#Dina - a woman who will actually pay to step on you

[hausofmamadas]

| Always short to the gate |

⁂

Pairing: David Barrón & Enedina Arellano Félix

For my df, dear friend, and fellow writer @purplesong1028 - Candyhearts Exchange 2023

Word count: ≈ 7.8K

TWs: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of violence

✷Disclaimer - This is an AU version of Barron, to the point that mans is essentially my OC. So, for purposes of morality/sanity/all that is holy, we disregard Nmx - S3, ep8, Last Dance. For more details, refer -> here. On a similar note: if I have to say “not condoning/glorifying the real people” aka “I don’t sanction the real-life actions of drug cartels,” I implore thee, look where you are. You’re in the wrong place. Best take that elsewhere porque no hay bronca, for civility's sake, we will not be going there✷

Still, these were all things to wish for, not to have. What was left now? What if some things were better dreamt than done? David Barron is in love. He's in love and he does care who knows it. Particularly, if the brutal, savage cartel-boss brothers of the woman he loves, Enedina Arellano Felix, know it. But what’s he to do when he's taken by another powerful cartel leader, in retaliation for Dina's secret side-project moving coke across the Tijuana/San Ysidro border with fellow drug baroness, Isabella Bautista? In the face of a potentially more imminent death para su rayo de luna, can Dina afford to keep both him, and the business she built from the ground up, a secret?

⁂

So, this is it. I finally made it. Staring at the crowd, all the bigwigs laughing and clinking their champagne flutes, and now that I’m here, I can’t figure what all the fuss was about. Because in my whole damn life, I’ve never been to a party like this. Frankly, I’d sooner hit up a barbecue at Chato’s grandma’s trailer or a tailgate in Chicano Park, than show up willingly to a place like this.

The guest list is a family tree of Sinaloan-born narcos and an obnoxious who’s-who of Mexico City elites. Men come down from the ivory tower to grace all the thieves and plebes. Fat cats in pressed gray suits. Although, the champagne-glass pyramid is pretty cool. And somehow, this isn’t even as lavish as last year? At least according to Ramón. When we arrive, he explains that there was still all of well ... everything. But last year kicked off harder because Güero and Co rolled through with a life-size train and a tiger in a gilded cage. A fucking tiger.

“Pendejos only did it to kiss Miguel’s ass, que sean tan mamónes,” he growls, shooting a dead-eyed stare at Chapo across the lawn.

I laugh into the highball glass I’m sipping from. I don’t normally drink at events like this, and on the off chance I do, always a Corona with a lime ‘cause it reminds me of home. But thank you, no. I would not like to keep my tab open.

Except this time, the over-interested hostess practically forces a drink on me when we get there. No clue who she is either, except she must’ve been a high-roller herself or at least married to one, based on the obscene dress she’s wearing. Fuck if I know a thing about designer shit, but I can spot the difference between black-tie and fuck-you money. And I’m not in the habit of saying “no” to fuck-you money. Even if she is smiling and touching my shoulder too much.

My eyes wander, looking for Dina, brooding an invisible SOS into the night air, hoping she might swoop in and save me, but she’s nowhere in sight. Neither is Mín. I smack Ramón in the chest with the back of my hand. “Oye, dónde está tu hermana?” <'Hey, where is your sister?'>

He shakes his head.

The fuck did she go? The only reason I’m even at this glorified peacock-fest, and— oh wow, yeah, there are actual peacocks wandering around on the lawn by the lake. No tigers, but of course the night isn’t complete without some form of exploited wildlife. No, the only reason I’m here is because she asked me. Or rather, because of what came out when she asked me.

✺

Dina sat on Mín’s desk, legs dangled over the side, smoking a cigarette like always, and eyeing me slyly from across the room as I buttoned my shirt back up.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you?” I asked, readjusting my collar.

“What?”

“That it’s rude to stare.”

She threw her head back, laughing.

“Yeah, they must’ve had some lesson at whatever charm school you probably went to.”

Her mouth dropped open in mock outrage, “Charm school? No me digas esas shingaderas, hombre. I wasn’t as poor as you but we didn’t have that kind of money.” <Charm school? Don't give me that bullshit, man. I wasn’t as poor as you but we didn’t have that kind of money.>

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, “Ah, tu lo sabes? Tienes razón. <Ah, you know what? You're right.> Because the working-class shit I’ve heard outta your mouth?” and shook my head. “They wouldn’t have let you in the building.”

She snapped her fingers. “Sí, David. Now he’s getting it.”

“Well, then that would explain it.”

“Explain what?”

“Why you don’t know it’s rude to stare at someone like that.”

Her voice shot up half an octave into the range of feigned innocence. “Like what?”

“Like they’re dessert.”

“Es solo porque eres tan dulce. <It's just because you're so sweet.> Maybe I just can’t get enough. Maybe I have no choice.”

I looked up at her, smiling wide, all love-struck-stupid ‘cause I couldn’t help myself. “‘Can’t get enough,’ like you didn’t just get a three course meal.”

She kicked her heels against the desk, then hopped off and strolled over. I made a face when she flicked her cigarette on the ground and stamped it out. “Your brother’s gonna hate that.”

“Ya lo sé, y no me importa ni una mierda.” <Oh, I know and I don't give a shit.>

“Oh, sí? Pues lo haría tampoco <Oh, yeah? Well, I wouldn't either> pero the second he sees it, he’ll think I did it.”

Voice dropping just above a whisper, she came closer, “If he does, he can take it up with me,” and slid her hands under my shirt. “It’s as much mine as it is his. Maybe more even.”

They felt cold through the thin, ribbed fabric of my undershirt, gliding around my waist, creeping around to brush my lower back with her fingertips. At first, I thought she was going for my pant pockets, until her thumb hooked around the handle of the gun in my waistband. It startled me in spite of myself.

She smirked, practically presenting it, barrel pointed up at the ceiling. “Sorry, were you gonna need this? Or can we remove the ‘fire’ hazard.”

Taking the gun and grumbling, “You know there’s a safety, right,” I leaned over and set it on the filing cabinet against the wall.

When I turned my attention back to her, she tightened her grip around my waist suddenly and backed me up against the door. She tried bracing with her other arm so I wouldn’t fall back too hard. It didn’t work. A second thud, my head smacking the door, followed the first of it slamming shut. Still, the though that counts, right? My pained smile complemented a look of amused pity on her face.

Laughing, she winced and mouthed, “Shit, sorry!”

“So, this is how you treat your employee—“ she cut me off with a few well-timed, remorseful kisses.

She pulled back breathlessly, grinning, almost electrified. “Yeah, why do you think I took your gun away?”

“Mmm, yeah, would’ve been a hazard.”

“That, yes. But mostly I didn’t want you to feel like you were on the clock,” she murmured against my mouth, “this isn’t meant to be company time,” then caught my lower lip gently with her teeth.

I sucked in a harsh breath, not a chance in hell of suppressing the feral rumble already escaping the back of my throat.

It might’ve been fine. I might’ve been able to tear myself away, because we’d already been there too long, nevermind it was never long enough.

Until her lashes brushed my cheek and I heard, “Ah, how I love to hear you, guapo.”

My heart bottomed out in my stomach. I got ahold of the collar of her jacket on both sides. Rocking her back, easy and gentle, I slid it slow off her shoulders. Goosebumps followed the path of my fingertips across her neck, collarbones, down the backs of her arms. The metal buttons clinked against the floor. A bell announcing another round.

And all of a sudden, I couldn’t get at her fast enough.

I swept my arm around her waist, hand sliding into the curve of the small of her back, the other palming the spot between her shoulder blades to flatten her against me. If I could just bring her close enough for us to melt together and into the wood grain of the door, the better to freebase the air she breathed, the smell of her hair, the blood rushing to her face.

How many nights had I spent awake, staring at the cracked plaster ceiling of my cell, dreaming of moments like this. I’d lost count a long time ago. And okay, maybe not exactly like this. The feeling. The wholeness to it. But not the details. Like I never could’ve predicted the boxy radio with the giant antenna that played from its sketchy spot on the window ledge, too close to the edge; day in and day out while we worked. Or the way the sun lit the dust in the air like the office was an attic in an old house that wasn’t ours. And Dina, all nimble fingers now, working my belt buckle. No way I could’ve dreamt her up. She was too complete for that.

Still, these were all things to wish for, not to have. What was left now? What if some things were better dreamt than done?

Suddenly self-aware, I wondered what it’d be like if just now, she could feel that inferno of memories at the tip of my tongue, burning through my lips to hers. If she could learn, inhaling every breath I took, things I’d share without saying a word. I wished she could. Maybe that’s why her kisses were so urgent now. Sharp, demanding, like she couldn’t get close enough. Like she’d occupy the exact same space if she could.

Don’t hide. Let me in. Anything. Tell me anything.

She was funny like that. Didn’t even know how far she’d gotten. So much further than most.

Lips still locked to mine like cross examining a witness, her hands grazed my jaw, my neck, practically mauling the collar of my shirt to get the buttons undone. I should’ve known not to bother earlier. This was the way it went with us. Part of the ritual, pretending we were done. Getting ready to leave, all raw nerves in the afterglow. Anxious awareness, never far behind not-near-enough satisfied. Because no matter how careful we were, there was a chance we’d be caught all the same. But we were never ready. Not really. So, we’d stall enough to justify starting up again. Living in each other as much as we could. Wringing out every last drop to bottle it up, a fail-safe supply for later. Another bump, another hit to tide us over. ‘Til next time. If we got one.

She’d only made it two buttons down when we both froze. A crashing sound, loud echoes of metallic clanging. Fuck. Someone on the main floor. We repelled to opposite sides of the room before we could think long enough to be disappointed.

I fixed my shirt, then grabbed Dina’s jacket from the floor and tossed it to her. “You said no one was supposed to be here till tonight?”

She caught it, draping it over one arm so she could get her cigarette holder out of one of the pockets. Trying her level best to look composed, she took one out and lit up. But I could see the tells; beads of sweat on her forehead; that too-quick rise and fall of her chest.

Eyes wide, she shrugged, at a loss. “They’re not. Pancho’s with Món at the racetrack. Apparently betting against some new horse Güero and Chapo brought up from Mazatlán. Mín’s taking Ruth to one of her appointments.”

I walked to the window and looked out onto the main floor. It was easy to make out a head of black hair bobbing just beyond the giant, industrial-sized forklift, partially blocking my view. My eyes followed it along the top of the forklift’s arm until Nestor came out from behind it, puttering around and practically strangled by a few long chains from one of the trucks. He swore, dropping them again. Poor guy. The links jittering against the cement floor filled the warehouse with what sounded like twisted, metallic laughter. Mocking him. Us.

“Who is it?” She asked it like she wasn’t looking out the same window.

Without a word, I turned and walked back toward the door. She followed, “Pinshe Nestor, este wey &lt;Nestor, this fuckin' guy>,” waving her hand dismissively at the window.

I couldn’t resist. “Mmm right? Fuck that guy. Yea, go yell at him, chew him out, tell him why you’re annoyed.”

She narrowed her eyes but in that way she did when she was stifling a smile. When she knew I was right.

“You know, it didn’t occur to me until this moment.” Sighing and cupping my chin gently, she turned my face from side-to-side to examine it. “But I think I just realized why you’re so quiet.”

My eyebrow shot up, not a clue where she was going with this.

“It’s this smart mouth of yours,” she mused, grazing my lip with her thumb, “gotten you into too much trouble.”

I brought her hand from my cheek to my lips and hummed into her palm, “Mm, mhmm,” before nibbling a few besitos across. “Funny coming from you, always trying to get me to talk. But only when you like what I have to say.”

“Ay chulito pues, I didn’t say I minded it,” she winked. “Just not when it’s used against me.”

“Mm yea, don’t play that way. I’m an equal opportunity offender.”

At that, she laughed, eyes closed, full-out, no doubt loud enough to be heard on the first floor. Remembering Nestor, I let her hand drop but held onto the tips of her fingers. I couldn’t be sure how long we stayed like that, twining and un-twining our fingers in silence; every once in a while pressing palms together; two kids in the sandbox, comparing to see whose were bigger. If we’d never stopped, I wouldn’t have cared a lick.

Something must’ve hit her though because her face fell. Serious. Troubled. Thoughts descended in real-time, only I couldn’t make out what they were.

Until she breathed out, “Oye.”

It wasn’t like her to retreat but when I looked up, she said nothing else. Just chewed ferociously on the inside of her cheek. I waited, eyes drifting back down to watch our fingers and knuckles, still rhythmically locking and unlocking.

Breaking the silence, she gave it another shot. “Miguel’s party is on Saturday.”

“Yeah.”

There it was again, another retreat. What the fuck was she gonna say that she was so nervous to say it?

“And?”

It came out soft like a secret. “Go with me?”

Huh. Whatever I thought she might say, it sure as shit wasn’t that. Not … asking me to the dance? Disbelief chipped away at my usual poker face and without thinking, I blurted, “What? Why?”

Zero-to-sixty in four seconds flat and now she was fuming.

“Why? What do you mean ‘why?’”

Senseless. I knew it then. Should’ve walked it back. Found a better way to ask. But still, it was the only thing that came out of my mouth and all too matter-of-fact.

“I mean like ... why.”

Her jaw cocked to one side. She looked like she wanted to slug me. Because despite the fact that I wasn’t family, had never even met Miguel, had no business being there, somehow it was the dumbest question in the world.

“There’s—” I fumbled for words, raking my hand up and down the back of my head. “I just— why would I be there? You don’t need security. He’s the main man. No doubt he’ll have his own.”

“Because.”

“Because,” I shot back flatly.

“Because.”

“Think your brother, my boss, is gonna need more than ‘because.’ Even from you.”

“You’d be surprised.” She cracked a smile.

That’s right. Stubborn. Impossible. And she knew it. Like a reflex or muscle memory, my face settled into that thousand yard stare, the one she and so many others felt the need to decode.

She conceded, “Because. Okay?” throwing her hands up and letting them fall. They smacked her hips on the way back down and the rest came out in practically one breath. “Because even though he’s a genius and he’s technically family, Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo is the most insufferable man in all of Mexico. I can’t stand him and I can’t stand almost everyone else on that fucking guest list. Así qué quiero que estés allí porque ya todos los odio. Pero a ti te quiero. <So, maybe I want you there because I hate all of them. But I love you.>"

Wait, come again? She didn’t just— no, but she did.

Pero a ti te quiero.

“Oh.”

I turned around, fell against the door, pressing into it with my forehead, and didn’t say anything for a long time. Mind searching for an explanation: the timing, why now? What day was it? What date was it? What was different about now?

I’d woken up in the same bed in that cramped apartment just down the street from Parque Teniente, the first one I could find when I got to Tijuana months ago. Woken up the same damn person. As far as I knew, so had she. There was nothing especially extraordinary about today. If anything it was routine, sneaking into Mín’s office when we knew no one would be there, away from prying eyes: Alicia, Ruth, their mother, the gaggle of Arellano women who always seemed to be at the house. Away from Pancho, who’d made a habit of passing out, snoring until three in the afternoon, on the pull-out couch at my place.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it sank in how unremarkable the day was. Maybe something happened. Some earth-shattering event she hadn’t told me about yet, something that would explain the sentence that just left her lips and turned reality into something like the dimensions of a funhouse mirror.

Shit, how long had I been standing there with my head against the door? How long had she been waiting? No idea. Did it matter? Of course it did. This wasn’t something silence could solve. Or even put off. Not that there was anything to solve.

I turned back around to face her, half-wincing, anticipating her fury. A satisfied smirk had settled in the corners of her mouth. She wasn’t mad. Just leaned against the desk, puffing away, which was ... odd. I scanned her face for any indication, clenched jaw, flared nostrils, blazing brown eyes, some sign of impending apocalypse. But no, she looked serene. Smug even, tickled at how surprised I was. No, she wasn’t mad at all.

Oh.

And it hit me. I could see it so clearly now in the way she stood with her hip out and how she held her cigarette off to the side, wrist lax, nothing to worry about. Why she wasn’t mad. She knew there was nothing to worry about. This wasn’t a confession. No grade-school picking petals off flowers, ‘he loves me, he loves me not.’ She hadn’t said it in the hopes that in return, she’d hear the same. Because it was plain as day. Fucking obvious. Not a doubt in her mind.

It was funny too ‘cause that had been sealed away in a vault in some deep, dark corner of my mind, cordoned off by an electric fence, wrapped in several yards of barbed wire and caution tape. WARNING. POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS. I barely knew because I barely allowed myself to. That came easy as it always did. Or easier anyway than feeling and not knowing what to do, where to put it. So I barely knew. Maybe it was now that I only just realized it, in a fully-formed thought.

A ti te quiero también.

But it felt wrong, seemed to make the moment small somehow, if I were to say it out loud back to her. Forced for obligation, ceremony’s sake, and altogether pointless when she already knew.

So I just said, “Fine.”

Her eyes lit up, filled to the brim with, you really mean it?

“Yeah, fine, I’ll go.”

She beamed. My own personal sun.

“But you figure whatever fake reason to tell your brothers. I ain’t sayin’ shit.”

She squeezed my hand. Any tighter and it would’ve cut the circulation. Not quite the deliverance that launching at each other would’ve been, sweeping all the papers and supplies off of Mín’s desk, not giving a shit what broke as it hit the floor, buttons popping loose from my shirt and rolling on the ground as she tore it off, taking each other carnally hostage right there. But with Nestor still downstairs, it’d have to be enough.

✺

So here I am. And she’s missing in action.

A hand comes down on my shoulder. Ramón’s. “Mira nada más <Look what we have here>,” he chuckles pointing to Ms. Fuck-You-Money. “Esa chulita been eyeing you all night.”

I roll my eyes.

Món chokes out, laughing through a sip of champagne, “Ay qué duro, cabron. <Ey, tough fucker.> Good answer. Attention from a woman like that? That’ll get you killed, or worse.”

Lost, I shoot him a look of confusion.

“What’s the look for.”

“What’re you talking about?” I say shaking my head.

“Wait d— you don’t know who that is?”

I stare at him through half-lidded eyes.

He can barely contain his amusement and I could bust that Cheshire-cat smile wide open for it, the chistoso. See, ‘cause it’s something I’ll never understand but Ramón lives for shit like this. How many times I wished I felt the same or could at least access some similar well of couldn’t-give-a-fuck charisma that allowed the kid to cut loose, no matter where he went. Unless he was in one of his moods. Still, his glee is infectious if not foreign. So despite being miffed, I’m grateful he’s here.

“That’s— okay, that’s Miguel’s wife, Daniela.”

“Thought her name was like Marta? María? Something else?”

“Oh nooo, no, no, no.” Ramón jiggles his head back and forth. “That’s his first wife. This is his second.”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“Yeah, right?” Món shrugs. “Tío moves fast apparently. Upgraded to a new model already. Personally, I don’t get it. Should’ve stuck with the classic. And María,” he looks at me and whistles, “qué clásico.”

We both watch Miguel work a group of sleazy-looking politicians. I don’t need to be up close to imagine how badly they reek of too-expensive, tacky cologne, or how clammy their hands are, sweating because they’ve been mainlining too much sauce and blow. My eyes drift to Daniela who’s pointing around theatrically to the outdoor decor. Like her husband, she’s smooth-talking another group of guests.

That’s when it clicks. As she dances from a group of Senators, to a group of financial hacks, to a group of mid-level distributors, I can’t help but think how busy bees flit. Flower to flower, pollinating each one. Stroking the right egos, smiling, leaving a hand on a shoulder just long enough to make them think they might have a shot with the big man’s wife. From everything I’ve heard about Miguel, he might let them, for the right price. That fact fills me with equal measures of sadness and relief. Sad for her. Relief to know it’s a hustle, an award-winning performance. Though why she’s been wasting time on me, a friend of the Arellano family at best, low-level Arellano goon at worst, is anyone’s guess.

“Seems she’s like that with everyone.”

“Oh no, carnal. With you? That shit’s real. She knows you’re with us.” Ramón reaches for my face like he’s about to pinch my cheek. “Not some rich politician’s secret love child.”

“Ey, no mames, cabrón.” I swat it away with a smirk, so he knows we’re simpatico. “You and Pancho always fixin’ to get me in more trouble than I’m ever looking for.”

I think of Dina just then and how it’s possible for lies to lag like that sometimes. Feeling like truth ‘til the words are well outta your mouth.

As if anxiety’s summoned her to me, out of the corner of my eye, I catch Dina walking toward us. On her way over, she grabs a drink from a guy standing by the bar holding two champagne glasses, someone she mistakes for a waiter. Based on the beet red look on his face, he turns to be a guest. He flips out and at first, Dina looks ready to apologize and move on. No big deal.

It’s not until he starts pointing his finger in her face, “Qué verga, vieja? No soy un pinshe mesero <What the fuck, lady? I'm not a fuckin' waiter>,” that I glance at the ground to hide a smile. I know what’s coming but this poor bastard doesn’t. It’s always satisfying to watch Dina work, handling men who make mistakes like that. No doubt it’d be a scathing indictment but never done in the same way. Refreshing, that kind of variety. I always respected it.

She leans back, eyeing the guy up and down, then walks over, purposely slow, all the time in the world, to a real waiter holding a tray. Grabbing a new glass, she walks back and shoves it into the guy’s hand, taking extra care to make sure it spills on his jacket. Beads of sweat and outrage pour from him, as he looks down at his damp lapel in disgust.

She waves her index finger back and forth between them, “Listo, pues. Ya estamos? <Well, then. We good?>” and points at Ramón next to me. “Or shall I have my brother, Ramón—“ she waves, “Hi Món! Yeah, that one. The tall one over there. Shall I ask him to step in, help mediate the matter?”

Everyone’s eyes shoot straight to Món who, on cue, flashes a smile so diabolical, the devil himself would’ve tipped his hat in appreciation. Still fuming, the guy brushes the front of his jacket and straightens his collar but says nothing.

“Aye,” Dina punctuates with a dip of her head. “Eso es lo que pensaba. <Yeah, that's what I thought.>"

And that seems like the end of it until she a twenty out of her wallet in that impossibly tiny purse. “Ey, next party you go to, if you want to avoid being confused with the catering staff, maybe don’t wear a dinner jacket. It’s a nice house, sure. Not the fucking Met.”

The guy is mute, shocked as she slips the bill in his breast pocket and glides away. Even a few feet away, I can already see her rolling her eyes and giggling as she makes her way to us.

Ramón says, cackling, “I thought maybe you were going to ask for a bottle there, crack him over the head with it,” as she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

“No, no. We couldn’t embarrass our tío querido could we. Besides,” she gives a cavalier wave toward the guy, “Drastic measures like those are reserved for Chapo. Or Cochi.”

I look at the two of them standing with Güero on the other side of the DJ platform. They look like they’re enjoying themselves about as much as I am.

I make eye contact with Güero briefly before I feel another hand on my shoulder. Dina’s?

“What no hug for me?”

I catch her awkwardly with one arm, stiffening as she pulls me in too close and for too long.

“Woo,” Món hoots. ”Creo que Enedina ha tomado un poquito demasiado. <I think Enedina's had one too many.>"

She bats him in the arm. “Ay que no, if you’d had the conversation I just had with Mín, you’d be chugging this,” she knocks back the last few sips of champagne, then holds up the glass, “like water too.”

“Why? What happened?”

”Oh nothing, he just–“ she lets out a hefty sigh. “Just rolled over for Miguel like he always does.”

Before Món can ask anything else, Dina’s face lights up at someone behind him.

All drunk swagger, Pancho waltzes over, a drink in each hand, yelling, “Estos cabrooooones. I been looking all over for you.”

He sidles next to Ramón, who reaches for the other drink in his hand. He pulls back. “Qué shingadas? <What the fuck?> I didn’t bring this for you.”

Món pulls a face like Pancho just kicked over a sandcastle he spent hours building.

I hold my hands up in defeat, chuckling, “Ey I didn’t ask him to bring me anything. Knowing this pruno-king, I bet they’re both his.”

“Y esto? Esto es porque es mi compa. Él me conoce <And this? This is why he's my homie. He gets me>,” Pancho slurs, with a tipsy smile, eyes half shut.

“Qué pedo <What the hell>, is everyone drunk here besides me?” Món catches me smiling and rolls his eyes. “Tú no, rarito &lt;Not you, weirdo>. You don’t count.”

Glancing at the crowd around us, Pancho asks “Where’s Mín?” and stumbles back, nearly planting his ass on the lawn.

He grabs Món for support, who already looks startled as Dina shoves her empty glass at him. “Who cares? Yo quiero bailar,” she declares, grabbing my hand.

She yanks me with such force, I wonder if I look like one of those Loony Toons characters, a regular Beaky Buzzard swept offscreen by Bugs Bunny with a giant cane.

Behind us Pancho and Ramón are busting up laughing. “Panchito, I think she might be drunker than you are.”

Pancho holds up one of his drinks in salute. “Aaaaaayyy órale, mi brujita!”

My hand firmly in hers, Dina shimmies around the other couples on the dancefloor. When she finds a spot she deems satisfactory, she turns and snaps me towards her, gliding her hand up my right arm to my shoulder, and moving my left around her waist. I’m lost in static. My heart’s beating fast. Too fast, like a hummingbird caught all up in my chest and each beat of its wings jolts my rib cage, while it tries to jailbreak outta there.

And it’s not the proximity that’s got my blood up, really. It’s her. It’s rare to see Dina overflowing with this kind of reckless joy. So rare in fact, there’s a gravity to it, a pull magnified by irregularity, that makes it harder to resist. In tandem with the music, I’m goner, already falling into it. But what does any of it matter, when I know how she feels now. Just the same as me.

✺

We finish with a dip, and the blurry wall of lights and onlookers, among them the suspicious face of Mín, the curious face of Ramón, and the drunk glassy eyes of Pancho, become crystal clear again, as I bring Dina back up. The song changes and I let go, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. Making my way off the dancefloor, she follows close, reassuring in a low voice, “It’ll be fine, amor. They know I’m tipsy.”

“Yeah. And they know I’m not.”

Although— I look over at the bar. Fuck it, I could fix that now. Before we can reach Mín, Món, and Pancho, standing by the DJ booth, I tear through the crowd, right to the bar. Fuck any rules. This is Def Con One and that lapse in judgment could only be reasonably explained to the Arellano boys by both of us being shitfaced. I flag down a bartender.

“Shot of tequila.”

“What kind?”

I eye him coolly. “Whatever. Dealer’s choice.”

Willing myself not to be too twitchy, conspicuous, I glance around to make sure Benjamín hasn’t sicced Món on me. That look of disapproval on his face is going to be seared to the backs of my eyelids for days. Maybe weeks. Not a chance in hell that he’d overlook that display. As far as Ramón, who looked more intrigued than anything, jury’s still out. Might be he’d follow Mín’s lead. That is, unless Dina were to intervene, which– that’d be something she’d have to do. I’d never ask her. Not an option. That leaves Pancho who’s unlikely to give a shit. Or if he did, he’s too drunk now to make a show of it. But no, even sober, we’ve been homies through and through. He’d have my back. Maybe the only one.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Christ, all of it, already a fucking mess. It hasn’t spilled out entirely from my head onto the world, but only a matter of time.

A whistle from someone a barstool away interrupts the game of 3D chess I’m playing with myself, trying to compute then varying combinations of factors and events that could end me. I’m so in it, it takes me a beat to even realize they’re whistling at me.

“Ey, dónde aprendiste a bailar como eso? <Hey, where did you learn how to dance like that?>” someone asks quietly, in familiar but strangely-accented Spanish.

I turn to shoot a fuck-off stare to whoever, but when I’m met with the sight of an odd-looking, half-bald, ginger dude in jeans, a denim jacket, and a pair of Jordans that probably cost more than my first car, I’m taken aback by the expression on his face. Strange-like, fondly admiring, but more like he’s observing a zoo animal, exotic as those peacocks waddling across the lawn, than a person.

“Viene de familia.” <Runs in the family.>

All the odd guy says is, “Ah,” and then proceeds to fiddle with the toothpick in his mouth and survey the crowd.

Based on how he’s dressed, it’s clear this dude isn’t a regular guest. If I had to put my money on anything? Sicario. No question. Because even though he doesn’t have the trademark hyper-vigilance, coiled up tight, a piston ready to pop, the strange little homie does have a cracked look I recognize. Like he doesn’t need to be on-guard because he’s past the point of feeling much beyond general amusement.

I’d come up with a couple guys like this back home. Met even more of them in prison. You could tell who they were because they didn’t pretend to be concrete copies of themselves. Already born steel people, they never needed to bother with the mandatory, self-imposed identity mutilation necessary to survive in the Petri dish of the California Department of Corrections. But the most interesting thing about them? Scary as they could be, they’re also some of the more honest criminals I’ve dealt with. At least, those who’re murder-for-hire, not murder-for-fun.

Spotting the shiny, engraved handle of a pistol in his waistband, I whistle, “Nice, .357?”

He doesn’t take it out to show it off, just flashes a slinky, joker smile. “You got a good eye.”

“Likewise. Dope piece.”

Yeah, definitely more than your average muscle. The real pros don’t tend much to show and tell. But who the guy works for, I can’t figure exactly. Given that I had to give up my own weapon before we came through, I’m guessing he’s Miguel’s muscle. Looking over at a doorway filled with the broad shoulders and Fabio-like hair of Miguel’s top security guy, Tony, I try picturing these two working together and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Eh, it’s too hard— it’s nothin’.”

