#I want to cry every time Thelma says let's keep going | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

misssophiachase · 4 years

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I’m back, hope you liked the first part! You can read from the beginning on AO3 and FF.

Synopsis: She skipped bail and he’s tasked to track her down. As a seasoned bounty hunter, it’s a fairly routine job on paper for Klaus Mikaelson but then he meets Caroline Forbes and has no idea what to do with her.

Thrill of the Chase - Part Two: Man Down

Cumberland County, TN, (Interstate 40) - Caroline

Karma was a bitch, currently disguised as a blown-out tire.

Caroline kicked it a few times in frustration but then stopped realising her heels weren't fully equipped to soften the blow.

"Mother chucker," she hissed, rubbing her sore foot.

Caroline decided then and there she was woeful at this whole ‘on the run’ lifestyle. Not only with her poor choice of footwear but the fact she had no spare tire, and even if she did, no jack to change it.

Only she would decide to skip her bail hearing and not complete the requisite checks required on the vehicle aiding and abetting her getaway from New York City.

She could hear her idiot, car-obsessed ex-boyfriend berating her for not taking proper care of her convertible. Caroline figured she must have done it despite him. Unfortunately, her stubborn ability to hold a grudge had led her to this moment and he was clearly still tormenting her from afar. Ass.

It really wasn’t her day. Actually, who was she kidding? It wasn’t her year.

2.5 hours earlier

“How’s my little fugitive?” She’d asked after the call connected, while Caroline was still singing along with Rhianna about shooting a man down in Central Station.

“I’m fine,” she lied, turning down the music.

“Liar,” she countered. “I heard Rhianna, things must be desperate.”

“I’m getting into character,” she offered.

“This isn’t high school drama club, Care,” she sighed.

“What ever happened to you being the bad influence?” She growled. Katherine Pierce had been well renowned at their prep school on the Upper East Side for her questionable reputation. “I recall having to cover for you more than a few times.”

“For smoking in the girls’ toilets.”

“And the rest. I also seem to recall other less PG things happening in that bathroom too, Kitty Kat,” she laughed, despite everything else.

“Good times,” she chuckled. “So, where are you now?”

“Bristol.” For some reason, every time she crossed a state border, Caroline felt relieved. Like the more miles she put between herself and Manhattan the better.

“Welcome to Tennessee,” she squealed excitedly. “You’ll be here in Nashville with me before you know it.”

“Thankfully,” she murmured, pleased to see a familiar face. “But I can’t stay too long.”

“I know,” she drawled. “You’re a woman on a mission.”

“I promised,” she insisted.

“And, as your best friend, I know more about your ability to keep a promise than most. Please tell me we can get obscenely drunk before you go at least?”

“Are you kidding? We have so much time to make up for,” Caroline smiled. “And now that I’m a felon on the run who knows what I might do under the influence?” Katherine’s laughed intermingled with her own until she stopped suddenly and Caroline could already tell what she was going to say next.

“Do you think maybe you should have stayed and…”

“You are really killing my fugitive vibe, Pierce,” she interrupted. “I couldn’t stay there, you know that. I needed to get away, it was stifling and had been for a while.”

“Your father certainly has that suffocation gift down.”

“Lucky me,” she muttered. Katherine was responding but she was breaking up and difficult to decipher. “Kat, I can’t understand you.” She could hear her voice cutting in and out until the line went dead.

As stupid as it sounded, Caroline really didn’t want to talk about him so it was probably good timing the cell reception dropped out when it did.

Although interstate 40 was a busy route, Caroline hadn’t seen many cars that time of the day. She’d noticed mile marker 337 not long before her tire blew out, interrupting her fugitive themed playlist in the process.

Now, here she was stranded and trying to get someone to pull over. Easy, right?

Although, wasn’t that how people were kidnapped and killed? That’s what her parents had drummed into her since she was young and although she was supposed to be rebelling against society it still didn’t feel right or safe.

Caroline winced thinking about her parents again. She’d already ignored their steady stream of calls since leaving New York and was too afraid to listen to her voicemail. She was fairly certain if Liz and Bill were disappointed in her after committing her crime they were royally pissed about her running away.

So, the fact her cell reception was non-existent was timely because her parents’ calls weren’t getting through but it also meant no calling for help hence her current predicament.

She decided to push aside every sensible thought and think about what would Thelma and Louise do? Well, besides that driving into the Grand Canyon part.

Caroline was madly trying to remember if general hitchhiker etiquette was to hold out a thumb or not. Pity she was wearing jeans otherwise she might have flashed a little leg like she’d seen in movies.

While inwardly arguing with herself, Caroline heard a loud crunch synonymous with tires on gravel.

The silver Lincoln was impressive looking but what she couldn’t get past was the person behind the wheel.

Even wearing aviators, she could make out an enticing pair of crimson lips curved into a curious smile and untamed, dark blonde hair that curled over his ears teasingly. His black henley was open at the top, a few necklaces peeking out that were just begging to be pulled upon.

Looks like her Brad Pitt had arrived just in time.

Caroline just hoped he wasn’t going to ask too many questions.

Klaus

Usually, when Klaus had to apprehend a skip it took a lot more than two hours but yet here she was standing on the roadside.

He had to open and close his eyes a few times to check they weren’t playing tricks on him. But here she was basically standing there waiting to be caught. His intel from Lucien was supposedly a reliable destination in Nashville but it looks like he wouldn’t need that anymore.

Klaus recognised her straight away given the picture his friend had sent through had been running through his mind ever since. One thing was for sure that her photo, albeit flawless, still didn’t do her justice.

Those fitted, dark jeans were showcasing a lithe pair of legs, her red and white striped tee highlighting her creamy skin and those golden waves were fanned out perfectly over her shoulders. And that was before he’d even studied her face of expressive, blue eyes with some kissable, pink lips.

Given Sex on Fire was blasting through his speakers, it seemed almost apt given the way his nether regions weren’t cooperating.

But Klaus was a professional and knew he had a job to do.

He still couldn’t believe he was doing this in the first place but Lucien had begged and pleaded. Lucien never did that. Ever.

2.5 hours earlier

“Even if I could help, you know Rebekah would murder me if I don’t...”

“Kol tells me the family reunion is in a week, you’ve got the time, mate.” Klaus balled up his fists remembering to kill his brother when he saw him. “

Who is it?”

“Excuse me?”

“This walk in the park? In and out, no trouble? Last time I checked that’s a little beneath my skill set, Castle.”

“Agreed but this case is special. I, uh, sort of know her father.” Klaus nearly swerved off the road given how unexpected that confession was.

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Klaus, please?” He pleaded. “Let’s just say he’s well-known in the city not to mention extremely powerful and can’t risk this getting out publicly.”

“So, let me get this straight,” he growled, his frustration growing. “You want me to chase down some rich, daddy’s little girl who decided to ruffle his feathers by getting arrested?”

“Well…”

“Wow,” he groaned. “Rebekah’s demand is suddenly not so bad.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, Klaus,” he insisted. “And if you do this I’ll be in your debt. Any skip you want I'll get.” Klaus had to admit it was an enticing offer, especially given all of the revenge he could exact.

“Keep talking.”

“So, you’ll do it?”

“I want to know everything first,” he replied gruffly. “Who her father is and what the hell she did.”

When Lucien told her what Caroline Forbes had done he was surprised but another part of him was intrigued. Seeing her picture had done nothing to dampen his curiosity either.

Her father was a whole other story and Klaus was beginning to realise that she wasn’t just any other skip. She was a liability, an expose waiting to happen. No wonder he was hoping to keep it under wraps as long as possible.

Now, peering at her through his windshield, Klaus had to decide how he was going to handle this. Handle her.

Should he use the handcuffs or not? Should he identify himself from the outset or not? Was she a flight risk and more savvy than expected? Or was she just crying out for attention from daddy and would be compliant and come easily?

Klaus never had to question himself. He always worked on pure instinct and it had served him well in the past. Let's hope it did this time.

As he opened the car door and eased himself out from behind the wheel, Klaus knew was this certainly wasn’t going to be dull.

Soundtrack: Man Down (Rihanna) Sex on Fire (Kings of Leon)

#klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #thrill of the chase #misssophiachase #my writing #man down #hope you like

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mutantsrisingrpg · 4 years

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Congratulations ABBY! You’ve been accepted as MARS with a FC change to HUNTER SCHAFER.

Abby, we’re excited to have you back, and we’re excited to have you gracing the dashboard with Yvette! Her life’s story flowed so well, I felt as if I could envision it like a movie - of course, it’d probably be one that I cry during, but that’s besides the point. I’m a sucker for the little things, and those headcanons, from her favorite things to her laughter, just made me envision her that much more clearer and really makes you see her as a person, not just a character. Welcome back!

Welcome to Mutants Rising! Please read the checklist and submit your account within 24 hours.

OUT OF CHARACTER INFORMATION

NAME / ALIAS: abby

PRONOUNS: she/her

AGE: 22

TIMEZONE & ACTIVITY LEVEL: EST, 6-7/10 – What is time these days? I’m still a full time grad student, but with everything the way it is i’m pretty much on my computer all the time, which means I can be better involved in the gc ( hopefully ! ). In terms of replies, I’ll either be cranking things out on the dash in the mornings or at night after dinner (8-9pm onwards)

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

DESIRED ROLE: Yvette Diandra

GENDER/PRONOUNS: trans woman & she/her

DETAILS & ANALYSIS:

Calm like a bomb. The only tick tick you’ll get out of Yvette is her heart thrumming when her hands lift off the handlebars; when her smile splits for a second – all teeth. There’s nothing overtly dangerous about her: a young woman grown upright into adulthood, all legs and elbows and big eyes, searching for soft spots between your ribs. Mischievous, maybe – up to no good, certainly. She smiles like she’s got a secret tucked under her lip, more than just the tattoo she got drunk on her 21st birthday reading PUSSY in blurred out ink ( you are what you eat, right? ).

There’s an uptick to her brow to tell you she’s unimpressed; a shrug in her shoulders that says she couldn’t give a shit what you say, really, but a nod and another nod until she can roll away from one palm-flanked street to the next. She’ll keep it that way – a slow blink like a cat’s to say, i trust you, a hand extended with a joint between her fingers. You know she’s whispering about you when she turns to giggle in her friend’s dark hair, but – come on. She looks like she’ll bowl over with a strong wave; how much damage can she really do?

She doesn’t use her powers often, a clean and tidy life that comes at the expense of control. She’ll say it’s because her powers are messy. The truth is she’s never been terrified of anything like she is of herself. She knows what her blast radius is, knows how easy it is to crush things, like a petal in her fist. She knows the shrapnel never really comes out; you can’t get unfucked, you can’t put all that toothpaste back in the tube. You sure as shit can’t walk across the bridge, on fire while you hold the blown-out match. It’s fine. It’s all fucking fine. Yvette clamps a bear trap on her own foot – not because she likes it, not because it’s convenient. Because the alternative, is, frankly, a lot of fucking work. Yvette is good at breaking herself apart, less so at putting herself together. The drop is always easier than getting back up.

The fearlessness – as congenital as the atoms in her body, shivering to split and reshape like waves on the surf – comes out in other ways. No helmet on the on the hill that drives straight down to the beach. Sketchy deals with friends of a friend of a cousin of a diagonal neighbor. Nights lost to glitter and the burn of liquor on her tongue, unsure of the time between the club and the beach and her bed. Mornings split like a snowcone in the sky, and the rest of the day lost to sleep. Petty theft. Cruel giggles poorly stifled in the back of her hand. Fun that’s really only fun when you aren’t at the receiving end of it. Testing the edges of control like dipping your toes into a riptide.

BIO:

Trigger warnings for: still birth, abuse, drug use

Yvette is born screaming. Peals of it, unfurling from her tiny, toothless mouth. Despondent – no nurse’s finger or nipple in her mouth would quiet her. Eight years or so later, over three fingers of bottom-shelf whiskey and a chain of cigarettes that should’ve put her in a grave, her mother mentions offhand it was just Yvette overcompensating, as usual. It’s the first time she hears about her brother, pushed out between her desperate wails; born sleeping. Yvette swallows this like she does all her mother’s bitter commentary – wide-eyed, slim fingers wrapped around her blue plastic cup, knees drawn up and chin nestled between them.

Things were easy, then – on the bicycle of their lives; two wheels holding up the frame in equal measure. At least – that’s how Yvette remembers them, and refuses to remember further. Texas was honey-sweet and bourbon-rich; Yvette was raised between their dry front lawn and the neighbors, the block a kingdom for her bare feet to conquer. She was a wild thing, then, wiggling in her mother’s hands and in a furious race with the sun. The problem with the sun is that it goes down. The clock stops ticking at midnight, and the candles blow out. The screen door swings shut.

Yvette makes no secret of her dislike for Mom’s boyfriend. He’s tall and broad, with mean eyes like Mom taught her to look for. His hands are cracked and he smells more of cigarettes than her, too; reeks of them, and maybe that’s why Mom likes him so much – she thinks she can smoke him down, too. Yvette’s never had a taste for tobacco, not since she went to school on the first day of fourth grade and all the kids next to her held her nose. The only time Mom’s ever slapped her was when Yvette crushed all the unused packs under her boot.

So the first boyfriend is a bust, but it doesn’t stop Mom from bringing home the second or the third. By the fourth Yvette’s on the cusp of something she can’t quite reach, and she knows enough from her skimmed physics book to understand insanity. This time, she shuts the bedroom door and says nothing. Doesn’t stop Mom from falling back into the pendulum swing, though, and this time the speed picks up. Boyfriend Five nearly kicks her door down when all their friends go home and Six takes a fist full of her hair before Mom can stop him. She doesn’t wait to see what special brand of asshole Seven is – peel back the label and it’s all the same dented can.

Miami was an inside joke – another liquor-based confession Mom made on the couch with a smoke in her hand. It was a place to pin all their secret wants and wishes. You could be something, in Miami, something warm and pink and sun-dusted, a place where the sun doesn’t set and the sand is warm between their toes. A pipe-dream, Yvette echoed back and Mom nodded. Now, with Boyfriend Seven’s cash in her pocket, a bag on her back, and the rest of her life literally up in flames – why the fuck not? Everyone was always telling her to stop letting the world happen to her.

There wasn’t a lot Mom was right about – not Yvette’s dad, or her name, or any of those shitbags she ever brought home. She was maybe a little bit right about Miami, though. It was flamingo-pink and glittering. And no one gave a single shit. Not when Yvette grew her hair long, or rolled up her skirts, or walked into Planned Parenthood with her heart in her throat.

