#but man ive just been so busy. which is both a blessing and a curse

[extervus]

Jesus christ just realized I haven't like turned on my computer since Thursday, it's just been one of those weeks man

[caffeineivore]

For @apsaraqueen

This was written as cheerupemofic for BAMF a few weeks-ish ago, I think? Never got around to posting it but here it goes. Somewhat experimental R/J. Some angst but... it’s, uh, for BAMF? So. Yeah.

***

“Love is so short, forgetting is so long.” - Pablo Neruda

I.

The Moon is beautiful and stately, all marble palaces and graceful domes, but leached of colour in an eerie wash of silvery white. Jikokuten takes a knee in the throne room and looks askance at the royals, for even they blend into this ghostly dream-world with their pearlescent gowns and platinum locks. The weather and grounds are flawless, not a single leaf or stone out of place. It’s almost too perfect-- ominously so-- and to one whose kingdom only dons white for mourning, it’s jarring. 

And then he sees the High Queen’s court file in, the warrior princesses of legend, flanking the throne two by two, and there she is, a spot of scarlet in the sea of white. Ebony hair and auspicious red skirts, eyes like the twilight sky before it turns full dark. He blinks, and his heart stutters. 

II.

The sheep are languishing in the heat, and getting leaner by the day with nothing but dry brush to eat, and Jochi coaxes some of his own water onto the littlest and weakest of the lambs. It’s foolish, and more than likely the little animal would die anyway, too malnourished to survive the drought which had blighted the steppes this summer. His father had always railed at him for being too soft-hearted, too foolish and un-Mongolian, but a part of Jochi always had perhaps too much sympathy for the foundlings and the weaker ones. There is a nebulous memory, perhaps not his own, of standing up for a boy with eyes like the open sky and a shock of black hair from-- what? He doesn’t quite know.

He hears the sound of hoofbeats-- it is a grand procession, the entourage of one of the Khans, and that is both blessing and curse, for they would surely bring much-needed supplies and victuals if returning from a successful raid, but just as surely would bring death and doom against any interlopers or opposing factions. Jochi’s yellow hair would stand out like a beacon, and so he pulls up his hood despite the summer heat and draws back into the shadows to watch the group. The warriors are fearsome indeed astride their ponies, bows and sabers at the ready. There is an iron-haired Chieftain at the forefront, proud and indomitable with eyes as fierce as a falcon’s. And then right behind him, dwarfed by the stalwarts flanking her, must be the clan’s princess, wearing a fine red dress and ornaments of silver and amber around her neck and atop her raven hair. She’s beautiful, with eyes as fearless as her Sire’s, but more so, something about her face strikes such a pang in Jochi that he forgets himself, and steps forward, right into the path of the procession. He’s knocked senseless not a moment later under the marauding hooves, but he only has eyes for the desert-mirage loveliness of the princess’ face.

III.

Jun doesn’t meet Ru-Yi until the wedding. She’s brought over to his familial estate in a lavish palanquin, amidst loud, raucous music and the rapid pops of firecrackers, and escorted to the altar by the servants to kneel next to his older brother Kai. As the heir apparent, it is imperative that Kai make a good marriage to a wife who would not shame him and brings all the right assets to the match, and Ru-Yi’s father is a very wealthy, powerful man. The newlyweds courtesy to their parents and each other, and then someone lifts the bride’s red veil away from her face, and Jun almost drops his goblet of wine. It is a stunningly elegant face, all cherry lips and willowy brows, but what’s more, though he’s certain he has never met her before, it’s somehow familiar. She, too, seems to feel it, because her eyes linger on his for a moment too long, a thin line of confusion drawing between those brows, before she turns away with a bland smile for the procession of well-wishers. 

Despite the many presents of dates and lotus seeds on the wedding day, and, months and years later, the foul-smelling tonics and powders, she never bears Kai any sons, and Jun watches, heart heavy, as Kai takes on one concubine after another, carouses in the brothels night after night, as the lines between Ru-Yi’s brows grow deeper and deeper with cheated joy and thwarted wishes. He doesn’t care if she doesn’t bear any sons, but she’s not his concern-- will never be his concern. There are flowers left on her doorstep in the mornings, still wet with dew and with neither name nor note. It’s poor consolation for both of them, but she’s not his to love.