The strange homie responds with an amused snort but doesn’t press further. We go back to our mutual but silent surveillance. I can’t see the Arellanos anywhere, but I do spot the Sinaloa crew making their way to the exit by the bar. The weird little guy waves at them like they’re the oldest of friends. I nearly give myself whiplash, looking back and forth from Strange Homie to Güero and Cochi’s pained smiles and an outright look of disgust from Chapo.

“Those are the guys who brought the tiger last year,” Strange Homie helpfully explains, still waving.

“Man, everyone keeps telling me about that tiger. Guess I missed out.”

“You weren’t here last year?”

Still looking around for Ramón, I shake my head, stating absentmindedly, “Haven’t been to any kinda shit like this in my life.”

If Benjamín hadn’t already put him up to cutting me into little pieces, I would’ve at least expected Món to be hot on the heels of the Sinaloa crew, if only to berate, and harass, and swear at them as they’re leaving. And yet, he’s nowhere. Shoot, maybe Mín decided not to even bother chasing me down, and they just bounced. Left me there. Dina would be pissed but all things considered, I’d be getting off lightly. Compared to other possibilities. Could I be so lucky?

I turn my attention back to Strange Homie.

A jackal-like grin brightens his whole face. “Yeah, you did miss out. I got to feed it.”

“Big animal fan, huh?”

Strange Homie considers the question seriously as though it requires an answer, deep or existential in some way. But what he comes back with is relatively simple. “I guess, apex predators, yeah.”

“Easiest to relate to?” I joke.

The jackal smile back again as he exclaims, “Exacto!” Only this time, it bears sincerity that makes it more endearing than unsettling.

I raise my shot glass, saluting, “Makes sense to me.” An implied given what I know about you, unsaid in the air as I knock the shot back. Strange Homie likely knows, has probably been profiling my own profiling this whole time.

“So, you are not from around here?” Strange Homie ventures, as I catch the bartender’s attention to order another shot.

“From Guadalajara?”

Strange Homie shrugs and nods.

“Nah. You?”

He says with a knowing smirk, “Do I sound like I’m from Guadalajara?”

I shake my head, chuckling to myself. The bartender brings another shot and I put it away, perfunctory, then bite into the lime. It’s so sour, I feel shooting pangs in the sides of my mouth and tongue. The sensation of pain, concrete and tangible enough to focus on, brings me back to me.

I wipe my mouth and clear my throat. “You don’t sound like you’re from Guadalajara, but I got a few camaradas back home who sound kinda like you. Colombianos.”

“Good eye. Good ear,” Strange Homie notes, a hint of approval in his voice.

“The melting pot of America.”

“Ah, entonces eres un gringo?” <Oh, you're a gringo then?>

“Te has visto, hombre? De donde vengo, eres más gringo que yo.” <Have you seen yourself, man? Where I'm from, you're more gringo than me.>

I half-expect Strange Homie to be offended but he just snickers and nods in agreement. “Pues, tal vez tengas razón. Supongo que quiero decir que eres un gabacho.” <Well, maybe you're right. I guess I mean to say, you're a foreigner.">

“Close enough.”

“Well gabacho, un placer. Yo soy Navegante.” He reaches out to shake hands.

I extend mine tentatively, “David Barrón.”

As we stand there, forearms bobbing up and down slowly, a look of calculation and sorrow fills Strange Homie’s eyes. Something about it, and the way he says, “You seem like a cool guy. I wish we hadn’t talked so much.” I can’t quite put my finger on why it makes my stomach drop.

Fuck. Dina. Where are they. The Arellanos. Makes no sense. Been nowhere this whole time. Fuck. The empty spot where my gun usually sat in my waistband screams at me like a phantom limb. I try freeing my hand from Navegante’s, who holds on like a vice and laments, “I am glad you got those shots of tequila in though. Since we both know how bad this will hurt.”

My teeth grind into my lower lip so hard, I taste blood. And yet, it still does fucking nothing to ease the sting of surprise as the knife sinks into my stomach.

✺

Everything after that happens in slow motion. He must’ve carried me out at some point and anyone who saw me doing shots at the bar just assumed I was wasted. I don’t know how much blood I’ve lost. Enough that it feels like I’m moving through molasses when they chuck me in the backseat of that town car. Or is it a limo? The seats are facing each other like in a limo. Or maybe I’m molasses because of the booze. If not the booze exclusively, it definitely isn’t helping, blood thinning as it is. Fucking stupid. So stupid. In my life, had I ever been so stupid?

Although, I have to give it to Strange Homie— what was his name again? Navegante? — it’s been ages since someone got the jump on me like that. Since I was a kid probably. He’d been decent enough about it too, although I could’ve done without the stick in the gut. A few inches higher, he might’ve fractured a rib, but I might have more my full faculties. But no, this guy knew what he was doing. It’d landed exactly where he’d wanted it to.

Fingers wrestle with the tie at my neck, ripping it off, and it’s not until I bring it down to put pressure on the wound in my stomach that I realize those fingers are mine. The other courtesy Navegante had done? Strange Homie left the knife in. Although, whether that’s so I wouldn’t bleed out as fast or if it’s so he could further torture me by twisting it, is unclear. So much of it is unclear. I try going back, retracing every step leading up to the point I’d been stabbed but my brain’s stuck in quicksand. If I live to see tomorrow, I’ll have to take some kind of blood oath to never touch another drop of alcohol again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Dina. Where is she. The Arellanos. They’d disappeared. Where the fuck was Dina. The panic, the cortisol, like a defibrillator at my chest, shocking me more awake, as I pack the fabric of my tie around the knife to soak up the blood. Forgetting myself, I reach behind for my gun and grumble at the empty spot where it normally is. Should be. Stupid. So. fucking. stupid.

I hear voices outside the car. No gun, no way out, no idea where anyone else is, where I am now, no choice but to accept it. So I just lean back against the seat, keeping pressure on my stomach and wait patiently for what’s to come.

When the door finally opens, I expect to be met with Strange Homie, Navegante’s jackal grin but instead it’s a taller man, a lot more normal looking, with dark eyes and a full head of hair. No one I recognize though and he’s someone I’d remember, considering he’s one of the most sharply dressed motherfuckers I’ve seen outside a movie. He slides in to sit across from me and grabs a file that had been laying on the seat next to him.

He reads from it calmly, soothingly business-as-usual. “I do apologize for the harsh introduction, Señor Barrón Corona. Navegante said you were nothing but gentlemanly prior to his stabbing you.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat and on reflex, the muscles in my stomach clench around the blade. Like I’ve stepped onto the worst elevator ride, my throat feels like it’s in my head. Just blistering, white-hot agony. A jagged inhale drags down the back of my throat and I try not to pass out. “S’funny,” I cough out, “was just thinking the same thing.”

“Please know, this isn’t personal. Or rather, not for me. I suspect it’s very personal for your employer.” He looked up from the file, smirking. “Or I suppose, that’s the idea.”

My employer? The fuck was Benjamín going to be upset about? Me with a knife in my gut in the backseat of whatever big-shot, cartel guy’s car?

“Banking on the wrong strategy there,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

The man looks up from the file again, waiting for me to explain further.

“No love lost between my employer and me.”

“Hmm. Is that so?”

He says this with such assurance, it becomes apparent that this whole scheme, whatever it is, whatever game this guy’s playing, this shit is well above my pay grade. No point trying to outmaneuver when my head’s still in quicksand and I don’t even have the fucking rulebook.

“But you answer to the whole family, no?”

I roll my eyes and slump my shoulders, too tired to summon a real response.

“David Barrón Corona. From Logan Heights, San Diego, California. Says here you were born in Tijuana, but your parents are naturalized citizens. Which would give you—” he licks his forefinger and flips a page. “Ah yes, dual Mexican-American citizenship. Oh, your father was in the navy? Why does it seem the best sicarios come from military families. Someone should do a study.”

“Eh, eres un soldado either way.” <Eh, you're a soldier either way.>

The man smirks and continues reading. “Two brothers, one older Mateo Barrón Corona, deceased. And one younger, Alexander Barrón Corona, incarcerated, life no parole. And your mother— hmm, we don’t have much on her.”

I clench my teeth so hard, it feels like I have a charlie horse in my jaw. Willing my stomach muscles to relax, I ease off the middle console with my elbow to lean against the window and breathe out a, “Wow.”

The man takes out a cigarette and pops it between his lips, mumbling, “Qué?” as he lights up.

“Just— I dunno. Seems a lotta paperwork for somebody who’s nobody. Whose asset are you, DoD, CIA?”

The man shakes out his match and cracks a window on his side to toss it out. “Ah, see, but that’s the thing, David— may I call you David?”

I nod listlessly.

“David, do I seem to you like someone who’d waste so much time, go to all this trouble if you were a complete nobody?”

“Can’t say. We just met.” We’re well past politeness. I’m already bleeding all over this guy’s Oxford leather seats.

But instead of insulting him, he cuts up, laughing deep and full. “Funny, discerning—tonight’s little encounter notwithstanding. And from what I hear, an excellent shot, a competent sicario.”

I snort loud enough that he pauses to say, “What is that? False modesty? Don’t bore me before we’ve gotten started.”

“No. I am as good as you’ve heard probably. But that’s not the point.”

Dragging slowly from his cigarette, he brushes a bit of ash that’s fallen on his pant leg, then looks up, fixes his eyes on me, and says, “Enlighten me, then.” He’s the cat. I’m the ball of yarn. It doesn’t even matter.

“Any sicario worth a shit knows it doesn’t matter how good you get.“

“Why’s that?”

A gotcha-type smile spreads across my face for the first time in what feels like ages. “’Cause however good I may be, I’ll always be expendable. Guys like me are always short to the gate.”

And just when I think I’ve got him, for some reason, that warms up those cold brown eyes of his, as though I’ve proven his point more than my own. He bobs his head toward the window where Navegante stood guarding the car. “Well, that may be true of most in your line of work. But I asked my man out there, and he seems to think you’re good people. I’m putting together the picture of you, beginning to understand the appeal, what she sees in you.”

“Why. You hiring?”

“Oh no, no,” he chuckles lightly, “you’re of no use to me that way. No, the fact of the matter is,” then clicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek, “you’re right. Some are more expendable than others. But at the finish line, when death comes to collect, really, we’re all expendable.”

If this guy doesn’t reach some point, some punchline soon, I swear I’m gonna yank this knife out myself, happily bleed out all over the place just to reach some definitive conclusion.

”But here and now? To one with a little power and something I need? You David, are much less expendable than you think.”

The hell is he even talki— oh, fuck.

What she sees in you.

It echoes in my ears until it detonates, like pulling the pin on a grenade in my head, shrapnel ricocheting on the inner walls of my skull, just as I’m trying to piece it together.

My boss. Personal. Dina. You answer to the whole family, no? The guy’s practically been explaining it from the beginning. I’ve just been too dead in the head to make sense of it.

“Ah yes, there it is. And now that you’re caught up with the rest of the class, allow me to formally introduce myself.” The man places his hand on his chest, bowing his head. “I’m Pacho Herrera.”

Yup. This is above my pay grade. Way, way, way the fuck above my pay grade.

[imaginewarehouse]

Various Males x Fem!ExModel!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: You, a retired model get hired at Cloud 9 and, not-at-all-surprisingly, you get harassed by every allegeable (According to them) bachelor in the place- but god fucking damnit! You’re just here to get a paycheck??!  

“You can’t knock ‘em out, you cant walk away,

Try desperately to think about the politest way to say,

“Just get out of my face,”, “Just leave me alone,”

“And no you cant have my number,”,

“Why?”

“Cuz I lost my phone.”

(Inspired by Lily Allen’s Knock ‘Em Out)

Includes (In order of appearance after the introduction bit): Sal Kazlauskas, Garret McNeil, Tate Staskiewicz, Isaac (And I think my favouritism here definitely bleeds through*Cough*), Elias Greene, Cory, Jonah Simms, and Marcus White.

Warnings: Sal, harassment (They leave after you say no though. Just to be sure) 

🔆  🔆  🔆

“And uh, yeah one last thing before we all hop off to work! We have a new Cloud 9 family member. Y/N! Would you like to stand up?” Glenn, the lovely man who took your interview a week ago and then went out of his way today to look for you out front in the morning to show you around quickly and guide you through clocking in, finds you in the crowd of workers and gestures for you to stand.

Oh, uh- uhh, okay! Up we get, then, you think as you stand up like he said and take a look around at all the judging eyes, which normally wouldn’t phase you but here is a lot scarier than what you’re used to. This an entirely different environment to getting up at a modelling gig- you know nothing about working this kind of job! You’ve never done it, so, you’re afraid they’ll judge you right off the bat and make it difficult for you to ask questions. And you can’t keep bothering Glenn- he has more important things to do.

Oh god, you hear whispering. You peer around. Where is that coming from?-

“This is Y/N L/N! She’ll be working with Go back’s today,” Right, Go Back’s Easy enough; Glenn explained them earlier before the meeting started. “So if you see her in your area- be sure to say hello and see if she needs some help, K? Good. We’re jazzed to have you with us Y/N.”

“Thank you!” You quip quickly, then sit down and focus on Glenn again, hoping dearly at the same time that attention disperses from you immediately.

Glenn smiles, glancing down at his clipboard for any last-minute messages. “Okay! I think that’s it, so- “

The whispering from before suddenly cuts off. “Uh yeah, question?” Glenn stops short when a man in the back kind of rudely cuts him off, but sighs out a ‘Yes, Marcus?’ as the woman beside him - Dina, - rolls her eyes severely. Oh, you let a tiny ghost of a smirk slip over your lips. That’s kind of a reaction, isn’t it? “Yo- new girl.” What- me- w h y- You immediately get awkward again and twist around in your chair, but don’t really know who to look at. Luckily the tall brunette in the warehouse uniform is pointing, so you figure it out pretty quick that that’s who you’re looking for, and calm down. Mostly. 

Yeah? You raise one eyebrow. “Hi?”

He grins back to the right and the left of him, to his equally pleased buddies and pals, before raising a Vogue magazine- and it’s the issue on which you scored the front page. Jeez, that was months ago! “Is this you?”

A chorus of ‘Ohhhhh’ and general excitement travels around the room and for the first time ever, you’re half ashamed to admit that yes that is you. In your usual circle this is something to be proud of… but you get that it isn’t really like that, in non-modelling circles. In fact, it could be something to be embarrassed about.

Especially seeing that oh dude and his gang of Michael Myers fashion wannabes look like a hungry, dim-witted, wolves rather than plainly interested about your modelling career.

But, still, you smile politely and nod. Hopefully it’ll be forgotten before the afternoon, at least. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Nice.”

Hmm… you really, really hope that it’s forgotten soon, at least, as you turn back around to face the front again as Glenn sends everyone off to work. Because if not, then these boys are going to learn the hard way that models take self-defence classes religiously.

Or at least you are going to have a very uncomfortable day, which is just great. You groan inwardly at the thought, as you gather up your coffee from the table beside you and drop it in the trash can on the way out.

~

You’re just doing your own thing and someone

Comes out of the blue,

They’re like,

“Alright”

But he’s saying

“Yeah can I take your digits?”

And you’re like, “No, not in a million years, you’re nasty.

Please leave me alone.”

There’s already so many Go Back’s! You think excitedly, as you get to work looking for where things should be. You’re glad to have something to do- at your first job with Chuck E Cheese, before you got into the modelling thing, you were basically useless the first day because you weren’t allowed to grill yet, you didn’t know how to assemble, and they didn’t want you out on the floor for the birthday party that was happening, in fear that you would mess up royally. So you just sat around trying not bother anyone, and that felt terrible. So, wandering the aisles of Cloud 9 with a full shopping trolley searching for products and neatening things up? Sounds like a good deal to you. Yes please.

“Uhh, hi.”

You practically jump entirely out of your skin, hearing the voice right beside you and whip your head around to see a balding guy in a blue Cloud 9 jacket. Is this man licking his fingers!?

“Uh,” You step back with your brightest, most polite smile, picking something up from the Go Back’s cart and rounding it to put it between you and the man, before acting like you’re stupid enough to be putting barbecue sauce in the Barbie section, and then… “Oh, oops! Silly me!” You flash the guy a nervous look. “I’m still working things out… “

Well? Better to look like an absolute idiot, then be standing within grabbing radius of the creepy man licking his fingers that you’re all alone in the middle of an empty aisle with. “Um… so, what’s up? Did someone send you to find me, or… am I doing something wrong? You know better than me, after all!”

“No… “His gaze licks up your form and if it weren’t for all your ‘training’ in staying still and not feeling this kind of thing- you absolutely would have wigged out. “You’re doing fine… Just wanted to see you.”

Boy- if anyone else could see your face right at this moment, full of disgust and mild horror, you’re sure you would be YouTubes next hit. Or a meme. “Oh… “You nervously chuckle. “Um, well, I’m gonna… go… “You pull the trolley around so that you can back up out the back of the aisle and escape through stuffed toys, into the open but his hand comes down on the other end of the trolley- stopping it. Before you can stop yourself, verbal diarrhoea spews from your lips. “Glenn has my resume- there’s a photo on there you can have.”

“That’s okay I prefer them to be breathing.” Both his hands are on the end of your trolley now, tight so his knuckles turn white, and he’s breathing unnecessarily heavy. He’s even leaning over the trolley some like his body really can’t handle whatever terrible heat is plaguing it right now. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god… this is so gross.

“Well, that’s… u-understandable...”

He looks up into your eyes, now, and doesn’t blink. Who the hell is this guy?! “Say… “ Oh no, oh no- he’s coming around the trolley-he’s coming around-he’s close-too close-too close-mayday-MAYDAY- Slowly, in your face, he licks up his thumb, makes an ‘Mm,’ sound, and you deeply wince; So much so in fact that one of your eyes completely closes. “Could I take your phone number?”

You absolutely couldn’t have helped what happened next if you had wanted to.

“Eeeeuuuwwwwwwww no not in a million years, your nasty, please leave me alone!!” You exclaim in a high voice before abandoning the trolley and rushing off to customer service.

~

“No you cant have my number,”

“Why?”

“Cuz I lost my phone.”

By the time you got to the front desk, you had basically calmed down and were mostly just stressed that you left the Go Back’s behind- but still must look troubled as the guy manning the front desk makes a confused, half-concerned but mostly intrigued kind of face at you as you stop there. You’re about to explain your appearance - that or just shrug, not too bothered about reporting whatever mess that was. Not on your first day, at least. No way. - when his face relaxes, and he nods. “Ohhh. Damn, Sal got to you?”

Sal? Was that the guy’s name? You didn’t check. “Oh, was that his name? I was a bit too preoccupied by his eyeballs sucking out my soul, to notice his name tag.” Now that you’re thinking about it, though, you glance at this man’s name tag. Garret.

“Yep, that’s Sal. That’s just one of the wonderful things involved in working here that you’ll just have to get used to.” Garret grins, offering you a chill perspective with a side of cynicism. You sigh, truly feeling relieved that you’ve found a normal person and relax your back against the taller part of the desk.

“Brilliant.” The sarcasm drips off the tip of your tongue.

“You’ll have to deal with a lotta that here, though, looking like you do.” You turn your head to the side to look already exhausted just by the idea, at him. He shrugs. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just speak the truth.”

“God- I feel sorry for the other women working here.”

“Oh, no. They’re in a completely different wheelhouse to you. Sorry.” Garret leans on his forearms on the desk, and you roll over to lean on your shoulder and pay attention. “See, you’re a model- “

“I was a model,”

“You were a model- which through primitive male thought process makes you prime real estate. Whoever manages to ‘bag’ you, for lack of a better word I apologise, gets some serious bragging rights.” He shrugs, and looks vaguely apologetic but still some how shameless as this utter bullshit slips out of his mouth. “We can’t help it- some of us don’t even know we’re doing that, but we are. Actually, I’m probably the only one who’ll admit it… which… kinda makes me your best option. Self-awareness, and all that.”

Oh. A dry laugh comes out of you as you feel a text come through in your back pocket and pull out your phone. As you see that its not an urgent message, you immediately put the phone back and glance around for any supervisors before returning to your conversation with Garret. “Oh- of course it does.”

“Exactly!” He grins, and you can’t tell through his expression at all whether he’s genuinely this clueless or if he’s just shooting his shot. “So- “

“No, you can’t have my number.”

“Why?”

Deadass, in a very monotone voice, you say: “I lost my phone.”

Then the two of you just have a stare off for a minute. Garret because he just saw you use your phone, and you because you wont back down.

~

“Oh yeah, actually yeah I’m, I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby in like 6 months, so no. Yeah, yeah… “

“You know,” The chemist pipes up from behind the Pharmacy desk as you put back some pill boxes he said were fine to return to the shelves, and you glance over at him to show you’re listening, and check his name tag. “I myself considered a career in modelling, before this. People even say, now, that I could model.”

Oh boy. You think, fighting not roll your eyes. And how old are you? Early 30’s? I don’t think so buddy.

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t recommend it.” You flash him a nervous grin before returning to your shelving. “You’re good for, like, 3 years. But then you hit 22 and unless you look like Victoria Justice shared with you whatever youth fountain she got chucked into, then you have to find something else to do with your life- despite having nothing to fall back on.” Okay… so… I might be a bit bitter.

Tate chuckles - and oh boy, he sounds just like your old manager. Totally fake, -, hiding his hands in his lab coat pockets. “Yeah, you’re probably right… Besides, I got the better end of the deal, anyway. Doctor for the doctors, they call us.” They call Pharmacists that? Who? That’s news to you. “Ahhh, yeah… I’m doing pretty well for myself.”

“Yep.” Forcing a fake smile his way, you leave the shelf you were stocking and get closer to the desk to stock another, as Tate’s eyes follow you waiting for encouragement of some kind. Doesn’t he have a job to do?? “You chose well!”

“Yeah, thanks. I know.” Ffffff-f a r out. This guy! “You know, you and me, we’d make a good couple.”

Oh? Dear god? You pause your shelving in surprise at the bomb this man has just dropped so casually, fish oil tablets paused on their journey to the shelf mid-air. Could Garret’s crazy-pants theory have been right?

“Ohh,” You giggle nervously, returning to work a bit faster now. “I don’t know. I think for a pharmacist like you, I would envision, like… “An actual doctor? No, I can’t say that. “A personal trainer, or something. Keep you both healthy all-round, you know? Now that’s a power team.” As long as that personal trainer has humility enough for the both of them, at least.

“Mergh,” He makes a face, like ‘What the heck are you talking about??’, before shaking his head of the things you just said and leaning over the desk towards you. You keep packing, even faster now. Like the Flash. Go! Go! Go! Death Con 5!! “So, whadaya say? I could pick you up Friday after work, and we could head up to one of my timeshares?” He says that like it’s such a selling point! You think, fighting off the powerful urge to laugh but still feeling the panic deep in the pits of your soul. “Stake it out together for the weekend? Get to know each other?”

“Uhh… “Excuses! What are they? You slowly stop stocking, turning around to face him and crossing your arms. The man deserves to at least be faced as he’s rejected; You’re kind enough to give him that, at least. “I’d love to! But, the thing is… “Chewing your bottom lip, you think hard.

Ding Ding Ding!!

“The thing is, Tate… “You fake some nerves, now. “I’m actually, uh… “You look up, face relaxing. “Pregnant.”

Oh boy, the way that man recoils at that word, like a terrified, disgruntled, blonde hedgehog. You’re going to laugh so hard about it, later!! “Oh.”

“Yeah! Oh, I mean, yeah… I’m gonna be having a baby, in like, 6 months so… yeah… Yep.“ You shrug to him, as if its just so unfortunate. “Shame.”

~

She looks in her bag, takes out a fag, tries to get away from the guy on a blag,

Can’t find a light.

‘’Here, use mine.’’

‘’See the thing is I just don’t have the time.’’

Ahh, lunch. Now you can check your texts! Hmm, you look through your notifications and gradually lose excitement. Mum… mum… mum… phone bill company… friend… mum again…

Ah, the glamorous life of the famous.

You roll your eyes, and get to responding to your mothers texts about dinner and when you’ll be home and how your first day is going, not noticing the not-so-jolly, not-so-green-(unless-you-meant-pot) giant approaching you. When you finally finish responding to both your mum and your friend, you put your phone away and start unwrapping your lunch- a typical ham sandwich that you’re actually pretty excited about. That’s one good thing about your sudden drop in financial status; You can put in your damn sandwich as many pieces of ham and cheese as you like. Grinning excitedly, you pick it up and have it halfway to your mouth before another person - a very heavy, large person, - drops down beside you on the bench you’ve commandeered behind the store. You close your mouth without any delicious lunch inside it and look up, politely to the person who’s joined you.

And all you can think, is wow.

He could put you in a suitcase and walk off with you right now and have no problems.

That’s wow.

“Hi! I’m Y/N,” You introduce yourself, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I know.” Oh, well yeah okay that’s understandable. Glenn did introduce you to everyone this morning. Despite the man’s less-then-excited response, he takes your hand in his and shakes. It makes you all giddy inside, honestly. So b i g. “Names Isaac.”

Do you remember Isaac in the breakroom this morning? You wrack your brain for him, because surely if he was there you noticed him-

Oh. Yep, you remember him. He was one of that Marcus-Dude’s pals chuckling and whispering behind him. He was one of the men that had the magazine with you on the front, and if there’s one thing you know about men who carry Vogue in their locker’s it’s that they fit into only 2 groups- interested in fashion, obviously… and interested in the women. And this man clearly is not interested in fashion. Immediately, on this realisation, you feel disappointed- you really could have liked this man right off the bat…

But it looks like he’s just going to be another of the men at this store you have to get to know, before becoming friendly with.

“So,” He starts, and you fight off a wince. Hopefully, you don’t know what’s coming. But… the likeliness of that is not high. “You wanna go out, some time? I’m a big fan of your work.” He smirks.

“Oh, ha ha.” You laugh sarcastically, shaking your head and returning to your sandwich. You take a bite and- Ahhhhhh, so worth the wait. Oh my god. Food orgasm. “At least you’re honest!”

“Yeah, so is that a yes?” His face brightens a smidgeon, which is a lot seeing as he doesn’t seem to be totally all there, in the first place.

You look up at Isaac, and look apologetic. He was honest with you so its only fair that you’re genuine with him. “Sorry… “

“Ah- actually, I don’t know if this’ll change your mind, but I have 2 weeks to live, so… “

Never mind on that honesty thing, then.

Dull-eyed, you stare up at him. “… Uh-huh.”

“Its true! I have, uh, cancer.” He insists, nodding his head and forcing his eyebrows up his forehead all serious-like.

“Cancer.” Right.

“Yep.”

Right, time to look in the bag... You start to wrap up your lunch again - sadly, as now you’ll have to wait until the end of the day and the bus ride home to eat it, - and plop it back away in your bag, getting up and pulling out a cigarette instead- that should hold you over until the end of the day. “My lunch break is actually over, so I should go- Damn, where’s my light?“

Isaac rifles through his pockets until he pulls out an old looking neon orange lighter, and offers it to you. “Here, use mine.”

Oh, no. You stare at it like a deer in headlights. If you accept that, like you really want to right now because it’s been a month since your last smoke, then you have obligations to sit with him for another couple minutes, at least.

Aghh… You groan and whine on the inside, before making up your mind and flinging the cigarette into a puddle. “See the thing is, I don’t actually have the time-”

~

“Go away now, let me go.”

“Are you stupid? Or just a little slow?”

“Ughhh… “This one has been giving you looks all day, but had no courage until now to speak to you- but the thing is? He didn’t have the smarts, either, to take off his wedding ring at least before he decided to be a bastard and bother you. So you feel absolutely no regret about being exactly as dismissive or plain rude, as you feel. “Elias? Go away now.”

The nervous man, who’s been ringing his hands this whole time and stuttering through failed date requests that you pretended you didn’t understand because of his struggle, gets panicked. “Just let me ask!- Will, will you go out with me?”

“No.” You yawn, dropping a piglet toy into a basket.

“But!- “

Turning away, you start pushing your trolley along to get to the next aisle. “Let me go.”

“We can go wherever you like!”

Sighhhhhhhhh. You turn around and grant him an audience, putting your hands on your hips and raising you brows at the wedding band on his left hand.

“Are you stupid? Or just a little slow?”

~

“Please fuck off.”

Oh good god in heaven, they’re going bigger with their proposals.

“Y/N! Will you go out with me?”

This man, Corey, has grabbed the announcement phone now that you’re walking away, making you freeze like the dad possum in Over The hedge and seriously consider playing dead, too, as you slowly turn around to look at him again.

Oh, if only looks could kill- he would be so dead that even Vlad the Impaler’s victims would laugh.

This is your first day, and the fact that you’re being harassed by multiple stupid men is bad enough but now he’s calling attention to you like this? Glenn’s going to think you’re a troublemaker!! Jesus fucking Christ- you need this job! Corey continues to talk into the speaker phone, even as he looks into your eyes and sees his death.  “And… now… you’re looking at me like that, so uh… I’m just gonna… say please?”

… “’Please’ fuck off.”

“Yes ma’am-“  

~

“Go away now, I’ve made myself clear.

I don’t think so.

Nah its not gonna happen.

Not in a million years.”