Mom finds her, eventually. It’s hard not to when Yvette made no secret of it and tended to implode her life every six months or so. It was all very dramatic – lots of wet mascara, tears, hands clasped in front of her like she was about to mutter six Hail Mary’s. The last boyfriend – was it Ten, now? Eleven? – finally put his hands on Mom and apparently that was something of a wakeup call. Not Yvette, gone in the night, with their cash and the garage like ground zero. Not all the times the kitchen vibrated like the base of a volcano, seconds from exploding. Still, Yvette opens her door. Mom sleeps on the couch now, goes to work with few words while Yvette sleeps in. They don’t say the M word. They don’t say the F or the H word either. This isn’t home and they aren’t really family. Yvette’s control is thin like fishing line. These days, to be honest, they don’t say much at all.

EXPANDED CONNECTIONS:

Hana Mercado: There is nothing about Yvette and Hana that will ever be calm and peaceful. From their first collision, like flintrock to tinder, Yvette knew she was going to love this stupid bitch forever. They’re like a tanner, taller Team Rocket – or Thelma & Louise, though Yvette doesn’t give herself too much time to contemplate which side of the hero/sidekick coin she falls on between the two of them. The honest to god truth is that there wasn’t much Yvette had before Hana – her mom, maybe, and 20 hours of week at the gas station where she could do fuck all and still get paid for it. It wasn’t even the power she wanted. She could feel it – maybe, buzzing at the base of her spine, but it wasn’t why, when Hana held their hand out, Yvette took it.

It was balance, restored. Yvette spent her life since eight reaching for it, open hands unmet. She thought she needed quiet, like a vacuum to suck out all the noise and rage vibrating inside her. She was so fucking fixated on it. But a counterbalance can never be empty space. Hana stepped on the other side of the scale – lightning to Yvette’s thunder; there, bright and flashing, for Yvette’s low rumble to follow. And that’s what they are – aren’t they? Storms for girls; blowing through the bay, darkening the sky and roughing up the surf; spitting out dunes like chewed gum.

But Yvette sees the way Hana’s been nudging her, pressing their foot down on Yvette’s side of the scale. They want to cut the wires, watch the clock tick down to zero, and Yvette can’t for the life of her understand why. Her whole life she’s ripped things out from the inside, ruined things to show herself she could; decided it was what she deserved. She doesn’t need Hana to do it for her, too. Yvette knows fully fuckin’ well what she’s capable of – and it scares her. The fear of it chokes her up, mangles her insides until she can’t breathe. The problem is, of course, that it’s Hana. Anyone else Yvette would’ve told to fuck right off by now – and shit, she probably already has. But Hana’s hand in hers is a grounding weight, and even without that she’s at risk of detonation.

EXTRA:

Headcanons:

-Yvette’s transportation of choice is her mom’s old roller skates that she rehabbed. She’s a frequent loiterer on the counters of her favorite skate shops, juggling wheels or messing with knuts and washes. As a result of both her hobby and general lack of care for her own wellbeing, she’s often sporting bruised knees and hands and a fair amount of road rash.

-As a natural consequence of her lack of experience and control, Yvette has set fire to a number of various buildings and infrastructure, including but not limited to: her mom’s garage, three gas stations, the neighbor’s yard, a playground swingset, herself (once, technically), two jetties, and some of Tatiana’s plants. She’s never been charged with arson.

-She has a habit of laughing in grossly inappropriate situations, and despite literally everything else about her that says otherwise – it’s almost never on purpose. It’s an anxious habit Yvette doesn’t know the origin of or how to stamp it out, but regardless: nervous, angry, scared, or frustrated, Yvette is going to laugh. Probably in your face. She might even feel sorry about it, but usually only if it gets her in trouble ( which, as one might expect, it very often does )

-The quickest way to Yvette’s heart is between her ribs and under her breastbone, but also: vaporwave edits of pop songs, alaskan thunder fuck, sour apple jolly ranchers, holo stickers, Bombay Sapphire gin, karaoke on acid, 80’s night at the roller rink, fresh blackberries, retro movies with running commentary, white samoyeds on walks down the boardwalk, really really dumb fucking puns, and the occasional baseball bat to an old tv screen.

Character parallels: Amma Crellin ( Sharp Objects ), Effy Stonem ( Skins ), Jules Vaughn ( Euphoria ), Ilyana Rasputina ( X-men ), Amy Elliot Dunne ( Gone Girl ), Lemony Snicket

This is so dumb but I basically see Yvette’s mom as an older Dakota Johnson? But when she was younger she was very much Dakota in A Bigger Splash ( see here ). Alternatively, an older Yvette?

Playlist / Pinterest / Moodboard

ANYTHING ELSE:

Magneto did nothing wrong; also,

#Accepted #accepted: mars

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madimargolishon394 · 7 years

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A Happy Ending

I’m still thinking back to our discussion of the ending of American Mary and how we’re supposed to reconcile the death of the powerful, active female main character. On the one hand, Mary’s death seems like the ultimate punishment for her deviance. She exercises agency, and she’s killed for it. On the other hand, her death offers an escape. She’s about to be caught by the police, locked up, power taken away forever. This way, at least, she’s able to kill her murderer and sew herself back up without facing their consequences, maintaining a degree of power and dignity. Does this interpretation mean that death is the only way for strong women to preserve their power? Kind of dismal. I think it was Dr. Miller who said in class that, for a female character with that much agency, “there’s just no room for her.”

That, however, reminded me of one of my favorite quotes about one of my favorite movies. Callie Khouri, the director of Thelma and Louise, famously insisted her film doesn’t end in suicide. Instead, she says, “They flew away, out of this world and into the mass unconscious. Women who are completely free from all the shackles that restrain them have no place in this world… After all they went through, I didn’t want anybody to be able to touch them.” At least to her, Thelma and Louise escape. That we have to leave this type of happy ending up to subtext and interpretation, though, is disheartening—it doesn’t change the fact that what we’re seeing onscreen are powerful women being taken down because of their power. At the same time, it’s nice to think about. Comforting. Maybe Mary doesn’t die, either. Maybe Mary makes it out alive, too, even if it’s only after the camera stops rolling.

(That wasn’t the only parallel to Thelma and Louise, either. In both films, these women don’t just get away with killing like other killers do; they have to be driven to their actions and murders as a part of their rape revenge. Women need to have a “moral alibi,” like Pinedo talks about in her article.)

#I want to cry every time Thelma says let's keep going

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fluidityandgiggles · 6 years

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Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 15

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Chapter 10, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): Two months. It took me two months to write this chapter. I... I’m honestly kinda surprised at myself...

Umm... I didn’t intend on writing this chapter so early, it was meant to be dragged on for a while more and has kind of a big time jump in it (for plot reasons, trust me), but I mean... the fuck with it. The world deserves some BAMF Emile, we need some cuddles, and the subject of the first... three fourths of this chapter is one that I went to friends from a discord server with and told them I’m trying to make it really subtle and one of them just went, “This isn’t subtle at all, this shit is jumping off the walls and doing somersaults in front of me.”

So I mean... let’s get this over with! Let’s let the cat halfway out of the bag and have the first Emile-centered chapter of many, many others planned.

Thanks as always go to @whatwashernameagain for KHS and for not geting super extra frustrated with all my weird questions, to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for being my guinea pig most of the time and for the original idea, and to @winglessnymph and @asleepybisexual and @anony-phangirl for sticking with me and my insane ideas from the beginning (and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you shit about this chapter, but y’all knew it was coming).

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @sweet-and-sour-shadowling, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @ilovemygaydad, @violetblossem, @maybe-i-like-the-misery, @book-of-charlie, @thatsanswitch, @thatrandomautist

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). Not as much in here, actually in this chapter it’s pretty non-existent, but this trigger warning goes in every chapter. This chapter also includes Holocaust mentions, discussion of mental health, and that’s honestly about it I think but please let me know if there’s anything I missed.

—————

Wednesday, March 19th, 2003

"Do you understand why I asked you to come here today?" Gilliam asked, clicking a pen.

Emile was frozen in his seat.

"Umm…" Emile's leg started shaking. "Is it about my last project…? I swear I really did read everything I said I—"

"Look…" Gilliam sighed. "You're a fantastic student. Really, Emile. You are one of my best students. But… I gotta say, you remind me of myself, and not in a good way."

"What do you mean…?"

"Do you mind if we went over your last test?" Emile nodded, feeling the heavy sensation in his stomach get even stronger.

"The last test I took was the implicit…"

"Your last written test," Gilliam clarified. "The one in December." He pulled out a folder labeled and decorated with a mint green marker.

‘Emile Picani - 2002/3'

"Your answers were great," Gilliam said with a sad smile as he pulled out the last test from the back of the folder. "They just didn't fit the questions. Look here, define four of the following five Gestalt Laws of Organization."

"I defined four of the following five Gestalt Laws—"

"You explained them, Emile. Define and explain are two very different instructions. I've been there too, kid. I know it's confusing." Emile wanted to vanish right then and there. It wasn't… he was trying his best! "Also, question eight, part c, why do we dream?" The doctor started underlining the question with his pen, thankfully closed. "Take one of the proposed theories and provide one way in which this may be supported."

"But… but I did—"

"Part d, take the same theory from part c and provide a way in which it might be refuted."

Well… they were going to kick him out, weren't they.

"You're a very smart kid, Emile Picani. I'll bet you so many people told you you have such potential and all that… I know it's very frustrating." Gilliam pushed Emile's glasses up, wiping his eyes from unshed tears in the process. It was… somewhat calming. "Did anyone ever suggest that you might have ADHD?"

Emile shook his head. That possibility… well, he didn't want it to be a possibility! Sure, it wasn't the end of the world if he did, but… his parents didn't have to pay for more adderall than necessary, their neighbors didn't need any more reasons to call his mom a drug addict! And… the counselor at his high school had to be right. He was stupid… wasn't he? Learning disabilities just made you stupid…

He was useless. Regardless of what his professor thought.

"Getting into university at seventeen years old is no easy fit," Gilliam kept rambling. "I remember Walter reading your essay to me—"

"Walter?"

"...oh, right! Professor Freeman." Emile's eyes darkened a bit, as if he already knew what was about to be said. Gilliam just laughed. "Yeah, he immigrated from Germany in the late forties I think… poor guy. Changed his last name and everything! Yeah… so anyway, he read your essay to me. We fought a lot of people to have you accepted! I just… I have to ask you. Have you ever had issues like that in school?"

Emile nodded.

"And not in school?"

"I… I guess, yeah… why?"

Gilliam just pulled a light purple post-it note, scribbled something on it, scribbled the same thing again after opening his pen, and handed it to the very confused Emile.

"I said it before, but this time I mean it even more than last time. Go to the psych clinic. I'll write you a referral if you find it hard to talk to them, just let me know, but in my opinion you really should get evaluated for ADHD."

As Emile got up to leave, he fiddled with the note in his hands. It was… he was…

Was he really going to do that…?

"Austria," he mumbled as he reached the door.

"Excuse me?"

"Dr. Freeman is Austrian, not German. It can be confusing, I know. His family immigrated in 1947. And his last name is Landau. He never changed it, he just goes by Freeman for teaching because nobody liked the ‘Germans' post-Holocaust."

"Did he tell you that…?"

"You said he read you my essay, I thought you guessed already."

He was sure he left Gilliam baffled. But it didn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach any.

————

"I can't have it," Emile mumbled against Remy's chest, the note semi-safely in his pocket. "I don't want to!"

"Emmy, gurl, you realize you're making a huge deal out of nothing, right?" Remy laughed. "It's ADHD. It's not terminal cancer."

That made Emile cry even harder.

"No, no… Emile, it's gonna be alright. I promise. Okay? You trust me?"

"My uncle would be so disappointed," Emile whispered. "He's the reason I'm here! And… and I'm disappointing him so much!"

"You're a legacy, sweets?"

"Kinda… I guess." He sniffled. Remy felt his heart break even more, and for what? A mental disorder, a learning disability, a small neurological difference that only made him (in Remy's opinion) even more awesome? "I don't want him to… to lose his status... especially not because of me! He worked so hard to get a teaching position and I don't want to be his downfall!"

"Who's this uncle, sweetie? If you having ADHD will be his downfall he's probably not such a good—"

"Doctor Landau— Umm, Doctor Freeman. He's my mom's uncle."

Remy was… needless to say he was speechless.

"Which Freeman are we talking about, love?"

"Head of psychology, Doctor Walter Freeman."

...his name is LANDAU?!

"...so after about six months of knowing you, you finally decide to tell me that you're the great-nephew of the head of department?!" Emile giggled against Remy's chest. He couldn't believe it! "Scandalous! Preposterous! Un-be-fucking-lievable! Emile!"

"I swear that's not how I got in," Emile muttered happily. "I wrote an essay, I swear I did!"

"Okay, but still, gurl, that's not a secret! It's too big to be called a secret."

"There's no such a thing as too big a secret," Emile said in a near-perfect imitation of Freeman's accent, and then giggled again. "And besides, it wasn't a secret. You never asked!"

"My love, when I die, I want you to tell my dad that I loved him," Remy said in an overly dramatic tone, pretending to faint right there on the couch. "Give all my possessions to Leah—"

"Stop it, you drama queen!"

"Oh, I'm a queen, alright."

The conversation was interrupted by Katherine doing as Katherine does - which today meant running from her room to the kitchen, grabbing an orange and running right back, as if not to be seen - but as soon as she disappeared, Emile broke into an even bigger giggle fit.

"My aunt would be so disappointed if she knew I was crying over this," he said at last, calming down from his laughing fit. "Caroline is the harsher one of them, and… and she used to visit Evanston every couple months when my mom was in university to help her get through her degree and raise my sister. My mom had my sister really young, you know? She and my dad were nineteen, and… okay, sorry, I'm getting sidetracked…"

"Please keep talking, love," Remy told him gently, with a soft smile and a pat on the head. "I can go make you some more tea if you'd like before we continue?"

"No, that's alright! Maybe later!" The blond almost threw himself off the couch in excitement. "I actually think… I think I should talk to them about this… I mean, Caroline would almost certainly get mad at me for thinking it'll ruin his career, and Walter would help me through the whole diagnosis thing… he did the same with Julie before we knew what she had is narcolepsy, you know? So…"

"So is there really anything to be scared of?"

Emile shook his head. Remy wiped his tear-streaked cheeks with gentle fingers, fixing his glasses right after that.

"I… I'm gonna do it. Okay? I'm gonna do it."

He was so proud of himself. It was so cute.

—————

Friday, March 21st, 2003; 15:43 p.m.

"Doctor," the resident student-psychiatrist (Thelma Grinberg, an overly boring MS student Emile already knew) called as she stretched her hand to shake his uncle's hand. "That's a surprise."

"Since Emile is still a minor, I had to accompany him," he explained sharply. "Neither of his parents could come here today."

"Caroline could've come too," Emile mumbled.

"Your aunt has a busy schedule today, Emile."

"You do too…"

Thelma seemed incredibly confused, but kept going anyway. And it took her longer than was probably necessary to get through all the questions.

Emile hated people like that. (And so did his uncle.)