IV.

The air is arid and far too hot, almost tinged the same turmeric-yellow as the hot sun blazing down overhead. Captain Geoffrey Lindhurst with Her Majesty’s navy had been in India for all of four months, and is still getting accustomed to the local climate, so different from the ever-present London fog. The local food, too, is a far departure from the starchy Sunday roasts and meat pies and puddings of his boyhood, with its exotic spices and bountiful portions. The servants at his bungalow are politely quiet and do their tasks without complaint, but he has the sense that there is far more to their lives and customs than the scant glimpses that he sees now and then.

He’s out taking a walk on a balmy evening, and passes by one of the temples. He knows nothing of the religious beliefs of the locals, with their somewhat-fearsome-looking, animalistic gods with their fiery eyes and six hands and elephant heads, but many of the locals seem quite devout in their faith, praying several times a day and eschewing certain foods in their diets. Even at this late hour, the temple is open for worshippers, its air smoky with incense, and he sees a young woman emerge, clad in the flowing, traditional garments with a gauzy scarf over her dark hair. His gaze meets hers for only a split-second-- light blue to orchid-- but it jolts his system harder than a glass of raw gin. He has no idea who she is, and moreover, everything in his training and upbringing tells him that he has no business dallying with any of the locals. Geoffrey opens his mouth to speak, against everything that he’s known all his life, but she vanishes down one of the narrow paths and disappears into the night before he can say anything, or be quite sure that she wasn’t just an illusion, a trick of the light. 

He visits the temple enough in his years stationed here that he gets to learn the local traditions and customs, and indeed become quite familiar with their rituals. But he never sees her again.

V. 

The dame walks into his dilapidated hole-in-the-wall of an office on stiletto heels the red of fresh blood. Jack knows trouble when he sees it, and she’s all but radiating it like smoke surrounding a wildfire. “Help you, ma’am?” He keeps his voice brusque and businesslike even as she shrugs off a lustrous black mink stole to reveal crimson silk and fiery diamonds, curves in all the right places. “What brings you to this side of town?”

“I need a private investigator, and they say you’re the best. My driver’s outside, and he’s bigger and meaner than you,” she adds in a snide tone to match the diamond earrings. “My name is Rowena Warrington. Henry Warrington’s daughter.”

The Governor’s daughter has as much business in the seedy part of downtown as he would rubbing shoulders with millionaires in a fancy ballroom. “Don’t you have security, or lawyers, or whatever, to deal with whatever you’re dealing with, Ms. Warrington? This is a bad neighbourhood.”

“And no one’s been able to figure out the truth behind my mother’s death, so here I am.” Presumptuously, she makes herself at home, sitting down in a battered folding metal chair like it’s a throne as she lights a cigarette. “Price is no object, of course.”

“No.”

He won’t be swayed, because this is exactly the type of trouble that he doesn’t want, even though she turns on the wheedle, and later, the tears. He lets her leave in high dudgeon, and shuts the door behind her, and tells himself that his instinct-- one that tells him in no uncertain terms that he’d narrowly escaped a terrible fate-- was spot-on. And he busies himself with the usual mundane work which flows in every day like water through a leaky pot-- fraud cases. Stolen heirlooms. Prisoners on the lam. Cheating spouses.

He reads about the huge, tragic scandal some months later in the paper-- the cover-ups, the blood money, the extortion, the beautiful young woman whose life is tragically cut short because she’d had the audacity to poke her flawless nose where it definitely didn’t belong and wouldn’t take no for an answer, and is shocked at the grief which hits him. He owed her nothing, he tells himself as he broods into his second whiskey. She said herself that her driver was bigger and meaner than him. She should’ve been safe. Should’ve been careful. 

Should’ve been protected, with one’s very life. 

He throws the newspaper into the fire and watches it curl up into ash as he pours himself another one.