Since the run-in with Corey and the following spike in your blood pressure, you’ve calmed down again. But now you’re looking into the two faces of a ‘Mateo’, who you apparently work with, and a ‘Castor’ who does not work here and is not shopping but is still in your face and is t h i s close to feeding that ugly tie to his cousin.

But, still, you’re going to stay graceful, because Castor constantly looks like he’s 3 seconds from pooing himself. “Now please go away, now… I think I’ve made myself clear.” By explaining, politely, that you aren’t looking for a man but thank you for the offer, Castor.

“Oh, but you haven’t heard what Castor does for a living! He’s in insurance,” Mateo explains to you, like this is some huge game changer. When you don’t react, he adds that there’s good money, insurance.

You almost laugh. Does this boy really think you’re such a gold digger? Boy- if I wanted riches then I could’ve easily become a C-Class actor who has no skills in the area, but is pretty so gets praised like she does- like a lotta my model friends.

Instead I’m here, at Cloud 9.

Come to your own conclusions.

But instead of saying that, though, you just shake your head nervously. “I don’t think so… “

“But!- “

“Nah… sorry, its… not gonna happen… “

“But Castor is- “

“Not in a million years… “

~

“Aw, no. I gotta go. My house is on fire.”

Now, at least this one is respectful, you think, listening to him talk about the products you’re shelving together. He had come over and offered to give you a hand when you looked confused, as a ‘Cheyanne’ had handed you a scanner earlier and then promptly ran off, despite your utter incompetence. You were so relieved that this guy turned up!!

“… so, you just punch in reduce .50, and scan! Its pretty easy, if you have it properly explained to you. I- I was actually in the same situation, as you! When I first started here, except I ended up, uh, reducing all the items in electronics to 15 cense rather than discounting it all 15 percent.” A grin spreads across your lips at the story, and thank god that Jonah had turned up before that happened to you and, with your luck, you got fired for it.

“Oh no!”

“Yeah- Amy, our uh, floor supervisor, was pretty cranky with me about that… “He laughs himself, resting his hands on his hips; Still looking nervous at the memory.

You look back down at the scanner you’re holding and shake your head. “Well at least you know, now! And thank you so much for coming to my aid, haha. I was so lost- you’ve been a huge help! A life saver, truly.”

“Yeah… “ He gives a cute little, reserved smile. “So, uh, its basically the end of the day! Hope you’re first day hasn’t been too strenuous. At the end of my first day, I know I was tired. But I got to go out with a couple of the other employees and have a drink, to destress. If-If you were free, we could… do something. Together.” Your eyebrows slowly raise up your forehead at that, and you turn to look up Jonah, sceptical. What was that? You sure have had a long day, and its about to get a lot longer if this boy is asking what you think he is. “Sorry! Sorry, that sounded weird. Um, I guess what I’m really asking, is… would you like to, I dunno, go out with me sometime? I know some great places.”

Oh, noooooo! You cry, on the inside. You thought you found a normal one!

Still, he is being so nice… The least you could do is let him down easily.

“Oh, Jonah, I actually… oh- sorry.” Your phone beeps in your pocket and you take it out quickly to have a glance - its just your mother… again, - … and suddenly get an idea. Feigning shock, you quickly put the phone away and put down the scanner. It’s time to clock out and go home, anyway, thank god. “I have to go! That was my mum, uh- I really have to go!”

“Wow, wow, wow, what’s wrong?? Can I help with anything?”

Oh… he looks so concerned. He’s sweet.

But before you can rethink your words, this living horror slips out. “My-my house is on fire.”

Oh god, you’re a horrible person.

~

“I’ve, I’ve got herpes. No- Syphilis!”

Oh thank god the day is over. Rolling your shoulders back, you kneel down at your bottom locker, open it up and take out your bag. Now you can go home and put on Gotham on Netflix, wear no pants and eat thin mints until you fall asleep.

When you get up, you aren’t watching out for a man to be standing barely half a foot away from you - Your mistake, obviously, - so you jolt right out of your skin when you see him and curse. What is wrong with these men? Does Cloud 9 offer complimentary staff ninja classes along with their lack of health insurance? Man, classy company. “Sorry!” You look up past the coveralls after stepping a safe distance back from him, and immediately feel dread deep in your chest. “Oh, hi. Marcus, was it?”

“That’s me! How was your first day?” He asks, seeming polite enough despite the fact that you’re cornered between tall boy and the lockers. And you’re too tired to try and slip away- this boy will get out of your way.

“It was good! Thanks for asking. I’m ready to go home and collapse, though.” You admit, shoulders dropping and a tired smile on your lips. Mmm… thin mints… bed… blankets… Cory Michael Smith… I can taste it… Marcus just needs to get out of my way.

“I hear that.” Evidently not quite as deeply, though, as he moves on pretty fast. “Listen- I was thinking if you’re into it we could… go out, some time.” He tilts his head forward to clarify, “On a date,”, in case that part hadn’t translated, and chuckles. “We could see a movie or get drinks, or something, I don’t know. How about tonight?”

T-tonight? The word nearly slips from your lips; All disbelief and tears and exhaustion, included. You’re so tired. “Um… you know, tempting offer, but um… “He looks so hopeful. It nearly changes your mind. “Not tonight.”

“OH! So like, tomorrow?” Oh christ- “Cuz I’m supposed to watch Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here with my mum, but… no, I can blow that off! So, tomorrow?”

You take a deep breath, not really knowing what you can say. “Marcus… “He raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “… I have herpes.”

“Wait, what??” He steps back, nearly tripping over a table in his fear that just being near you will cause him to contract the disease, and you let your guard down in relief. Yep, for sure, definitely. If it makes him back off, then yes- you have herpes. You have a raging, festering case of herpes.

“Yeah! Or-“ Squinting, you pretend to sift through your brain. “Was it Syphilis?” This boys eyes basically bulge out of his head and you’re totally going to laugh about it later, but right now you have to get out of there. You waive your hand dismissively and walk on by him towards the door like you don’t have a care in the world. Before you leave though, you turn around a flash Marcus a big smile. “Either way, ew, right? Well, see you tomorrow buddy! Gotta go! Enjoy I’m A Celebrity with your mum.” Then you’re gone.

Tomorrow is going to be a much better day, once that rumour is properly spread.

[mophamsa]

Thoughts on The Last Of Us Part II

WRITING (creative process)

the game’s storyline is straight to the point, you can see from the trailer that it’s going to be a timeline about revenge. the whole game happens around joel’s death in the beginning and I guess that’s the whole reason why people are upset. but guess what? neil druckmann’s goal was to make you upset, angry and nostalgic. he accomplished his goal and that’s why you’re feeling the way you are.

you not liking the the way things went down does not mean the game’s writing is awful, it just means you were expecting something and got another. not liking something isn’t a crime and it’s totally ok as long as you respect the creators and don’t use your hate to put others down, it’s a valid opinion and that’s it.

what makes a story good is the writing and the thought put into it to make the player/reader/viewer feel a certain way, and the developers did an incredible job to do that. we feel frustrated, anxious and weird the entire gameplay and that’s exactly what they wanted from us, which means they won. I’ll talk more about my opinion on the storyline far ahead.

the graphic visuals of this game are RIDICULOUS, they’re perfect. every detail is insane to look at, they worked so hard to get it right and it was so worth it. every time I entered a new scenario I would just go into photo mode and appreciate the art because that’s what makes the game unforgettable and groundbreaking. the red lighting scenes were so perfectly made and so badass, the sky when ellie goes outside the farm with JJ is breathtaking just like every other view in the game. by far the most beautiful game I’ve ever had the honor to play.

STORYLINE (joel’s death)

the first game gave us a story about love and hope, making us guide joel into taking ellie to the fireflies looking for a cure based on ellie’s immunity. we spend the whole game thinking we’d get to the fireflies, make a cure and live happily ever after but that never happened in those terms. the gameplay made us slowly fall in love with joel and ellie as characters, joel for his tough personality that would fade under the influence of a little girl and ellie for her nativity and innocence as a young teenager who really wants to help other people by making a cure. that’s the whole situation of it, joel getting attached to ellie while she developed a paternal affection for him but in the end joel ends up doing an unforgivable thing, basically destroying the hope for a cure and ruining all hope for the world to heal from the outbreak, so he decides to lie to ellie blaming the fireflies for everything so he doesn’t lose her trust and love.

I do understand liking and loving joel as a character, myself included, because they made the game thinking about it and they knew the audience would develop a major caring for him and ellie as daughter and father, that’s how it was supposed to go and it worked it.

now let’s talk about joel’s death. I think we were all surprised to watch him die so early in the game but considering the game time and storyline, it would have never happened differently. his death was brutal, violent, merciless and inhuman, abby and her crew tortured him until he couldn’t take it anymore and he obviously suffered with ellie being held to the ground begging them to stop. I agree that it was a horrible death but we can’t just pretend joel was a sweet innocent hero because he wasn’t, the audience portrays him as a hero when he literally stopped the human race from being saved, killing the fireflies and acting out of pure selfishness. joel isn’t the angel some people paint him as, he’s not a good person and if ellie herself could never forgive him for what he did, who are we to do so? she said she would try but she never got the chance to and it took her years to even come to terms with it.

most importantly, it’s obvious that people forget these characters are human beings, not real people but they’re real in that universe and technically speaking, they run and feel the same way we would feel if we were in their shoes. they’re people, every character in the game is a person, with feelings, a background, a past, a personality and thoughts. they’re no different than us except for them living in a post apocalyptic world were morality and ethics aren’t taken into consideration since there is no law or living lifestyle.

for us to understand this storyline, we need to step away from our society’s view of morality and wrong or right, because that does not apply to them, everyone in the game has killed people and/or have done something morally questionable in their life since it’s the apocalypse and there is no wrong or right, there’s only how the characters feel about certain situations and how they act on them, which is basically what guides the entire game to happening the way it did: human feelings.

joel obviously changed after the first game, since he starts living in jackson and having to raise ellie as a daughter in a relatively normal town with other people, he’s not the same person as he was in part I, now he turned into a father and a friend, not a merciless mercenary who doesn’t care about others. we see that when he and tommy decide to help abby, a complete stranger who was about to die in the hands of infected, and maybe that’s what led people into hating abby with their heart. but ending this topic, joel’s death was bound to happen, you can’t just expect someone to destroy the world’s hope for a cure and leave with no people being angry at him and wanting revenge, that cure could’ve saved many people’s loved ones but he chose to save his loved one. if joel is indeed a terrible person or not, that’s up to you to decide, that’s more of an internal turmoil within yourself that is different for everyone depending on their experience from part I and how they view joel in the end. it’s kind of messed up if you think about it, would you let the only person you care about die for a not confirmed chance of a cure in a world that is already doomed? that’s a question for yourself.

joel’s death happened so you could see things from multiple perspectives, which is the whole fucking point of the game. there are multiple sides to every story, it’s the same world we live in except in different circumstances. your actions affect others, people have feelings and if you hurt them they might act a certain way, those characters are no different than us because they were based on genuine human thoughts and actions.

ELLIE (growth and development)

ellie is one of the most well written characters I’ve ever seen in my life. she’s the symbol of badass but fragile woman and that’s so amazing to me. as the game goes by we start seeing many sides of ellie, she slowly starts to turn into a completely different person after joel’s death and her urge for revenge. killing abby becomes her main priority the second she leaves jackson and that’s clear in the way she acts and treats others. I’ll have to play the game again to pay more attention to ellie and abby’s behavior throughout the timeline. ellie is the reflection of how the excessive amount of effort you put into a negative thought, the more it will bring you and your loved ones down. watching ellie during the story is such a nice experience, there are times where you love her to death, others you get annoyed with her or don’t agree with how she acts, and that’s exactly how the creators wanted you to feel. revenge takes ellie’s soul from the inside out, from her not being able to forgive herself for letting joel die to her going after abby for nothing but hate for herself in the end.

ellie’s journey is exciting to play and to witness as her relationship with other people (specially dina) starts to fade away and being consumed by hate and regret. we were manipulated into loving ellie since part I and I don’t think she’s a bad person, she lost everything in the hands of other people and went through a lot, losing joel was a deal breaker for her but she just didn’t realize soon enough that killing abby wasn’t going to make things better. ellie’s gameplay was meant to make you reflect on losing a loved one, grief, mourning and revenge, she’s not the lost kid from part I anymore, she’s a grown woman who just lost her dad and she doesn’t even know exactly why. the funny thing for me, which is what makes the story realistic, is that ellie didn’t fully forgive joel yet she still suffered from losing him and went after abby for revenge, when not even herself could forgive him, that’s pretty realistic in my opinion. it’s the human uncontrollable instinct of still missing someone you’re mad at and not being able to say goodbye.

for me, ellie is the perfect and most detailed reflection of revenge and what it can do to you. the game is much more than “revenge is bad don’t do it”, we all obviously know it’s bad but we still have an urge to fight back against it and make the person who hurt us suffer too because it’s not fair for us and it wasn’t fair for ellie until the very last moment.

ABBY (point of view and perspective)

by far the most controversial character of the game. I’ll star off saying I actually like abby and I think the people who hate her so deeply just didn’t understand how things go. hating abby is no different than hating ellie, they’re in the same situation for almost the entire game. abby lost her father in joel’s hands, she was still a teenager and seeing her own dad die for trying to save humanity isn’t easy, just like ellie watching joel being tortured and killed wasn’t easy. being fully honest ellie would’ve done the same thing abby did if joel was the doctor and we can’t deny that.

on the other hand, I do think the ellie and abby gameplays could’ve been distributed better, maybe switching from ellie to abby and back and forth so it wouldn’t get too tiring or confusing since we don’t know the exact timeline when we first play it. that’s the only slightly negative thing I have to say about the game.

I do think abby is a great character, they built her perfectly to make the audience hate her in the begging, painting her as a sadistic monster only to show her side of the story later on in the game and make you realize that you have been wrong all this time, making you see the bigger picture and understand that ellie isn’t the only person in the world, she isn’t loved by everyone, she’s just a girl in the world and so is abby. they both have fucked up pasts and they both lost a lot, and in terms of personality, they’re actually quite similar. we love ellie because we got to see her grow up and WE know that deep down she’s not a bad person, the first impression we had of abby was of her recklessly killing joel with a golf club when ellie was begging her to stop, since that we tend to think abby is a horrible person and that ellie is an angel, but it’s not like that at all. obviously ellie didn’t do anything wrong up to that moment to justify that happening to her, but ellie isn’t the best person in the world either.

the duality in this game was created on purpose and with a deeper meaning, ellie is ellie, abby is abby and the cycle of revenge goes on until both parts understand that it’s useless to keep going. abby let go before ellie could and let her and dina live because of lev, killing joel didn’t change abby to the better, lev changed her. tommy couldn’t change ellie, jesse couldn’t change ellie and not even dina could do it, ellie had to change and forgive herself alone. the point I’m trying to make is that abby is no better than ellie and ellie is no better than abby, they’re both emotionally drained women who are not wrong or right in the end of things.

DINA (support and reflection)

dina is the only character I will 100% defend because she’s flawless and did absolutely nothing wrong during the whole game. in my head she represents ellie’s good side, dina is the constant reminder that ellie hasn’t lost her humanity and hasn’t completely changed into someone else because of revenge, even when she has her downs (example: calling her a burden when dina says she’s pregnant). dina is the most forgiving and loyal character, she loves ellie more than anything and it shows. the sad part of it is that even with dina’s huge amount of love and affection, that doesn’t stop ellie from going in the wrong direction, which brings us to another life lesson: loving someone is a choice you make everyday and nobody can control your choices when you’re determined to do something.

ellie decided to go after abby, dina followed and supported her the whole way through, then she took that for granted and left dina and JJ behind to go after abby again (after abby let her and dina live) officially breaking dina’s heart. that was a choice, dina obviously cared so much about ellie, loved her so much but she couldn’t change ellie’s mind. but the point here is that dina is a reflection of ellie’s bright side, she keeps ellie sane until the very last moment, saving her life multiple times, going with her in a revenge journey, “you go, I go, end of story”, telling the wolves to fuck off and staying by ellie’s side, constantly putting her life at risk while being pregnant, she has loves ellie for such a long time even before getting with jesse (you can read ellie’s journal where she says cat told her dina is jealous of their relationship) and she probably took ellie back when she came back from santa barbara (a theory that I believe in because it makes sense).

dina is one of the few positive ends in the universe of the last of us, highly optimistic, funny, beautiful and an amazing support system for ellie. if it weren’t for dina, ellie would’ve become a monster.

LGBTQ+ REPRESENTATION (ellie x dina and lev)

it’s 2020 and people are still talking shit about the game just because of queer characters. that’s why I say people who hate the game are people who either didn’t capture the story or just didn’t even try to pay attention because of a closed mindset bigot sandwiches. representation is the best path to general acceptance, making people see different stories and realize that someone’s gender or sexuality does not influence on the quality of art.

ellie is a lesbian, that’s clear in the game when she says she’s “not into jessie’s type” (such a nice dialogue by the way), she talks about her ex girlfriend and clearly has had a crush on dina for the longest time (probably the reason why she broke up with cat).

dina is bisexual, in my opinion she always had a crush on ellie but maybe she lost motivation to to after her when she started to get close to cat and started talking to jessie because of that and it ended up working.

now dina and ellie’s relationship is probably the only thing that keeps us sane throughout the game, when we sit down to think “thank god ellie has dina, that means she’s not alone”, which is basically the whole concept of it, ellie not being alone because dina is there to hold her to the ground and stop her from becoming someone she doesn’t want to be.

lev being trans is something I can‘t have an opinion on, I have seen both sides: people saying it was a good approach and others saying it wasn’t an accurate representation. I’m not trans so my opinion isn’t valid and I can definitely see why many people think it was a bad reach but I also can see the other side, so I won’t comment on that.

the nice thing about representation in this game is that they brought it up as a normal thing, the only moment the focus is sexuality is when seth was being a dick and called dina the d-word, ellie got defensive but dina stopped her from getting into a fight. even then the main focus of that situation was how ellie dealt with joel saying she didn’t need his help. the point was never ellie’s sexuality, never, not even in a single moment, because it was never an issue. in a post apocalyptic society people don’t pay much attention to being homophobes (unless they’re in a fanatic religious cult or just assholes like seth).

the game approached the subject very bluntly but in a normal way, not making it that huge of a deal but it is a big deal for those who seek comfort and/or are dealing with their sexuality in a way. if a character they admire ends up being part of a minority group, they can relate to that and feel more comfortable in their own skin. we’re here, we’re real and we exist even in a fucked up infected world.

ENDING + THOUGHTS (moving on)

the last of us part II is a story about revenge, being completely different than part I which is a story about love and surviving. what happens in the second game are the consequences of the first, the choices joel made reflected upon himself, saving ellie costed everything; the cure, people’s lives and maybe a brighter future. people who are bashing the game for it’s storyline and how things went down need to understand that it’s not because we love joel that his actions didn’t matter to others. joel is a human being, so is abby and those who got harmed by joel’s choice to save ellie. joel killed abby’s dad, abby went after him for revenge, a predictable and reasonable thing to do if you just try to see it from her point of view, keep in mind that ellie would do the same exact thing.

if you can’t get yourself to see things from other people’s point of view, you missed the whole point of the game. the storyline isn’t summed up in “revenge is bad don’t do it kids”, it’s just based on the fact that death can never and will never bring you any sort of relief.

the game is the reflection of the cycle of revenge. abby going after joel for killing her dad, ellie going after abby and killing all of her friends in the process, abby finally breaks the cycle letting ellie and dina live but ellie couldn’t get over the guilt and went after abby again, yet she ended up letting her ago and officially breaking the chain for good.

the whole concept of the game is how seeking someone else’s suffering can lead to full destruction of someone’s character and values.

if ellie had killed abby she would’ve turned into the monster she was fighting against and she would lose literally everything she hadn’t already lost: her humanity. I don’t actually know the exact reason that compelled ellie to let abby go, maybe it was losing her fingers and realizing that she’ll never be able to play guitar again, which was her very last memory of joel and what he taught her. it could also be thinking of lev and how he’s the only thing abby has and vice versa, which is what she had with joel and what was taken from her, therefore she didn’t want to turn into the person who put someone through the same pain she was going through. technically if she killed abby she would have to kill lev to avoid him coming after her and continuing the cycle and doing that would kill ellie even more.

to make this shorter, abby moved on earlier than ellie. mostly because abby actually got her revenge killing joel but you gotta look through things before you put all the blame on her. ellie lost everyone in her life, her parents, riley, tess, sam and then joel, going after abby was a defense mechanism since she couldn’t have done anything to save those she lost before, but losing the one who took care and raised her was something she couldn’t bare, specially when she thought joel was the only person she had even though they weren’t in good terms and she and dina weren’t a thing yet.

ellie needed to revenge joel at all costs because that’s what she thought he would want, but in the end she realizes he would want her to move on and be happy, because that’s what he always tried to give her: the best shot in life that he couldn’t give sarah. ellie thought that by killing abby she would be able to let go, when in reality she would just feel more guilty for leaving lev alone like she was having no emotional relief concerning her PTSD. ellie got to that beach fully aware that killing abby wasn’t going to solve any of her problems, but a single memory of joel made her make the decision that she wasn’t going to let her go without a fight. their final fight was silent, in the middle of nowhere, they had absolutely nothing to say to each other because they were both fighting for nothing but excessive mental emptiness. they both knew that nothing would bring their loved ones back and they were ready to move on.

what the game wants to teach you is that nothing good comes from searching revenge and other’s suffering. ellie gets consumed by her own view of justice and ends up losing herself both inside and outside, when she comes to terms with the fact that killing abby won’t bring joel back from the dead, it’s already too late. she lost jessie, her friendship with tommy, her good memories with joel, her fingers which results in her not being able to play guitar anymore, the love of her life and her son.

in the last of us part one ellie says that her biggest fear is to end up alone, and the saddest part of all is that her actions led her to making that fear come true. the ending is ambiguous, it can mean something different to different people depending on what you choose to interpret things and how you view the characters. for some, ellie could just end up alone looking for a life purpose that doesn’t involve anyone from her past. to others, ellie returned to jackson and proved dina that she loved her and that now she’s ready to fully commit because she let go of her anger and is at peace with herself and her inner struggles. but that’s all up to you to decide what you want to believe in.

at the end of the day, this storyline is beautiful, heartbreaking, breathtaking and emotionally draining. it makes you think and open your mind to new perspectives, which is honestly one of the best things art is able to do, create a new universe for you to deep your thoughts in and take your own conclusions. the last of us didn’t have a bad or good ending, it had a realistic ending. just because they didn’t make this the way you wanted it doesn’t mean the writing is bad, it means you’re probably disappointed and that’s fine, but hating on it isn’t the way to make a point.

I can only thank everyone involved for creating this world and making me so invested in it, connecting me with these amazing characters and emotions that I never experienced playing a game before. there is nothing more to say except: endure and survive.

[starlessskies94]

Consequence (Joel Miller x OC)

Summary: What if Joel survived his injuries from the Abby and Fireflies attack but ends up with really bad amnesia. He can’t remember his wife, Ellie, or the Outbreak; only before. How will his family bring back the man they once knew?

Pairing: Joel Miller x OC

Note: Okay this is a big one, I wrote this over the course of like 3 days I think? Anyway I hope you like it because it's probably the longest chapter I've ever written for one of my stories <3

Chapter One

It was just five in the morning when Adaline Miller woke up. Her head still a little groggy from a decent night’s sleep and her fading dreams. She turned to see Joel still asleep beside her; his gentle snores muffled into his pillow. She smiled and leaned over kissing his bare shoulder before rolling out of bed to get ready for her day.

Stepping downstairs towards the kitchen, Ada realised just how cold it was when she noticed how frosted over the windows had become overnight. Ada hated winter. It was her least favourite season. After everything that had happened almost five years ago it wasn’t hard to understand why. Even now she still sometimes had nightmares about it.

Waking up to find Joel cold in his bed; his stomach wound torn open. Blood everywhere. Or finding Ellie beaten and bruised, left alone in that burned out restaurant.

Joel had always been there to console her, holding her until she calmed down. His voice low to just a whisper as he told her everything was okay. She was safe. He was there and he wasn’t ever going to leave.

It was a comfort she appreciated even after being married to the man for just under four years.

Stepping through into the kitchen, the brunette quickly got to work preparing some eggs on the stove for breakfast before moving across the counter to make up a pot of coffee for herself and Joel. She still wasn’t totally sure what her husband had traded for the beans; but Joel had seemed rather embarrassed by it for some reason. Though after finally getting to taste coffee again after so long, she didn’t much care she supposed. After the hot water was boiled she poured the beverage out, setting aside Joel’s favourite owl mug for when he came down.

Joel had always been an early riser and more often than not, he was almost always the one that beat her to the kitchen in the morning. It had taken some time after settling in Jackson to actually get the man to finally relax a little. It was unfortunate for Ada that he had taken that to mean ‘no sleeping in past seven’. Even on days off, Joel was up before the sun. Lucky Ada had found her own ways to at least keep him in bed past seven on those days; sleeping or otherwise. Thankfully Joel never complained.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the creaking of the stairs as Ada glanced up to meet eyes with Joel. His arms stretched above his head and suppressing a yawn. He stepped through the door, his hand dropping to scratch at his bearded chin.

“Morning darlin’.” Joel slurred, heading straight for his coffee mug. “Hold on...why are you dressed already?” Ada questioned. Her egg covered spoon gesturing at him in his winter gear. Joel followed her gaze, his brows raised in confusion. “I thought you weren’t on patrol until this afternoon.” She clarified.

“Oh yeah...forgot to tell you last night. Change of plans. Tommy’s gotten word of a horde gathering near the ski lodge.” He explained between sips, leaning against the counter, crossing one foot over the over. “Reckon we needed to deal with it quickly before it gets to be a problem.”

Ada pouted but said nothing, her gaze turning from Joel back to her scrambled eggs on the stove. Joel sighed abandoning his mug on the side as he moved across towards her. His arms wrapping around her waist and resting his chin over her shoulder.

“I can hear you thinking.” He said lowly into her ear. But again Ada said nothing. He sighs moving to kiss her neck but she turns her head away as he does.

He hates this. He hates when she worries. It’s always the same routine when he heads out for clean up duty. Clearing out infected is never an easy job but it is what keeps Jackson safe. They both know that. But still whenever he’s due to leave for another job, Ada goes quiet. She’s distant and he fucking hates it.

It was the same when Ellie first asked to train for patrol, they’d been reluctant. And while they were both well aware of Ellie’s skills and her strength; it was still hard watching their baby girl in such a hurry to go out alone without them.

His arms around her waist squeeze gently as he pulls her close to his chest, his head over her shoulder stealing a kiss on her cheek.

“Baby please stop worrying, I’ll be fine.” He knew it was a foolish thing to promise because the world they lived in wasn’t safe. You never knew what the next day would bring. But if there was anything in this world Joel would find to fight for; it was coming home to his wife. His family.

Ada dumped the cooked eggs onto the plates laid out, they were a little burned on the edges. She hadn’t been paying that much attention to them if she was honest. Then turned in her husband’s arms to face him.

“Back by dinner or I kick your ass.” She warned playfully. “Deal.” He chuckled, pulling her close as their lips met in a kiss.

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It didn’t take long for Ada to get to the stables when she’d finished breakfast. After reluctantly pulling herself from Joel’s arms; they’d both parted ways as the older man went to meet his brother at the gate.

She’d quickly threw herself into her list of jobs for the day, hoping it would take her mind off her worry.

“Morning Max.” She smiled at the stable hand, walking through to the back room. “Mornin’ Ada, whadda we got today?” he grinned in reply, his frame leaning through the door as she tidied her workspace. Collecting all her notes and paperwork together.

“Well Daisy has been lame for a couple days so she needs to stay on box rest. Then I need King and Blue tacked up before noon.” She explained, her eyes never leaving the sheets of paper in her hand. “Bob and Maggie are headed out on patrol so they need them ready before half twelve.”

“You got it boss!” Max assured with a joyful grin, sending her a mock salute. She chuckled at the old man as he disappeared from the doorway, but she quickly caught up to him, catching herself on the wooden frame.

“Oh! Could you also take Barnaby out into the paddock this morning please? He had a touch of colic yesterday and I want to keep his gut moving to make sure it’s passed.” She explained. Max simply nodded and turned to make a start on his duties. Ada always liked Max. He was an older gentleman, around seventy years old but still incredibly fit for his age. He’d arrived in Jackson a few years after herself, Ellie and Joel. Along with his grandsons from somewhere near Montana. Having the experience of running his own ranch before the Outbreak; he’d been the perfect fit to help Ada run the stables and take care of the horses.

She continued through until around nine o’ clock, just making the finishing touches to the poultice she’d wrapped around the gelding’s leg she was treating. “There ya go buddy.” She cooed sweetly, giving the horse a soft scratch behind the ears as he nickered in reply.

“Morning Ada!” A familiar voice greeted as the brunette moved to close the stable door closed behind her. “Morning Dina, you out on patrol this morning?”

“Yep, heading out on the creek trails with Ellie.” She smiled, Ada quickly returning it as they both looked to Ellie walking through the door. “How’s my boy?” Dina asked, grabbing Ada’s attention once again.