He was dropped off at his dorm before his uncle had to leave, and that probably spooked Remy more than it should have. The kind "Mr. Harris, nice to see you" didn't help any.

"How did it go?" Remy asked, looking almost straight at Emile.

"Quite well, I would say." The smile looked incredibly weird on the older man's face. "Call your mother for me. Tell her everything that happened today, ja?" Emile nodded eagerly. "Thank you, Emile."

"I didn't ask—"

And with a strict "I expect to see you at my office on Monday, Mr. Harris", the professor left the dorm building, leaving behind a happy blond and his flustered best friend.

"...what was that?!"

"I have to go there again a couple days before spring break for another test, and then after Passover for a TOVA," Emile explained, rather excitedly. "You know what a TOVA is, don't y—"

"It's that test where you click a button according to instructions, I know. Mueller explained it to everyone three days ago, Emmy."

"Oh right! And… and I guess that after those tests I'll know if I have anything!"

After a long moment of awkward silence, Emile tapped Remy's shoulder again. "Care to come over for the holidays? You didn't for Hanukkah and now my parents really want you to! I mean… I do too, but my parents haven't really met you yet and they think you're pretty cool and—"

"Sure, I'll come."

Emile had to do a bit of a double take. "Seriously? Remy, I don't think you understand what you're signing up for here, it's all my cousins from three different countries, most of them don't speak English, my grandparents, uncle Walter and aunt Caroline, maybe even mom's cousins if they'd be so grateful as to—"

"No, I get it, sweetie. I have, like, twenty cousins on Linda's side alone, more or less. I'll be fine. Don't worry about it."

Remy may have known before that he'll do anything to see Emile smile, but… he's never realized it until now. Probably? Maybe? But as Emile started bouncing happily and jumped in to hug him, Remy finally accepted the reality.

Coming over to Emile's during spring break was no trouble, but… in the long run, he would do anything to see him smile.

—————

Wednesday, April 16th, 2003

This was… definitely not spring break anymore. Remy was pretty sure that the higher ups in administration would rip him a new nonexistent one when they found out why he took a week's vacation in the middle of the spring semester…

Then again, so did a lot of the other students, and some of the staff. So maybe he was exaggerating…?

Eh. Finals start the week after that and end in May. He can allow himself a week off.

And yet he still had no idea how he ended up like this, watching Prince of Egypt with his best friend and said friend's three-year old niece at nine in the morning, as said friend's mom was overworking herself in the kitchen trying to make space and food for over thirty people…

Oh, and there was a dog too. She was currently playing with a squeaky toy, but she was there.

He only processed that this is the situation he's in once Emile started trying to get his niece singing. He had no idea what was going on on screen, but… something was.

"Mom, where's everyone?" Emile called to the kitchen after failing - for the hundredth time - to engage Analiese.

"Where could everyone possibly be, Emile?"

"Walter and Caroline are in town for the things you forgot to buy, grandma and grandpa are probably at their connection…" he started mumbling, counting on his fingers in an odd fashion. "I don't know!"

"You just said so yourself," Remy laughed quietly, grabbing Emile's hands gently. "Let's go over this again. Walter and Caroline are in town, your grandparents are at their connection…"

"Yeah, I know that," he groaned, slightly frustrated. "I just… everyone… here. That's what… that's what I'm confused about. Where's everyone here."

"...where everyone is seated?" Emile nodded. "Oh gurl… do you wanna make place holders, organize the seating, do you want to…"

"I just want to make sure nobody wants to sit on both my sides. One is okay, but you have to sit on my other side and I'm worried about that."

Oh…

"Well, we're gonna make sure that nobody takes my seat, okay?" Remy asked, kissing Emile's cheek afterwards.

"I sit with Emile!" Analiese declared, her attention now directed at the boys. Emile started laughing and leaned over to pinch her chubby cheek.

"We will read together, and sing together, and if mom complains we're gonna tell her off, right Ana?"

The toddler nodded, extremely determined, and Remy felt his heart melt all over again.

This was too good to be true, and not even seeing his most feared professor walk through the door and sit down next to them in the living room could shake this feeling. For once, Remy wasn't scared of this man. Through some odd change of fate, or something like that.

"So this is your first time doing such a thing?" Doctor La— Doctor Freeman asked, smiling gently as Analiese bounced in his lap and rambled about everything she's done this week. "Participating in Passover?"

"Yes, sir."

"He's my uncle now, not our professor," Emile laughed, squeezing Remy's hand. "You don't have to be so scared of him."

It didn't work as instantly as he wanted it to, but as the night went on, Remy actually… found that he wasn't that scared of him anymore.

As he said, this was too good to be true. And nothing could ever seem to be able to shake this good feeling.

#kylo cant write #sanders sides #remy/sleep #emile picani #keep him safe #sleep is for the weak #the remy centric prequel #tw: period appropriate transphobia #tw: holocaust mention #tw: mental health discussion

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not-poignant · 7 years

Text

Cancer / Thelma & Louise update:

(Everyone’s calling it cancer now - i.e. the endocrinologists and neurosurgeons and stuff, so I am too). (Also I’m cutting and pasting from my Facebook update because I’m too tired to rewrite for Tumblr, apologies!) .

Yesterday I saw the neurosurgeon, and things went about as well as I expected them to go. It wasn't a total worst case scenario, which is if they couldn't do surgery at all, so that's something.

But everything else is kind of shitty, so let's talk about that.

Firstly, you know what's crazy? They still can't tell me how fast the tumours are growing. This is partly because if you get a scan at a different place that isn't Charlies, they only keep that scan in their system for two weeks, and then it's deleted. None of the specialists like it, and they've all complained about it, but the hospital IT won't change the policy. This means that my best images, which were from Joondalup PRC two months ago, aren't something the surgeons can see. So I need to get a copy of that from them, and start bringing it with me to appointments.

Secondly, you know what's also crazy? This surgery. This surgery is crazy. When a very seasoned neurosurgeon says to you: 'by my standards, the surgery to remove this cancer is major, *major* surgery, and I recommend observing until you start to become symptomatic' - you know it's a big deal.

You know it's an even bigger deal when he tacks on: 'and by symptomatic, I mean compression on the brain.' Like, big-deal life-ruining serious 'I don't want to do anything anymore' symptoms.

And that's kind of because the surgery itself stands a really high chance of doing that to me anyway, even if I'm lucky to survive it.

The problem with that pesky Glomus Vagale Paraganglioma (Thelma), is that in order to just *get* to her, they'll need to expose four of the main cranial nerves - specifically, cranial nerves 9, 10, 11 and 12. They already know they can't save cranial nerve 10, this is the Vagus Nerve, and the tumour is growing in the sheath that protects it.

Just exposing the nerves and removing the tumour while the nerves are exposed risks destroying every other one. Now, I'm not going to launch into a huge discussion about what that could ruin, but you can Wikipedia 'cranial nerve' and look up each one if you really want to know how life-ruining it can be to have these nerves destroyed. (No, they can't be re-attached). Suffice to say that the surgery could permanently remove the ability for me to move my head, my shoulder, my neck, my tongue, my throat, the ability to talk, swallow and eat. I have mirroring nerves on the other side, but the surgeon was blunt that nerve risks compared to other risks weren't really his biggest issue with the surgery anyway.

And that won't cure the disease, and that won't necessarily stop the tumours from growing back in the exact same spot either. Paragangliomas *really* like to grow in the head/neck.

And anyway, that's to say nothing of the partial skull removal, surgery in the very vulnerable-to-strokes carotid space, and of course the arterial vein graft they'd want to do, and the whole 'temporarily switching off your brain' part of the surgery.

When you hear from surgeon number one: 'I won’t do this surgery without a good neurosurgeon that's willing to do it' and from surgeon number two (who is the neurosurgeon): 'I'm not willing to do this surgery until you are *significantly symptomatic* from the cancer' - and you have heard similar from the Clinical Professor Endocrinologist, and you expect to hear the same from the ENT surgeon (they'll be the ones to expose the nerves in the first place, even the base of skull neurosurgeon refuses to do that), you know that the surgery itself is...

The surgery is not safe. And it can't be done any time soon. Not if I value my quality of life as it is now - which I do. I really do. I want to take advantage of living the life I have now. It's not an easy life. I have many other chronic illnesses and I wake up in pain every day, and have fatigue all the time, but this is the best it's likely ever going to get, and I want to savour that for what it is, for as long as I can. Because it's still a beautiful life, and the specialists want me to look after it.

This means essentially, that the most viable choice right now is to live with the cancer until I don't think I can really stand it anymore, re: impact on quality of life, and then have a surgery that... ah, well... yeah.

We're hoping the tumours are slow growing, because this means that surgery could be two or three years away. But we don't actually *know* yet, and they could decide to metastasise at any time, they could decide to do lots of other things at any point, they may decide to grow quickly, or start secreting toxins into the body (something these tumours are famous for, I'm *very* lucky that my tumours are currently 'non-functional') or whatever else there is...

So I am getting my PET scan soon, seeing the ENT people, seeing Walsh again, seeing the neurosurgeon again in two months, and from there, we will look into radiotherapy (the side effects of radiation to this section of the head/neck is not great), and I'm going to start looking into things like Gamma Knife 'surgery' and so on.

But the surgeons think it would be best if I learned how to live with this cancer until such point as its making my life so miserable I can choose to have a surgery that is honestly, both kind of spectacular in terms of what they're wanting to do, and would certainly be an adventure, but could make my entire life afterwards - if I'm lucky enough to survive it - a very different animal indeed. To say nothing of the fact that the tumours could come back at any point, and if they come back to places where I've previously had surgery like this, there may be nothing they can do.

Believe it or not, *that* was not my worst case scenario, lol. But nor was it the best. In fact that was pretty far away from the best. I cried into my gelato at Gusto yesterday after the appointment, I hope the shopkeeper didn't mind, lol.

I've also decided I had best make a bucket list, just in case. I think the first thing I'll put on it is 'have gelato at Gusto and not cry all over it.'

I am, all things being equal, going well. I am not happy about what's happening - who would be? But I genuinely feel I have very good, competent care, and surgeons who won't rush me into a potentially life-destroying decision. I feel like it could absolutely be a lot worse, given my tumours are non-functional and mostly they're just dormant hitchhikers right now that make my neck sore sometimes. And I have very good people in my life, both offline and on. I am very blessed by the good will of friends and strangers, and I love the home I live in, and our garden, and the cats, and Glen, and our mind-blowing collection of books and DVDs (because I am a huge fan of escapism right now, lol).

But yeah that's...where I'm at. As always, all questions welcome! I will answer as best as I can. I can never fit everything I've learned into these posts, they're long enough as it is!

#personal #carotid body paraganglioma #glomus jugulare paraganglioma #hereditary pgl pcc #cancer #also i'm probably going to be flying to the #International Symposium on Paragangliomas and Pheochromocytomas #in Sydney #in late August / early September #heh i wrote Augus instead of August #that's so awesome #anyway now i'm going to bed #honestly it's been a very tiring two weeks #so glad i've been able to get some writing up #i'm loving writing right now #you folks are the best

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

The Ballad of Violet and Pearl (Chapter 10 - Final) - Scarlet

A/N - set mostly in the 1950’s, the idea came from Jinkx’s song ‘The Ballad of Johnny and Jack’ and influenced the story. Also influenced by Thelma and Louise. ‘Ballad’ in the 50’s was a term used for a love letter.

Thank you guys so much for coming on this crazy ride with me! Hope you all enjoyed it! I have deliberately made this ending kind of up to the readers interpretation but if anyone is interested in knowing what the ending is in my head please feel free to message me @fortheloveofpearlet.

TW - some angst, violence, homophobic language character death(s), but fluff too!

Chapter 10 - Final

September 1939 - Florida

The shy blonde sat in the back corner of the room alone on his very first day of school. He didn’t look up from the desk, afraid he might catch someone’s eye. Instead he stared down at the pieces of paper in front of him and kept drawing. He didn’t like to attract attention to himself. He was happy enough on his own, with his drawings.

The outgoing brunette bounded into the room giggling, his long hair flowing behind him on his very first day of school. He looked around the classroom, always ready to make new friends. He spotted the blonde in the corner on his own and his curiosity was piqued. He skipped over to him and sat in the chair next to him. The blonde was so enthralled with his drawings he didn’t even notice he had company.

‘Whatcha drawing?’ The brunette spoke up, startling the other boy a little. He scrambled to hide his drawings, a deep blush spreading on his cheeks.

‘Noth-nothing.’ He stuttered a little.

‘Aw c'mon let me see!’ The brunette smiled at him, trying to grab the paper. The blonde wouldn’t say boo to a goose so he let the other boy take his drawings. The brunette studied them for some time, all the while the blonde felt extremely uneasy. After a little while the brunette looked back at him with a large smile on his face.

‘These are neat!’ He beamed. 'What are they?'

'New…New York.’ The shy boy stuttered again, his voice quiet. The drawings ranged from the New York skyline, to individual buildings, to Central Park and Times Square.

'Cool! Have you been there?’ The brunette’s eyes lit up in excitement.

'No.’ The blonde shook his head shyly. 'But…my mom’s from there and she shows me…she shows me pictures. She says it’s the greatest place in the world. I want to live there someday.’ He’d become a little animated as he talked about it but he soon retired back into his shell. The brunette was enraptured.

'Wow that’s so cool!’ The brunette looked down at the drawings again. 'What’s this building?’ He pointed at one in particular.

'The Empire State Building. When I live in New York I’m going to go there every day.’ The blonde smiled shyly.

'Maybe I can come with you!’ The brunette beamed excitedly.

'Maybe.’ The blonde blushed again.

'I’m Jason by the way.’ The brunette, Jason, put down the drawings and held his hand out to shake the other boys. The other boy tentatively reached out his shaking hand.

'Matthew.'

Jason shook his hand vigorously before letting it go.

'Well Matthew, how do you wanna be my best friend?’ Jason grinned widely at him. Matt bit his lip shyly and nodded his head a little. There’s nothing in the world I’d rather do.

————————————

July 1957 - New York

Matt hadn’t spent every day of the last nine months at The Empire State Building; sometimes Pearl went instead of him. He’d held out coming here all these years because he’d always wanted New York to be the place he settled down. He didn’t want to bring danger and violence to this city. But after that night with Jason in Colorado it was the only place he could think to go. Pearl had retired from her old ways but she still came out to peruse New York from time to time, just to shake things up a little. Over the last nine months Matt had gotten his life together. He hadn’t pulled any scams or done any robberies. He was on the straight and narrow now. He had a small apartment in Brooklyn and a job as a graphic designer. The thought that he had a job was still alien to him to be honest. But New York called for it; his new life called for it. Every day after work he would come up to the viewing platform of The Empire State Building and he would sit sketching the skyline for hours until he was kicked out. Sometimes he came as Matt and sometimes he came as Pearl, depending on his mood, who he felt more like. Today was a Matt day.

