nothing like child molestation or molesting a woman in front of her husband. All discoveries, inventions everything on white people name Newton, Einstein etc. Knowledge and talent have nothing to do with colour, but just because they born black, they were like objects to entertain a white-skinned master. See once they were free, without any sort of reservation they came equal to white people in such a short span, The legendary boxer Mike Tyson is black, Muhammad Ali was a black who succeeded in proving he is more popular than Christ or Muhammad. There must have been many talented people before the civil war too, but they were neither allowed to study nor do anything creative because of their skin colour. Sometimes they had to indulge in having sex with a dog or horse to make their owner feeling entertained. What is that? Now think of us, when you or I or anybody read we have no fear other than our studies. But a black person, a fat person, an ugly person is living under this constant taunt; he has to overcome this stress before taking the stress of study that he is a constant target of this hypocrite society because of his physical appearance. Can't for once in their life they can be treated equally, just because a girl is terribly fat or black, we are seeing her pictures in Whatsapp and Facebook that I want to marry Mukesh, Suresh bullshit. Just because she born with that colour or that dysfunction either she will be treated she is some disease and people will be sympathetic to her or be rude to her. I think it's a disgusting shit, let them live their life, either treat them equally or be stranger, you are nobody to make their fun or feel sorry for them! So yes! the USA is not a black lover nation, but they have many blacks which gave them a name in the world, and they are proud of them but still racist to their community. One more example a guy is being shot dead in the USA as he was riding a BMW and cops thought he stole it from some white as he is black so he can't afford that. A Black army commander’s 12yr old girl being killed by a white family just because she missed her bus, coming back home, forget the path, rang a stranger white family door in the hope of asking them directions. This is how the world is treating a community; the rest of the world is fighting to become more and more, while they are still fighting to become equal first. So it's sickening So even though I am not black or white or Asian, I think we should respect individuals rather regions and dynasty. And I am totally ok if a black girl marrying a white or vice versa. I don't see it as love jihad or DNA dysfunction, it's totally acceptable. The problem started when a group says we will full fill the dream of a prophet and start killing an innocent over some purpose which holds no substance. This is jihad and these distorted mentalities cause harm to society. No, it's not totally acceptable but with certain conditions... Social norms should be maintained because they provide a framework of acceptable rules that everybody should abide by and if anybody wants to excel in their life it should not be threatening to social fabric.... We are talking about racism... We all know what justice is? But this term "equality” is a political propaganda because in the democracy every vote counts... Equality is a broad term. And equality of what? God hasn't made us equal. We all are different in each and every aspect of life. Be it social religion race cast. Trying to make a society is like chasing a mirage. Instead of that one can talk about comfort. Every human being needed a certain level of comfort so that they can grow from where they are at present. And this thing is everybody wants to be treated with respect and compassion. This is a behavioural problem which is prevalent in all most all societies. In every nook and corner of the country, we can find such people who don't want to disturb social cohesion. Some say, “After so many centuries living a life like a hell on this earth, the blacks are condemning every time white people as perpetrators are not correct.  They are also not innocent. White people are intelligent and this is not their fault. Blacks should at first improve their social status in their black societies so that they can be respected by white people.” See this is what I always say and I agree, when you see in terms of output there's nothing like equality, you can forcefully make people equal in terms of output by introducing reservation in promotions, jobs, academic relief but these force method as well won't hold to make everyone equal in terms of output. But yes in terms of input everyone deserves to get a fair chance like everyone else, irrespective of their colour, appearance, background etc. The best example any class where all students are taking similar study material, same classes, same homework, same assignments still all are scoring differently. We can barely or never have the same output so whether it's a woman, man, black, white, Hindu, Muslim, they indeed deserve a fair amount of equal input by society framework, But it's not there, in any country. Why is the crime rate highest in the black community? Why are black people still not able to be the ingredient part of US societies? It’s not because they are denying opportunities for white people, No! it will be a hypocritical way of saying that, it's mainly because poison whether served with milk or with water, will be poison only. White people are still not giving them a fair chance and that's true, they are keeping the input restricted. Now again I am repeating like white people, there must be black too who were intellectuals but they were slaves, so we will never know what if somebody from them was even more ahead of Newton, Einstein in terms of brain, as your output has nothing to do with your color, it can be genetically or self-created or in some cases miraculous. Now answering to that white people is more intelligent. No, it's not true, Intelligence has nothing to do with colour or appearance or your background, they were lazy bastards picked those people living in a relatively backward situation from Africa and used them as the slave. Like it was some sort of jungle, where might is right. Countering to why white in not intellectuals if they were, NASA has more than 50% outsider which are typically Asians, Microsoft has the majority of Asians but It doesn't mean white is not intelligent at all, if I will say that, I will counter myself as from beginning I am saying your intellectual abilities have nothing to do with your color and it's totally on your brain and how you feed it. So white people too have intellectual ones, but they have a relatively easy path to explore than black people. American judiciary has highest judges who are black, so the justice department of USA is actually running by the black majority. Just because they slaved them for a span of time doesn't make them superior or intellectual to black, Indians too were slaves for 200 years but it doesn't establish the thought that Indians are fewer intellectuals to British just because they were owners, now British too said we wanted Indians good but they didn't accept, its response to that point black people denying to white people offerings. As it's the same offering which British made to Indians, they were not taking Indians to the triumph of development with them; they were throwing us in front of its wheels to enjoy a blood game when they came, 33% of the world economy was India, it was that powerful, and when they left it was not even 1% left, they systematically destroyed the entire strength of India, but hay Indians are recovering in a speedy manner same black people are doing, for them hindrance is the racist administration which is not letting them come to the mainstream. For us, it's Muslim and caste-based reservation. So again, it's totally cool for me if a white wants to marry a black or vice versa until it's not forced, and if they are feeling compatible, As intellectualness is not a property of colour.