“Oh he’s fine, Japan had a little mud fever but I think we got it under control now. He’s good to go. All tacked up for you with Max down there.” Dina gave her a quick thumbs up and threw a thanks over her shoulder as she ran down towards the back of the barn. Leaving the woman alone with her adoptive daughter who slowly trailed behind.

“Good morning sunshine. How are you feeling this morning?” She teased. Ellie rolled her eyes at her mother’s smirk.

“Oh jeez don’t. I already got half the town giving me weird looks.” She whined. After the dance the night before, her kiss with Dina, Seth drunk and aggressively harassing the girls; it had certainly been the talk of the town the following morning. Ellie was just hoping she could outlive the embarrassment.

“So you and Dina patrolling together huh? That should be interesting. Have you talked to her yet?” “Ugh mom stop!” Ellie hissed softly, her lips twitching into a subtle smile.

“What? I like her, she’s a sweet girl. You two would be so cute together.” The teen stifled a giggle as she playfully shoved her mom’s shoulder, the older woman chuckling in return. “Shut up.”

The laughter faded when Ada sighed in thought, Ellie glancing back knowing what was coming next. Her gaze immediately falling to her feet.

“You uh...you talk to Joel yet?” She asked cautiously. For the past two years; it had been a sore subject for Ellie whenever Ada brought Joel up in conversations. After finding out the truth back in Salt Lake; she’d been so angry at both of them for everything they had kept from her. But after learning that Joel had been the one that pulled the trigger. That one that had made that decision for all of them and acted alone, she’d declared she wanted nothing more to do with him. And while it had been hard for Ada to be stuck in the middle; she’d still tried her damn hardest to build a bridge between them.

“A little...but one conversation isn’t going to fix everything.” She mumbled. Her foot kicking at the mud covered floor, eyes never leaving the ground.

“It’s a start though. Baby he really misses you.” she said. “I know. I still don’t know if I can forgive him for what he did though. But I am willing to try.” Ellie said softly, her hands now pulling at her jacket sleeves. “I uh...I was thinking of maybe inviting him over for a movie night tomorrow. If that’s okay?”

Ada smiled at this. It had been hard with Ellie not speaking to Joel for so long, watching the man she loved struggle with losing a daughter that no longer wanted anything to do with him. It was obvious he was hurting even if he never said the words out loud. He missed Ellie, he’d be so grateful to hear she wanted to do movie night again, for the first time in so long.

“Of course it is. When you get back from patrol we’ll figure something out okay? Joel’s out with Tommy but he should be back by dinner.”

Ellie simply nodded with a timid smile before turning towards Max waiting with Shimmer.

“Hang on, gotcha some lunch. I still worry you ain’t eating enough.” Ada shouted after her, reaching into her backpack to hand her daughter the pack of food she’d prepared.

“Thank you!” Dina called before Ellie had the chance to reply, swiping the pack out of Ada’s hand. “Hey! She said my lunch!” Ellie poked in jest. The teen simply scoffed peaking through the bag to see what was inside. “Our lunch...there’s plenty for both of us. Let’s see; turkey sandwiches, nice.” Dina continued snooping through the pack while Ellie merely rolled her eyes as Ada stood with folded arms smirking at the two. They really were cute together.

“Oh shit! No way, Ellie there’s cookies in here! Awesome! Thanks Ada!”

Ada laughed at Dina’s joy as Ellie reluctantly followed behind, snatching the packed lunch back and stuffing it into her bag before Dina could complain.

“Ugh I haven’t had cookies since I was a kid. I fucking love your mom, she’s just the best.” Dina complimented as she mounted Japan, taking the reins and walking the gelding out into the snow, Ellie not far behind on Shimmer. The young girl turned back to take one last glance at her mother brushing down another horse, a smile lighting up her face.

“Yeah, yeah she is.” Ellie agreed.

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After such an early start, Ada was pleased when the day was beginning to draw to an end. She’d not stopped the whole day and she was tired.

When the time came to feed and bed down the horses for the night, she was more than ready to head home, eat dinner, maybe snuggle up to Joel on the couch to watch a movie and call it a day. She’d already sent Max home to his boys when she finished up the last of her routine checks to close up the barn; when she’d been ambushed by both Jesse and Dina.

They both looked terrified, Dina with tear stained cheeks and Jesse breathless and shell shocked like he’d just run for miles without taking a second to breathe.

The brunette couldn’t remember much of what was said when they’d bombarded her with information. Only that something bad had happened and it had happened to Joel.

A thousand thoughts had rushed through her head at once. A flash of images muddled with the white noise that squealed in her ears the closer she ran towards the infirmary. Her nightmare was coming true and she felt like she was drowning. Lost in a dark ocean of uncertainty, falling without a lifeline to hold on to.

When she burst through the doors, Tommy was the first to reach her. She winced aghast at seeing his injuries. His swollen black eye, the deep bloodied gash on his forehead. She felt numb as her brother in law explained what had happened. What those bastards had done to her husband. Shot and beaten mercilessly. Her heart ached, her eyes raw from the tears she’d cried. And what made the whole thing worse, was that Ellie had been there to see the whole thing.

Ada had tried to brace herself before stepping into Joel’s room, her hand trembling as she reached for the handle. Ellie was sat slumped over his bedside, her hand clinging to his as he lay unconscious. The scuff of her mother’s boots grabbing her attention as she rose to her feet and met her halfway when Ada rushed towards her with open arms.

“Mom!” Ellie whimpered and it reminded her all too much of that night all those years ago. Ada squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled Ellie closer, her heart beating in her ears.

“Oh baby girl.” She soothed, her hand gently stroking her back for comfort. “I tried…” Ellie hiccuped. “I tried to stop them. I begged them to stop but they wouldn’t listen. And I told Joel to get up, just fucking get up.” Her voice broke as the girl choked back another sob and Ada couldn’t help her own tears as she listened silently. Gently guiding Ellie back to Joel’s bedside so she could sit, all the while the mother never once letting go of her daughter.

“I told him to get up, but it was like he’d just given up.” She explained quietly. Her shaking hands reaching up to wipe at her sore bloodshot eyes. Her cheeks and nose reddened from her tears. “The doctor said he needs to be asleep for a while, something about something needing time to settle?! I don’t fucking know!” She shouted in frustration, almost collapsing from exhaustion in her chair.

Ada merely nodded solemnly. Tommy had partly explained before she’d rushed to Joel. The doctor had insisted on keeping Joel sedated to give the brain time to heal itself while the swelling subsides. Ada just hoped it wouldn’t take too long for him before he was able to wake up.

As the night drew on Ellie had finally given in to her fatigue, stretching on the old beat up couch in the corner of the room. Tommy had thoughtfully brought her a blanket and a bag of clothes for the girls before heading home himself, Ada swearing that she would send Ellie the second they had any news on his brother.

It wasn’t until then that Ada had the still and the silence of the night did she truly take in Joel’s injuries. His leg, broken and mangled. It had been a damn miracle that they’d even be able to save it. But there had been a reasonable amount of confidence it would eventually heal, though Joel would definitely have some difficulty getting around at first and most likely a permanent limp afterwards; he was damn lucky in that respect.

His head injuries however were a different story. There were still flecks of dried blood in patches of his dark head where the club had struck. Patches of hair cut away, close to the scalp in order to reach the violent blows into his crown. Deep cuts and dark bruises covered his handsome face. A good chunk of his ear was missing, she’d noticed as she softly brushed her fingers through his hair in a feeble attempt to clean him up. It had been treated and neatly stitched but would most likely leave a scar.

Her lips trembled as a quiet sob worked its way up into her throat, her eyes blurred from the welling tears the longer she looked at him.

She should have been there...Why hadn’t she been there?!

The days went by and Joel still hadn’t woken up. The doctor took him off sedation a few days after the attack, in the hopes he would come around on his own. The endless nights slowly dragging by, each holding with it a suffocating pause that felt to be drawing out longer and longer. Like the string of a bow, pulling tighter and tighter until it was closely reaching its breaking point, a moment of holding strong until it was too much to bear.

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It had been exactly nine days later when Joel eyelids flickered. His fingers twitched and convulsed as he finally began to regain consciousness.

A string of mumbles and panicked gasps uttered from his dry lips as he stirred awake. And Ellie and Ada were right there beside him. The young girl skidding on her heel as she took off through the door in order to grab Tommy.

“Joel? Can you hear me?” Ada asked delicately. Her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Tentatively reaching out to place her hand upon his as he moved to face her with squinted eyes.

“Wher...Where?” He tried to speak. His voice low and rough like gravel. It strained against his dry throat. Ada quickly moving to his bedside to help him drink from the glass of water placed beside him.

He winced but managed a few mouthfuls before lowering himself back down against his pillow. His tired eyes darted around the room, breath quickening and short the more the confusion set in as to how he’d ended up there.

“You're in the infirmary. You were out with Tommy and were attacked.” Ada explained carefully, Joel’s eyes drifting back towards her sat by his bedside. “Was anyone else hurt?” He asked. “Tommy got roughed up a little, bump on the head and a black eye. Couple of bruised ribs but he’ll be fine.”

Joel simply nodded at the information. His eyes never leaving Ada.

“Is Sarah okay? I assume she’s with Tommy, could you call her? Tell her I’m okay…” He spoke so casually, Ada almost didn’t hear what he’d said. But yet there was no change in his eyes as he asked the question. “How long do you reckon till I can head home?”

This question made Ada stop cold. Her heart slowing and her breath catching in her throat.

“Joel... do you know who I am?”

He looked at her like she was crazy, the confusion met in the touching of his dark brows creasing with his forehead. “Yeah, you’re my doctor.”

It was at that moment Ada almost collapsed. When she realised there was truly no hint of recognition in Joel’s eyes as he stared at her.

Her worst fear realised; her own husband saw her as a stranger.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Favored ones, Part 1. (Joel Miller x Fem!reader)

Description: When you spend every evening with someone who's deeply under your skin, a certain relationship can be developed. So it's crushing for Joel when Y/N suddenly disappears. But there's way more to the relationship that one would've guessed.

A/N: I love me a knife dad, sis.

A/N 2: This is just a chapter that will introduce you to the series and by the time, we will lay into deeper layers; as always, lmao. Also a subtle Far Cry 5 reference. Very subtle, you might not even catch it.

Warnings: Surviving the cordyceps apocalypse, enduring and surviving, an attack of some sort, will explain later.

Word count: 2.6 K

Tagging: @missdictatorme @xxgoldenhour @nemodoren

Also - if you would like to get tagged, don't be shy babe, just tell me.

If you like this story, please, more parts can be found here! :): H E R E

Around December 2038:

What was the worst part of the outbreak?

One would've thought it would be those who were infected by cordyceps. Some would answer that the worst thing which happened was the moment when the government broke completely down and when the society had crumbled to shit. Other people would tell you that the scariest thing for them to overcome was the cruelty of other people, them forming gangs, stealing from others, killing others to survive. Cannibalism, chaos.

But for one man it was the memories that took a hold on him. He was still scared of the nightmares that were crawling through his brain and subconsciousness. It was a dream that was playing in a fucking loop.

He saw his very own child, his little baby girl and angel shining through his darkness, his daughter Sarah being shot over and over and over again. It happened a thousand times till that very day and even if Joel found a way to endure and survive, he was still visiting the past in his mind.

It was over twenty-five years ago and yet he remembered every last detail of that night. Joel never felt such a painful loss in his entire life.

He found new people who he learned to love as the time passed, even if it wasn't exactly easiest to move on, he found new purposes and things he could do, but there was only one Sarah. No-one could replace her.

But to be fair, even if the twenty-five years of surviving took a hold on him, his physique and mental health, his experience was priceless. Nothing could be better than being taught by a professional.

So when he and Ellie settled down in Jackson County five years ago, he earned the people's trust when he decided to help them out with practical training. He was a master smuggler and survivor after all.

Sometimes, he got a bunch of kiddos in a class to teach them how to shoot with bow and gun in self-defense, other times they had a biology class and Joel taught them how to properly hunt an animal and how to cut its throat.

When Joel was in a really good mood, he was playing some old tunes on his guitar to them. But that happened truly rarely. Rather never than often.

As time passed, Joel could say who's in his group only to annoy him because he was such an old asshole and who is there to actually listen to what he was saying.

There were two small boys, twins, around the age of thirteen who loved fauna and flora. There was a sixteen-year-old girl who was willing to take guitar lessons. And then there was a girl, rather a woman, just a few years older than Ellie, who loved to learn how to shoot with a bow.

There was no other person so similar to Ellie, a girl who he practically adopted. That girl, her name was Y/N and she was born in Jackson County, was fiery and witty, quick with her responses and pretty tough cookie on the outside.

Even if Joel would not address the situation properly, the others began to notice - trips to the woods with Joel to hunt, practically everyday personal training from Joel to shoot with a bow. People began to spread the news quickly, it spread like a wildfire. The other day, there were jokes when you slowly approached your study session with the other ones from your town.

"Well if it ain't the miss I will get into your pants, huh?" - Jesse, your longtime friend joked while he prepared a saddle on his horse's back.

"Smelling nice, looking fucking fresh and I'm ready to take a hike." - You looked at your horse, a white one with one big black dot on near its left eye and you gave him a carrot so it could chew something. You called it Sadie and you knew that animal since you were a small kid. - "There was some hot water left yesterday around two a.m.. The best shower of the year."

"Hike on a horse?" - Dina, another of your friends, added and rose her eyebrows as she watched you. - "You still don't have a clue hikes work, do you?"

"Well, nobody said I'm the smartest, but in conclusion, fuck all of you." - You said with your head held high. Typical you - not having some valid arguments, so you cursed them out. - "Thanks for having a conversation with me, I very much appreciate it."

"Oh, snowy morning, three jackasses and some cursing in the air. I feel like I'm home." - The last member of your group joined. Ellie had her denim jacket with wool inside, her hair was in a bun and she looked like she hasn't slept an hour that night.

You whistled and sooner than you could stop yourself, your brain began to make connections and conclusions. Dina wasn't looking exactly fresh as well, so they have been together. Jesse was looking like a panther just ready to strike and kill his prey, so he and Dina had broken up once again.

Holy shit. If your calculations were right, it meant that...

"Don't tell me that you two are fucking." - You shouted with laughter, pointing at both of them. Ellie's eyes widened, Dina panicked and it all happened in the one exact same moment. - "Holy motherfucking shit, guys. I know that you're into licking holes, girls, but this was way sooner than we expected. You talked about it like... Yesterday. Nice. Good job!"

"Y/N, language." - You heard the voice of your mentor who you began to recognize amongst everyone else talking to you silently. It was Joel, looking like a bag of hot trash and smelling like local whiskey. - "We have children here. Alright?"

"I'm sorry. It just took me by a surprise. Not gonna happen again, I swear." - You looked down on your lumberjack shoes and smiled innocently.

It was hard to get under your skin - but Joel was deeply under it. He had grown to your brain over the last few months. It was one of the few adults you listened to willingly.

"Holy moly." - Jesse took advantage of that situation when Joel was out of the range to hear your bickering. - "Look how tamed she is for that old man. Never seen her like that. Wanna get a pat on the back of your head from Ellie's old man for being such a good girl?"

"Keep telling that to yourself, country boy." - You bickered back and hopped into the saddle, smoothing your horse's neckline. - "You never gonna get a single touch on all of this. This is VIP stuff." - You pointed at yourself and made your horse gallop to the gate.

The twins were sitting on one horse, ironically called the Rabbit, there was also a few other kids from the neighborhood. But today was different - while Joel took the other kids to teach them how to survive in the freezing cold temperatures while the trio will be guarding them against any wildlife or infected attack, you will hunt on your own.

The first time Joel had actually let that happen - you were out to near cities to find some things that may come handy in groups on daily, scheduled bases, but to hunt on your own in the toughest winter? Never happened to you before.

"So, just as we agreed?" - You looked down on Joel who's back were turn to you and smiled. You had a winter coat on, so your face with reddened cheeks and nose was barely visible. But even though, Joel came to your horse and caressed its side while looking you in the eyes.

"Yeah, just as we agreed. Stay in the area of the mapped roads and be back on time. No unexpected things today, I beg you." - Joel spoke silently, which made you smile wider.

"How many times we've been into the woods, big guy? I know those places like the back of my hand. I will be okay and I will behave well, I promise." - You winked at him and when nobody was paying attention, the tips of your fingers subtly brushed against his hand. It was just a second, small moment, almost invisible to most of the people around you.

You secretly lived for that - the big secret you held, the anticipation about what will happen when you'll be at home that night tickling every nerve in your body, the danger of anybody finding out. 

But you just looked in front of your horse as Joel stepped further away.

"I would say you behave. Safety first. You see something you can't shoot with a bow or kill with a knife, you run. Won't you be cold out there?" - Joel caught your stare one last time and you laughed a little. You were cold as shit even now, but because of your pride and anticipation, you would not say it out loud.

"Wouldn't you wanna know, old man?" - Then you rose up the sleeve to show him your watch. - "Got my timer set and bow steady, time to go. See you somewhere around Whitetail, Joel."

And with that, you rode out of the city's gates, slowly and steady through the pretty deep snow. And so, it was happening - your first-time real hunting session. Without Ellie, Jesse, Dina, the elders or Joel. Only you and the forest.

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You could feel that you're one with nature around you. The snow was cracking under your weight as you slowly walked from tree to tree. Your body felt tensed up and the tips of the fingers tapped and brushed the bow and arrow in your hands.

At those moments, the world felt quiet and peaceful. Only the innocent white color was surrounding you, sometimes disrupted with brown or green, those were the trees. A few brackens were moving silently as the snow was falling on it.

You stepped forward again and looked around you, slowly exhaling out. You didn't want the mist out of your lips to cover your surroundings so you learned how to breathe slowly. That was of the things that Joel was teaching you since spring.

There were no misty breaths in March or April, but it definitely occurred in November and December. You needed to be careful with breathing. And shaky, cold fingers - that was when you needed gloves with cut off fingertips, so you could use at least the big portion of your fingers.

Just like that, you caught a glimpse of a rabbit running two to three feet away from you, not minding you at all. You dropped lower on your knees and you felt as the snow slowly froze them down. Your eyes carefully watched the movements of the rabbit.

If you get really lucky, you might even find it's lair. Ah shit, three to six rabbits on your first hunt? That would be a fucking jackpot. And you would prove yourself in Joel's eyes. So you decided to follow that small, furry animal with small steps and subtle movements.

You didn't even make rushed motions with your feet to keep the quietest you were capable of. But the rabbit only seemed to be running around and gathering some old, yellow grass. But then it got into a fast pace, but you knew that nothing is lost.

Just follow its footprints. That was actually the easiest technique when you hunt, Joel repeated countless times.

The following of the rabbit's trail took you almost half an hour before you stood in front of its lair.

Holy motherfucking shit. You actually made it. A lair of rabbits just in front of you. You heard them inside of it, moving and crawling, sniffing and making slow subtle movements. Just as you were taught to do it - stick your hands inside the lair and caught one of these little fuck's ears and drag them out and slice them.

But stand in front of the hole they could escape with. They would be too afraid to come out of it. Just like that, you had four dead rabbits in your hand. You walked with them to Sadie, smiling wickedly. Four fucking rabbits. Who would have thought?

But when you were too occupied with pinning the rabbits into the horse's back, you caught a glimpse of something interesting behind it. You saw a human being, probably a man, walking behind the tree.

"Hey, are you from Jackson County?" - You asked in a sharp voice. If it would've been someone you knew, they wouldn't be creeping up behind your back like that. So you controlled the knife you had behind your belt and furrowed your look in the direction where you saw them for the last time.

There were a lot of trees there, so you could probably catch some glimpses, but nothing was for sure. So you prepared your bow in the case of need. It wasn't Runners or Clickers, they even bother to sneak around. They would've attack immediately. The forest was unusually unsettling and quiet.

"Why don't you just come here and talk to me?" - You asked unsurely again. You played with the bow and looked around. - "Can you stop fucking with me and just come out?"

When you were almost about to snap, you froze when your ears caught another sound coming from behind your back. This was a fucking trap. And you caught the bait perfectly. You were so dumb.

Immediately, you jumped on Sadie's back and made her turn around so you could go back on the road as soon as possible.

But such terrible things can happen in a few seconds. Before you could even breath out, you felt as Sadie's legs lost the balance and as the horse crumbled down. Your legs fell from the saddle and the animal's body fell on yours for a second, but you couldn't breathe nonetheless. Both of you were falling from a hill - and it was a pretty bad fall.

When you laid in the ice-cold snow and tried to catch a breath, you realized your leg hurts too much. It was an immersive pain that made you scream out loud. It was broken.

And the guys who've been hunting you down were just slicing Sadie's throat.

---

"It's late. She should've been here an hour ago." - Jesse said to Deena. They've separated - Joel took he kids back inside and Ellie went to search for you in the area you talked about with Joel. Jesse and Deena stayed at Whitetail to wait if you don't come there.

"Come on. You know her. Maybe she found some good hunting spot?" - Dina said with a smile. Yeah. That was all you. Just to forget about time. There was probably nothing wrong with you. - "I bet she's just fine."

Just as she said that Jesse saw a glimpse of Ellie in the background. She was running as fast as she could and she was clearly scared for her dear life.

"I-I found Sadie, her horse." - Ellie stuttered, looking at both of them.

"Why didn't you bring him back? We could look into her logbook." - Jesse answered and Dina shook her head. - "She only wrote notes to her logbook when she was back in the town. She did write only when she was scheduled to go out. It wouldn't help at all."

"Dead. That horse is dead with an arrow in its knee and sliced throat. I do have any idea where she is." - And with that, they knew that they have to search for you immediately.

[sleepdepravity]

Arc 6.1 - D-D-D-D-Dead End

“What’s with this paper? It’s moving??”

Alpha Build 0.7, the newest tagalong, says, “It’s a vivre card, what’re you, an idiot?” Step does not appreciate this, but lets it slide for now as 0.7 explains what a vivre card is. The accompanying note just says, ‘We’ll be waiting for you, every man jack of us.’

“This must lead to the base of the Jacks or something,” Dina deduces. 

“Oh, good, now we know exactly where to avoid!” is Step’s conclusion. She also decides to hand Dina and 0.7 fistfuls of colored insubordination tokens while collecting one from Alfonse and Bru for jumping down the slide like idiots when she told them not to. Dina looks down at the sequins. “Uh, you know I’m not actually part of your crew, right? I’m working for Know Way? Remember?”

Step seems very shocked by this, but well, Dina’s group is the one supposedly paying them for the task Know Way asked them to do, so she doesn’t just kick this moocher off the ship.

0.7 just takes the insubordination token and says, “Gotcha.”

After setting sail, the sea of the Grand Line is cooperative...for about five minutes. 0.7, seemingly attuned to the weather, is able to warn everybody right as a wall of water eclipsing the sun appears in front of them. And then, it’s suddenly clear. And then, suddenly snow...

After three days, 0.7 sees a light approach. It is a raft, with a lamppost, a table, at which is seated an old woman, and upon which rests a crystal ball and a deck of cards.

“D’ya need help?” 0.7 calls down.

“Oh, no, but -- “

0.7 starts turning away.

“ -- wait, hold on! I would like to rest a while on your ship, please!”

0.7 shrugs and says, “Okay.”

“Woah woah, hey, hey! Who’s supposed to be captain again?” But the woman is already on board, her raft tied to the back of the ship.

Dina, noticing her equipment, rolls her eyes. “Oh. A fortune teller.”

“Why yes!” If the old lady notices her derision, she doesn’t let on. “And if you would do me the kindness of a meal, I would be willing to give you a free fortune!”

“Pass,” Alfonse and Dina says simultaneously.

“Free?” is Step’s response. “Someone make her something to eat!”

“I can,” is 0.7’s immediate response, and a little while later, they come back with a bowl of...possibly bread pudding. It is uncertain, because the bowl seems to be filled with something black and crusty, and it smells of fish. Unsurprisingly, the fortune teller is not willing to eat it.

“Point Seven...when you said that you could cook...did you actually know how to cook?” Ophelia asks.

“No.”

“H’okay, Point Seven’s not allowed in the kitchen anymore.”

“Well...I’m not really hungry anymore, which is...kind of like having a meal, so I’ll hold up my end and give you a group reading.”

The first card drawn is The Fool, “meaning new beginnings, the start of something...” 

The second card drawn is The Magician, “which means I forgot to shuffle the deck.”

With the deck newly shuffled, the reading starts anew.

The first card is The Sun; enlightenment, or a discovery. The second card is the Page of Pentacles, reversed, and the fortune teller’s face falls. “...Imminent bad fortune.” Third card, Three of Wands, reversed. An investment will be made, but must be wary of pitfalls. Fourth card is The Tower...which means imminent disaster 2, electric boogaloo. Fifth card The Devil, which could mean a figure coming into the picture with a negative influence, or a metaphor for stagnation. Sixth card is The Stars, reversed. More stagnation, and a loss of purpose.

A moment of silence. “These cards suck,” Ophelia remarks.

“Point Seven, this is your fault.”

“Sorry...”

“You should have seen the fortune of the crew I was with three weeks ago,” the fortune teller says, gathering up her cards indifferently. “Very good cards. The ‘Rowdy Crew’ they were called?”

“Of course,” Alfonse says, looking tired. Dina just snorts derisively at the idea that this fortune means anything to anybody.

“You’re such an obvious sham -- “ Dina starts, but the fortune teller, apparently already tired of this spiel, throws down a smoke bomb and disappears in the smoke. The plate and spoon has also disappeared, much to Alpha Build 0.7 and Step’s consternation, but Step is convinced that it’s trivial and 0.7 gets talked down.

“...Maybe I should leave the ship,” 0.7 says nervously.

“What -- because of the fortune? You know fortune-telling is fake, right?” says Step.

Sounding incredulous, 0.7 says, “Then...why would she say it?”

“People lie.”

“WHAT.” After a moment. “Should we beat her up?”

“No! Enough, let’s just keep going!”

A few days of sailing, and a warm breeze blows in. The ship manages to avoid a bad storm. The crew sees ships sailing in the distance, but none of them get close. And then after a week, land.

The island seems to be an average summer island, one town, a port, some wilderness around the sides. The town is very colorful, but as the crew’s ship approaches they can see the townspeople scurry indoors. Except for four people standing at the docks, no weapons, matching clothes, a white shirt, and red and white striped vests...they look like a barbershop quartet. Which, it turns out, they are, as they immediately burst into song welcoming the crew to their town (and thus tormenting the GM with having to not only ad lib, but ad lib music and lyrics), which IMMEDIATELY makes most of the crew suspicious. Except. Well. They’re offering deals on hotel rooms! And complimentary docking services! And free samples! Step is completely won over (and also totally confident that if it is a trap they can’t hurt her or anything). The crew quite happily do some shopping and such and go to the hotel where they ask how many days, and Step answers, “Just until the log pose sets,” and she checks the log pose, and the townspeople around them suddenly go “NO -- “

...The log pose had set five minutes after they arrived on the island, it turns out, and the townspeople sigh as the jig is now Up and they drop their whole happy cheery schtick and all leave.

“Yeah...this is a five minute island. We can’t keep people here to buy anything because once they realize their log pose has set, they just head off to their ~next adventure~” says the innkeeper, sounding like someone who would strangle the person who came up with the idea of adventures.

“...Well, we do kinda want to stay the night anyways, and we have some supplies we want, and your prices are extremely cheap, so...”

The townspeople nearby brighten up a little at this, and over the course of the day, cater to them quite willingly, almost desperately. Step buys a whetstone to sharpen her needle, and then orders a cool little hilt-cap to make her needle look like a sword. This actually extends their stay to about a week, due to forging times and not at all due to the island’s desperate economic situation. 

Dina and Alfonse buy up some supplies. Alpha Build 0.7 listens to the problem of the town and, naturally, asks, “Why don’t you just stop people from leaving?”

“Because...they’ll probably kill us if we do? With cannons?” says the barbershop quartet.

“If they shoot cannonballs can’t you just punch them away, then punch a hole in their ship? Then they have to stay.”

“...No, we can’t do that, because that is not something people can do normally.”

“Oh. So you’re weaklings...Okay. I’ll train you.”

By the end of the week, Step has her hilt cap and the barbershop quartet has some buff bods. Surprisingly enough and as the townspeople fail to convince the crew to stay they do ask to take a look at their log pose...which, Step allows, at a distance. Upon seeing the direction of the needle, the townspeople’s faces grow grim. “...You sure you don’t want to stay...?”

“What? Is there something really bad on the next island or something?”

The townspeople look at each other, then looks back at the crew. “...It’s a dead end.”

Not deterred, the crew continues on. It only takes a few days to reach the next island, and it is in stark contrast to the island before. The atmosphere is gloomy. Pirate ships line the ports, run down, unused, tattered, and in various states of rot. People seem to be almost in stasis, even the air seems stale despite being outdoors.

0.7 walks up to someone and asks why this island is called a dead end, and the person looks down and just says, monotonously, “There’s nowhere to go.”

“That doesn’t answer anything,” Alfonse mutters, but the person is already busy being gloomy and walks off. And, surprisingly enough, marines walk by. 0.7 walks up to the marine and asks the same question, which seems to surprise the marine greatly, and gives the rest of the crew sort of a conniption.