He hadn’t see Jason since he’d run away that night. He hadn’t even come back to the motel to get his things. Matt still kept them, Jason and Violet’s belongings, in the suitcase at the back of his closet. Skeletons belonged in closets. He missed both of them a great deal but he knew Jason had done the right thing. Matt’s behaviour that night had been inexcusable, he didn’t blame Jason for finally giving up on him. He blamed himself for a long time but he’d come to the decision a little while ago that he wasn’t going to dwell on it anymore. He couldn’t change the past; what’s done was done. He just had to live with that.

Today for some reason Matt wasn’t drawing the skyline. He didn’t know if he’d gotten bored of it or if it was thoughts of his previous life clouding his memory but the skyline wasn’t what he drew. Instead, looking up at him from the page were two beautiful brunettes. The first one had her hair in victory curls and was pouting her red lips. She wore a floor length gown with a fur wrapped her around her shoulders. The second was a guy who sensible slacks and a white shirt. His long ebony hair was tied back into a neat bun. His large brown eyes felt as though they were staring up at Matt. God he missed those eyes, so much so the drawing was making him feel all kinds of things. In frustration he screwed it up. He stood up to go and toss the drawing in the bin and as he turned around those big brown eyes were staring at him. Matt’s heart skipped several beats as he stared at him. Surely he couldn’t be real? Maybe Matt had just been staring at the drawing too long and now he was imagining things?

'Don’t throw that away! I looked great!’ Jason smiled at him as though he could have been for the last nine months and not as though he’d just appeared out of nowhere.

'I uhm…how are you here?’ Matt croaked.

'There’s this super invention called an aeroplane. Maybe you’ve heard of it?’ Jason replied sarcastically. Matt rolled his eyes.

'I mean…why? Why are you here?'

'I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said this was just a coincidence?’ Jason half-smiled.

'Nope.’ Matt shook his head. Jason took the balled up paper from Matt’s hands and unscrewed it, flattening it out a little.

'I’m keeping this.’ He told Matt. Matt was just staring at him.

'Don’t change the subject. How did you know I’d be here?'

Jason folded the drawing neatly and put it in his breast pocket. He pulled his cigarettes out and lit one.

'Do you remember the first time we met?’

'Vaguely.’ Matt frowned. 'What does that have to with anything?’

'You had loads of drawings of New York. You said you wanted to live here one day. And you told me that when you did live here, you’d spend every day at The Empire State Building.’ Jason sucked on the cigarette.

'How do you remember that?’ Matt’s frown deepened. They’d never talked about that again, how had Jason remembered?

'I don’t know.’

'That was almost twenty years ago Jason. I barely remember telling you that.'

'I remembered because you told me. I remember everything you tell me. Including all the times you called me a whore.’ He bit his lip.

'I called Violet a whore.’ Matt reminded him.

'Except that one time you included Jason in that too.’ He sighed, he didn’t want to think about that night. 'Anyway I’m not here to harp on that.’ He dragged on the cigarette while Matt continued to stare at him.

'Why are you here?’ Matt asked quietly. Jason sighed again and used his free hand to run through his hair.

'I was mad for a really long time. Like a really long time. I couldn’t stop thinking about that night and how scared of you I was.’ Jason paused to drag on the cigarette once more. 'But one day I woke up and I wasn’t mad anymore. And I wanted you to know I forgive you.’

'You came all this way to tell me that?’ Matt raised his eyebrow.

'Yeah I guess.’ Jason shrugged dropping the cigarette to the floor and stubbing it out.

'Well thank you. I’m glad you did.’ Matt half-smiled. Jason looked over Matt’s shoulder briefly, his mind whirring. He hadn’t just come all this way for that.

'I mean I can hang around for a little while I suppose. You could show me around, take me for coffee or something?’ He shrugged once more as though he couldn’t care less either way. A large smile broke out on Matt’s face.

'There’s nothing in the world I would rather do.’

————————————

They didn’t go and get coffee. They ended up back at Matt’s apartment on the bed, naked. Matt was straddling Jason and kissing him harder than he’d ever kissed anyone before. It felt like it had been a whole lifetime since they’d been here together and they didn’t want to waste a second. Matt had already opened Jason up and was now rolling the condom over his throbbing cock. Jason wrapped his legs around Matt’s waist as Matt edged his way in. It was soft and passionate and they made love like it could be the first time but like it could also be the last time too. They came together and Matt got rid of the condom and laid down next to Jason. He pulled Jason close and Jason rested his head on Matt’s chest. Matt wrapped his arm tightly around the brunette and placed soft kisses in his hair. Jason was so overwhelmed with emotions he thought he could cry. Matt was never so caring with him afterwards.

'So, how was Florida?’ Matt asked placing one last kiss on Jason’s head before reaching for a blunt. Jason rolled over onto the pillow so he could look at Matt.

'Same old.’ Jason shrugged.

'Have you seen Courtney? I mean I’m guessing you haven’t because I’m sure you wouldn’t be alive if you had.’ Matt smirked lighting the blunt.

'No I got lucky. Her grandpa’s sick so she’s been back in Oz looking after him for ages apparently.'

'Who told you that?’ Matt narrowed his eyes on Jason. Jason bit his lip.

'Naomi.’ He knew saying her name around Matt wasn’t going to go down well. He saw Matt take a few deep breaths and briefly clench his jaw.

'Naomi.’ He spat, as if her name were poison.

'Yeah, I bumped into her.'

'How is she?’

'You really want to know?’ Jason took the blunt from Matt’s hand and dragged on it.

Matt scratched his bare chest and nodded.

'Kind of.'

'Well she’s married.’ Jason dragged on the blunt, not really wanting to tell Matt anymore. But he knew there was more.

'And?'

'And she has a son.'

Matt felt like his whole world collapsed in that moment. He felt the anger bubbling in his stomach but he tried to control it. If he lost his temper, if he got violent again, he would lose Jason for good. 'He’s two.'

'She had a son.’ Matt repeated and Jason saw the tears spring to his eyes.

'Yeah.’

'Did you see him?'

'Yeah, he was cute. I guess.’ Jason was concerned with how well Matt was taking this. Maybe he’d managed to work on his anger issues while Jason was gone.

'Did you meet her husband?’

'Briefly. We didn’t get introduced, he was in a hurry. Not a bad looking guy, I mean not you but not bad.’ Jason shrugged and handed Matt back the blunt.

'What did he look like?’

'Why does that matter? You’re just torturing yourself.’

'I want to know.’ Matt sniffed back his tears. Jason swallowed and sighed.

'Uhm well I didn’t really get a good look at him. He was a big guy, muscly as heck. Tattooed, bearded, nice smile but also kind of scary looking.’

If Matt thought his world had collapsed before, it had nothing on this. He surprised Jason when he leapt up from the bed.

'No fucking way.’ He got his boxers on and started pacing.

'What?’ Jason stood up and put his underwear on too. Matt dragged on the blunt really heavily but Jason took it from his hand and tossed it in the ashtray. The weed wasn’t going to help Matt’s anger.

'She gets to abort my fucking baby but she keeps Boomer’s?’ He yelled ramming his fist into the wall of his bedroom. Jason bit his lip. This wasn’t ending the way it did in Colorado.

'Boomer?’ He gently touched Matt’s arm. 'Isn’t that the guy that tried to kill you?’

'Yes!’ Matt yelled again. 'That fucking asshole! He runs me out of my hometown and gets my ex-girlfriend pregnant? How is this fair? That should have been my baby! Why does he get to have a kid! Why did she keep it?’ Suddenly Matt started crying. Jason put his arm around Matt’s shoulders and led him back to the bed where they sat on the edge.

'Matt, you were in high school, you were young and broke. Bringing a baby into the world wouldn’t have worked.’

'But I should have had the choice! She stole that from me.’ He put his head in his hands and he sobbed. Jason held him tightly and stroked his back. He’d never seen Matt like this before.

'I know she did, and that was a horrible thing to do to someone. But you can’t do anything about that now sweetie.’ Jason felt tears in his own eyes. Was Matt ever going to get that life? If he was with Jason kids weren’t an option. Maybe Matt wanted kids more than he wanted Jason? Maybe Jason should at least give Matt the option.

'Matt?’ Jason whispered after Matt’s tears started to subside.

'Yeah?'

'This isn’t going to work is it?’

'What do you mean?’

'You and me. This isn’t going to work.’

'Why not?’ Matt pouted his lip.

'Because we’re never going to have a normal life. We can only be together behind closed doors. We can’t go out together unless one of us is in drag. I can’t give you kids.’ Jason let go of Matt and shuffled away from him a little.

'So what? We just give up? We give up before we ever really had a chance to begin?’ Matt frowned at him.

'Isn’t that for the best?’

'Maybe.’ Matt shrugged. 'But when have we ever done what’s best?’ He cupped Jason’s face. 'This scares me Jason, don’t get me wrong. I never wanted to feel this way about another man but I guess I was just born this way. Of course I would love to get married and have kids but maybe that’s just not in my future. But I know what is.’

'What’s that?’ Jason sniffed again.

'You pumpkin. You’re all the future I need.’ Matt kissed him tenderly and Jason didn’t think he’d ever been happier in his entire life.

'You want to be with me?’ Jason asked him softly.

'Always have.’ Matt smiled. 'I was just too much of a coward to admit it.’

Jason smiled and kissed Matt again. They fell back to the bed and crawled under the covers. Matt pulled Jason close so his head was on his chest once more. He wrapped his strong arm around Jason.

'You mean more to me than anything in the entire world.’ Matt whispered into Jason’s hair. Jason’s heart soared. This was all he’d ever wanted. 'It’s going to be hard, I’m not going to lie. But I think it’s worth it. I’ve been miserable without you. And I never want to be without you again.'

Jason felt tears in his eyes again but this time happy ones. He draped his arm around Matt’s waist and gently kissed his chest.

'Well you never have to worry about that Matty, because I am never, ever, going anywhere. I belong to you.'

'Who else would you belong to?’ Matt stroked his cheek and kissed his head. 'You’ll always be mine Jason.'

————————————

September 1958 - Florida

Jason was surprised to see Pearl staring in the mirror over the dresser. She slicked her lips with a pink hue, puckered them and smiled at her reflection. She saw Jason looking at her in the mirror but chose to ignore it. She fluffed up her wig and pulled up her padded bra. Jason watched her tuck the gun in the waistband her trousers and pull her shirt down so it was covering it. She finally turned to look at him.

'Get up, we’ve got a long day ahead of us.’ She smiled in that dangerous way Jason knew all too well.

'Why? What are we doing?'

She sat down on the bed next to him and stroked his messy hair back from his face.

'We’re going to Florida.’

'Why?’ Jason frowned. Pearl kissed him gently before standing back up.

'This ends today. No more running, no more hiding.’

'What do you mean?’ Jason’s heart was beating hard in his chest. She turned back to him, danger dancing in her eyes.

'I’m going to kill Boomer Banks.’

That had been several hours ago back in New York and now Pearl and Violet were sat in the Buick outside Boomer and Naomi’s home. Pearl lit a cigarette and if Violet wasn’t mistaken, she was sure her hands were shaking.

'You don’t have to do this you know.’ Violet told her.

'Yes, I do.’ Pearl didn’t look her, she kept her eyes on the house.

'I know what it’s like to shoot someone Pearl and trust me, that image never leaves you.'

Pearl turned to look at her.

'If I don’t do this we’ll be running forever. I’m doing this for us. With Boomer gone we can come back here and visit people without having to worry. I’ll kill Boomer and then we’ll kill Violet and Pearl off once and for all. Then we don’t have to worry about coming back, you can see Ru and Katya and Kasha and we don’t need to be scared anymore.’ She cupped Violet’s face gently. 'This is for us pumpkin.’ She gently kissed Violet before she took a final drag on the cigarette and tossed it out the car. She shut off the engine and took a deep breath. 'Let’s do this. Let’s put an end to this once and for all.’

The house was quiet. Really quiet. Maybe too quiet? Pearl had brought a second gun which was tucked away in Violet’s knee high boot. They exchanged a look.

'Maybe no one’s here?’ Violet whispered.

'He has to be here.’ And if he wasn’t Pearl would wait until he returned. She was ending this today no matter what. Pearl crept to the bottom of the staircase and that’s when she heard the noise. She frowned and motioned Violet over to her. The two girls stood at the bottom of the stairs in silence. They heard creaking and soft moans. Violet grimaced.

'Oh good god.’ She whispered. 'They’re having sex.’

'I didn’t think Naomi was supposed to be here?’ Pearl’s face paled a little.

'Well if she is maybe you can finally give her a piece of your mind for what she did to you.’

'What about the kid? If they’re both here the kid probably is too?’ Pearl suddenly looked like she’d had a change of heart. Violet took to the stairs.

'We’re ending this. Whatever the cost.’ She took a few deep breaths as she tiptoed upstairs, Pearl following somewhat reluctantly behind her. They reached the bedroom door and the moans were louder now. Pearl was frowning.

'What?’ Violet whispered seeing the look on her face.

'I don’t think that’s Naomi.’

'How do you know?’

Pearl pulled a face.

'How many times do you think I’ve heard her moan like that?’ Pearl rolled her eyes. 'That’s not her.’

Violet frowned now and leant closer to the door. Her face fell.

'Oh my god.’ She turned back to Pearl. 'I think I know who it is.’ Before Pearl could respond Violet swung open the door. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw the long blonde hair attached to the woman that was bouncing up and down on Boomer’s dick.

'Courtney?’ Pearl couldn’t hold back her gasp. Courtney turned to look over her shoulder wide eyed in shock seeing the two girls behind her. She immediately got off Boomer and fell to the bed covering her naked body with the sheet.

'Who the heck are you? What do you want?’ Her already pale complexion paled further.

'Yeah what the fuck are you doing in my house?’ Boomer slipped his boxers on and stood up from the bed angrily. Violet hated to admit this but she could totally see the appeal of Boomer for both Courtney and Pearl.

'What the fuck are you doing cheating on your wife?’ Pearl spat. She didn’t know why she cared. For the most part she hated Naomi after what she’d done but it enraged her that Boomer was cheating on her. Boomer scrutinised Pearl’s face for a while before the realisation hit him.

'You!’ He yelled. 'You’re that fucking con artist bitch that tried to trick me into bed!'

Also I’m a man, Pearl rolled her eyes. Clearly Boomer didn’t want people to know that part of the story.

'It’s true I am.’ Pearl smiled at him.

'I thought you were in Oz?’ Violet suddenly spoke up looking at Courtney. Courtney frowned.

'Do I know you?’ She raised an eyebrow.

'You should do. We fucked-’

'Not now Vi.’ Pearl hit her in the arm. Boomer’s face was bright red in anger and he was staring right at Pearl.

'Didn’t I tell you I would kill you if I saw you again?'

'Yeah you did.’ Pearl shrugged. 'But there’s been a change of plans.’ She quickly drew her gun and pointed it at Boomer. He just laughed.