The marine that 0.7 approaches seems to be a bit more managerial rather than combat, but the one next to him, all the ex-marines and members of secret knowledge spy librarians recognize easily -- it’s Admiral  Cha Suzume. 

The clerical staff notices the ex-marines, Alfonse in particular, and says, “Well...Moz will be disappointed...to answer your question...the log pose sets in a week. However, it leads you to a death sentence.”

“Let’s not use a log pose then,” says Alpha Build 0.7, which gets a few stares before their statement is sort of ignored.

“Well, enjoy your stay,” says the marine, before walking off. The Admiral stays, and cocks his head at Step, fully silent the entire time...then moves on as well.

[theheartofpenelope]

Simple Things : Chapter Six

Chapter six- excerpt : Tom sympathised. He listened and gently asked on about certain things but only when he felt she might be all right with it. He was there, ready to chase out the bad words and replace them with bittersweet nostalgic memories.

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @devikafernando, @scorpionchild81, @messy-insomniac-bookgirl, @smutsausage, @hiddlesbitch1 @noplacelikehome77 @wolfsmom1 @meh1217 @dina-bln @lilaeye39 @tinchentitri @fairlightswiftly @nonsensicalobsessions @wolfsmom1

Author’s Notes/Warnings: tags will follow later on Anyway thank you in advance for feedback - would love to know what you think…

Also on AO3 through this link Bonus: click here for the pinterest moodboard (always updated)

Chapter six One week later London versus Berlin - Hamburg

 1. London

The coffeeshop was buzzing with the usuals sounds of a lucrative business. Customers were happily chatting away, sounds of cutlery clinking against the porcelain chimed through the establishment while the coffee grinders worked at full steam. The waiting staff efficiently served all patrons with their trademark smile and hospitable air.

In the corner by the window Tom sat at a small wooden table, stirring his spoon in his fresh cup of coffee before glancing over towards Emma. He’d treated his younger sister to a cup of coffee and sweets as a thank you for her assistance with his shopping for a very specific gift earlier on. Passing by one of his favourite coffee places in this neck of the woods, it seemed only natural he’d buy her a ‘thank you’-cuppa.

Tom questioningly looked over towards his younger sister yet again while she thoughtfully kept paging through the brochure.

“You’ve made the right choice,” Emma finally murmured with a nod, “definitely. Perfect even.”

“Hmmm, you think?” Tom fiddled with the pages, slowly pulling the booklet back towards him and with a pensive frown, flipped through it again.

“My god,” the petite ginger pestered, “and this is just a little nicnac. What are you going to do when the poor child is actually born?”

“Oh, hardy har har,” he shot back, eyes still glued to the page, “I just want to do this right.”

“How very uncharacteristic of you,” Emma snorted before turning her attention to one of the coffeeshop’s newspapers, idly turning its pages and looking for anything and nothing in particular.

“They already have 2 little ones,” Tom sighed, “I want to make sure that its godfather is getting the little monster something they don’t already have. And yet something that’s meaningful...”

But it was clear the message was lost on his sibling who was now curiously looking at a specific article in the paper. A grin spread across her face, he could tell she was up to no good when she looked up at him with that mischievous sparkle he’d come to dread over the years. What now?

“Hey, isn’t that the ComiCon–lawyer-person?” she pointed out.

“Word gets out fast,” Tom muttered under his breath before sipping his coffee again. He reached his hand out and motioned his sister to hand him the newspaper. He was ever so eager to correct his sister on the reality of ‘this Charlotte-thing’ until his eyes fell on the cruel nickname in bold black print next to a snapshot of her. ‘Angel of Death’.

Tom was utterly appalled and furrowed his brows as his eyes skimmed the article. “Well this is harsh,” he mumbled. To him Charlotte - without fault - came across as a charming and eloquent persona, not the grim reaper the press were now suddenly labelling her.

His heart went out to Charlotte. It really did. She seemed to have crawled under his skin somehow; this warm hearted woman who had been ever so daunting towards the press from the start. He’d gotten to know her as an ambitious woman, who longed for nothing more than to set the record straight about who she was and what she stood for. It seemed so unfair for her, of all people, to get mulled the way she was.

“It’ll all blow over by tomorrow, I’m sure,” his sister relativized while trying to steal her brother’s scone.

“Still,…” under a lifted brow he playfully slapped her hand away while fishing out his smartphone. He typed out a message to Charlotte in which he expressed his concern, much to his sister’s delight. Emma tilted her head in an attempt to peer at the text, murmuring “it’s sweet though, that you care so much.”

When Tom - ever fast on his feet - quickly reciprocated with a “I would do the same for any other friend,” Emma couldn’t help but nod with a final gentle tease, “and how long ago did you two meet again?”

Tom slanted his head and raised an eyebrow apprehensively, “don’t…”

Emma held up her hands as if to convey him of her innocence, “I’m not. I’ve missed my big brother - indulge me in my teasing…”

He only shook his head in utter annoyance, “it is nothing more than a concerned friendly message. That is it. Be careful there or shall I start on your love life now?” a small grin lit up his face. “And besides, haven’t you read? I’m apparently seeing a mystery blonde now…”

“Well yes,” Emma caught on after taking another sip from her coffee, “I wàs wondering about that…”

“Can’t show my bloody face before they start snapping away and publishing rubbish,” Tom shook his head in disbelief before his sister looked up at him, positively beaming and no doubt fired up with one or two monkey tricks. And indeed, with a strange sense of pride she lifted the newspaper in her hands, revealing a pap-shot of Tom strolling down the street and cosily laughing with said lovely petite blonde, “rubbish big brother?”

“Ok, all right, all right,” Tom chuckled while turning a deep shade of pink, “I admit she’s a very lovely colleague. Good heavens, look at you - trying to get Luke out of a job little sister?”

“Just what I thought,” Emma delightedly winked, “so? Dating?”

“We’re working together,” Tom mildly protested, “it would seem highly inappropriate to…”

“M-hm,” Emma sighed loudly, as if to highlight she’d already heard that routine before.

Tom rolled his eyes in playful annoyance, which lured Emma into raising her brow before inquisitively leaning in and whispering, “now really. Tell me,”

“I don't know,...” he hesitated, “she's lovely, she truly is. But… ”

“Something is missing,” now it was Emma’s turn to roll her eyes in exasperation while shaking her head. When would he ever learn?

“Don't mock me,” he scolded softly.

“I'm not! I'm just wondering when the day will come when something is not missing to your standards…” She didn't want to seem hurtful, it was simply the truth.

Emma had noticed her brother had taken more than one step back when it came to dating these last couple of years. While it had originally been a very conscious and logical decision of his, she now often heard her mother worrying about the impact this decision was taking on him. And on second thought she found she would have to agree with her mother, on a certain level.

But then came the Hiddleswift-extravaganza, the whirlwind romance that knocked the family right off their feet. So much, so fast, so soon. However, at least he was breaking his solitude and that was, in a way, a good thing. After it fizzled out equally abrupt as it had started in the first place - and under the ever critical and even speculative eye of the (gutter)press no less - it was no wonder to Emma that her brother would step back from dating again for a while.

At first she thought he just needed to lick his wounds - wouldn’t we all? - but then new projects started following each other up in a vast tempo. As always. And what was worse, his emotional private life seemed even more neglected then ever before. Her brother was exhausted and haunted by his own thoughts, And now Emma didn’t know what to think of the situation anymore. Though she thoroughly hoped his current break could or would bring back the more happy and carefree brother she grew up with.

Tom exhaled loudly, “well, you’ll be happy to know that we’re going out for drinks soon. After the project wraps up. Just … don’t tell anyone.”

“Good! Very good. Also, my lips are sealed,” she gestured, delighted at the notions her big brother was getting back out there again. “but just remember, the camera’s are not.” She added with a well meant playful wink.

 2. Berlin

‘Angel of Death’ – the term haunted her more than Charlotte cared to admit. The words stung, they stung so bad.

Charlotte blamed her initial emotional reaction to the article on fatigue, because the gruelling pace of travelling all over Europe was definitely starting to take its toll. Also, the intense debates that repeatedly occurred at every Conference were slowly starting to get under her skin as well…

However still, Charlotte’s strong beliefs were suddenly shaking on their foundation. And while she wanted to power on through, she found she could not handle the backlash that was now coming towards her. Charlotte was raised to be diplomatic, to find an agreeable way to interact with people, to negotiate, to debate, not to tear someone down without mercy. To have the press do exact that to her was difficult to comprehend and impossible to forget.

Charlotte’s dad had called her as soon as the article came out. He’d tried calming his daughter by advising her to not pay any attention to it. “Bad press is press at the least. You’re doing something that matters, leave those nasty words behind, rise above it. Be strong, be proud and do not give up sweetheart.” But he failed to realise Charlotte was under heavy attack because of her personal situation more than her professional one.

You see, his wife and Charlotte’s mother was diagnosed with ‘young dementia’ and she was currently already residing in a memory care facility. That last step was a recent development after a new diagnosis confirmed she was in fact suffering from Lewy Body Dementia (*). Under the public eye, the written press very broadly analyzed and scrutinized Charlotte for simply "not practicing what she preached". They painted a very unstable and hypocritical image of her. “Euthanasia for those who suffer mentally but not your own mother? Come on now!” The press was relentless and paid no attention to the details that truly mattered, the same details that made every difference in the world.

Charlotte was amazed where the journalists had found all this background information, and was left utterly devastated at the harsh words at her address. More over Charlotte was exhausted and alone; craving the comfort of home, family and friends. She’d spilt hot tears under the shower that evening, it was the first time she’d allowed herself to shake her frustration and pain on the matter.

All day long attendees at the conference had either confronted her with the article and asked about her opinion, which was not the most pleasant experience, but others were worse and kept quiet in her face yet whispered about it behind her back. As if Charlotte didn’t know they were talking about her...

Her phone had been blowing up all day with a whole variety of messages and warm wishes from family, friends and even colleagues who knew there was more to Charlotte than what was so harshly put out in print. But Charlotte didn’t answer. She didn’t answer anyone of them, she was just done with it. And wished for the day to be finally over as well.

 3. London - Berlin

The night was slowly creeping in and hours had passed since Tom had sent Charlotte a text but she hadn’t answered. He realised he would surely not be the only one texting her, but still… usually she would respond to him one way or another. It seemed out of character for her not to respond, but then again this was an unusual turn of events….

Her silence plagued him, and so ultimately Tom took it upon himself to text Charlotte once more later that evening. To his surprise, he was rewarded with a quick cynical reply. Something he had come to know as ‘Charlotte-style’. His lips curved upwards; she wasn’t asleep yet. And because her words didn’t really convince him, he tapped the call-button on his cell.

Very quickly his thoughts were confirmed; her text message might have been cynical and morbidly funny in contrast her voice sounded clearly distraught and cracked with exhaustion. He was quite sure she thought she was hiding it well.

“You should distance yourself. I’m your publicist’s worst nightmare,” Charlotte pestered quietly.

“I didn’t hear back from you,” he spoke softly, “I was worried.”

“My phone is blowing up right now.”

“How are you feeling?”

“It’s ok, I’m all right. Bad press is still press, that’s what they say right?”

Tom couldn’t shake the feeling she seemed so short, curt even, in her replies. She was speaking rationally, distanced from the situation, vehemently prohibiting any emotions in her discourse. So he asked, he simply hàd to; “and now the truth please, Charlotte?”

A loud sigh on the other end.

Charlotte hated he possessed the talent of gently luring the truth out of her. And so she confessed to be feeling exhausted and annoyed.

Or no, make that ‘angry’ and ‘sad’.

‘Disappointed.’

‘Emotional.’

 And so incredibly alone.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her hand. She could feel the tears stinging again and tried her best to hold them in. Granted, it wasn’t as if he could see them, but she desperately wanted to spill no more tears over the whole debacle. She found she would have to be strong and suck it up. Surely that would the best and fastest way to get over it. Utter denial, step over the issue as if it were no more than a nasty, muddy puddle on the pavement.

So yes, she would hide her tears. However her voice turned a bit hushed and a bit high-pitched as she cautiously fumed things along the likes of How or where do they get this information? Why does this matter? This is my personal life… Doesn’t anyone remember what I stand for? At all?

Tom sighed and tried to console her by confessing he could, in fact, relate on the matter somewhat and offered her his support.

“Please, then tell me, how do you rise above this kind of nonsense?” Charlotte sounded exasperated, “because I’m not the type of person to let things like that get to me, far from it. But I see it in print here in Germany, it’s in papers back home and apparently in the UK as well. And I can handle criticism, don’t think I can’t. But this?! This is almost a personal attack. God, I feel so judged...”

“Do you have the article there?” Tom was astounded, “do you have it before you? On paper? And you’re reading it? For the umpteenth time no doubt...”

“y-yes?” Charlotte groaned uneasily.

“Take it,” he ordered sternly, “do you have it in your hands?”

“Yes, why?”

“Tear it apart Charlotte,” he ordered simply, “really. Trust me on this one. Just rip it up, and rip it up good so you cannot possibly put it back together again. Then toss it in the bin. And promise me you won’t go googling for it.

Charlotte chuckled at his rendition of rigorous fatherly advice.

“Really,” his voice softened, “promise me Charlotte. “You’re an intelligent woman and I admire you for what you stand for. Do not let anybody tell you anything different. Ever. And what they printed about your mum, I’m quite sure that it’s just gutter-talk. You don’t fool me darling. Don’t let them get to you, all right?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he paused and then reconsidered his words. “Would you tell me about her? Please?”

She felt his compassion cool her frustrations, his kindness covering her like a warm blanket. So Charlotte sighed, before carefully opening up about her mother's young dementia.

“It was just silly things at first, like forgetting where you put your keys. Then her vision worsened and she left the driving over to dad or my brother and me, which we didn't mind because we just got our driver's licence,” she chuckled at the long forgotten memory, “but then she stopped writing at one point... stopped having fun at it. She got all gloomy at times, isolated herself more at times.”

Charlotte paused, for a while, “she went for long walks by herself. Only later on we found out they were only ‘long’ because she suffered with finding her way back…”

Tom sympathised. He listened and gently asked on about certain things but only when he felt she might be all right with it. He was there, ready to chase out the bad words and replace them with bittersweet nostalgic memories.

“And I know she is good where she is now,” Charlotte concluded, “and she has her lucid moments. And she wants to live. So much. And that is her good right and we have to respect that. I just… I just don’t appreciate I'm being called a hypocrite because I'm refusing to take to euthanasia in my personal situation.”

“Don’t they get it?” Charlotte all but exploded, “it is not my decision to make. It is hers and she chose not to consent to that when she was lucid. Don’t they see how hard this is on everyone involved? It’s a lose-lose-situation and… oh crap … what's it to them anyway?”

On the other end Tom sank back in his seat as the reality of her situation sank in. “Oh Charlotte,” he spoke softly, his voice low and quiet, “I - I can't imagine how hard this must be.”

That. That one sentence right there. It came out as a whisper - a truthful confession. Charlotte could feel the tears stinging in her eyes and did her best to wish them away. No more, please no more tears.

“Thank you,” he added softly, “for confiding in me.” “When did you last see her?”

That did it. Charlotte hiccuped, her eyes welling up before new salty tears fell from her eyes, trickling down her cheek without relent.

“I'm sorry, Tom,” she breathed, “I'm just - I’ just so tired. The days are so long and exhausting...”

A feeling of complete powerlessness fell over him. There was nothing he could do but listen and talk. He hated he was not there to offer a handkerchief, to run his hand over her back in reassuring circles, to hug her or offer her a small smile in the hopes it would diminish her tears.

“Darling, don't apologise. It's been a while since you've seen her I take it... “

Charlotte nodded silently, not even aware he wasn't there to see it.

“Oh Charlotte,” he sighed, felling ever the more guilty, “I should let you sleep... can you sleep?”

She admitted she'd been tossing and turning for a while now. Her mind absolutely in turmoil. "But I'm glad you called," she confessed, while wiping her tears with the back of her hand, “so glad.” Because he knew what he was talking about, and he somehow had managed to calm her down somewhat.

"How could I not...."

Charlotte took a shaky breath and sighed - his heart broke for her.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I caved,” he gently switched the subject, “you know Elena Ferrante isn’t all that bad…”

Charlotte smiled, aware of what he was doing.

“Shall I read you a little bit?” He never waited for an answer, but just flipped open the book and commenced. He could hear her rustling on the other end and imagined her curling up underneath the duvet, the cell phone glued to her ear still.

 “My friendship with Lila began the day we decided to go up the dark stairs that led, step after step, flight after flight, to the door of Don Achille’s apartment. I remember the violet light of the courtyard, the smells of a warm spring evening. The mothers were making dinner, it was time to go home, but we delayed, challenging each other, without ever saying a word, testing our courage. ….”

He read the rest of the chapter as though he was reading just for himself, taking his time and engulfing himself in the story. By the end of the chapter the sounds on the other end of the line had gotten very quiet.

“Charlotte?” he queried, “Charlotte darling,” quieter now, “are you asleep?”

He paused for a second to concentrate on the noises on the other side of the connection. Very vaguely he heard her steady breath; yes, she was most definitely asleep. A sense of pride and sweet affection came over him; a smile crept across his lips as he listened a little while longer.

“Good night my darling Charlotte, sweet dreams.”

And with that, he hung up.

[pixieungerstories]

Darkness - 3

violence warnings

In the last two months, Brie had settled into a routine.  Weeding early in the morning before it got too hot.  The flower beds were looking awesome.  Brunch in her cottage around 10 when the sun was at its worst.  Followed by nap since she got up around five. Mowing or pruning happened after two in the afternoon.  The orchards were looking … better, but if she were honest that wasn’t saying much.  They had merely gone from awful to shabby.

She had yet to see any signs of life from the house, although keeping in mind Mr Lynn’s story about the owner, she had respectfully not looked for any.  She knew he was watching her, at least some of the time.  Any time she did anything near the big tree at the front of the house, she came home to find an email waiting for her.  It got to the point where she would let Mr Lynn know what she was planning to do near it and why the day before so she could deal with any objections that came up ahead of time.

Mostly she left it alone.  

She had found a stone bench in one of the orchards where she could stop for water or snack breaks.  It was surrounded by apple trees and creepy statues, but Brie was mostly able to ignore them.  

Artistically, they were very good, the problem was the subject matter.  There was a marble angel worthy of any museum, except he was engaged in sexual activities with tentacle monsters.  Prometheus and the eagle, traditional enough, but Prometheus had one hell of a stiffy and was arched back over the rock as though he were enjoying the experience, complete with the O face.  All the statues human sized and clearly enjoying themselves, it was just that they were engaged in all manner of taboo activities from the three men one high five away from an Eiffel tower to the three ladies engaged in cannibalism of a young man (complete with spilling entrails) as well as a fair amount of beastiality.  The bench itself was big enough to be a sarcophagus, but wasn’t a box.  It was a marble slab with vines carved into the edge resting on two pillars, which (in keeping with the theme) were a small naked man and woman bent double under the weight of it.

She supposed that when they were carved, they had been incredibly risqué, but these days a quick google search could find you much worse content.  In the meantime, she felt it was her job to clear the ivy away.  After all, maybe the owner would want to sell them at some point.  She was sure there was someone on the internet who would be interested.

Supper was always in the pub.  By then she needed some human contact.  The pub was a family business, even it was a an odd family, and had the slightly dorky name: A Wing and A Prayer.  The barmen were the three oldest brothers, who only ever went by their nicknames as they appeared to be named after turtles, Mike, Gabe and Rafe.  The waitstaff was sisters and cousins to the barmen, Dina, Manny, Joe, Tabby and, of course, Charmeine.

Tabby had taken Brie under her wing and was always encouraging her to try new things and consider some community college courses.  “C’mon, Gabriela!  You need something to fall back on we you don’t want to garden any more.”

Brie would just laugh and shake her head.  “I’m saving hard.  When I don’t want to garden anymore, I’ll figure out school then.”

But tonight there was no visiting with the staff.  The main road in town was getting new tarmac and the pub was full of road crew.  Brie was late getting in and all the tables were full.  Oh well, she could always sit at the bar.  The food was divine, as always, but her enjoyment was rather spoiled by the dust covered asshat sitting next to her.  She concentrated on ignoring him.  She just finished her dinner and her drink and wanted to leave.

        It was full dark out by the time Brie left.  She figured she must be really dehydrated because that one beer she had nursed through supper was hitting her hard.  She was glad she had brought her bike because there was no way she should be driving. 

She was barely out of own when she got off the bike to walk.  Her balance was shit.  Beer never hit her this hard.  By the time she had reached the corner of iron fence marking the edge of the property she was hardly able to walk.

That’s when the truck pulled up.

The loser from the bar got out.

“You almost got away on me.” he laughed.  ‘I’m surprised you are still upright.”

And just like that, she wasn’t.  She fell down over her bicycle and felt hands dragging her away from it.  She was laying on her belly on the dirt road and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.  The world was spinning.  She felt sick.  A boot was wedged under her shoulder and she was flipped onto her back.  The moon was full and way too bright.  She squinted, the light hurting her eyes.

Someone was undoing her pants.  Brie tried to bat the hands away.  She was barely able to lift her arms.  The man was silhouetted in the headlights of his truck.

Her pants were gone now.  He pulled out a pocket knife and flipped it open, slicing down her shirt and through her bra.  He pushed her knees up and apart.

Brie was barely able to roll her head to the side.  On the other side of the fence the woods were full of eyeshine.

The truck lights went out.

The weight from on top of her was suddenly gone.

Someone was screaming.  It wasn’t her.  They were screaming a lot.  The was a wet splat and the screaming got more desperate.  The screaming was replaced by someone pleading stop.

A large, warm, slightly damp and sticky hand cupped her face and turned her to face back at the night sky which swirled overhead like a Van Gogh. 

A face appeared in her field of vision.

It was the devil.  Big horns, red skin, glowing yellow eyes with wide pupils like a cats. Brie was dimly aware that wasn’t right.  She managed a pathetic whimper.

The devil clicked his tongue at her and grinned revealing sharp teeth.  He caressed her face, his claws gently pricking at her skin.

Brie shivered and closed her eyes.  The last of her clothes were pulled away, then she was lifted on the dirt road and cuddled against a warm chest.  The devil began to walk, she felt where he stepped easily over the iron fence.  That was wrong.  Why was the wrong? No.  NO! He shouldn’t be here.

A deep bass voice rumbled, “I am taking you safely home, my lady.”  She was pulled tighter against the chest.  She could hear a deep slow heart beat.

--------

Mr Lynn arrived at the scene only a little behind the police, but ahead of the ambulance.  He got to explain that it was his client that had heard the screaming and called the police.  He got to watch the junior constable be sick in the bushes.  He tried to ignore the man who had been disemboweled and whose entrails were currently decorating the fence.  He was quite surprised by that, the master must be in a generous mood.  Given the phone call he had received he hadn’t expect the man to still be alive.

He also got to identify the bicycle and women’s clothing as belonging to the grounds keeper.   He accompanied the second police cruiser to the cottage and found Ms Moreno curled up, naked, on her front step.  Mr Lynn narrowed his eyes, but the superficial scratches covering her body could have been explained by a naked sprint through the woods.

-----

Brie woke up in a hospital.  She knew it was a hospital by the smell.  Her head hurt and, after she slammed her hand with the finger heart monitor into her face, so did her eye.  Actually everything hurt.  Someone hurried over and pried open her eyelid to shine a light in her eye.  Rude!

“You wake, pumpkin?” Iggy asked.

“No,” Brie grumbled.

Another voice asked, “Do you know where you are, Ms Moreno?”

Brie shook her head, it was easier than talking just now.

“Do you know what happened?”

Brie tried to concentrate.  “I fell off my bike.  No… I fell off the ground and my bike fell on me.  There was screaming and the devil was there.”

The voices whispered to each other, “She is still drugged, but that might be all you get.”

“That isn’t good enough, we need a description of who did this.”

“Try again in four hours.”

“That’s a long wait, doc.”

“That’s a lot of drugs in her system, officer.”

“She still made it home.”

“You didn’t see how much gravel we picked out of her back.  She didn’t make it home on her own.  Someone took her home.”

“Right, her knight in shining armour strung up her attacker and brought her safely home.”

“Not entirely.  She had been dragged through the woods.”

Brie managed to pry her eyes open, “What happened?”

Iggy opened his mouth to speak but the constable interrupted, “You need to be able to give a statement before we can tell you that.”

“Hurts.”

“We can’t give you any painkillers until the drugs are clear of your system.”

“I don’t take drugs.  Hadda beer.  One.”

Iggy rubbed her shoulder.  That hurt too,  “We know, pumpkin, no one thinks you were taking drugs.”

Brie nodded and went back to sleep.

------

Iggy drove her home the next day, after she had given her statement.  She felt embarrassed and useless.  “The devil did it,” was not a rational thing to say, so she had just left that part out.

The man from the bar had confessed to drugging her.  He admitted he was planning a sexual assault.  He couldn’t describe the man who had attacked him either.  She was going to stay with Iggy and Tessa at least until the stitches came out.  The scratches that covered most of her body were already mostly healed, but there was one that was going to scar.

The idea that someone was coming for her was worrying.  The police could find no sign of the attacker.  Mr Lynn was very supportive.  Her anonymous employer was paying her wages until she was able to come back to work and promised her a severance package if she chose not to.

Her employer was very concerned for her well being, she was told.

Her family didn’t want her going back to Morning Side, and the whole week she was waiting for the stitches to come out Iggy lobbied hard for her to quit.  The townspeople came to visit, bring flowers and food and assurances that nothing like this had ever happened in their town before.

The thing she didn’t know how to explain was that she wasn’t afraid.  She knew she should be, but none of it seemed real.  The devil did not come to save her from her rapist. The only logical explanation was that person or persons unknown had come for HIM, wearing halloween masks, and she had gotten away while they were settling whatever score they had with him.

That was the story the police were going with. It was the only rational explanation.  Between the drugging and what had to be a halloween mask there was no way for Brie to identify them.  The incident was widely publicized, including a bad picture of her from a friend’s facebook page.   In the city people looked at her and whispered.  If she went back to her cottage, she wouldn’t have people staring at her.  She wouldn’t have to see the look on her family's faces every time they saw her.

She hadn’t told anyone she remembered being carried.  That made about as much sense as the idea that she was rescued by the devil.  But ultimately she knew that if the person who had gone after her attacker had wanted to hurt her, he would have done it.  She had been completely at his mercy.  And yet, she hadn’t been raped.  Or injured that severely. Most of the scratches were superficial and gone without a trace before she even got out of the hospital.  The last one was an odd unpleasant shape, but the doctors had assured her that with care the scar would fade and become unnoticeable.

Since who ever it was hadn’t hurt her at the time, she believed that there was no point in him coming back for her later.

There was a peace she had found in the cottage.  The quiet. The trees.  She missed it.  Missed her home.  Missed her garden.  And it was her garden.  She tended it.  She never saw anyone else in it.  It would be good to have something to keep her busy.

[deliciouslesbianism]

The one where they become ballet dancers

Pretentious as fuck NYCB crossover, other tags may get added later(other major content notes are not planned).

Dina Saijo has just become a primary dancer for the NYCB, putting behind her the final year of seishou accademy. Godfrey is looking for a headline about the ballet which makes them look very feminist, very quickly. Maya tendo is a world class dancer who made her name playing male roles.

Little knowlege of ballet fandom is needed- you might want to google "NYCB Scandal" if you find yourself lost.

Claudine splashed through a puddle, eyes fixed on the new york skyline as she lengthened her stride and began to fall back towards manhattan. Running was a guilty pleasure, supposedly too much impact on her already overworked joints, and the off season, without the constant training pressures, was her last chance to enjoy the city like this before the curtain raised once again.

Soon, she'd be back in class, and then on stage again, with more eyes on her since her last performance at seishou.

Claudine splashed through a puddle, eyes fixed on the new york skyline as she lengthened her stride and began to fall back towards manhattan. Running was a guilty pleasure, supposedly too much impact on her already overworked joints, and the off season, without the constant training pressures, was her last chance to enjoy the city like this before the curtain raised once again.

Soon, she'd be back in class, and then on stage again, with more eyes on her since her last performance at seishou, since she ran away from

First back to paris, hoping to recover the person she'd been before the accademy, before the unrelenting pressure of auditions, of rivalry, of her. But there hadn't really been space there, and paris had been was a bad place to recover from a broken heart.

New york though. New york was all about broken hearts, about hurting and healing, falling and rising, shining bright and burning yourself up at once. She'd stepped off the plane for a christmas shopping trip, descended to the A train, felt the rough edges of the city- Where paris had elegant silk and polished mahogany, and tokyo bright neon and age worn maple.She heard a young woman singing for her supper on the floor and joined in under her breath, growing in confidence until it had become a duet and then an impromptu performance.

She thought she'd found a new rival there, a replacement, for something lost, and vowed to come back another night and reflect and amplify the shine of another, just for one performance.

It wasn't until later, when she saw the cautions against dancing on trains that she began to hope that it might be what she now has- a city to challenge her, not a single star, but a constellation, in which she was now just one of many stars, reflecting and challenging one another to shine brighter.

When she climbs out of the subway, she's got a smile that reaches her eyes for the first time in months.

That christmas she returned to paris, lost herself in melancholy and christmas, gave small trinkets to her parents, a CD she bought from that first woman, who'd taught her what new york meant, to her sister. On the 27th she was on a plane again without a plan beyond a return to the city where she could once again be a star. Her parents fretted, her therapist sent her along with a stern reprimand to be careful, a referral and a glint in her eye. The referral sat in her inbox- she didn't need it, she was here to become someone else, not saijo claudine, of japan, or Ms.Saijo, the lost girl with the sad smile, but Dina, another(remarkably skilled, but rust) hopeful coming into new york on a jet plane.

The first thing the new life came with was a haircut, before she even checked into the airbnb.

She walked back out onto the streets with asymmetric and far shorter hair that she would later realise flagged her as both new and getting over her first serious lesbian relationship.

Rivals appleanty aren't all the city provides- she crossed the city like a comet, swinging close to other celestial bodies- and, what bodies she orbits, in the back rooms of clubs and expensive hotel rooms and cramped apartments- but never lingering, always moving on.

She began performing in her apartment, but quickly realised that neighbours who work nights are not the happiest to be woken up by an out of practice voice, and began paying for access to a small dance studio under manhattan bridge, frequented by yummy mummies and off broadway performers. She's not ready, not yet, to shine again with the brightest stars. When their requests for advice and not so subtle social climbing become unberable, she crosses the river to broadway, first to the musical stage, her first home, but soon once of the bodies she's orbiting for a time takes her to the fall gala, and a month later she's auditioning for the corps.

A run of clear crosswalks ends, and she snaps out of her thoughts to spin right up 5th avenue, watching the sunset through the trees, and then for a final sprint across the park, walks across to sit in front of the theatre, and collapses to lie on her back.

Tomorrow, she begins her first season as a principal dancer at the new york city ballet. It's been a long five years, recovering from seisho, and she knows some of her classmates have risen faster, but she also knows none shall shine as bright as she knows she will.

She rises off the pavement, begins heading north to her apartment and nearly falls again when she catches sight of a head with a purple ribbon disappearing down to the subway. Her breath catches and she steadies herself, breathing slowly and gripping her knees. When she looks up, the memories have gone back to the past and her breathing is steady. Maya's in tokyo, living the life she's always been destined to live- lead roles, adoring fans, the support of her classmates. She's no reason to come to new york, to break everything dina has built for herself.

Godfrey leans back in his chair, looking out of the theatre across the plaza.

"You understand, this company- and my role in it- has not been without scandal?" He asks "and you understand why you're here?"

Maya doesn't relax her posture, shoulders set and back stiff. "you want me because I'm a clean face." she says "and because I'm always perfect"

"that would be a... Polite way to put it"

Maya just smiles. "And while we-I- need you to do this, you do not have free reign over the stage"

"I will bring a shine to your stage, not burn it down"

His head nods back and forth on his thin neck.

"Well then if that's it..."

"Actually, a question?"

Maya shrinks, internally scolds herself, looks up and meets his eyes- Tendo Maya does not shrink from an audience, no matter how small or prestigious.

"One of your Ballerina- A Dina Saijo?"

"Yes?"

"We trained together,"After what's gone on the last few years here, he does not need to know the full story "I wondered if she knew of my appointment?"

"I'm afraid not." He looks down "We've had to do this very quietly, given the circumstances. Would you like us to ask her to come in early? We could have her show you the theatre?"

"I wouldn't want to be a bother, I'm not even sure if she remembers me." She looks away- maya is an excellent actor, but even she can't pass off such a blatant lie.

"Of course"

They exchange a few strained pleasantries, and Maya signs a contract as a principal dancer for the new york city ballet, retrieves her coat and heads for the subway.

[incorrectdeceptionquotes]

A Bundle of Secrets Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Cameron could not stop pacing back and forth. Two days ago, the only family he had was his Deception team... and Kay when he really thought about it. However now, not only did he gain and lose a sister within the same five minutes, there was now a completely innocent little girl who only family left seemed to be Cam. Finally, after a good ten minutes of sitting in shocked silence, Dina spoke up, “Cameron?”

Cameron’s attention suddenly to the worried faces all looking at him. He took a deep breath, “If you’re gonna ask me whether or not I’m okay... I’m not.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that. We already know that this is hard for you. It’s hard for all of us.”

Gunter, who hadn’t said much since Farrah came into the archive, “But you need to remember that we are a team and if that means taking care of that little girl whose parents were so cruelly taken from her, so be it”

Cameron smiled at his father-figure, “Thanks Gunter but... now that I know, I have to step up for Farrah. I just don’t know how to.”

Gunter rolled his eyes, “That’s why you have us, you dummy.”

Cameron gave a small chuckle then realized something, “Where’s Kay? And where’s Farrah?”

“Kay went to go change Farrah’s diaper. Poor little thing was fidgeting a lot. She’s very calm” Dina answered.

“Where did they go?”

“I think they went into the powder room but Kay said she’d keep the door open” Replied Dina with a knowing expression on her face. Cameron ignored it went off to see if Kay and Farrah were there.

“Five bucks says he makes a move.” Whispered Jordan

“Five bucks says she makes a move.” Gunter whispered back

“Ten bucks says both of them chicken out of making a move” Dina said upping the ante.

Gunter and Jordan looked at each other then at Dina, “You’re on.” They both exclaimed.

When Cam found Kay, Dina was right, she had kept the door open and she was finishing up with the diaper changing and seems to be talking to the baby so he just leaned by the doorway and listened, “You’ve been such a little angel, yes you have.” She cooed at Farrah causing Cam to smile, “I know a lot of things are going to change for you now but I want you to know that you are in the best hands. Your Uncle Cameron is a good man. I trust him with my life” Those words made Cam’s heart flip a little in his chest, “He might not know exactly what to do at first but give him time and he always comes through and tries to make sure that everyone is happy... even if he’s not” Kay suddenly noticed Cam in the doorway, picked up Farrah and placed her on her hip and gave Cam a smile, “He’s selfless like that.” Cameron didn’t say anything. He just gave a grateful smile took two steps forward and hugged Kay and by association, Farrah. “Cam?” Kay asked softly.

“Thank you.” He whispered softly as he quickly let go, realizing just where they were. Cameron cleared his throat, trying to ignore the light blush that seemed to be resting on Kay’s cheeks, it wasn’t helping him keep her at a distance. She deserved better than him. “So.”

Kay gave a slight chuckle, “So.”

“I was gonna go get some baby stuff for Farrah and I thought you could come with me so I could get your opinion on what to get.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Cam shrugged, “The usual stuff, a crib, car seat, changing table, clothes, maybe a few toys”

“Well, we are still waiting to hear back from the lab about some stuff. I guess I could join you.”

Dina smirked as she, Gunter and Jordan watched Cameron, Kay and Farrah walk out the door shouting a quick good bye, clearly both having chickened out on making a move, “Pay up boys!” The two men rolled their eyes and each handed Dina a ten dollar bill.

Cam and Kay pulled up to the closest Babies-R-Us and went inside. They took a cart and placed Farrah in that baby basket seat and went to shop around. They picked out a sturdy car seat, a nice white crib with a light pink and blue bedding to go with it, and a pretty standard changing table. Kay reminded Cam that he needed a stroller so he got the best one her could find. They went to the clothes section, Cam picked out a few fun bibs along with some hair accessories while Kay got a few t-shirts, pants, and dresses for Farrah. Cameron picked up one of the t-shirt and pants combos and furrowed his brows, “Kay?”

“Yeah?” She replied as she checked on Farrah.

He raised an eyebrow as he turned the clothing set around; it was a set with red pants with white stars and a black t-shirt with the words ‘Ta-Da’ written in white. “Really?”

Kay laughed and nodded, “Let her learn about your dramatic flair early.”

“Oh ha, ha, ha. You’re hilarious Kay.” He said trying to contain a smile.

A little later, while they waiting in line, they were both trying to entertain Farrah with Cameron making funny faces and Kay giving her a little tickle every now and then. An elderly woman in front of them spoke up, “Hello, I’m sorry to bother you.”

Kay replied, “Oh, I’m sorry, are we being too loud?”

The woman waved her hand, “Oh, not at all, I just wanted to say that you have a very adorable child.”

“Oh, Thank you, well, actually-” Cameron tried to explain.

“I generally don’t see such a well-behaved baby but judging by her parents, I’d say it makes sense. You two seem very happy together”

“Oh, you see-” Kay tried to explain but was interrupted by the speakers telling the woman to please proceed to Register Nine.

“That’s my cue, enjoy your day you three.”

“Uh thank you.” Kay replied. It suddenly became very quiet between her and Cameron as he paid for the items and Kay took Farrah out of the cart and placed her in the new stroller.

When they got to Kay’s car, they still didn’t say a word. That is, until, Cameron spoke up, “So that lady thought we were together and that Farrah was our daughter... crazy right?” He said as he secured the car seat.

“Yeah... crazy.” Kay said subconsciously brushing her hair behind her ear. “So I guess when I drop you off at your place, I’ll just help you get all this inside then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Cameron looked confused as he took Farrah from the stroller and carefully placed her in the car seat, “Why don’t you stay for dinner? I can order a pizza.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose or anything.”

“Impose? Kay, come on, I like having you around. Plus, you could help me set up the crib.” Cameron joked, “Plus I’d rather you help me eat a pizza than eat the whole thing with shame.”

Kay laughed at that last remark making Cameron smile, “Well then, I guess we’re eating pizza at your place then.”

“Darn straight we are!”

Kay raised an eyebrow, “Darn?”

“There is a child present Kay!” He joked as he placed the rest of the items in the trunk of the car.

They drove to Cameron’s apartment and took almost everything with them, leaving the stroller and car seat in the car. In the apartment, Cam was sitting on the ground in his spare bedroom trying to figure out how to put the crib together while Kay sat crossed-legged across from Cam with Farrah on her lap as she jingled her keys for the little girl. “I think I got it now but I don’t know if I can finish it for tonight.” Cam said, scratching his head.

“It’s too bad we can’t use Farrah’s crib but it was broken.”

“Broken?”

“When the killer entered the apartment, they ransacked the whole place. Including Farrah’s room.”

“I hope we find the coward! They deserves to rot in jail for what they did.” Cam shook his head, “Now if only I could figure out how to put this forsaken thing together!”

“It’s a good thing you picked out that cushioned play pen for Farrah so they is somewhere that she could technically sleep in just for tonight, maybe you should set that up first.”

Cam nodded, “Good idea.” He went to set up the play pen in the living room

Just then, Kay’s phone rang, “Hello? Hey Mike. ...Uh-huh. ...Uh-huh. ...Uh-huh. Good to know, thanks Mike, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kay put her phone down on her lap causing Farrah to pick it up and just play around with it.

“What was that about?” Cameron asked as he re-entered the spare room.

“So good news is that the bullets used on Fiona and Shawn were from the same gun meaning that it was the same murder weapon.”

“And the bad news?”

“It doesn’t mean that it was the same killer.”

“Any suspects so far?”

“We’re trying to find out what these two did for a living and go from there but for now, Mike and I will be going to Shawn’s next of kin for more information.”

“Shawn’s parents are still alive?” Cameron asked incredulously.

Kay nodded, “Yes but according to what we could see in the home, there were no pictures of parents so something tells me that they weren’t very active in their son’s life lately.”

A little later, Cam had set up the play pen in front of the couch and Kay had ordered that pizza. Kay put Farrah in the pen along with a few toys to keep her occupied but the baby soon feel asleep and the two of them collapsed on the couch, suddenly realizing that they were tired. “You okay?” Kay asked sitting up, facing him, placing an arm on the back pillow.

Cam turned his face her “Yeah... I guess. Just... still processing everything.” He adjusted himself so his body was facing Kay as well and placed an arm on the back pillow as well, “It’s just... so much has changed about my life in just one day. I mean if you had told me yesterday that I had a sister, I would’ve had said you were crazy. I can’t help but think that things might have ended differently for Fiona if I had known”

Kay placed her hand on top of his, “Well, I know that if you had known you had family out there, you would have fought tooth and nail to make sure they lived a good life. I mean, just look at what you’re doing for Farrah. No one had to even tell you that her care essentially falls to you now, you just accepted it and you have not complained about it once!” Cameron smiled at her and took the hand that was under hers and intertwined their fingers causing both their cheeks to gain a slight pink colour. “What?”

“You make me smile, that’s all.” They locked eyes as Cam said something else, “I don’t know what it is but working with you is always the best part of my day and I just... I’m happy when you’re around Kay.”

Kay saw that there was something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before but she wasn’t sure what it was, “You make me happy too Cameron. I honestly look forward to cases when I get to work with you.”

They both started moving closer to each other without even realizing it until their knees brushed together. Cameron cleared his throat, never taking his eyes off her, “Kay, I...”

“Yes?” She asked searching his face as if trying to figure out what he was going to say.

“Kay, I... there’s something I need to tell you.” Cameron said, his voice almost in a whisper, leaning in slightly as Kay did the same.

“Tell me.” She whispered back.

“I don’t know how...”

Kay bit her lip which drove Cameron crazy, “C-can you show me?” She asked with hesitation.

Cameron nodded as he leaned in until their noses were touching, “If... if you want me to stop... now’s kinda the time.” Kay shook her head ever slightly, worried that if she moved too much, she would break this... thing they had just created. When Cam closed his eyes, she did the same and he lightly pressed his lips against hers. When Kay didn’t recoil or even move, he pressed on her lips a bit harder while taking his other hand and cupping her cheek with it as Kay’s other hand moved to be placed on his shoulder. Call them crazy but they both felt something that they had never felt before. After a few moments, Kay pulled back for air, much to Cameron’s disappointment. They didn’t move from their position however. Cam’s thumb stroked her cheek as he looked into her shining eyes, “That was... wow...”

“Yeah... wow...” Kay replied, almost speechless. Cam began to lean in again when the doorbell rang.

What will become of Cam and Kay’s strictly professional relationship now? One might wonder... Yeah... I’m a teaser.

[xtruss]

A Housing ‘Apocalypse’ Is Coming As Coronavirus Protections Across The Country Expire

— Published Wednesday June 10 2020 | Alicia Adamczyk | CNBC.COM

A woman walks past a wall bearing a graffiti asking for rent forgiveness in Los Angeles, California. Valerie Macon

If you or someone you know is facing eviction, CNBC Make It would like to hear from you. Please email money reporter Alicia Adamczyk at alicia.adamczyk@nbcuni.com.

Even before the coronavirus pandemic, the U.S. was experiencing what housing experts and advocates deemed an eviction crisis. More than 2 million people face eviction each year, far more than the number of people who faced foreclosure at the height of the 2008 mortgage crisis.

Experts expect the eviction crisis to get far worse in the coming months. The Covid-19 economic recession has hit renters especially hard. They make up a disproportionate share of service sector jobs, an industry that has been decimated as a result of the coronavirus shutdowns.

In fact, between March 25 and April 10 of this year, nearly half of renters aged 18 to 64 reported that they were having trouble paying their rent or utilities, were food insecure or couldn’t afford needed medical care, according to the Urban Institute.

Thousands of tenants have been missing rent payments over the past few months. People of color have fared worse than white renters due to the disproportionate job loss in their communities, the Urban Institute reports. About 25% of black and Latino renters reported not paying or deferring rent in May, compared to 14% of white renters.

To keep people in their homes, the federal government banned evictions in federally assisted properties through July 25, and some cities and states, including Massachusetts, New York and Michigan, put their own temporary eviction moratoriums in place. But many of those bans begin expiring this month depending on the state, according to Princeton University’s Eviction Lab, which tracks evictions across the country.

Plus, the extra $600 per week in federal unemployment benefits is set to expire at the end of July. That extra money is “what has been allowing many people who have lost their jobs to continue paying rent,” Solomon Greene, a senior fellow in housing policy at the Urban Institute, tells CNBC Make It. Coupled with the end of eviction moratoriums, the U.S. is likely to experience an uptick in evictions nationwide in the coming weeks.

Evicting people in the middle of a global health crisis puts them at greater risk of contracting and spreading Covid-19, turning “a catastrophe into an apocalypse,” Aaron Carr, founder and executive director of the Housing Rights Initiative, tells CNBC Make It.

“A lot of people could be on the streets,” says Carr. “Especially in places like New York City that already have a homeless problem, it could turn into a homeless nightmare.”

Eviction also has long-term — in some cases, multi-generational — financial consequences for individuals and families, Alieza Durana, a writer with the Eviction Lab, tells CNBC Make It. It can ruin a tenant’s credit for many years, making it harder for them to find a new place to live. It also takes a mental and emotional toll on those affected, and hits minority communities, particularly women of color and their children, especially hard.

“The human toll that an eviction takes on a person and family and community is really devastating.” — Alieza Durana (The Eviction Lab)

“The human toll that an eviction takes on a person and family and community is really devastating,” says Durana, noting that tenants who are evicted often experience job loss and higher rates of depression, among other issues.

And that’s before you add a global health crisis to the mix.

“Housing instability has huge health consequences even when we’re not facing a pandemic,” says Greene. “Exposure risk is so much more amplified and worsened when you can’t shelter in place because you don’t have a place to shelter.”

How to stop the coming crisis

If you are facing an eviction, Carr suggests contacting a nonprofit tenant organization in your area and your elected officials as soon as you can.

That said, the crisis requires a large-scale government response, according to experts. If state and local governments don’t step in to help soon, there will be a “tsunami of evictions and a spike in homelessness” nationwide, that will “devastate” not just individuals and their communities, but the economy broadly, Dinae Yentel, president and CEO of the National Low Income Housing Coalition, says in a statement to CNBC Make It.

“Now more than ever, housing is health care,” says Yentel. “Ensuring housing stability for all is both a moral imperative and a public health necessity.”

“Ensuring housing stability for all is both a moral imperative and a public health necessity.” — Dinae Yentel (National Low Income Housing Coalition)

Activists have been pushing for reforms and policies like increased rental assistance and rent cancellation since the start of the pandemic, though states have been slow to move and the federal government has done little to support tenants. One measure the government could take immediately, says Durana, is to ensure that renters who qualify for federal rental assistance actually get the funds. Currently, only one in four eligible recipients receive it.

Increased resources for tenants, like providing advocates and legal support to tenants facing eviction, would also help keep people in their homes in the years and decades to come, says Greene. He also advocates for targeted relief measures, like allocating roughly $100 billion to cover rent for low income tenants through the crisis, and mortgage relief for landlords.

There’s no good data set currently available to estimate how many people may face eviction because of Covid-19, says Greene. But the Eviction Lab has already noticed an increase in eviction filings since some moratoriums have been lifted, says Durana. And unlike with the mortgage crisis, that lasted years, all of the tenants facing eviction could find themselves without a home in just a couple of months after the moratoriums lift.

Greene hopes the current crisis will spur structural changes in the housing sector, including stronger protections for tenants nationwide, like homeowners experienced after the 2008 foreclosure crisis. “We’re overdue to have that kind of reform in the renters space, particularly for low income renters,” he says.

At the very least, housing experts and advocates hope the federal government will put in place a uniform, nationwide eviction moratorium instead of the ad hoc bans currently in place. In the middle of a pandemic that has claimed the lives of over 113,000 Americans, keeping people in their homes should be a priority.

And the HEROES Act, which was passed by the House in May but has so far stalled in the Senate, includes an extension of the nationwide moratorium on eviction filings, hearings and executions for 12 months, which Tara Raghuveer, director of KC Tenants, a tenants rights group in Kansas City, tells CNBC Make It is a “great start” to prevent renters from losing their homes.

“I do think any one eviction at this point is inhumane. It comes at potential human cost, the cost of life, if people are forced out of their homes,” says Raghuveer. “I don’t think even one eviction should be happening.”

[artificialqueens]

What’s That Coming Over the Hill? (New Year, New Au) (Trixya) – Ellen Thwoorp

Summary – There are things in this world that don’t make sense. Creatures that shouldn’t exist in the real world. Entities that suck the life from the living. Those who want to bring the world to darkness. There are only two people in this world who can stop them.

A Russian ex-cop with a taste for danger and an unhealthy obsession with her car and a bubbly ex-hairstylist with a passion for mythical lore, who somehow got roped into both monster hunting and a relationship with said Russian.

Follow them on their investigation into a string of murders and an abduction in a small town.

A/N: This is a supernatural-esque AU. Now this sounds like it’s going be morbid/serious as hell but it’s actually fun and kind of cracky. Also not really scary, unless you’re afraid of stupid jokes and flirting. I somehow wrote 12K for this story, so much for my short AUs… Also Dina’s Fun Aunt Holiday Bonus will be submitted later in the week as I’ve decided it’s better for me to have separate deadlines for my series and for DFA. Enjoy!

“I got a good feeling Trixie, this is gonna be the one.” Katya said excitedly, hands drumming on the steering wheel of her shiny vintage Impala.  “Katya, people are dead.” Trixie chastised looking back down at the map on her phone. The car became quiet as Katya looked guiltily out at the road ahead. 

“…And it’s never going to be aliens, especially not this. This clearly looks like a werewolf.” Trixie added, unable to resist this particular debate again, mostly because it warmed her heart to see Katya get excited over little green men. “I’m telling you.” Katya insisted, smile firmly back in place as she slid her sunglasses on. “Bet you its aliens.” She said playfully as the cars in front of them halted for a light. “Oh yeah, what we betting with?” Trixie snorted, looking up from the map to regard her mad partner. Almost four years they’d been hunting paranormal entities and cryptids, getting into dangerous scrapes and saving lives. God, Trixie could write poetry about it if she could find something to rhyme with ‘she saved me from a monstrous spectral rhinoceros.’ But alas, their story didn’t seem to lend itself to poetry. “If its aliens you give me a handie.” Katya said, dropping her sunglasses to give Trixie an exaggerated suggestive wink. Maybe no poetry was a good thing if that was what she had to work with. “Oh my god, I hate you.” Trixie laughed despite her words. “Pay attention to the road you dork.” She added as the traffic in front of them began to move again. “No you don’t you lurrrrrvvve me.” Katya sang. “You don’t let an ancient spectral priest, with one leg and an unhealthy obsession with Tina Turner, marry you to someone you hate.” She added casually, fiddling with the radio. “First time for everything.” Trixie quipped back as music began to blast out from the speakers. She smiled as she began to look for a motel on her phone. She should never have let Katya make that hunting playlist. She’d filled it with every monster themed song she could think of. The Russian sang along to Monster Mash under her breath as they turned off the highway onto a long quiet stretch of road. ………. After checking into their rather small yet decently equipped motel, the pair made their way to a carnival which had conveniently come into town just a month before the disappearances and murders began. There had been disappearances in the area for the past year, nobody particularly well known or liked. Several homeless people, old shut-ins with no family and teenage runaways. The sort who people wouldn’t even notice disappear. That was until the last disappearance, Helena Jones, daughter of local Politian. Police and volunteers searched long and hard for days. 

That was when they found the bunker.

Inside they found twelve bodies along with Helena’s jumper. Each body had its stomach ripped and torn apart, organs missing. They still hadn’t found the girl and chances were growing slim. But the police hadn’t made a connection that Trixie had. They’d reported that each month someone had gone missing but what they hadn’t noticed was that they all went missing within the two days before a full moon, all with the exception of Helena.

Katya and Trixie pulled up to the carnival, and got out of the car. 

“Oh god, clowns, Trixie there are clowns here.” Katya whispered anxiously as a clown passed them on a unicycle, his cigarette smoke blowing in their faces as he passed. Classy. “Uh, duh it’s a carnival.” Trixie replied, giving Katya a look as they stepped up to the ticket stand. “Yeah but I didn’t know they still had clowns, nobody likes clowns.” Katya insisted as they bought tickets from a very bored looking teenager with a brow piercing and a bad attitude. Trixie took the tickets with a polite smile and took Katya’s hand. “Sure they do.” Trixie shrugged, surveying the carnival. It wasn’t very busy today it seemed. There were a few children with candyfloss stuck all over their faces. A group of teenagers played the shooting game in a hopes to impress the pretty young woman running the game. They stepped over to a notice board covered in posters. “Trixie. They are beings of the purest evil and they want to eat your face and wear your skin.” Katya continued warningly, pointing to a poster for a ‘Bernie the Amazing Wolf Man’.  “They all float down here, Georgie.” Trixie quoted, her voice deep as she took a picture of the poster on her phone.  “Don’t even joke about that. That’s a fucking documentary.” The other woman snapped, looking suspiciously at the poster for ‘Clown Extravaganza. They’ll slaughter you with laughter’. She shuddered. She didn’t know exactly why she hated them so much but she did, ever since she was a child.  “Katya. Remember what you said to me when we were on the bee case?” Trixie sighed, turning to the mad Russian with a fondly exasperated look on her face. “Calm your tits and take a bubble bath.” “That’s the one.” Trixie nodded, dropping down to press a quick kiss to Katya’s lips.

“Sorry. The wolf man is on in an hour, you want some candyfloss?” She said, looking down at her watch. She jerked her head to motion to the food vendor down the makeshift street. “If there’s one person who might be able to tell us something.” They both looked in the direction of the balding, reedy man serving doughnuts to some young women. His eyes followed them longingly as they walked away, chattering away to each other.

“Thirsty friends?”

“Thirsty friends.” Katya nodded, turning her back to the vendor as she took off her leather jacket and adjusted herself slightly in her bra. She ruffled her hair as Trixie admired her figure in her tight ripped jeans and black cut off tank. “How do I look?”

“Ghastly.” Trixie replied sarcastically, pulling off her cardigan and stuffing it in her handbag. “I can barely stand to look at you.”

“I love you too.” Katya laughed, before slipping into character as they began to make their way to the vendor.

“Hi handsome, could we get some of the fudge and two doughnuts please.” The Russian said brightly as they reached the vendor. She’d changed her voice to this simpery Valley girl she always seemed to slip into. It was either that or the two characters Katya called Trish and Maureen. Trixie wasn’t as good with the accents so she ellected to follow Katya’s Valley girl lead.

“Sure thing.” The man blinked, looking Katya up and down, eyes briefly pausing on her breasts before quickly flicking to her eyes. He smiled and nodded, moving towards the blocks of fudge.

“It is just so Goddamn hot.” Trixie sighed, fanning herself with her hand.

“Um, you ladies want a third?” 

“Oh my god, how did you know? We’ve been looking for a third all over but nobody seems to think they can handle us both at the same time.” Katya gasped excitedly, looking at the man with a coy expression.

“Oh my god Tanya, he means of the fudge. You’re such a slut.” Trixie cried in mock horror, laughing softly and flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“You weren’t saying that last week when we were with Kevin, Stephen and Bobby.”

“I’m sorry about her. So what’s it like working here? Do you live in the area or travel with the circus?” Trixie apologised, pushing Katya out of the way a little so that she could lean on the counter.

“Um- hah. Its ok I guess, I travel with them but I won’t be here all that long, we’ve already stayed longer than usual. Down to the new attraction I guess.” The vendor replied, directing most of his speech to Trixie’s chest. The knife he was folding for the fudge was still raised as though he’d forgotten he had it.

“New attraction, is that the wolf guy?” Katya asked, leaning against the side of the stand.

“Bernie? Oh no he’s been with us years now. The clowns, I think they’re foreign or something they never really talk to us.” He shrugged, suddenly realising he wasn’t doing anything with his hands. He began to cut the fudge into pieces. “My dad says they’re nice but kinda odd.” 

“Your dad?” Trixie questioned.

“Yeah, he owns the carnival.”

“Oh, so you’re kinda like the Prince of the carnival.” Katya said brightly, earning herself a kick from Trixie. That sounded too much like she was making fun of him. Trust Katya to say something like that.

“Will you take over the business? Is it a generational thing? That’s adorable.” Trixie cooed, smiling brightly.

“Ah, I suppose. One day that office will be mine.” He assured them, jerking his head towards a portable cabin. He took a deep breath before speaking again. “So you ladies here with your boyfriends or something?” His eyes stayed glued on the fudge he was wrapping as he asked the fumbled question.

“No. You should call us some time.” Katya grinned. 

“Really?” He blinked, look up at them in surprise.

“Yeah.” Katya nodded, taking out a pen from her pocket and writing down a phone number on his hand. “My dad might pick up, we look after him. Tell him you’re looking for Tanya and Vicky.” She instructed, patting his hand as she took their treats. "Oh and don’t call until Thursday, we won’t be home.”

“What number did you just give him?” Trixie asked as soon as the vendor was out of earshot. 

“Remember that old guy that used to live next door to us in Massachusetts, the one that talked to his plants and used to tape bible verses to our front door?”

“Yeah.” Trixie said slowly.

“His number.” 

“You know only people who were alive in the Stone Age memorise phone numbers, right?” Trixie quipped, nudging Katya’s arm fondly as the Russian dipped into the paper bag in her hand.

“Shut up.” Katya cried, mouth full of sugary doughnut. Trixie rolled her eyes, reaching forward to brush sugar from Katya’s cheek.

“Is he still watching us?”

“No, there’s customers. A family. Now’s our chance.” Katya said quickly as they picked up their pace walking in the direction of the office.

……….

 Two broken bobby pins, muttered swear words and sugary fingers later they slipped into the office, quickly shutting the door behind them. Trixie head straight for the desk. They didn’t know how long they’d have so it was best to work quickly and get out as soon as possible.

“This would be so much easier if this guy knew what a filing system was.” Trixie huffed as Katya came to join her. “If we can find some kind of records on the people who work here.” She mused as Katya went over to the filing cabinet and opened the top drawer.