'Am I supposed to be scared?’ He folded his arms over his bare chest and raised his eyebrow at Pearl.

'Seriously, what kind of whore are you?’ Violet was clearly completely ignoring what was going on. 'I thought Naomi was your friend?’

'Who the heck are you? Why do you know all this about me?’ Courtney looked confused and scared all at once.

'Oh come on Court, I know I make a convincing woman but I thought you’d recognise than man you were engaged to.’ Violet smirked at Courtney. He saw the recognition set in and her face paled further.

'Jason?’ She gasped.

'You’re a dude too?’ Boomer looked between Pearl and Violet. Pearl still had the gun pointed at him.

'Ya huh.’ Violet smirked at him. 'Confused? I know you want to fuck us both.’ She winked at Boomer.

'This is dumb, I’m calling the cops.’ Courtney reached over to the phone on the bedside table. Violet chuckled and bent over, pulling the gun from her boot.

'Oh sweetie, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ He pointed the gun right at her face. She raised her eyebrow again.

'You wouldn’t dare.’

'Wouldn’t I?’ Violet cocked the gun.

'You don’t have it in you. I know you Jason, you’re not capable of shooting someone.’

'Maybe not Jason.’ Violet shrugged. 'But it wouldn’t be the first time Violet had shot someone.'

Courtney looked at Boomer now as she let Violet’s words sink in.

'That guy in Texas.’ She whispered as if the girls couldn’t hear her from a few feet away. 'It was all over the papers, their faces. It was them!'

'Bravo.’ Violet chuckled. 'I’ve killed before, I’m not afraid to do it again.'

'Ok Vi seriously can it.’ Pearl was getting frustrated now. She didn’t want to stand here all day having a catch up. She was here to do a job. 'I’m going to finish this Boomer. I’m not running scared of you anymore.’

'Oh and what are you going to do about it, fag?'

Pearl’s blood boiled. She could have just shot him but for some reason instead she lunged at him. He punched her in the gut, she punched him in the jaw. Violet kept the gun trained on Courtney but she couldn’t take her eyes off the fight. Boomer managed to wrestle Pearl to the ground, he was much stronger. He got the gun out of her hand and kicked her in the ribs.

'This wasn’t how you expected it to end did you fag? You should have shot me when you had the chance.’ He smiled menacingly as he stood over Pearl, pointing her own gun at her. Pearl felt tears behind her eyes. No, this wasn’t how she expected it to end. She managed to catch Violet’s eye. Violet saw the tears in her eyes and she saw Pearl’s lips pucker as she blew Violet one last kiss. This ain’t ending like this, Violet thought. We’ve come too far, gone through too much. I’ll be damned if I am losing her like this. She didn’t think anymore. She needed to just act.

'Hey asshole!’ Violet yelled to get Boomer’s attention. He looked up at her. 'You are not taking her away from me. I love her too much to let you do that.'

Pearl’s heart hammered in her chest, partly through fear but partly due to Violet’s words. With the exception on the night at the cabin they had never said the L word to each other.

'Fags, the pair of you.’ Boomer scoffed as he looked back down at Pearl. He cocked the gun, his finger tightening on the trigger. Pearl whimpered and her first tear fell. She heard gun fire, she screamed. But there was no pain. She watched the gun fall from Boomer’s hand and she saw him take his last breath. He fell on top of her, his sticky blood covering her in seconds.

'Urgh.’ Pearl groaned trying to push the man off her. Violet was at her side to help her. They rolled him off her and Violet helped her up. She picked her gun up.

'Thank you.’ Pearl panted. 'You saved my life.’ A few more tears fell from her eyes and completely forgetting about Courtney she grabbed Violet’s face and kissed her hard.

'Urgh you really are fags.’ Courtney’s voice snapped them back around. Pearl looked at her and then back at Violet.

'Can I?’ Pearl smiled dangerously at her. Violet smiled back.

'Please, be my guest.’ She kissed Pearl softly and then Pearl raised her gun and aimed at Courtney. Country screamed but seconds later she was silent, blood rolling down her face and a bullet between her eyes.

'Shall we?’ Violet held her arm out and Pearl linked hers through it.

'Let’s go pumpkin.’

They descended the stairs together and made it outside. As they reached the front gate Naomi rounded the corner carrying a small child in her arms. She saw them leaving her house, Pearl covered in blood.

'You’re welcome.’ Violet smirked at her and then she grabbed Pearl’s hand and dragged her to the car. They jumped in as Naomi was running into the house.

'That poor kids about to get traumatised.’ Pearl chuckled started the engine. 'Where to?'

'Take me home Pearl. Take me home.'

Pearl lit a cigarette and handed it to Violet before lighting one for herself. Pearl gave Violet a sidelong glance and a small smile as she put the car in drive. And Violet swore she felt her insides flutter.

————————————

They didn’t make it out of town before the fuzz were after them. Pearl drove to the only place she could think of for shelter, the diner. Ru hurried them in the back, kicked everyone out and locked the front door. He didn’t ask about their getups, he didn’t ask why Pearl was covered in blood or why the cops were after them. That was just one of the reasons Pearl had decided to come to him. The three of them were ducked behind the counter in the diner, the two girls shaking.

'This is bad isn’t it?’ Ru asked them.

'Yeah.’ Pearl swallowed.

'Much more than the petty theft we used to get in trouble for.’ Violet added. 'When they catch us,' when not if because they knew it was inevitable. 'It’ll all be over.'

Pearl reached for Violet and held her hand tightly as if trying to calm her.

'This is all my fault.’ Tears welled in Pearl’s eyes.

'Don’t say that.’ Violet shuffled closer to her and used her free hand to stroke Pearl’s cheek. 'We’re in this together. We always have been. To die by your side would be a heavenly way to die.’ Violet sniffed back her own tears. They fell into silence after that but not for long. Minutes later they heard the sirens. Ru poked his head above the counter a little and sighed.

'They’ve got the place surrounded.’ He sat back down.

'Violet Chachki! Pearl Liaison! We know you’re in there. We have you surrounded. Give yourselves up.’ A voice boomed from outside. Pearl let go of Violet’s hand and got her gun out.

'Fuck that.’ Pearl shook her head. 'I’m not going down without a fight.'

'Are you crazy? They’ll kill you!’

'Maybe.’ Pearl bit her lip. 'But I might get to take a few of them down with me.’

'I’m coming with you then.’ Violet unsheathed her own gun but Pearl was shaking her head.

'No way.’ Pearl told her. 'This is my mess. I’m not putting you in danger anymore.’ She went to take Violet’s gun from her hand but Ru beat her to it. Both girls turned to look at him.

'I’ll come with you.’ He told them.

'No!’ Violet shook her head frantically.

'Ru no, please. Let me handle this.’ Pearl added.

'Boys,’ he paused and shook his head. 'Or should I say girls. I’m dying, the doctors only give me a matter of months. I don’t want to die an old frail man in a hospital bed. I would rather go out fighting for my two babies.’ He put the gun down and used one hand to stroke Violet’s cheek and the other to stroke Pearl’s. 'Let’s go take down some pigs.’ Ru picked the gun back up. Pearl went to stand up but Violet grabbed her hand. She had tears behind her eyes.

'Pearl, if you don’t come back I need you to know something.’ She sniffed and the first tear fell. Pearl cupped her face and gently stroked the tear away with her thumb.

'What is it baby?'

'I should have told you sooner.’ Violet choked a little. 'I love you. I love you so fucking much. I love Pearl and Jason loves Matt.’ more tears fell. Pearl felt her own come back.

'Every part of me, loves every part of you. Always have, always will pumpkin.’ Pearl kissed her passionately, probably more passionately than she’d ever kissed anyone before. When they pulled back they were both crying. 'I’ll see you on the other side.’ Pearl smiled at Violet and then looked at Ru. 'Let’s do this.’

Pearl and Ru stood up and looked out the window at the cops surrounding the place. They hid their guns. Pearl took a few deep breaths and then she stepped out from behind the counter with Ru following behind. They heard Violet sobbing as they headed to the door.

'I’m going to hold my hands up, pretend I’m surrendering. Then you’re going to open fire.’ Pearl whispered to Ru.

'Got it.’ Ru nodded. 'Matthew?’ He put his hand on Pearl’s shoulder.

'Yeah?'

'If you make it out, promise me you’ll look after Jason.'

Pearl bit her lip and nodded.

'Same goes for you old man.’ She kissed his cheek. She took a few more deep breaths and opened the door of the diner. Ru hid round the corner and watched her step outside.

'Don’t shoot. Here I am.’ Pearl held her hands above her head.

'Where’s Violet?’ The cop called over the megaphone.

'She’s not here. It’s me you want. It was me who carried out all the robberies including the one in Vegas. I killed Billy Ray. I killed Boomer Banks and Courtney Act. Violet just got caught up in my mess.’ She took a few steps forward and subtly to the side so she was out of the way of the door and then Ru stepped out and began to open fire. Pearl grabbed her own gun and started shooting too. The cops started shooting back, in the haze of gun fire Pearl couldn’t even see where she was shooting. She just knew she couldn’t stop. She heard a loud groan from her right and briefly looked around to see Ru go down. She kept shooting, she had more of a reason to kill now.

Violet poked her head around the counter just in time to see Ru hit the floor. She let out a small pained moan. She could just about see Pearl still shooting. She couldn’t let Pearl die. She didn’t know what she would do if anything happened to Pearl. She jumped to her feet and made her way to the door. As she looked around the door she saw the bullet heading right at the blonde. Violet’s body went numb.

'Pearl!’ She screamed but it was already too late. The bullet hit Pearl in her left shoulder and sent the blonde falling back to the floor. The gun fell from her hand as she hit the tarmac. Violet ran to her, she couldn’t stop herself. She fell to the floor next to her love and cradled her.

'Pearl! Baby please tell me you’re ok?’ She was getting covered in Pearl’s blood but she didn’t care. Pearl’s eyes fluttered and she struggled to focus on Violet. She reached her hand up and stroked the brunette’s cheek. Her hand was as cold as ice.

'Everything I’ve ever done, I’ve done for you.’ Pearl croaked. 'Even death won’t stop me loving you pumpkin.’

Violet was crying as she bowed her head and kissed Pearl’s cold lips.

'I love you so fucking much.’ Violet sobbed. 'Please don’t leave me! I can’t live without you!’ Just then she felt a strong set of hands on her shoulders tugging her away from Pearl. 'Get off me! Let me go! I have to know if she’s going to be ok!’ She yelled and kicked and screamed but it didn’t help. Her hands were pulled behind her back and the cuffs were slapped on her wrists.

'Violet Chachki, you’re under arrest.’ The cop told her.

'Pearl!’ She screamed as the cop started dragging her away. She watched Pearl’s head roll to the side on the concrete and her eyes close. She looked over at Ru who was also bleeding and just as lifeless. Violet was thrown in the back of a police car. Her tears were cascading down her face, her mascara running heavily. She'd ruined everything, just like she did best. She could have prevented this, she should have prevented this. But things were never going to be the same again, and it was all Violet’s fault.

But she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wouldn’t forget Pearl for as long as she lived. And Jason would never forget Matt.

————————————

August 2016 - Florida

The sunlight seemed brighter, the air fresher and the birds louder. As he stepped outside he had an overwhelming urge to go running straight back in. God it had been such a long time. The world was a foreign place to him now. He’d been staring at the same four walls with barely any outside stimuli for so many years and now he was being let loose in the world again. It felt like an alien planet. Where did he fit into this world? He didn’t have anyone or anywhere to go. They couldn’t just turf him out could they? He wanted to go back inside. He was scared and not a lot scared him; it never used to anyway. But he’d been young back then, barely twenty-four years old when his whole world had crumbled. If he closed his eyes he could still hear the gunshots ringing out, he could still hear the screams. He could still see the blood. But that didn’t scare him half as much as stepping out of that building and being tossed back into the real world on his ass, much older and much more fearful than he was back then. He wasn’t angry about what happened, not anymore. After spending years with nothing but your own company he’d had a lot of time to think. It had been inevitable; he’d done some terrible things in his life and he’d deserved to pay for his sins. Maybe he’d been the lucky one, his partner hadn’t been so lucky. He heard the gates close behind him. This was it, he was really out, and there was no going back. All he had in this world was one small bag of belongings and his memories. He’d packed a lot into his twenty-four years, he’d seen and done things most people wouldn’t in a whole lifetime. They’d been just eighteen when they’d decided to pack up and leave everything. Over the next six years they would have the adventure of a lifetime. And he would always hold those memories close to his heart. Memories of him. He would always treasure those years they spent together. Inside, when he was having a particularly bad day, he would think of him and it never failed to put a smile on his face. Sure they had their ups and downs but he wouldn’t change a second of it. They’d made history. They’d left behind a legacy. Their ballad would always live on.

————————————

Jason didn’t know where he was supposed to go; he had nowhere to go. But somehow he’d ended up here. He wasn’t surprised he’d ended up here, the place where it had all ended. The place where they were finally brought down. Ru’s diner, although not Ru’s anymore. Charlie’s, whoever the hell Charlie was. Jason took a deep breath and stepped inside. The bell didn’t chime as he entered. The diner didn’t look a lot different to be honest, it had just had an upgrade. Maybe the 1950’s were back in style. The old red seats that had been falling apart were now blue. The old checked linoleum that had been stained with god knows what since Ru had opened it was now black and spotty. He made his way to his old booth which was still in the same place as it had been but it wasn’t as old and battered. The napkin dispenser was metal instead of the old red plastic ones. The old ashtrays were gone and he noticed the diner suspiciously didn’t smell like stale smoke anymore. Jason lit a cigarette anyway and sat back in his chair. He watched the waitresses scurrying about but no one came over to him. Rude, he thought. Maybe you order at the counter now? The waitresses wore black pants and white shirts instead of the checked dresses Katya and Kasha used to wear. He waited a little while longer but still no one came.

Prison admittedly hadn’t been as bad as Jason thought it would be. It had been rather entertaining when he’d been taken back to the station and asked to strip and they discovered he was a man. He’d been kept pretty secluded which he’d like but he never had many visitors, just Katya and Kasha. Kasha’s visits had stopped about twenty years ago or so and he’d found out from Katya that she’d passed away. And then about ten years ago Katya stopped visiting and he assumed the same had happened to her. That was the last visitor he had.

A young couple entered the diner and Jason heard the bell over the door chime. He frowned to himself. How strange.

It was going to be difficult trying to navigate the world after so many years away. He sucked on his cigarette and briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them she was sat opposite him in the booth, also smoking. She lowered her sunglasses down her nose and raised an eyebrow at Jason.

'Who the fuck is Charlie?’ She asked him in disgust. Jason couldn’t help but laugh.

'Who the fuck knows?’ He watched her drag on the cigarette between her pink painted nails. She had that old movie star look about her, her hair tied back under a scarf.