“This man has a lot of porn in here.” She snorted, pulling out a magazine with a very busty nun on the cover. She opened it curiously before Trixie noticed what she was doing and gave her butt a smack. 

“Not what we’re looking for you sex beast.” Trixie reminded her, keeping an eye on the small plastic window on the wall across from them.

“Jealousy is a sin.” Katya chuckled “If you want me to look at you naked, all you have to do is ask.” Katya smirked, putting the magazine away.

Trixie snorted as Katya closed the top drawer and opened the one beneath it. She began to rifle through poorly labelled files. They were searching almost fifteen minutes before she found a small book labelled ‘Legal’. She opened it curiously. “Hey Trix, I think I’ve got something.” She said, holding out to the book to show her partner. Written inside was a scribbled log of all the attractions, when they joined the carnival, where they were from, previous experience and their wage.

“Perfect.” Trixie grinned, taking the book from the other woman. “This says Bernie the Wolf Man used to work in finance in LA. And now he works here?” 

“You know what else is weird.” Katya hummed, tapping her lip with her finger.

“What?”

“The clowns, they work for free and it doesn’t say where they came from.”

“Maybe they’re not legally supposed to be here?” Trixie suggested. Katya was right, that was unusual. But working for free doesn’t make you a murderer.

“I wonder.” Katya muses before checking her watch. “Bernie the dog man is in ten minutes, babe.”

“Wolf man, Kat. Wolf man.” Trixie snorted, taking a picture of the book pages on her phone. “We better go then.” Katya nodded, putting the book back exactly as she found it.

“That went well.” Katya said happily as they stepped out of the office, shutting the door behind them as they re-entered the carnival as nonchalantly as possible.

 “You got the ring on?” Trixie checked, Katya nodded holding up her hand to show the somewhat gaudy pure silver ring. Werewolves had an aversion to silver. All they had to do was offer to shake the man’s hand or touch him and if he resisted in fear they knew. It had worked pretty well as a system so far. Time to see the show.

………………

“Well that was interesting.” Trixie mused as they made their way back to the Impala.

“What a joker, you can’t really think he’s a werewolf can you?” Katya asked incredulously. That Bernie fellow might play rough and tough on stage but the moment they’d encountered him off stage he was the most zen, vanilla tree hugger she’d ever met.

“Wouldn’t shake your hand.” Trixie pointed out as Katya pulled the car keys from her pocket. 

“He said he was a germaphobe.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Trixie said disbelievingly as she sat in the passenger seat. Katya hummed sitting in the driver’s seat, an odd look on her face. “What’s up?” Trixie asked, noting the tightness around her partner’s eyes and the twisting of her lips. “This all feels very wrong.” Katya confessed, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she often did when she was nervous. Her eyes follow a pair of clowns as the walked past the car, their faced painted in permenant smiles as they walked in silence. “It’s not the clowns, Katya.” Trixie assured her, patting her knee comfortingly. This was quite new for her, sure Katya was uncharacteristically jumpy for a monster hunter but she was never ususally phobic of things. “How do you know?!” “How do you know its aliens?” Trixie countered, hoping this logic would calm her. “My third eye.” Katya grinned, patting the spot between her brows. “Shut up.” Trixie snorted as Katya turned the keys, bringing the engine to life. “Listen I bet you it’s not clowns.” “What do I get if I win?” “I’ll give you a handie.” Trixie laughed. “Now let’s go back to the town, maybe we can ask around the homeless, see if anyone has gone missing.”

…………

The next day the pair sat together with two slices of pie and coffees, trying to make a plan of action when they were interrupted by a man.

“Excuse me ladies, mind if I sit down?” A young man in a slightly cheap looking suit asked, looking down at them with a serious expression. His dark curly hair was jelled down heavily, looking almost like a protective helmet. Katya briefly wondered if he rode a motorbike like that and crashed, just how much damage his hair would do to the tarmac.

“Uh, you can but I don’t know why you’d want to.” Katya frowned, looking around at the almost empty café.

“Detective Kevin Kander.” Trixie shot Katya a warning look before motioning to the seat across from them. She quickly closed the book they’d been using for notes when she noticed him try to read her writing upside down.

“What can we do for you, Detective?” Trixie asked, forcing her face into a smile.

“Can I ask your business here?”

“We’re having lunch.” Katya shrugged, taking a forkful of pie and shoving it into her mouth. “Why?

“Well, we’ve had reports from some anonymous persons that you have been asking around a lot, talking to people down on their luck.” The young man informed them, looking between the pair suspiciously.

“We’re charitable.”

“I was told you were paying for information about the missing people who were killed.”

“So?” Katya asked, not appreciating the man’s tone.

“So why are you ladies here?”

“We’re reporters.” Trixie lied, they’d used this as a cover quite a few times in their time.

“For what paper?”

“You wouldn’t know it.” She continued with a shrug.

“Can I ask why we’re being questioned? We’re just trying to have lunch.” Katya interjected, leaning back in her seat and resting her arm on the back of Trixie’s chair.

“We’re keeping an eye on all suspicious activity until we find Helena and the killers are caught.” Detective Kander said, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Killers? You know there’s more than one?” Trixie asked, hoping they could coerce the detective into revealing more information about the case.

“I’m keeping an open mind.” He smiled humourlessly. “Where were you the night Helena Jones was kidnapped?”

“We were in West Virginia.” Trixie replied, deciding not to go into too much detail. He didn’t need to know about the encounter with the Mothman, who’d actually turned out to be quite a nice guy with a cat and a crush on a local gas station worker called Susan. Sadly Susan turned out to be a runaway con artist and seemed to revel in the idea of being the first person to con a cryptid.

“But you know what.” Katya offered, leaning across the table as though confiding in the detective. “We drove nine hours to kidnap a girl we never met from some politician nobodies heard of past the state border, then we came back a week later to pay a bunch of homeless people to tell us information we already knew about the murders and decided to stick around for the weather.” Katya said sarcastically. The detective scowled. Trixie put a hand of Katya’s, where it lay on the table, in an attempt to calm her down.

“I’m sorry, she woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Trixie apologised, kicking Katya under the table as the Russian laced their fingers. He looked down at their joined hands curiously. Trixie could practically hear the cogs turning.

“Is it too much to ask for a motel to have a mattress thicker than paper?” Katya grumbled, taking a drink of her black coffee.

“Ah you’re staying at the Sleepy Lodge, it’s well known for its ‘comforts’.” The detective laughed awkwardly, evidently having finally come to the conclusion that he was dealing with lesbians. He looked up at them with slightly wide eyes. Trixie fought the urge to roll her eyes. People always got awkward when they realised they were a couple.

“Yeah.” She piped up after a moment of silence, realising neither Katya nor the detective had anything else to say. “Listen we can only apologise for our attitudes, we want the same thing you do.” The young man nodded, with the first genuine seeming smile she’d seen yet.

“That beauty out there yours?” He asked, nodding his head to Katya’s Impala, parked proudly outside the cafe.

“Yeah, that’s my baby.”

“Mind if I take a look inside.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, it’s messy.” Katya replied, a fake smile stapled to her face.

“I don’t mind. I want to know what kind of seats that model has.” Detective Kander shrugged, mirroring Katya’s false smile.

“Leather.” Katya answered shortly.

“I’d rather see it.”

“Google it.” Trixie fought the urge to sigh at her partner’s attitude. This was going to get them arrested for sure.

“Is there a reason you don’t want me to see what’s in your car so badly?”

“Is there a reason you want to see what’s in my car so badly?”

“This would be so much easier if you just cooperated.” The detective informed them, obviously trying the good cop, bad cop method on his own.

“We have cooperated. But if you want to search my property better get a search warrant.”

“The Jones family are personal friends of mine. I will find out what happened to her.” He said menacingly as he stood, any trace of a jovial nature erased from his face.. “And I will bring the perpetrator to justice.”

“We hope you do.” Trixie called after him, earning a shifty look as he left the cafe. “Our job would be so much easier if you didn’t always antagonise the cops you know.” She grumbled, letting go of Katya’s hand to get back to their notes. “You’re so cranky today.”

“I know. Sorry.” Katya apologised. “I hate it when they treat you like you’re guilty. Its poor practice.”

“I know.” Trixie nodded. “He’s young. Maybe he’s just trying to find his detective feet.” She suggested, noting that the detective didn’t have a partner. He couldn’t have been more than twenty four years old. She was sure a big case like this must be even harder when you’re new. She wasn’t really sure why she was making excuses for the man but something inside her felt for him.

“Well, he’s not going about it the right way.” Katya grumbled, casually resting her hand on Trixie’s leg as she returned to her pie.

……………. Trixie sighed softly as she woke. She couldn’t be sure what woke her but something felt off. She opened her eyes, the room still dark but she could just make out Katya laying in front of her. She was about to make to get up and go to the bathroom when she realised what had woken her. There was a soft tapping against her back. It was Katya, tapping so lightly she could barely have been moving. Tap tap t-tap tap. Trixie swallowed, the code. That was the silent code for danger. Tap tap t-tap tap. If she squinted she could see Katya’s eyes, watching something intently. The door. Tap tap t-tap tap. The tapping became more insistent as Trixie heard the noise of the door opening. She let out a soft sleepy sigh, feigning sleep as she stretched to pull Katya closer. The noise stopped abruptly, their intruder evidently scared to wake them. Interesting. Tap tap. Trixie answered from where her hand now rested at the small of Katya’s back. The sound of their intruder letting out a breath they seemed to have been holding was loud in the quiet room. A plan. They needed a plan. Trixie quickly took note of the way Katya’s hand had slid beneath the pillow when she’d pulled her closer. Good, there was a knife beneath the pillow. She knew all she had to do was reach the bedside table to grab the gun there. They both just had to choose the right time to act. Their intruder stepped further into the room, letting out a hiss they stubbed their toe on the dresser. Amateur. Certainly not any kind of paranormal entity like a ghost or a spectre. Definitely not a demon as they’d salted the doors and windows before sleeping. The intruder, a man it sounded like, snook over to their bags, pulling the zips at a painstakingly slow speed. Tap tap. Now. With that the pair swung into action. Trixie practically jumped over Katya as the other woman rolled towards her. She slammed a hand on the switch for the bedside light, taking the gun in her other hand and raising it to their intruder. Katya had pulled the knife from under the pillow, and she was now stood on the other side of the bed holding out her long necklace adorned with a protective pendant from all the major religions, in case the intruder was spiritual in any way. “The gigs up.” Trixie said as the man’s shoulders slumped. He turned slowly, wincing at the click of the gun safety being disabled. “Alright, alright don’t sh-” He began as he turned slowly only to stop in surprise, his eyes wide as her looked them up and down. Trixie followed his gaze and groaned. “Dammit Kat, this shitty detective has seen more of me than some of my ex-boyfriends.” They were both completely naked with the exception of a love bite just above Katya’s hip. “Hey, I’m not shitty! I’m just trying to figure out what happened.” The man argued, looking hurt. “I would say we should stop going to bed naked but that would be waste of beauty.” Katya sighed dramatically before turning to wink at her lover. “To be fair we didn’t go to bed naked. But I don’t think we should sleep naked anymore.”  Trixie nodded, deciding they should take that precaution so that next time their intruder didn’t get to see just so much of her paranormally ordained wife. While she felt exposed, naked in front of this man, it mostly bothered her that Katya was naked and on show. She regarded the man for a moment his eyes were flicking between the gun pointed at him and the ceiling. Interesting, while he lacked any tact taking to them earlier at least he was somewhat a gentleman. “Would you like some tea?” “What?” Both Katya and the detective said in unison. “We’re supposed to be on the same side, Inspector. So you’re going to sit down, have some tea and tell us why you’re looking through our underwear in the middle of the night.” Trixie said sternly, pointing at the chair next to bed. The man blinked, steadfastly avoiding looking at either of them as he walked over to the seat. Trixie followed him with the gun, watching him as his eyes darted around the room. “Put something on Kat, I don’t like other people seeing you naked.” Trixie sighed, appreciating the man’s efforts to not look at their bodies. “Same for you, blossom.” Katya said cheerily, pulling on Trixie’s college tshirt and a pair of boyshorts with cartoon cats on. The Russian bounded forward taking the gun from her partner as Trixie grabbed some clothes from the chair on the other side of the bed. She shot the detective a look as she walked past them and into the bathroom for a moment, switching on the provided kettle as she passed. “You don’t take advantage of her kind nature, or you will answer to me. Understand?"  Katya hissed, leaning close to the detective, nothing between them but tension and the metal of the gun. "Kind nature? She pointed a gun at me and insulted me.” The man said incredulously, eyes flicking to the gun then back to the Russian in front of him. “Yeah but let’s just say there’s a reason she gets the gun and I get the knife, I tend to have less patience and my finger just…” She made the sound of the gun going off with her mouth before pulling away. The young detective flinched.

“A lot of weapons for reporters.” He mused, looking around the room.  “This is an offence, you know.”

“There no need to be offended, Kev.” Katya said earnestly, enjoying the way the man blinked at her.

“A criminal offence.” He clarified as Trixie came out of the bathroom and made some tea.

“I know. That was a joke.” She sighed, rolling her eyes. She heard Trixie snort from the other end of the small room.

“Hilarious.” He replied dryly. “You’re not doing the best of jobs convincing me that you’re not the murderers, you know?“ "Get this Trix, he thinks we did it.” “Why does everyone always blame the lesbians?” Trixie sighed, as she walked back in with two cups of tea. She handed one to the detective and sat down on the bed across from him. “Don’t forget to check the door, babe.” Katya reminded her, taking the mug from her girlfriend and taking a sip. “Shit, yeah.” Trixie nodded, getting up to go and lock the door, ensuring that their line of salt wasn’t broken.  “What’s with the sugar?” The detective asked, looking over at the door with a frown. Katya turned to look at the detective with thoroughly unimpressed look. How dumb can you get? “It’s salt.” Katya replied dryly. “Does that make a difference?” “Have you ever had popcorn? Of course it makes a difference.” Katya rolled her eyes, raising the gun as Trixie came past her. She wasn’t going to point a loaded gun at her lover even if it was only for a second. She cared about gun safety. “Why did you break into our room at… two o six in the morning?” Trixie asked, as Katya took a few steps back, leaning against the foot of the bed. “I know what you are.” “You know nothing about us.” Katya countered, some of her casual demeanour slipping at the detectives accusatory tone. This man didn’t know them. He didn’t know their lives before the paranormal, although some days Katya wasn’t sure she did either. He thought he knew what they were, but they were many things. They were hunters. They were explorers. They were bakers, when they had the facilities. They were goofballs. But first and foremost they were lovers.

Trixie put a hand on Katya’s knee. Whether it was a comforting gesture or a reminder to stay civil, she wasn’t quite sure. “You’re the killers, the cannibals.” “Oh my god, you know I wondered why those burgers we had yesterday had fingers.” Katya gasped, looking thoroughly pleased with herself as Trixie chuckled. “The murders started before we got here.” Trixie reminded him, taking the mug from Katya and blowing on the contents before taking a sip. “How do we know that? All we know is that you booked into a hotel after the murders began. You’re untraceable, nobody knows where you came from or who you are.” He explained. “Except now I suppose I know you to be Kat and Trix.” He added somewhat smugly putting his mug down on the bedside table. The tea was untouched. Trixie tried not to be offended. She supposed if he thought they were the cannibals he wouldn’t trust anything they gave him to consume. “Oh my god, don’t say that!” Katya cried in exasperation. “Did you learn nothing at the academy? If we were the murderers we’d have to kill you now because you just pointed out you know our names.” “Don’t mind her, she used to serve. Shoddy police work drives her up the wall.” Trixie informed him, lowering her voice as though confiding in him. Katya pushed hair from her face. “Shoddy police work?!” The detective cried, looking affronted. “Never mind that.” Trixie said with a careless wave of her hand. “Listen we’re not the killers. We will tell you who we are but you have to believe us.” “Wait Trix, him? Really? You want him to be our local cop?” Katya interrupted, hardly believing the words leaving her lover’s mouth. In every corner of the country, and in some cases the world, they’d touched down in during their adventures they would make a contact. It was usually a member of the local police department or a detective. Someone with information on cases and trusted them enough to not suspect them and value their expertise. This usually required persuasion, such as saving their asses from whatever unfortunate creature was chasing them. Sure most of them thought they were mad when they did the whole ‘monsters are real’ speech but they normally chose nice guys who weren’t dicks to them for no reason. “He’s obviously driven and desperate Katya, otherwise he wouldn’t have broken into our room to gather evidence that wouldn’t have held up in court.” Trixie reasoned, giving Katya a look that suggested she’d been thinking about this for a while. “And besides.” The blonde added, patting Katya’s leg. “I like the fucker.” She shrugged. “You like me?” The detective asked, clearly as dumbfounded as Katya. She never did understand Trixie’s ability to see good in people even if they were douchey to them. “Sure. It’s hard to explain. I got good women’s intuition.” “Here we go with your women’s intuition again.” Katya moaned. That damned women’s intuition. She knew it was just Trixie’s way of getting out of having to explain why she did things. Honestly she would say that Katya was rash then do something equally rash at the calling of her women’s intuition. “It has never once led us astray and can I also just say ‘third eye’ to you right now.” Trixie replied sternly, raising a finger as she did so. She looked like a teacher when she did that. Katya rolled her eyes. Her third eye was a real thing. Sure sometimes she couldn’t distinguish between her third eye telling her something and a Katy Perry induced headache, but that was beside the point. “I have no idea what’s going on.” Detective Kander confessed, looking between them with a bewildered look. A smirk touched Katya’s lips. She honestly kind of liked that people couldn’t understand them sometimes and found them hard to follow. It was almost like she and Trixie had their own language. Like they were on this wavelength that no one else could tap into. “Kevin, can I call you Kevin?” Trixie began, not waiting for a reply from the younger man. “We are not the cannibals. We hunters.” “Like rabbits and stuff?” He asked slowly. “No, like demons, like monsters, like ghosts, like Bigfoot. All that jazz.” Katya clarified, waiting for the inevitable disbelief. Three… two… one… “Oh my god you’re crazy.”

There it was. “You don’t think it’s odd that these disappearances have happened every full moon?”

“Serial killers can often be ritualistic.”

“They weren’t killed by any man, Detective. They were eaten alive, we saw one of the bodies. Its internal organs were gone and the stomach was torn apart.” Trixie reasoned, pausing to take a sip of tea. Katya fought a grin as she marvelled in how smart her girl was. It would be in poor taste to smile like a loon during this conversation, and it certainly wouldn’t help convince the detective they weren’t the killers. “We’ve seen this before. A lycanthrope in Kansas. Just the same.”

“Wait, lycanthrope. You mean like a werewolf.”

“Exactly.” Trixie nodded. “Have you been so focused on our coming into town that you haven’t noticed another body of individuals who came to town just before the murders began.” “The circus.” He blinked. “It’s the clowns.” Katya interjected. “It’s not the damn clowns Kat, you have no proof.” Trixie groaned in exasperation, they’d been having this debate basically all day. “Neither of you have any proof, this is ridiculous.” Kander insisted, looking between the pair as thought they were insane. “Look it’s not any damn werewolves. Even if I was crazy enough to believe something like that, I don’t know any werewolves who carry around butchers knives and butter.”

“What?” The women asked in unison.

“We found traces of butter and small cuts from a knife on the bones during the autopsy. Whoever did this was very human.” He explained. Katya turned to look at Trixie in bewilderment mixed with worry. They’d accepted that they were dealing with werewolves pretty quickly after finding out more about the deaths. But now, surely it couldn’t be. “So you want to run that werewolf bullshit past me again or are you going to confess?” He asked, standing for his seat.

“We didn’t do it.” Trixie insisted as she and Katya also stood.

“Sure, how about we go over that at the station.” The detective said derisively stepping towards Trixie. Katya stepped between them, scowling up at the man as she let the barrel of the gun rest against his chest. There was no way in hell he’d touch a golden hair on her head when Katya was around. That simply wasn’t happening.

“We will do no such thing. You broke into our hotel room without a search warrant and you have no right to arrest us with no charge.” Katya practically growled, causing the man to take a step back.

“You are both heavily armed and pointed a weapon at me.”

“It’s currently one of our legal rights as Americans to have guns, no matter how problematic that is.” Katya said, eyes sharp. “Leave now. I’m sure the last thing the local department needs right now is a scandal about how one of their detectives forced his way into the room of two young women to rifle through their underwear.”

“Don’t think this is over. I won’t rest until the culprits have been found and punished.” Detective Kander vowed, glaring at them as he headed over to the door. “Don’t leave the country.” He added, looking them in the eye as he kicked their salt line derisively and shut the door behind him.

“What a cunt.”

“He took it better than Detective Parker.” Trixie reminded her, moving across the room until she stood a Katya’s side. “What are we going to do now?” She asked as she rested her chin on Katya’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“Full moon is tomorrow, I think it’s best for us to take a late night trip to the circus.” Katya sighed.

“But we don’t know what we’re dealing with.” Trixie said worriedly as Katya put a comforting hand on her arm, stroking her skin softly with her thumb.

“We just have to be prepared for anything.”

“That’s easier said than done.” Trixie laughed, although the humour wasn’t quite there. Katya turned her head so that they were face to face.

“I know, my love.” She said softly, leaning forwards to press a kiss to her partner’s lips.

“Are you coming back to bed?” Trixie asked, stepping away and catching Katya’s hand.

“No, I’m too wired. You go to sleep, I need to think.”

“I’ll help you.”

“It’s alright, get your beauty sleep, you need to be rested for tomorrow.” She said softly, as Trixie nodded, slipping back into their uncomfortable bed. Katya headed over to their bag, pulling out their laptop and opening it.

“I love you, trash can.” Trixie sighed, grin on her face at the name. Katya chuckled. Trixie would never let her live it down that the first time they met she’d been hidden in a trash can. Her hiding had been so good Trixie had nearly thought herself mad, thinking the bin was talking to her.

“Love you too, arm chair.” Katya snorted, ducking down to press a kiss to the top of Trixie’s head as the other woman settled into the flat pillow. Trixie rolled her eyes, managing to smack Kayta’s ass playfully just before the woman stepped out of reach. Katya stuck her tongue out as she sat down at the tiny table with the laptop.

…………

 10:37pm, The Circus

“Right, ready to narrowly escape getting eaten alive.” Katya asked brightly, checking that her gun was fully loaded. She knew it was as she’d filled it purposefully with a mixture of silver bullets and blessed bullets the night before, in case whatever they were dealing with could be shot. There was something about the few hours before an inevitable battle that made her paranoid.

“I don’t like not knowing what we’re up against.” Trixie said anxiously, looking out of the window and into the darkness. “Normally we’re better prepared.” She sighed, chewing her lip.

“Trixie, it’ll be ok. How many times have we done this sort of thing before?” Katya assured her, putting a warm hand on her knee. Trixie turned to look at her with a small smile.

“Lots. And it’s always really dangerous.” She replied, eyes searching Katya’s face as her lips twitched into a smile.

“And that’s why you like it.”

“I love you.” Trixie said earnestly, looking into Katya’s eyes. She suspected that Katya could see the little pink hearts that replaced her eyes every time she gazed at the other woman.

“Love you too.” Katya smiled, putting a hand on the back of Trixie’s head to pull her into a kiss. Trixie sighed as their lips met. There was a small part of her that always worried this kiss would be their last. After a long moment she pulled away and smiled at her lover. 

“I think you should wear this tonight. Just in case.” Katya said, pulling a small silver medallion from under her shirt. Her sister had given it to her as a sort of protective good luck charm. Katya was never really sure if it really worked. She’d never seen anything like it in any book and she wouldn’t put it past her sister to give her a placebo charm but if it did have any protective powers, Trixie should be wearing it.

“Your medallion. No Katya, that’s yours.” Trixie shook her head.

“I’d rather you wear it, if it does offer any protection, I want you to have it.” Katya continued, fiddling with the clasp beneath her long, thick hair.

“I’m not helpless, Katya.” Trixie sighed, a note of annoyance to her voice that made Katya stop suddenly.

“I know, beautiful. You’re anything but. I just want you to be safe.” Katya tried to explain, letting her hands fall to her lap.

“You know I’d rather you wear it for the exact same reason.” Trixie laughed with less humour than she’d likely intended. “While you’re busy putting yourself into danger to protect me do you ever consider what I would do if something happened to you? What it would do to me if something happened to you? Especially if it was at my expense.” The car fell silent. This was something that had been eating away at Trixie ever since the incident with the poltergeist that had left her medically dead for a month before being resurected by a teary Katya and her sister. Part of her loved that Katya was protective of her, it showed that she really cared about her. But sometimes it meant Katya didn’t think about her own safety.

“I’m sorry.” Katya said after a long moment, eyes flicking to meet Trixie’s. The younger woman swallowed, immediately feeling guilty for snapping at the other woman, no matter how true the words. This wasn’t the time or the place for this conversation.

“I’m sorry too, this whole thing has got me a little worked up. I’ll feel better once I know what we’re dealing with.” Trixie sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Wear the medallion Katya, it goes with your outfit.” She added with a smile, reaching out to take Katya’s hand to let her know they were okay. Katya caught her eye and smiled.

“Huh, that might be the first time I’ve worn a coordinating outfit in years and I wasn’t even trying.” Katya joked, looking down at her outfit in exaggerated surprise.

“I didn’t say your whole outfit, girl.” Trixie grinned, rolling her eyes fondly. Katya laughed, squeezing her hand before pulling it to her lips. Trixie squeezed her hand back before pulling away, enjoying the red lipstick imprint of Katya’s lips marked on the back of her hand. “You got your butt kicking boots on?”

“You betcha.” Katya laughed as they got out of the car, flashlights in hand.

……………

“Ok.” Katya said, hair swishing slightly as she dangled upside down from the ceiling. “So it’s alien clowns.” “Uh-huh.” Trixie hummed, hands almost brushing the ground as she spun ever so slightly. The pair were strung up by oddly coloured chains that were wrapped almost painfully around their ankles. They were in a fully concrete room, the walls sloping oddly. It seemed to be some kind of cell. “You’re two handies up on me.” “Where’s the detective when you need him?” Katya asked with a chuckle. “Still trying to blame us probably. How are you holding up over there?” Trixie mused, turning her head to look at Katya. The Russian gave her a soft look, reaching out to see if they could touch one and other. “I can’t decide whether to be excited because aliens or be terrified because clowns.” She confessed, sighing as their fingers tips hung barely a centimetre or so apart. “I mean, I watched one of those clowns literally dislocate its jaw to swallow a bird whole. Snatched it out of the fucking air.” “I was there, Katya. How about we be terrified because they’re going to eat us?” Trixie sighed, letting her arms hang back down. She let out an annoyed grunt as her chain began to spin again. It was really starting to get on her nerves. “Eh.” Katya shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “How are you doing?” “I just feel bad for them.” Trixie replied nonchalantly. “Why?” “They’re gonna eat you. Bet you taste like cigarettes, Red Bull, coffee and crying. And have the consistency of jerky left out in the sun for two years.” Trixie laughed. “But with a little bit of whoo!” Katya added, laughing along with her. “Anyway I thought you knew what I tasted like pretty well.” “Humans, will you please act like you are imprisoned. We are sick of the sound of your kind.” A gravelly exasperated sounding voice spoke as part of the concrete wall became see through. On the other side of the wall stood a clown who seemed to be on guard. “Do we have to be upside down? It’s messing up my hair.” Trixie asked, hoping to weed some information out of the guard. “Being upside down isn’t so bad.” Katya mused, evidently enjoying the annoyance she was causing. Trixie rolled her eyes. Katya could be so devil may care sometimes. It was definitely going to get her eaten first. “I see London, I see France…” She began to sign, turning to look at Trixie’s exposed underwear.

“This is the last time I bring a dress to a trouser fight.” Trixie grumbled. “I hate humans.” The guard sighed, hand coming to massage his red nose. Trixie bit her lip. She knew that the creatures wanted to brutally gut them and devour their innards but she couldn’t help but find the squeaking noise the nose made amusing. “Pretty sure that’s racist.” Katya informed it. “Species-ist?” “I think the UN are going have to establish some terminology now there’s confirmation of other life forms.” Trixie mused as the guard reached for something beside him. “Trix-” Katya began, sniffing as the air took a soft pink hue. “Do you smell-” “Dammit.” The younger woman cursed as they slipped out of consciousness. ……… “Katya.” A voice called as Katya began to feel consciousness dragging her back to the cell.

“Not now Trix, Ellie’s about to go through the wormhole.”

“Katya wake up.” The voices insisted, funny Trixie’s voice sounded oddly deep. And why was she putting on a Carolina accent. A hand patted her cheek sharply and she suddenly opened her eyes.  “Kevin, where the hell have you been? Call yourself a detective.” Katya snapped as the detective swam into her vision. “Hey Bern, how’re the germs?” Bernie blinked, evidently not sure how to respond.

“Abhorrent as usual?” The hairy man replied as he helped the detective get her down from the ceiling.

“Took you long enough.” Katya huffed as the detective held her weight as Bernie untied the chains. They managed to get her down fairly easily, although Katya wasn’t a fan of being held upside down by a man almost half her size. “We didn’t cover killer alien clowns in the academy.” He snorted, catching Katya as she wobbled. He was taking the whole thing suprisingly well. Maybe Trixie was right. The world swam before her eyes as he slid her down to sit for a moment. All the blood had run to her head, leaving her legs weak. “You win Trix, he’s not so bad.” Katya laughed. There was no reply. The Russian’s heart sunk when she looked to her left to see nobody there. “Where’s Trixie?!” “She’s here too?"  "I’m here, of course she’s fucking here too.”  She cried incredulously, trying to gather her strength to stand. “She was chained up next to me.” “Woah, you can’t go anywhere yet. I’ll go look for her.” The detective insisted, catching her as she wobbled. “My wife is being primed up as a delicious starter for a bunch of alien clown motherfuckers. I am not staying here.” She insisted, heading towards the opening the pair had entered through. The Kevin and Bernie shared a look before stepping forwards to help her.

"Trixie’s your wife? Women can’t get legally married in this country.” Bernie asked as he offered her an arm for support until her legs become fully cooperative. “We’re married in the spiritual sense.” She informed them, taking the arm gratefully. She didn’t half have pins and needles in her feet. The pair nodded in understanding. “As in we were married by a spirit.” She added, earning two surprised looks. “You’re very odd.” Bernie mused. Katya snorted, Bernie the Wolf Man, walking talking hairy freak show attraction thought she was odd. Most people might use that as a trigger to do some serious self-reflection on their mental state. Katya took it as a compliment. “Trixie finds it charming.” She shrugged with a smile. The smile dropped quickly as she wondered where her lover was. She hated being separated from her like this. They’d been practically glued together at the hip since the night they met all those years ago. Not being together frightened Katya, she couldn’t protect Trixie if she wasn’t with her.

She and Trixie had been through a lot since they’d met four years ago. They’d had many close calls, as was the nature of their business but Katya couldn’t imagine living without the other woman. She’d been unlucky enough to experience Trixie dying already. They’d had this case in Hollywood, a poltergeist that was haunting a basement studio. Katya would never forget the moment she’d turned to see Trixie raised into the air, body at an odd angle as glass from studio lights and cameras swirled around her.

Katya’s had felt the fall as though it had been her own body to hit the floor once she finally managed to expel the spirit. She’d made a joke, a stupid pun as she made her way over to check Trixie for bumps and bruises. The fall hadn’t been that far so she’d expected a groan at the joke and snarky comment. She hadn’t expected a gasp of pain and blood as Trixie shifted onto her back. There was so much blood. She’d forgotten about the glass.

She’d heard Trixie’s last words choke from her lips, that afternoon. Of course they were about her. A confession between friends, one that they’d both been to afraid to verbalise.That had been the first time Katya had ever heard Trixie say she loved her and every day she wished that memory wasn’t tainted by blood and sorrow. Katya had insisted she felt the same a she watched as the light drain from her eyes. It still haunted her.

Katya had called in every favour she had with her twin sister Briana, or as she called her Doctor Bitchcraft, who lived as a witchdoctor beneath the Hollywood sign. She’d offered the woman everything she owned, all her money, what little she had, the clothes off her back and even her baby, the Impala, in exchange for Trixie. Briana had eyed her for a moment before looking down at the motionless body of the pretty girl in front of her.

She’d sent Katya on a month long quest of sorts to find all the rare ingredients for the spell to save Trixie, keeping the body in a magically frozen state until she returned so that Trixie’s spirit could not pass over.

Katya had cried like a baby the moment Trixie’s eyes opened again, her chest heaving as she took her first breath in over a month. Her sister had sat back and watched as the pair had desperately embraced, words that they’d been meaning to say tumbling from their mouths.

That was how they got together and there wasn’t a day the memory didn’t delight and haunt Katya.

There were night she wake up in a sweat, momentarily panicked when she didn’t find Trixie in her arms. Trixie would simply open her eyes and roll over from the other side of the bed, pressing herself against Katya to remind her she was still there.

She couldn’t go back to being alone. Since her sister’s death she didn’t know anyone who would do a resurrection of that kind again. If she lost Trixie this time, she would really be gone and Katya wouldn’t be able to bare it. ………. The unlikely trio turned yet another plain looking corner and suddenly found themselves inside a large, chamber-like room. It was bizarre. It looked like a medieval dining room and yet the walls were covered in odd pieces of complicated looking technology. In the centre of the room stood a huge wooden dining table. And on either side of the table laid almost naked two figures, clad only in their underwear. Each lay motionless and seemingly tied down to the thick wood. The second Katya caught sight of familiar golden hair and hot pink lace, she knew who it was.

“Trixie!” She gasped, causing the other woman to turn to look at her. Katya made to step properly into the large room when Trixie quickly shook her head. The Russian stopped, putting her arms out to the men beside her and pushing them back further into the shadows of the corridor they’d come from. Trixie raised her index and middle fingers at them as best she could with her hands buckled beside her head.

“Is she swearing at us?” Bernie asked in scandalised horror. Katya rolled her eyes.

“Two of them in there.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know, we need a plan.” Katya hissed, pulling them into a nearby alcove.

Almost ten minutes later they’d formulated a seemingly fool proof plan after a lot of heated whispered debate. They all nodded at each other. Each secure in their rolls, Katya stepped forward.

“People at the party, and I’m wanting to dance.” Katya sang, cartwheeling into the room. She was the distraction, aka she had the most balls out of the three of them. If there was one thing she was even better at than monster hunting, it was being distracting. She turned, expecting to see two clowns looking at her with confused and maybe slightly impressed looks.

“Wait so you left me for long enough for the clowns to straight up get bored and wander off. And you were using that time to come up with a plan at comprised of you singing Same Parts?” Trixie grumbled, looking thoroughly unimpressed. As if Katya’s obsession with the song by pop sensation Tatianna wasn’t bad enough the rest of the time. It was like she couldn’t even almost die without hearing a Tatianna lyric. Some things just weren’t sacred anymore.

“It would have worked.” Katya insisted, making her way over to her partner. “Guys, the coast is clear.” She called behind her. Two slightly disappointed men came from the corridor. Their plan had really been good. She sighed. What a waste of a Tatianna lyric.

“Anyway, thank goodness you came.“ Trixie breathed, letting her head fall back against the lettuce and rocket beneath her head. "They were about to eat me with instant mashed potatoes! Instant!” She said incredulously as Katya and Kevin began to untie her. “What? You deserve real organic potatoes in the least.” Katya insisted, helping the other woman down from the table as Kevin went to check on Helena. “God you’re so romantic.” Trixie sighed. Bernie removed his shirt and offered it to Trixie to cover herself, leaving himself in a vest. She took it appreciativley, pulling the floral print shirt on. It hung almost to her knees and she had to roll the sleeves up. She mirrored Katya’s grin as the Russian slipped an arm around her lower back. “Um, ladies.” The detective interjected, looking around the room worriedly. “Not now Kev, we have a ritual. We do the thing, we say something cheesy, we kiss, go get food then we bone. A. Lot.” Katya reprimanded, not once looking up from Trixie’s face, grin fixed on her lips. “It’s sacred.” Trixie nodded.

“Only there’s a bunch of killer alien clown motherfuckers looking at us and I reckon they’re not happy you’re trying to steal their dinner.” Kevin stammered, causing the pair to finally look away from each other. They turned to see eight red-eyed clowns staring at them.

“Ok, we’re outnumbered.” Katya breathed, looking around for a weapon. One of the clowns let out a horrifyingly creepy chuckle.

“Maybe we can reason with them?” Bernie said hopefully. The creatures all bared their long, sharp fangs. Their jaws seemed to dislocate, looking almost like an oversized toothy grin.

“I hope you taste as good as you are annoying, humans.” One of the aliens growled, saliva dripping from its teeth as they all began to close in on the four of them. Katya tried to maintain her look of horror as she felt Trixie pass her a piece of cold metal. Weapons are more effective if they’re a surprise. It felt like a knife. Perfect.

“Reasoning seems out, Dog Man” Katya said with a raised eyebrow, patting the hairy man’s back. “You may want to get behind us.” She whispered to the men as the creatures came ever closer.

“You’re mad.” Bernie huffed, raising his fists in front of him. Huh, seems all it took was a bunch of alien clowns who wanted to eat you to turn a pacifist into a fighter. The detective pulled out his gun, preparing himself for the fight. Katya wished she had her gun too.

The first creature lunged at Trixie, earning a punch to the face as the others three dispersed, each finding their own battle. Trixie raised her knife, jabbing it towards the hideous clowns in front of her. The pair dodged away from her, trying to find a weak spot. Katya raised the weapon she’d been given ready to stab one of the creatures when she saw what she was holding.

“You gave me a damned fork?!” Katya cried incredulously as she realised what was in her hand. She quickly shoved it between her teeth and began to fist fight with the clown that lunged at her.

“Stab in four places at once.” Trixie yelled back as she managed to slash one of the clown’s throats. It shrieked and began to shrivel as though becoming crispy and dry. The remains crumbled in multi-coloured dust before her eyes. She looked up with wide eyes at the other clown in front of her who had reached into his oversized trousers. She had to admit there was a small part of her that was thankful it was some sort of futuristic looking gun of all the things the creature could have been keeping in there. That feeling was short lived as she realised what appeared to be a ray gun was much more dangerous than a dick would have been.

Katya’s head shot up at Trixie’s shout of the words ‘ray gun’. She was sat on a corpse that was quickly disintegrating beneath her. Aliens and ray guns! This was fantastic. Well, it was until she saw said ray gun pointed at Trixie. For a lack of anything else to do in the short amount of time she spat the fork into her hand and tossed it across the room.

Trixie gasped as she felt dust cloud into her face. She blinked, coughing on the blur of colours in front of her. Right in front of her, wedged between the heavy stones, stood a fork. She turned to give Katya an, admittedly thankful, ‘I told you so’ look. Katya gave her the finger before being jumped on from behind by one of the clowns.

Trixie grabbed the gun from the ground and ran towards her, leaping up onto the large table. She fumbled with the gun, pulling the trigger but nothing happened.

“If you could shoot this dick at some point.” Katya cried, managing to roll the creature off her back.

“I’m trying. He didn’t teach me how to use it before he got forked, Kat!”

“Give it to me then.”

“I forgot you did a course in alien weaponry in school.” She snapped, pulling one of the knobs and nearly jumping out of her skin as the gun flashed bright green suddenly. She pulled the trigger, disintegrating the clown that was seconds away from sinking its teeth into her lover.

“Sarcasm is not becoming of a lady.” Katya shouted as she rushed to help Bernie who was trying to fist fight three clowns at once. Kevin ran towards her, throwing his now empty gun at the fat clown chasing him. Trixie dropped the gun onto the table and grabbed a large metal dish.

“Duck.” She cried as the detective approached. The young man dropped and rolled. Unfortunately for the clown, it didn’t register the words before the metal dish hit it square in the face. It hit the ground with a heavy thud, sounding almost like a dropped bag of flour. Trixie handed the dish to Kevin who brought the edge sharply down on the creature’s neck. Colourful dust spilled from its clothing.

Bernie and Katya managed to take down one of the clowns but quickly found themselves running away. Bernie directed them towards a large fireplace, grabbing Katya’s arm to pull her away from a lunging creature. Once the arrived at the target destination he grabbed a fire poker handing it to Katya before grabbing a heavy metal kettle.

Bernie struck his creature first, sending it tumbling back. It snarled at him, lunging forwards again and this time managing a deep scratch on his arms with its exposed fangs before Katya swung her poker and flung it away. Luckily Bernie did not seem too badly hurt as he quickly turned to the other clown and began to fight it.

“Say hello to your dead dad on the beach.” Katya cried, raising the metal pole to strike the final blow to the vicious creature. Kevin ran to help Bernie take down the clown as Trixie dropped to untie Helena from the table. Lucky girl to sleep through the whole ordeal. Trixie hadn’t realised just how lucky they were the aliens hadn’t found them quiet annoying enough to sedate them like they had her.

“Oh my God. Contact!” The alien said suddenly, looking up at her with shining eyes. “I love that movie.” He breathed, hand on his chest as though he had never found another being who understood him better. Katya faltered, willingness to kills a creature she had so much in common with slipping. They both liked the movie Contact and eating Trixie, admittedly in different ways but it’s whatever.

Trixie’s head snapped around at the words she feared most in this world. No! Not another person, well creature, that loved that damned movie. She marched across the room. She could not let this thing encourage Katya’s insistence to talk about that crap.

“Hey. We were bonding!” Katya cried as Trixie shot the clown in the face. The creautre fell into colourful dust alongside the others. The floor was now an odd juxtaposition of dirty, grey stone and brightly coloured rainbow dust.

“He was reaching for a weapon.” Trixie insisted, quickly returning to untying the young girl.

“What weapon?”

“It was concealed.” Trixie shrugged.

“He was reaching for concealer. To fix his make up?” Katya asked in her valley girl voice. Trixie looked at her with dead eyes.

“I wish they’d eaten me.” Trixie groaned from deep within her soul. Katya cackled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll eat you if you like.” She offered, nudging the other woman with her elbow. The detective took off his coat to cover Helena’s Wonder Woman underwear and keep her warm. He picked her up, thankful to have finally found her. He’d been so worried.

“Is it just me that finds being around them a constant state of being amused and uncomfortable?” Bernie asked turning to the detective with a helpless look.

“Same, man. Same.” The detective nodded as Bernie wandered towards the computers curiously.

“Well that’s all done.” Katya said, clapping her hands before brushing coloured dust from the shoulder of her jacket.

“I don’t even know where to start with the paperwork.” Kevin confessed.

“I heard them say they kept her sedated pretty much all the time because she screamed a full hour when they first took her.” Trixie said, checking the girl’s pulse. It was low but regular, similar to that of someone who was simply sleeping. “Ours wore off though, so I can only assume hers will too.” She added, gently pulling at the girl’s eyelid to check her eyes.

“Maybe you just found her out on the highway, walking or something.” Katya suggested.

“The bodies disintegrate so there’s no suspicion there.” Trixie added, wiggling her toes with a look of disgust. She was barefoot and she could feel gritty powder between her toes. Great. There were bits of alien clowns between her toes. Perfect.

“Wrapped up pretty neatly I’d say.” Katya nodded.

“What about the big fuck off spaceship we’re in?” The detective cried. Trixie and Katya both blinked. They hadn’t actually seen this place from the outside. They’d been taken from the circus and the next thing they knew they were hanging upside down in a cell.

“Guys.” Bernie interjected from his place beside a collection of screens and blinking lights.

“Not now, Dog Man.” Katya waved a hand. “Only I think this building may explode.” He informed them, quickly catching their attention. They all rushed over. “Inspector?” He asked, motioning to the screen. Bernie took Helena gently from Kevin. The detective surged forwards, pressing buttons in a way that was obviously supposed to look like he knew what he was doing. “In the academy they taught us some basic coding and this looks like a detonation.” He said quickly, flicking another switch hopefully. “I don’t know why I ever doubted you, Kevin.” Katya nodded cheerily, clapping on the back. Kevin blinked at her, open mouthed. It took a second for her to rerun his words in her head. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah, you have to be a trained specialist to understand a detonation countdown and a big red flashing button.” Trixie pointed out, the cold of the stone floor stinging at her feet. Kevin flipped another switch. The room around them became suddenly blurry, as though the edges of the room were shifting in and out of focus. The room around them suddenly became a sixties nautical themed room. The cold floor beneath Trixie’s feet was replaced with a grey rug in the shape of a swordfish. “Is this a run now or a ‘I can disable it’ kind of thing?” Katya asked, looking around at the design of the room with interest. “Ummm. Oh no.” He said quickly. “The first one. The first one!” He cried, the pitch of his voice fluctuating to something almost comically high as he read the screen. The detective ran, grabbing the two by the arm to turn them round. The pair looked at each other for less than a second before bolting after him. Bernie hurried behind them, carrying the unconscious girl. …………. “There we go. All done here.” Katya said, shutting the trunk of her beloved car and wiping her dusty hands on her jeans much to Trixie’s annoyance. “Where to now?” “Well the thing is we never finished our ritual.” Trixie pointed out, leaning against the trunk of the car with a coy smile. “That is very true.” Katya nodded, raising her eyebrows with a grin. “Where did we get up to?” “Well we did the say something cheesy part but I don’t think we can just jump to the kissing.” Trixie said seriously, hands coming up to straighten the front of Katya’s purple leather jacket. She wasn’t really a fan of the purple one on Katya. It looked great on her though. She was waiting for the day Katya would realise that and just give it to her. “You’re right the kissing has to come after the cheesy.” Katya agreed, stepping closer to her lover. “You got any good lines?” Trixie grinned. Katya paused for a second, looking up at the sky and sighing thoughtfully as she let her hands fall to rest on Trixie’s hips. She hummed. “I hope those aliens checked their smoke detectors before having you because laid out on the platter, you were smokin’.” Katya purred, wiggling her shoulders excitedly. "Ok, that surpassed cheesy and was just bad.” Trixie snorted, rolling her eyes fondly. “You���re lucky I love you.” She sighed, stroking a hand over Katya’s cheek. She pulled the other woman close, pressing her lips to her lover’s with a smile. Katya hummed, pulling her flush against her own body. Trixie’s arms slid around the Russian’s neck, fingers curling into her blonde hair.

After a few minutes, Katya pulled away, dipping to press another quick kiss to Trixie’s lips as though not wanting to stop kissing her. It was odd. She’d kissed Trixie so many times over the past few years. And yet every time their lips met, a bolt of nerves and pleasure shot down her spine and pooled in her stomach. “Now, I believe, let me just check my list.” Katya mimed pulling a list from her pocket and folding it out. Trixie snorted, watching the other woman fondly. “Ah, yep. An I.O.U for two handies, subject to be paid in full by one Trixie Mattel.” “We haven’t eaten yet.” Trixie pointed out, looking down at the hand placed scandalously high up on her thigh. “We’ll get in and out on the way back to the room.” Katya suggested, patting Trixie’s thigh before stepping back and pulling the car keys from her jacket pocket. “And then we’ll go to In and Out burger, get it?” Trixie joked as they walked around the car to their respective sides. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” Katya snorted, shaking her head as she slid into the driver’s seat. Trixie laughed as she joined the other woman in the car. Kevin waved as the car pulled away. It certainly wasn’t the last time he’d see the hunters throughout his career, but what would continue to surprise him every time was just how perfect the pair were for each other. And that’s how the two local to nowhere hunters defeated killer alien clowns and introduced the currency of handies to a small town.

[dinafbrownil]

Must-Reads Of The Week From Brianna Labuskes

The Friday Breeze

Newsletter editor Brianna Labuskes, who reads everything on health care to compile our daily Morning Briefing, offers the best and most provocative stories for the weekend.

Happy Friday and Happy New Year! As we’re only just back from holidays, I have a very breezy Breeze to get you off on the right foot. Here’s what you might have missed while recovering from that hangover.

After months of uncertainty and hedging, the Trump administration revealed its ban on most vaping flavors in one of those compromises where no one is really happy (I guess that’s most of them?). Menthol and tobacco will remain on the market, while sales for fruity flavors will be halted — but only for cartridge-based e-cigarettes. The rule exempts open-tank systems, typically sold in vape shops that cater to adults.

Critics say that although the efforts are a good first step, they fall far short of what was hinted at in the fall when the vaping-related illnesses were commanding national attention and headlines. (Or as Rep. Frank Pallone of New Jersey tweeted:  “A flavor ban that exempts menthol and vape shops is no ban at all.”)

The industry, meanwhile, is probably marking this one down in the “could have been worse” column, but it will still be a blow to sales.

Reuters: Trump Administration Restricts Some E-Cigarette Flavors

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A flood of Republican congressmen (about 80% of all GOP members) signed an amicus brief in the highly anticipated abortion case barreling toward Supreme Court oral arguments in March. The friends of the court filing helpfully reminded the justices that precedent has been overturned in the past (230 times to be exact) — just in case they’ve forgotten!

The sheer number of lawmakers who backed the brief is just the latest sign that this case — which at its core deals with admitting privileges to hospitals but has come to symbolize the abortion debate as a whole — is going to be one to watch.

The Washington Post: More Than 200 Republican Members of Congress Urge Supreme Court to Reconsider Roe V. Wade Abortion Rights Decision

Speaking of things to watch for (with 20/20 vision, no less!) this year …

The health fights: Surprise billing and the Affordable Care Act take the cake. Last year was supposed to be the year for surprise medical billing. Although lawmakers did have a shocking burst of progress on the issue at the tail end of 2019, nothing was actually passed. Meanwhile, the appeals court decision on the ACA granted Republicans a reprieve during this contentious election season, and Dems will likely keep the battle front of mind for voters.

The Hill: Five Health Care Fights to Watch in 2020

And then we have drug pricing, which everyone is livid about apparently and yet no one can fix. (FWIW, pharma hiked prices for this year, which is “business as usual.”) Beyond that, 2020 seems to be the year when states’ outside-the-box gambles toward curbing the high costs (like Netflix-like subscription services) will be put to the test.

Stat: 3 Drug Pricing Policy Experiments to Watch in 2020

Finally, health experts try to peek into their crystal balls for the big topics, developments and crises that will be dominating the field this year. Last year, they predicted the rise of meth, but hadn’t foreseen the vaping-related outbreak. Some of the guesses: a lot of digital and tech advancements and restrictions; a possible breakthrough in Alzheimer’s research; early-stage data for a universal flu vaccine; a pivotal year for CRISPR; and more.

Stat: What Will 2020 Bring for Medicine and Science?

Two stories out of Indian Country duked it out this week for “most depressing.” The first is about a woman who went into an IHS hospital because of a cough. Her X-ray revealed signs of cancer, but no further tests were done. Her journey with the system reveals the deep quality of care issues that have plagued the agency for years. “The sad thing is, our people don’t have a choice. That’s all that is there,” said Harold Frazier, the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe leader.

The Wall Street Journal: Kate Miner’s Tragic Journey Through the U.S. Indian Health Service

Meanwhile, the federal government is just catching up to the fact that indigenous women not only face chronic violence at much higher rates than other populations, but they’ve also been disappearing in numbers that constitute a crisis. What does that mean, then, for the ones that are found? Families grappling with the trauma they experienced are left without resources or help to put their lives back together.

The New York Times: In Indian Country, a Crisis of Missing Women. and a New One When They’re Found.

With plenty of targets for public outrage, the FDA so far has avoided much scrutiny over what role it played in the opioid epidemic. Recently unearthed documents, however, show there was lax oversight at the agency over programs designed to curb the misuse of the pain pills. And even when the deficiencies in the program became apparent through its own review system, the FDA still failed to address the flaws.

The New York Times: As Tens of Thousands Died, F.D.A. Failed to Police Opioids

Anecdotally it’s become clear that opioid overdoses and financial hardships can be linked, but a new study found that within five years of an auto plant closing, opioid overdose deaths among working-age adults were a staggering 85% higher than in counties where plants had not closed.

The Washington Post: Fatal Opioid Overdoses Spike in Counties Where Auto Plants Close, According to New Research

In things yours truly learned this week: Apparently, it’s common for sheriffs to release sick criminals because they don’t want to shoulder the cost of their medical care. Sheriffs defend the practice as a way to keep spending in check, but an investigation found that some of those who were released were being held on charges for violent crimes — including murder.

ProPublica/AL.com: What Happens When Sheriffs Release Violent Offenders to Avoid Paying Their Medical Bills

That’s it from me! Have a great weekend.

from Updates By Dina https://khn.org/news/friday-breeze-health-care-policy-must-reads-of-the-week-from-brianna-labuskes-january-3-2020/

[dinafbrownil]

As His Wife’s Caregiver, A Doctor Discovers What’s Missing At Health Care’s Core

Caring for someone with a serious illness stretches people spiritually and emotionally, often beyond what they might have thought possible.

Dr. Arthur Kleinman, a professor of psychiatry and anthropology at Harvard University, calls this “enduring the unendurable” in his recently published book, “The Soul of Care: The Moral Education of a Husband and a Doctor.”

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The book describes Kleinman’s awakening to the realities of caregiving when his beloved wife, Joan, was diagnosed with a rare form of early Alzheimer’s disease that causes blindness as well as cognitive deterioration.

Although Kleinman’s specialty is studying how patients experience illness, he wasn’t prepared for the roller coaster of family caregiving. Each time he adapted to Joan’s changing condition, another setback would occur, setting off new crises and fueling uncertainty and stress.

During 11 years of caregiving until Joan’s death in 2011, Kleinman learned that no one who goes through this emerges unchanged. He became less self-centered, more compassionate and more aware of how the health care system fails to support family caregivers ― the backbone of the nation’s long-term care system.

I spoke with Kleinman in mid-November at a caregiving panel. His remarks below are edited for length and clarity.

About his book. “I wrote it for a specific reason. I had spent my whole career as an expert on care. I myself was a psychiatrist who worked with patients with chronic medical disorders, [such as] chronic pain, diabetes, heart disease, cancer. I thought I knew it all. A veil of ignorance was raised from my eyes by my experience as a primary family caregiver.

“What is that veil of ignorance about? It’s about recognizing just how difficult family care is for [people with] dementia and, not just dementia, but many other problems.”

Daily responsibilities. “Let’s say in the fifth year, what was it like? I would get Joan up around 6 a.m. and take her to the bathroom. I have to handle the toilet paper, wash her hands, dress her to work out, take her to the bath and bathe her.

“I would shampoo her hair, dry her, pick out her clothes [for the day]. After that, I would prepare breakfast. As she got increasingly agitated, [that] became difficult because I had to sometimes hold her hands [to] keep her from throwing things or getting up and hurting herself. Because she was blind, she couldn’t see where she was. And then I would help her eat ― usually, at the end, feeding her ― and then take her to a room where we would sit and listen quietly to music.

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“Maybe six, seven years into this, I would just sit there and hold her hands. And even that became difficult. So, I would tell her stories of the past … our stories. [Editorial note: This is just the beginning of a day full of similar tasks.]

“I discovered early on that the ritualization of acts of caring ― the dressing, bathing, all these things ― is a way of habit formation that keeps you going.”

Challenging masculinity. “We had a great relationship, but it was asymmetrical. For 36 years, my wife took care of me. I was raised as a classical male in the 1940s. When I showed an interest in cooking, my grandmother said to me, ‘What are you, a sissy?’ I was a tough kid on New York [City] streets. I had the most unpromising beginnings to be a caregiver. And my wife slowly socialized me to a different kind of masculinity, to be able to care.

“[Pay family members for caregiving] and you’ll see more men do it. Go to Australia, for example, where there’s very good compensation for care, and you’re astonished at the number of men who are caring for children, who are caring for elderly, and the like.”

Asking for help. “I have a wide circle of friends and colleagues, and [after the book] many of them said they had never realized what was involved. Part of that was my fault. I had a lot of trouble asking for help. Actually, at one point, I so exhausted myself that my kids, who are great, said, ‘You really need assistance.’ And they stepped in, as did my mother. My mother, who at the time was in her 90s.

“So, I had a great system of care around me, but I [also] needed a home health aide to [help with Joan and] keep myself going. I found an Irish woman … and she was fabulous.”

Maintaining presence. “In spite of that, I found it extraordinarily difficult in terms of other elements of care, one of which is presence. To keep your liveliness, your love, the presence of who you are going while you’re doing all this work of caregiving ― it is extremely difficult and demanding, but it’s crucial.

“When people ask ‘Why do you do [this]?’ the answer of most family caregivers I’ve spoken to is ‘Well, it was there to do. It’s got to be done, [so] you do it.’”

Learning about failure. “I was fortunate in life; I had a golden career. I have a personality that is like a bulldog, and when I start something I finish it. But there’s no finishing care. Every one of us [family caregivers], if we’re honest, you fail at a certain point. The frustrations build, anger mounts, you control your anger so you don’t injure the person you’re caring for. But you’ve got to somehow handle it inside you.”

The soul of care. “I think what lies at the soul of care is a form of love. You will do everything you can for another because they mean so much to you. [But] it is also problematic, because we all have complex relationships and we’ve got other things going on in our lives.

“We endure, we learn how to endure, how to keep going. We’re marked, we’re injured, we’re wounded. We’re changed … [in] my case, for the better. If you had known me before my 11 years of care, you wouldn’t recognize me today. I was your classical hard-driving Harvard professor … as tough as any other professor at Harvard Medical School.

“I’ve redeemed myself through this experience, in a way.”

A call for change. “How do we strengthen caregiving? How do we do those things that will make it recognized as important as it is? It’s going to take a radical rethinking. Our health care system [is focused on] entirely the wrong issues. Economics is not the most central aspect of care; it’s caregiving.

“Do you know not a single one of the senior neurologists I went to with Joan who wanted to do everything diagnostically made the recommendation ‘You want to think about a home health aide now, even though you don’t need it right now. You have to look into how you’re going to reconfigure your house [for] someone who’s both blind and with dementia. [Or] a social worker is a great navigator of what the health care system is about. You want to take advantage of that.’

“So, this is where I believe that our whole health care system has got to be rethought, from the bottom up with attention to care at its core.”

We’re eager to hear from readers about questions you’d like answered, problems you’ve been having with your care and advice you need in dealing with the health care system. Visit khn.org/columnists to submit your requests or tips.

from Updates By Dina https://khn.org/news/as-his-wifes-caregiver-a-doctor-discovers-whats-missing-at-health-cares-core/