'This place sucks dick.’ Pearl scoffed looking around. 'And look at the young bimbos they have working here! Ru never would have stood for this.’ She shook her head.

'How do you still look so young?’ Jason raised his eyebrow at her. He felt so old as he sat there and he bet he probably looked it too. But Pearl still looked as though she could be in her twenties.

'Maybe I got better at make-up?’ She shrugged and finished her cigarette before stubbing it out. 'Or maybe…’ she leant forward on the table and bit her lip. 'Or maybe none of this real.'

Jason nodded, he’d had his suspicions of that.

'Are you really here?’ Jason whispered stubbing his own cigarette out.

'Are any of us really here?’ Pearl shrugged. 'What do you want to believe?’ Pearl half-smiled at him. Jason sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

'I was to believe you’re really here.’

'Ok then pumpkin. You believe what you need to believe.’ Pearl smiled at him and reached across the table and put her hand on top of his. Her skin was freezing, just like it had been that day. 'Wanna blow this popsicle stand?'

'Yes.’ Jason smiled and they stood up. Pearl linked her arm through Jason’s. They walked passed a table with a couple of kids and they did so, one of the kids shivered.

'Oh man I just got super cold!’ He frowned looking around. Jason gave Pearl a sidelong glance and she smiled.

'Oopsies.’ She smirked. She led Jason outside, once again the bell didn’t chime and then she led him around the corner. Jason shook his head in disbelief as he saw the 1950’s Buick Roadmaster staring at him. He let go of Pearl’s arm.

'No way.’ He shook his head.

'Way.’ Pearl grinned. 'How do you fancy driving?’ She fished the keys out of her clutch and tossed them to Jason.

'You never let me drive.'

'I’m sure you can’t do any damage to it anymore.’ Pearl told him. She slid in the passenger’s seat and Jason in the driver’s seat.

'What’s going on Pearl?’ He turned to her in confusion. 'Is any of this real?'

'Maybe. Maybe not.’ She stroked his cheek. 'Does it really matter?'

'I guess not.’ Jason shrugged. As long as Pearl was here he didn’t much care if it was real or not. He needed her and she was here, that’s all that mattered.

'Where am I going?’

'Wherever you want.’ Pearl smiled. She lit a cigarette and handed it to Jason and then lit one for herself. 'We’ve got the whole world at our feet Jason. We can go wherever, do whatever. This is our legacy. This is our ballad.'

Jason kissed Pearl softly making the blonde smile brightly.

'I love you Pearl.’

'I love you too. Vi.’ She smirked. Jason frowned. He adjusted the rear-view mirror and looked at his reflection. Winged eyeliner. Blue eye shadow. A red lip and a little beauty mark right above them. Not his reflection; Violet’s reflection. And not only Violet’s reflection but a twenty something Violet. She turned to look at Pearl with confusion in her eyes. Pearl smirked at her around the cigarette.

'You look as beautiful as ever Ms Chachki.’ She took Violet’s hand and squeezed it. 'Now come on, the open road is calling our names pumpkin.'

Violet started the engine, put the Buick in drive and floored it. She glanced over at Pearl who had her arm hanging out the window and the wind blowing her head scarf a little. She used her free hand to take hold of Violet’s that wasn’t on the wheel. Violet’s heart felt as though it was on fire. She had no idea where she was going but she didn’t care. She’d let Pearl lead her anywhere. Because Violet had always belonged to Pearl and she always would. And she was ready to write the next chapter of their legacy. This was their ballad and only they knew the words.

#pearlet #violet chachki #pearl liaison #tw violence #angst #tw character death #rpdr fanfiction #submission #scarlet #tbovap #queen au #1950s au #historical au

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embracetheapocalypsewithme · 7 years

Text

Embracing the Apocalypse 25: Bird on a Wire

Before I post the final installment of Embracing the Apocalypse, I want to say a huge and very sincere thank you to all of you who have read, liked, commented and otherwise supported this fic over the past few months. I seriously have loved hearing your feedback and ideas about the story, and I know that the experience of writing it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun without it so thank you all so much!

I don’t know exactly where I will go from here, but I know that I want to keep writing Negan fics, so hopefully you guys will keep reading ‘em! I may return to Negan and Rebecca (#Nebecca!) at some point, but I think I will be taking a little break from this paring for a bit, as much as I love them.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading as much as I’ve enjoyed writing this weird pile of words and attempts at jokes. ;)

Summary: Will Rebecca and Negan be able to convince the Sanctuary’s inhabitants that killing Julie and Ted is ok? Can Rebecca convince herself that it’s the right thing to do?

Word Count: 2,798

Content Warnings (or selling points?): Smut, Negan, Negan being Negan, language, death, and violence.

Part 1: The Tale of Thelma Facefuck

Part 2: What’s Up, Doc?

Part 3: A Successful Job Interview Begins with a Firm Handshake and Ends with a Salty Surprise

Part 4: A Crack in Everything

Part 5: Sorting Duty Sucks

Part 6: A Faint Whiff of Bullshit in the Air

Part 7: Turn and Face the Strange

Part 8: Poor Life Choices

Part 9: In Which Negan is a Total Jerk

Part 10: No Plan

Part 11: Negan Settles Rebecca’s Hash

Part 12: I know Where That Hand Has Been, Negan

Part 13: Gimme Danger

Part 14: The Loneliest Hours of the Morning

Part 15: Well, Fuck You Too, Kitty!

Part 16: That Escalated Quickly

Part 17: Well Fuck Me Gently with a Chainsaw

Part 18: Shards of Glass

Part 19: Donkey Heaven

Part 20: Morphine Dream

Part 21: Promises to Keep

Part 22: Are You a Killer?

Part 23: That the Hill You Wanna Die On?

Part 24: Keeping Up Appearances

Part 25: Bird on a Wire

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8807527/chapters/23270409

Part 25: Bird on a Wire

The Sanctuary’s cafeteria echoed with the din of voices bouncing off of the concrete walls and rebounding over the heads of the building’s inhabitants as they waited anxiously for the announcement to begin. As Negan had promised, attendance was made mandatory for the town hall meeting he had called to announce the fates of Julie and Ted to his citizens.

“What was that about not being dramatic or making a show of this?” Rebecca whispered to him out of the corner of her mouth.

The couple stood in the shadows, on the far left of the large, metal catwalk that overlooked the cafeteria. The narrow metal grating, which hung several feet above the floor, served as a stage for announcements, as well as the occasional performance on Saturday nights from those who could play an instrument, even shittily. From their hiding place, Rebecca could see that the room was completely filled, and her stomach flipped at the thought of standing before all of these people to tell them that they had decided to condemn two of their own to death.

“It has to be done, Fuckface,” Negan murmured back, taking her hand in his to squeeze it, “I’ll be right here with you, doing all of the talking. You’re just here as Exhibit A. And because you’re fucking cute as shit, and it’ll help the news go down better than if I did it alone.”

It had been less than a week since Stephen had attacked Rebecca. She had healed somewhat, and no longer needed painkillers to get through her day, but she was still visibly scarred from her encounters with the less savory element of the Sanctuary.

Julie and Ted had been kept in the basement of the building, under 24 hour supervision by only Negan’s most trusted men and women, since that time. But the waiting was over now. Today was the day that they would atone for their crimes at the end of a gun.

“Fair enough,” she sighed, “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

“Whatever you say, Fuckface” Negan replied, leading her out of the shadows by the hand and into the centre of the catwalk.

As the crowd grew quiet at the sight of their leader, Rebecca felt her knees go weak, and she feared that she might faint in front of the sea of faces peering up at them. Taking a shaky breath, she closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself, as Negan began his speech:

“A lot of you probably people know me from the bad, old days,” he began, “The first time I ran this place, I was wrong about a lot of stuff. I used fear to control you because I thought that it would keep you safe. I didn’t respect your intelligence. I didn’t think that you, the collective ‘you’, had the brains to keep yourselves alive without some kind of negative reinforcement keeping you in line. I apologize for that. You’ve all proved me wrong.”

His voice was atypically calm and you could hear a pin drop as those assembled below looked on. Rebecca let her hands rest against the cold metal of the railing in front on her, the sensation drawing her back into reality and rooting her to the moment.

“When I was put back into power by Rick, I promised myself that I would find another way to lead you. I don’t want to punish anyone who doesn’t deserve it. I don’t ever want to go back to the old ways again. But, sometimes violence cannot be avoided. That is one of the sad realities of this new world that we’re building. Sometimes there are exceptional circumstances that call for punishment. And that is what I am here to talk to you about today.”

Placing a hand on Rebecca’s back, Negan motioned toward her with his head as he continued to speak:

“This is Rebecca. She came here not long ago from the forest. She had lived there since the outbreak, and believe me when I say that this lady has been through more than most of us could ever dream of out there. When she came here and joined us, she hoped for a better life and for a fair chance to make her way in the world. And she has. Since coming here, she’s joined the ranks of our Scavenger team and has proven herself to be a great asset to us. She’s helped us to find valuable medical supplies that will help some of you live better lives.”

He paused, Rebecca supposed for dramatic effect.

“But someone didn’t like the fact that she and I spent some time together and got close to one another. Julie, one of our commissary workers, took it upon herself to ask two men, Ted from the sorting team and one of my own Saviors, Stephen, to beat the holy fucking shit out of Rebecca one night. Her only alleged crime was associating with me. And she nearly died because of it. Twice. Because after they had beaten her nearly to death, Stephen decided that it would be a good idea to attack her with a knife while she was bedridden. I’m proud to say that Stephen is no longer a threat to any of us thanks to Rebecca’s bravery. She took the fucker out with her bare hands, even while recovering from her injuries stemming from the first attack.”

A murmur arose from the crowd, as a chorus of curious voices began. Rebecca felt as if every eye was on her, scrutinizing her, inspecting her body to see if her injuries were bad enough to justify the murder of a Savior. Had he really meant to kill her? How did they know she hadn’t instigated the attack? What did Negan mean by “spending time” and “getting close with one another” anyway?

“And that is why,” Negan continued, raising his voice above the crowd to quiet them, “We have decided to execute Julie and Ted for their crimes. Not simply because they attempted to take the life of an innocent woman, but also because they have shown no remorse for their actions, and I believe that they would attempt to carry out something similar again if they are allowed to live.”

The crowd roared up at them like an ocean wave crashing upon the rocks. Angry questions and abuse was hurled at them. Their words hit Rebecca like a thousand tiny knives, none of them doing much damage alone, but the cumulative effect causing her stomach to turn and bile to rise in her throat. She took a step forward and bellowed above the noise:

“Hey! Hey! Everyone shut the fuck up for a minute! I have something to say!”

The crowd grudgingly quieted, their voices descending to a dull murmur once again.

“Most of you don’t know me, but everything Negan said is the truth. I did come here from the forest looking for a better life. I came here after my fiancé died because I didn’t know what else to do. I love it here, and all I’ve ever wanted to do is to make this place better for all of us by helping us to get the things we need to survive. That’s why I wanted to become a Scavenger. And I know that Negan feels the same way that I do. He made some really bad mistakes in the past. You know it and so does he. But can any of us truthfully say that we would have led the Sanctuary perfectly, given the circumstances? Bottom line: He kept you alive. He paid for his mistakes and he changed because he wanted to change. Julie and Ted though? They don’t want to change. So fuck them.”

The voices grew restless and angry again, causing Rebecca’s heart thump in her chest until she thought that it would explode. But she persisted and continued.

“See this?” she gestured to the side of her face, which was still marred with healing cuts and bruises, “That’s where Ted kicked me in the head while I was already on the ground after he punched me and Stephen knocked me down, all because Julie told them to do it,” she lifted the side of her shirt to show the large swaths of bruising that still covered her ribs, “This is where Stephen and Ted both kicked me while I was on the ground crying for help. And this?” she lifted her leg over the railing and pulled up the leg of her shorts to reveal the healing knife wound, “This is where Stephen stabbed me the second time he attacked me while I was still fucked up from the first attack.”

The voices diminished and the room fell silent, and Rebecca lowered her leg back to its original position.

“We didn’t come to this decision lightly. Neither Negan nor I want to kill Ted and Julie. I didn’t want to kill Stephen, but I was backed into a corner. I had to save myself. And now we need to save the rest of you from the people who only want to disrupt what we are trying to build. If you want to go back to living in a world where power is taken by the one with the pointiest stick, and no fucking empathy for anyone else, then that’s your choice. But I’m choosing to help make this a place where the strong protect the weak. Where people who try to victimize and terrorize are put in their place, or put down if they can’t be reformed. I’ve said my piece, and I hope you believe me when I tell you that this decision is not coming from a place of hate for those we plan to execute today, but from a place of love for this community.”

As she stepped back from the railing, Rebecca noted that the room had gone silent once again. She looked over a Negan to find him staring at her in a way she had never seen before, eyes wide with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Looking out at the crowd, she caught the eye of Ryan, her old friend from the sorting room, just in time to see his face break into a smile as he began to clap. Eventually others joined him in applauding her speech, much to her surprise.

Not everyone clapped for them. Some people simply walked away shaking their heads in dismay. But the wave of searing hatred seemed to have abated, dissolved by her words and her story. At least for the time being.

Turning to leave, Rebecca felt Negan’s hand wrap around hers again as they walked from the catwalk’s centre, and back into the shadows.

“Jesus Christ, Fuckface. Why didn’t you tell me you knew how to do that?” he asked, eyes still wide.

“Do what?” she said with naked confusion.

“Make speeches. Calm people the fuck down like that. That was fucking amazing. You sure you weren’t a hostage negotiator before?”

“Pretty sure. And I’ve never done that before. It just…came out. It was what was in my heart, I guess, as fucking silly as that sounds.”

“Not fucking silly at all. Not ever a little bit,” he bent down and kissed her forehead before pulling her into an embrace, “Are you ready for the really shitty part now?”

“Are you sure you want me there?”

“Yeah. I think you need to be there.”

“Then I’m ready,” she said, as they descended the metal structure and made their way to Julie and Ted.

***

The walk to the field where the execution was to be held hadn’t taken very long, but it felt like an eternity to Rebecca. The still-warm sunlight of early autumn painted her shoulders and face pink as the delegation comprised of herself, Negan, Julie, Ted, and Chris walked in silence, finally coming to a stop in the open area of over-grown grass and wildflowers.

Looking into a sky so perfectly blue that it seemed hard to believe that today was the day that she would help to end the lives of two people, Rebecca noted a flock of birds passing overhead. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to take flight with the birds, and to leave her obligations to her adopted community. But, alas, her feet stayed firmly on the ground.

(like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, i have tried in my way to be free)

She lowered her gaze to look directly at Ted and Julie as Chris led them a few feet away from where she and Negan stood, making them kneel in the grass with their backs to their three captors. When the gun came out of Negan’s jacket, shining with a sick, dull lustre, she found it hard to breathe and her pulse began to thump in her ears. She could only imagine the anxiety that Ted and Julie must be feeling at this moment.

(if i…if i have been unkind, i hope that you can just let it go by)

Neither Julie nor Ted showed any emotion in their body language as they continued to kneel, even as Negan approached them, his legs rustling the tall grass. They must have known that it was coming, and yet they never wavered or wept. They only stared straight ahead in quiet defiance in their final moments.

(but i swear by this song, and by all that i have done wrong: i will make it all up to thee)

Rebecca stared on in wonder as Ted reached over to take Julie’s hand to comfort her as they waited for the end. Negan readied the gun behind Julie as Chris did the same behind Ted. Rebecca remained rooted in place, unable to look away from the scene or even blink. Chris turned his head to look at Negan and a slight nod passed between the two men as they coordinated their shots. The deafening blast of gunpowder ripped through the serenity of the day, propelling both targets forward in the grass.

Rebecca felt her knees give out and tumbled to the ground, tears falling from her eyes. She had needed to be here, that much was true. But she took no pleasure in what had been done. A sob broke the quiet that had fallen over the field, and it took her a moment to realize that it was her own voice making the noise. Everything felt so far away, the colours draining from the sky and grass, boiling it all down to chromatic grey nothingness.

(oh like a bird on the wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir, i have tried in my way to be free)

And then he was beside her, a hand on her shoulder shaking her, bringing her back to herself again. Warm brown eyes peering into her and filling up the broken places, helping to hold her together.

“Rebecca? Wake up.”

His voice was like velvet in the darkness. Rebecca awoke to Negan looking down at her. They were safe and warm in bed. Though the night pressed against them, it was ultimately staved off by his arms snaking around her and pulling her close to him.

“You ok? You were making fucking terrible noises in your sleep,” he murmured sleepily in her ear.

It had been two days since they had executed Julie and Ted, and while the memories were easily overcome in the light of day, her dreams offered her a nightly replay of the horrid experience.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a nightmare,” she rotated to face him and wrapped her arms around him, trailing her fingers lightly against the small of his back, “Thank you for waking me up. They fucking suck.”

“I know,” he kissed her lightly, the freshly shaven skin of his chin brushing against her, “Go back to sleep. You need all the rest you can get for tomorrow. We’re off at the fucking ass crack of dawn again.”

“Good thing you’re a fucking morning person,” she mumbled, letting her eyes drift closed again.

The next morning they would leave with the Scavengers on a week-long trek into the surrounding area, looking for items they could use to make preserves for the fall and to build greenhouses for the colder months. Rebecca was tentatively optimistic that a Wal-Mart their scouts had spied a week prior might provide them with the supplies they needed.

“I’ll convert you yet,” he said, his voice fading down into a weak drone, “You just have to give yourself over to the change and you’ll adjust to it.”

“Turn and face the strange,” she sighed. They both drifted into the nothingness of a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

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#comicnegan>#twd fanfiction #negan fanfiction #twd negan #negan

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carasueachterberg · 5 years

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My heart is so broken.

Shattered. In pieces.

I don’t remember a hurt like this—it’s everywhere, in every thought, every breath. My eyes are slits and my nose is raw and sore and the tears just keep coming and coming til it doesn’t seem possible I have more, and then I do.

I’m making myself move—fold the laundry, clean the counter, weigh the puppies and worm them, walk Thelma, pull a few weeds, put shoes in their cubbies, anything so that I don’t just sit and sob, which is all I’ve been doing for days. I can’t eat and I’ve had so much tea, I have the shakes. I can’t talk because it comes out a squeak and if anyone says anything nice to me I fall apart. If you’ve called or messaged me and I haven’t answered, I apologize.

I’ve canceled every puppy visit, moved the party we were supposed to host. I am hunkered down, doing only the things I can, which is nothing that requires my heart or my brain because my heart is in a million pieces and my brain is doing all it can to keep me upright.

I have had to make the most impossible decision. Maybe the most painful of my life. And, while some of you will argue with me, there truly wasn’t a choice.

On Thursday, Frankie attacked my daughter. She was entering our house and he went after her, chasing her outside and biting her twice before I could reach them. I drove her to Urgent Care and thanked God that it was not worse. That I was there. That I could stop him. I won’t allow myself to think what would have happened if I wasn’t there.

This dog of my heart hurt my daughter. This sweet dog that I spoon with sunk his teeth into my baby girl. This precious boy who snuggles with Flannery, this ace agility student, this best friend at the dog park, he attacked my child.

Addie will be okay. The wounds are deep punctures that hurt immensely but will heal. She is one tough cookie, incredibly cool in stressful situations, and probably way too forgiving. I don’t want her to forgive because it isn’t forgivable.

We went home from Urgent Care with bandages and a prescription for antibiotics and Addie postponed her move to New York City by a week so that we can care for her here as she heals.

Nick was in France on Thursday when this happened, but because I couldn’t speak, he talked to our vet, who said he would euthanize our dog if that’s what we wanted but suggested we talk to an animal behaviorist. The next morning I spoke with this kind, compassionate, knowledgeable woman. She asked me questions, I tried to explain. She wanted facts. And then she carefully, gently but clearly told me what I already knew.

Frankie is a dangerous dog. This is the third ‘attack’. The other two incidences haunt me now but were easy to justify at the time, as they were ‘strangers’ entering our home without me present. We were lucky that the people escaped without the serious injuries that Addie sustained. The behaviorist told me that the next time would likely be worse.

She asked about Frankie’s upbringing, our training practices. I told her that Frankie had been to manners classes, had passed his Canine Good Citizenship test, that he was in agility training now. I told her how good he is with foster dogs, how gentle with puppies, how much he loves other dogs. How friendly he is when we are out, how much he loves Ian and Nick and me.

So, why? Why? Why? I cried. I still cry.

As much as we want to say that a pitbull is just like any dog, it isn’t, she said. For generations now, many are being bred to be aggressive and the most aggressive are being selected and bred again, genetically modifying some of these dogs to be aggressive to the point of death.

The behaviorist, said along with that breeding, many dogs are anxious, full of anxiety, just like so many humans. Frankie reacted out of fear. I think he loves people, but the behaviorist said she could prove to me that he doesn’t love people, only fears them; she could do that in only a few minutes if I wanted her to. I didn’t.

I asked her if he could be fixed. She said he couldn’t, we could learn to manage him to the best of our abilities, but he could never be trusted. Never. She could help me to train him to back away and lie down when people come to the door, but if he were her dog, she would never allow him to come near the door.

My home is a welcoming place. Intentionally so. I have worked to make it a place where people enjoy coming, where my kids’ friends always have a place at our table, where friends or neighbors can stop by for any reason. Our door is always open. That’s the kind of home I want and I have.

And so Nick and I cried on the phone as we came to a painful decision, the only option. The same one that is preventing me from eating or sleeping or speaking to anyone.

I would not rehome Frankie and take the chance that he would very likely hurt someone again.

I would not pay five to ten thousand dollars to place him in a sanctuary where he would basically be living in a boarding kennel the rest of his life. It would be only a half-life and I would rather use that money to save more dogs.

The only answer was to peacefully let him go.

And I could only do that knowing that we have given him a wonderful, happy, loving life. Yes, it was a short one. So much shorter than I can bear, but it has been a good one.

Nick would not return until Saturday night and I knew I couldn’t do this without him having the opportunity to say goodbye and to be by my side when I did. Ian sat with me on my bed late Friday night and we cried as Frankie rolled around looking for belly rubs and giving out kisses. We love this dog. With all our hearts. And he has had a wonderful life.

The least we could do was give him a compassionate, painless ending. So I spent his last day spoiling him rotten. On Saturday morning, we met his best pal Edith at the dog park to play. Nancy took a few pictures.

After that I took him home and cooked him an enormous plate of eggs with ham and his favorite treats piled on top. Then he watched birds and napped on the screened-in porch with Flannery and Gracie, while I sat and soaked him up, memorizing all of him. Next, we went for a long hike and I let him stop and sniff as long as he wanted to wherever he wanted to. It took us two hours to go just over a mile. He drank from the creek and got his paws muddy and pounced on a snake.

On the way home, we stopped at the pet store and I let him steal as many treats as he wanted from the low shelves (and then paid for them while the clerks fed him even more treats). Late in the afternoon we took a walk in our woods and had an extra-long visit at the fox den.

Just before dinner, I let him play with the puppies. His tail was going like a windshield wiper as he snuffled and licked the puppies and let them gnaw on his face.

And later, after Nick finally came home. We snuggled him all night, neither of us sleeping, but Frankie snoring contentedly after such a good day and both him humans with him.

In the morning, we took him to our vet’s office, a place he loves, and I tried very hard to keep it together so Frankie wouldn’t think it was any different than any other time he’s been there for a shot. He passed peacefully, and we brought him home and buried him on our hill below the spot where he has chased so many squirrels into the woods.

Addie painted a stone to place on his grave. (Sadly, she did not have the opportunity to say goodbye to Frankie, as he continued to threaten her through the glass door that separated them.)

I am devastated. Leveled. Beyond repair at the moment. When I close my eyes and try to sleep, I hear Addie’s happy greeting and then her scream in terror and Frankie’s bark and snarl and ferocious attack. On repeat. But then I open my eyes and I miss my boy. I miss his snuggles and his big pitbull smile, his happy energy, his eagerness to please, and how he loved all of our foster dogs.

I don’t know yet what I will learn from this, but the behaviorist told me that she gets ten calls like mine a day, so I know I am not the only person forced into this impossible place that hurts so very much and will haunt me all of my life.

But I won’t let this be the end. Something good will come of this.

I will share Frankie’s story. And in his name, I will save as many dogs as I can save. I will work until there is no need to save dogs like Frankie from shelters.

I don’t want anyone to take from this that all pitbulls are dangerous. They aren’t, but some are, and we need to respect this breed that has been so genetically manipulated by humans. We need to manage these dogs and when we can’t manage them, we need to make hard choices, not pass them along to a shelter or another home unawares. And, my God, we certainly have to stop breeding them and find a way to end the dog-fighting industry.

I loved Frankie more than I’ve ever loved a dog. This hurt will be with me forever, the guilt, the sadness, the everlasting ache for what could have been. It is not right or fair, but it was the only choice. I did not want Frankie to be a tragic headline someday and I could not bear to see him live out a life in a kennel. A compassionate death is much better than a live half-lived without someone to love you.

If you disagree with me, that is your right, but please do not compound my pain by sharing those thoughts with me. What’s done is done. And I will forever be scarred by this, the dog-shaped hole in my heart will never be filled.

Hug your dogs close. Don’t take a moment with them for granted.

Blessings,

Cara

If you’d like to know more about my blogs and books, visit CaraWrites.com.

Another Good Dog: One Family and Fifty Foster dogs was released August 2018 from Pegasus Books and available now

The Most Impossible Decision I Never Thought I'd have to make for my dog #unbearable My heart is so broken. Shattered. In pieces. I don’t remember a hurt like this—it’s everywhere, in every thought, every breath.

#aggression #dog attack #pitbulls

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its-lifestyle · 5 years

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I am a 27-year-old woman going through a very inconvenient situation right now. I got to know R through an online dating app. We connected right away and eventually fell in love.

It has been two years now but things have started to move in a different direction.

We don’t meet often – about twice a month – since he has moved to Johor for work.

Once, we had an argument about the house payment. I love R but he is not very consistent when it comes to payment. I have helped him settle an outstanding payment of nearly RM15,000 with the bank once.

He then promised to pay on time from then on. That’s the reason he went to Johor, to earn more money.

But we are still having issues over these payments. I was so angry once that caused him to be so upset and it affected his work.

His superiors weren’t happy about it and they left him with a warning. He put the blame on me but later, took it back and admitted that it was his fault.

I apologised as well but that one incident has created a major issue between us. He told me that he has no love towards me anymore.

He only hates me now because I almost caused him his job and he fears what I might do next.

It broke my heart to hear that because when he was struggling with his finances and other matters, I was always there for him.

How could he say those things?

It has been nearly two months now and since I couldn’t take the hatred from him, I decided to leave.

I politely told him that it was time for us to go our separate ways but he refused. He doesn’t want to break up yet he doesn’t have any feelings for me either.

He asked me not to do anything for a while and focus on my work.

But when I asked him whether he still loves me, he said, “I don’t know”.

It hurt me so badly that I decided to leave him again but he is not letting me go.

This is draining my energy and I can’t pretend that everything is fine.

I am not really sure if this is common in a relationship, but I cry every day because of this. Please give me some advice on this. B

You have two problems here – a relationship that isn’t working and outstanding loan. About the relationship, nobody has a right to keep anyone in a relationship against their will.

If you want to leave, you leave. Tell him once more firmly with a note or email that it’s over. If he can’t handle this like a decent adult, block him so you don’t have to deal with him.

As for the loan, I can’t tell if you gave the money while being prepared to write it off if he didn’t pay you back.

Perhaps you are very rich and this amount of money is spare change to you. If it is, it may be worth telling him it’s a gift and getting on with your life.

If you can’t afford to write it off, he will need to be in touch with your bank as he pays you back. There is no need for him to talk to you. Transfers are automated.

Should this man try and blackmail you into seeing him by withholding payment, see a lawyer immediately.

Remember, he has zero right to force you to keep in contact with him. You might also see a lawyer if your ex defaults on payments.

For yourself and a happier future, I strongly suggest you go and see a sensible mental health professional because I see lots of red flags in your letter. Did he actually say he hates you? If so, that is incredibly hurtful and quite unnecessary in an adult relationship.

I don’t like the way he blames others for his anger issues either. If he can’t control his emotions at work, that’s his problem, not yours.

Put it together with this nonsense of refusing to break up, and it adds up to a worrying picture. There are lots of decent men around and you deserve a partner who behaves with respect, kindness and maturity.

A few therapy sessions will help you tease out approaches that will help you pick a better boyfriend in the future.

Furthermore, you are crying every day, which worries me. If you’ve been sad and upset for over two weeks, ask to be assessed for depression.

Is something bothering you? Do you need a listening ear or a shoulder to lean on? Thelma is here to help. E-mail [email protected] or write to Dear Thelma, c/o StarLifestyle, Menara Star, 15, Jalan 16/11, 46350 Petaling Jaya, Selangor. Please include your full name and address, and a pseudonym. No private correspondence will be entertained. The Star does not give any warranty on accuracy, completeness, usefulness, fitness for any particular purpose or other assurances as to the opinions and views expressed in this column. The Star disclaims all responsibility for any losses suffered directly or indirectly arising from reliance on such opinions and views.

from Family – Star2.com http://bit.ly/2WqVsIe

#Blogger

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misssophiachase · 4 years

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Here is it, part three! Unlike all my other stories each chapter is from dual points of view (divided into two parts) because I think this keeps the story moving faster and more fluidly. Let me know what you think of this format and the story so far : ) Read from the beginning at FF and AO3.

Thrill of the Chase - Part 3 - I Shot the Sheriff

Cumberland County, TN (Interstate 40)

Caroline

"Interesting song choice," Caroline offered, unable to help herself as the scenery rushed past her window. She decided to blame it on her friend called guilt that decided to rear its ugly head at the worst possible time.

"Why? You don't like Bob Marley?"

"Who doesn't like Bob Marley?" She countered, trying to ignore just how good he smelled from this close proximity. A mixture of soap, mint and something else enticing she couldn't quite identify.

She was actually a little thrown by the fact this very song was on her fugitive track list and the guy who picked her up on the side of the road just happened to be playing it.

Oh, and for the record, she didn't get in his car that easily, it took at least nine minutes. Even if every fibre of her being was ready to hop into his passenger seat as soon as he strolled over in all his blonde curls and black henley goodness. Caroline decided to blame it on distraction, pure and simple.

She'd managed to fumble through what she thought was fairly standard small talk followed by outlining her current dilemma. Given he had neither a spare tire or cell service, Caroline either had to trust him to call for help after leaving her by the road still stranded or go with him to the nearest town.

She figured the second option, albeit one her parents wouldn't endorse, was more expedient. She had places to be after all.

Yes, he could have been a serial killer, but she certainly wasn't squeaky clean herself. Plus, she was starving and had run out of snacks and really needed to use the restroom. She wasn't the pee in the bushes type of girl so Caroline had no other choice. Well, that's what she kept telling herself.

"So, do you think he did it?" She asked, probably against her best judgment.

"Did what?"

"Commit the crime. It's one thing to shoot the sheriff, because you know maybe he deserved it, but to be blamed for the deputy too? That's rough."

What he did next, she wasn't expecting. He let out a rich and throaty chuckle and Caroline didn't think it could sound any better than that sexy, English accent. But it did. It was so mesmerising that Caroline found herself laughing along.

"So, you're ready to throw the book at the poor guy?"

"No, I was just amused by your analogy. Here I thought the song was about corruption and injustice in general but you seem to take it almost personally." She cursed inwardly thinking that playing it cool was not her best trait.

Who was she kidding? She was woeful. Mainly because Caroline was a nosey person by nature but by posing questions she was just asking for them to be returned. She also didn't think they'd be analysing lyrics about committing crimes. Caroline might as well have stamped guilty all over her forehead.

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for the underdog."

"Nothing wrong with that, love."

"I have a name you realise?"

"Yes, but you didn't feel the need to share it when we first met even if I told you mine," he offered, his eyes not leaving the road. Even housed under those aviators, she didn't need to see them to know they were rolling.

"You could be a serial killer for all I know, Klaus," she said, emphasising his name. It was unexpected for sure but the more they talked, Caroline started to think it suited him. "Not that, you know, I'm, uh, giving you ideas or anything," she rambled, unable to stop the words tumbling from her mouth.

First, she was talking about shooting law enforcement and now mass murder. Yeah, Caroline was dealing just fine with her current situation.

"Thanks," he shot back. "You know, for not giving me any ideas. If I hadn't met you god knows how many people I could have killed today at least."

"You're hilarious," she drawled. "So, why did you stop? By the road I mean, not your killing spree."

"My conscience," he began. "It has this annoying way of niggling at me until I do the right thing. Plus, maybe if I do something good the universe will return the favour."

"I'm convinced that's an urban legend."

"Oh, like the killer in the backseat?" Caroline couldn't help herself and turned around to inspect it. "Gotcha."

Maybe the universe was more in tune than she first thought given it was playing tricks on her and not the good kind. Caroline had a mind to right all of her wrongs then and there but knew that would take a lot more energy and will than she currently possessed. She'd said as much to her friend Bonnie and that was only a couple of hours into her road trip.

"Your dad sent his favourite henchman to my apartment," she joked through the phone. "He could have at least sent one of the cute ones."

"I'm sorry, I'll be sure to tell him to send Tyler or Jesse next time," she drawled. "How is the lovely Alaric?"

"Urgh," she groaned. "I had to take a shower afterwards, he's that creepy."

"I'm sorry to put you in this position, Bon," she apologised. "When I made the decision to run I guess I didn't think about the ramifications. I should have realised that my parents know no bounds when it comes to harassing people, my friends included."

"Stop right there, Caroline Elizabeth Forbes," she chided. "I mean sure you didn't tell me you were actually going to run away in the first place but given the circumstances I can hardly blame you." Caroline winced knowing that it didn't sit well with one of her best friends.

"I didn't tell you because the less you knew the better," she reasoned, knowing she had good intentions at least. "I was always going to get in touch, I just needed to put some space between me and the city first."

"Well, now that he's gone can you please tell me why you've decided to go all Harrison Ford on me?"

"Clearly someone's been watching too many movies."

"And clearly someone is living one."

"I didn't kill my wife," she argued. "Not that Harrison Ford killed his wife either but you know what I mean."

"Please just tell me you have a plan and blasting NWA's choice thoughts about the police in your car doesn't count." Caroline muted her latest fugitive track, not realising just how loud it was playing.

"What makes you think I don't have a plan, Bonnie," she scoffed, feeling a little offended, even if she knew her friend was right. "I brought snacks and everything."

"Because that's the most important thing," she groaned. "I know things are strained with your parents and…"

"Don't say his name," she interrupted. "He, who shall not be named, doesn't deserve it."

"He called me."

"He what?" She squeaked, almost driving off the interstate as she said it. "I thought you would have had him blocked months ago."

"I kept his number so I knew if the idiot had the audacity to call, turns out he did," she explained. Caroline couldn't really argue given she'd done the same thing.

"When did he call?" Caroline asked curiously.

"About a half hour ago."

"Does he know that I…"

"No, I don't think so. I only answered to get him off your back and throw a few of those choice insults I'd stored up the past few months. But he said he's been trying to call you for a few days now, something you didn't feel the need to share obviously."

"Lucky me. Look, I didn't want to make you any madder than necessary given that hot temper," she continued before Bonnie could argue back. "I didn't answer and have no intention of listening to the string of pathetic voicemails he left either. Those are right up there with my parent's incessant pleas to get me to come home."

"He said he wants to talk."

"Well, too little too late," she muttered, thinking that nothing could salvage what was irreparably broken between them. Now, he was just messing with her and she didn't want to play. "But idiot aside, just know there's somewhere I need to be and I'll reevaluate things after that, I mean what's another week?"

Sure, she was living in a fantasy world but Caroline needed the time alone to put things into perspective. She figured her therapist Camille might even agree with that part.

"So, where is Kat these days?"

"Wow, I really suck at this 'on the run' thing."

"No, I just figured if anyone was going to play the Louise to your Thelma it would be her."

"Hey, I could be Louise!"

"You and I both know that's laughable," she joked. "And remember Thelma did get to do the nasty with Brad Pitt."

Instead of buoying her, the comment only made her feel pathetic that the last time she got laid was forever ago and the person was her poor excuse of an ex boyfriend.

"Well, what would a fugitive road trip be without bedding a cute cowboy in some skeezy motel," she quipped. There was only one guy she planned to see on this trip and things between them were purely platonic and uncomplicated. "Look, I should really get going, Bon, but I'll call you soon, okay?"

"Be safe," she murmured into the phone and Caroline felt like she was going to cry. It had only taken a few hours and she was already turning into a ball of emotional mush. Some hardened runaway she was.

"So, where are you going?" Caroline asked, determined to block out all other thoughts that might make her regret this little trip.

"Says the girl who won't tell me her name," he shot back, finally turning to face her, albeit briefly. Caroline shivered involuntarily, it seemed so much easier to converse when he wasn't looking straight at her, even in sunglasses. "Why? Where are you going?"

"Oh you know, here and there to visit some friends."

"How extremely specific," he joked. "I've been here and there and I have to say it's not too bad for the most part. You must have been a geography major, right?"

"You enjoy teasing me."

"What can I say? It's been a long drive so far, it's nice to have some company even if most of our conversation has centred around crime and punishment." Caroline felt her face warm, hoping that the blush creeping up her neck wasn't going to completely envelop her and give the game away.

She turned to look out her window, the scenery hadn't changed all that much since she climbed into his car but then she noticed a green sign ahead.

Welcome to Crab Orchard, Tennessee - Population 673

Looks like they'd arrived, to what and who Caroline wasn't quite sure.

Klaus

"Twizzler?" Klaus looked up distractedly to see his new, blonde friend waving a bunch of the red candy in his face.

"No, thanks," he offered. "I try not to eat anything…" he trailed off, subconsciously stroking his abdomen.

"Fun?" She inserted the word in his sentence, but didn't miss the way her eyes travelled to his abdomen and took in every stroke he made. Looks like Klaus wasn't the only one slightly distracted.

"Let's just say I practice this healthy regime and sugar is pretty much enemy number one."

"Like I said, no fun," she reiterated, her eyes finally meeting his and proceeding to bite onto one of the strands, her pink lips enclosing around it.

Klaus didn't think he'd ever seen something supposedly so innocent look anything but that. He watched in interest, unable to look away if he tried. When she started to moan happily from the taste, Klaus had to look away while trying to contain the thoughts he shouldn't be thinking in the first place.

She was a skip - his- after all. And apparently he was here to apprehend her, not entertain untoward thoughts. It seemed as if his professionalism had flown out the window the moment he clapped eyes on Caroline Forbes. He'd been inwardly arguing with himself for most of the drive. She was sitting in such close proximity to him completely unaware. The most unbelievable part? She was in his car without any need for coercion or handcuffs. Klaus couldn't remember the last time one of his felons had been this easy to capture.

Klaus figured it had something to do with her innocence and seemingly trusting nature. Something which intrigued him from the outset. If she was his friend or girlfriend he'd be absolutely affronted by her willingness to jump into a stranger's car but she wasn't. Although, if Klaus was being honest, he wasn't unwholly upset she was by his side at that moment.

At the same time, he couldn't help but think how good she smelled, a mixture of vanilla and roses - post rainstorm. She also had this adorable habit of scrunching up her nose when she spoke, a nose with a slight dusting of freckles he couldn't and didn't want to ignore.

Klaus shook his head, trying to concentrate. He really needed to apprehend her and he needed to do it now.

They were waiting for the mechanic in the sleepy, little town of Crab Orchard to tow her car back to the gas station and replace her busted tire. Klaus had offered just to purchase it and go back himself but the guy, who seemed way past retirement age, had insisted and refused to relinquish the tire otherwise. Klaus knew it was all a money making exercise but didn't argue. Given the size of the town they probably didn't get much business as it was.

So, here they were. Caroline moaning over twizzlers and him trying to ignore just how much it was affecting his resolve.

Crab Orchard was only a couple hours out of Nashville and it would have been so easy to keep driving and deliver her directly to Lucien's agent at the airport who would personally escort her back to New York. But something stopped him.

Yes, she was beautiful. He thought so when he saw her picture and then when he pulled up alongside her on the road but after talking to her, Klaus was incredibly intrigued. And he wanted to know everything about her.

He knew he had places to be, his siblings hadn't stopped reminding him as evidenced by numerous texts and his recent call while she was using the bathroom and buying a year's worth of snacks inside the tiny gas station.

"So, what do you think the Wicked Witch of the West wants?"

"Hello to you too, Kol."

"Don't tell me you're buying into Rebekah's drivel about the urgent need for this family reunion and down south of all places?"

"Of course, not," he shot back, thinking this was no doubt one of Rebekah's usual attempts to make herself the centre of the universe, not that she had to try all that hard. "You know I like to keep my family time to an absolute minimum."

"I'll pretend we're still talking about sister dear," he drawled sarcastically. "I don't know why I had to leave Chicago in such a hurry, we can't all have broomsticks to ferry us from place to place on a whim." Klaus had to fight the urge to laugh. Kol, albeit the epitome of an annoying, younger sibling, always had that keen ability to hit the nail right on its head.

"I suppose we'll find out in just under a week," he sighed, wondering how much longer Caroline would occupy his time before that. "Have you spoken to Elijah and Henrik?"

"You know how Elijah bores me, Niklaus," he replied knowingly. "Henrik is on his way from Florida with a girlfriend, Lizzie someone."

"Can't say I'm surprised that he's the only one with a girlfriend." Klaus and Kol liked to joke that Elijah should have been in the priesthood; his love life was that stagnant.

"And how about you?"

"How about me what?"

"How about your girlfriend, Hayley isn't it?"

"She's not my girlfriend, never was," he growled, probably a little too fiercely given his brother's response.

"Wow, message received," he laughed. "Although, does she know that? Because last time I visited she was being extremely girlfriend-like."

"I never asked her to be," he grumbled. "It was casual, nothing else, and for the record she knew that, well apparently." For some reason it was his bail skip that came to mind at that very moment and not his ex-girlfriend, or whatever she was. He didn't want to analyse why either.

"So, Lucien tells me he has you on assignment in Tennessee?" Klaus wanted to admonish his younger brother then and there for the job but for some reason he wasn't altogether upset anymore since meeting Caroline.

"Yeah, just have to apprehend this skip and send her back to the City," he murmured, thinking that wasn't what he wanted to do with her at all. "Piece of cake," he lied.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your bounty hunting," he teased. "Don't be too hard on the poor girl, whoever she is."

"I'll try," he muttered, disconnecting the call before she proceeded to tempt him with twizzlers.

"So, it looks like we don't have the right tire for this particular, vintage model," their great-grandfather of a mechanic explained.

"But, George, you said…"

"I said I'd look at it first before making any assessment," the geriatric swindler not dissimilar to one of his distant relatives interrupted. "I can have something first thing tomorrow."

Klaus stifled the urge to roll his eyes. It would be cheaper and much quicker for him to travel to Nashville and back with a new tire. But then Klaus realised that meant less time together and given he needed to gain her trust that wouldn't work.

"And where would we stay?" Caroline asked, impatiently tapping her heel on the ground. Clearly this was messing with her plans and Klaus wasn't altogether unhappy with the development, purely for bounty hunter purposes of course.

"My wife Eileen runs the cutest bed and breakfast just down the road, she'll give you a good deal." Given George's price gouging tactics, Klaus highly doubted that. "And my brother Jack runs the local bar, best beer and steak in three counties."

Of course he did but Klaus wasn't going to complain. As they made their way towards his car, Caroline nudged him playfully.

"Bed and Breakfast? How utterly quaint and romantic, just don't get any ideas, mister."

"I can't help that we are responsible for propping up the economy of this town and all of George's family."

"Well, I suppose with great power comes great responsibility," she joked. "And given we're stuck here together, the name is Caroline."

Even though he knew that from her file, Klaus had to admit her telling him felt nice. Klaus had no idea what she was doing to him but he wasn't complaining. Besides, what harm would one extra night do?

Lots as Klaus was about to find out.

#klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #klaroline #misssophiachase #my writing #thrill of the chase #i shot the sheriff

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