VI.

The busful of unconscious mortals is just where he wants them, of course, and Jadeite goes about the business of collecting their energy, siphoning it for Queen Metallia’s use. It’s rote and routine, but then a flash of scarlet catches his eye, and it’s the miko from the temple at the last bus-stop. Black and white and red all over, and he pauses, kneels down to move a strand of her lustrous black hair out of her face. 

“So beautiful. Ever since I’ve seen this girl, there’s something about her…” Something haunting, like a hint of incense smoke that clings to the air or a raven’s feather, black against white pavement, a memory that is-and-isn’t his. With a gentleness that he’s not had cause to employ in a very long time, he carefully shifts her into a more comfortable position, one more like natural sleep than the unconsciousness of a sinister spell, and lingers, unable to tear his eyes away from her exquisite, weirdly familiar face, until the all-too-unfortunate shouts of angry feminine voices tells him that he is not alone, and the Sailor senshi have arrived.

The miko opens her eyes and everything snaps into place a split-second before she transforms and a rage of fire heads for him, and he has but a moment to mouth the word ‘Sorry’, unheard and unacknowledged, before the flame hits in a wall of agony and heat. It’s no more or less than he deserves.

VII

The world is lustrous, glistening crystal, but unlike the Silver Millennium and the Moon Kingdom, the diamond brilliance of the towers bring colours into sharp relief, turning white sunlight into countless prismatic rainbows and reflecting the pale blue of the sky as rich sapphire. Jadeite takes a knee with his compatriots in the throne room and bows his head before the royals-- his King and Queen, united at last. Countless lives had been lived to lead to this-- an entry to a paradise hard-earned. 

There she is, still, raven hair and red skirts, and after, when everyone has broken off into their groups, he seeks her out. He has no reason to expect a positive reception, but the words are long overdue, and she has a right to them. 

“Lady Mars.” He makes an elaborate leg, as one might have done in a decadent court in the era of gilt and Rococo. She raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t storm away or glare, and that’s something.

“No need to stand on ceremony, Lord Jadeite. We’ve met before. More than once, I daresay.”

“And I’ve loved you every time.” The words are baldly spoken and perhaps too blunt, in poor form, but they’ve been buried for far too many years and lifetimes already. She halts, and he notices that her breath isn’t quite steady, and that gives him the courage to remain where he is instead of making a hasty escape.

Finally, a queer sort of half-smile crosses her face as she tilts it back up to his. “You’ve been terrible about showing it up to now, haven’t you?”

“Up to now,” he agrees. “It doesn’t have to remain so. Unless you wish it.”

“Hmm.” She glances away, but stays standing where she is, within reach. “I suppose we’ll have to see.”

[theseviolentdelightss]

Counting Paths XVII

Series Summary: After a lifetime on the run from the Empire, Reader makes a move that could have drastic impacts for both friend and foe. A Reader insert/fanfic. Gifs belong to their respective owners.

Word Count: 4386

Author’s Note: Sorry again for the wait.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X Part XI Part XII Part XIII Part XIV Part XV Part XVI

It was cold when you awoke. Eyes fluttering slowly as the memories came flooding back. The cantina, the code black, running yourself ragged which would explain why it felt as if someone had taken every muscle in your body and rung them out like a soaked cloth.

“Called it!” The sound of Roland's voice, while a small comfort, did nothing to stifle the pounding in your head nor the ringing in your ears. It rather enhanced it, earning an agitated groan from you as your eyes struggled to adjust. “Two hours and fourteen minutes, everybody pay up!”

All around you came the sound of grumbles. Money being dug out of pockets and wallets as Roland chuckled proudly. His paw out and ready for the taking.

“Did you seriously take bets on how long I would be passed out?” You asked coolly once the crowd had cleared. Narrowing your eyes as you stared down the older rebel, hands over flowing with newly acquired credits.

“No...” Roland stuttered. If you hadn't known better you would have sworn you saw guilt in his eyes as he adverted his gaze. Catching a glimpse of your reflection it was easy to see why.

Fainting from exhaustion and dehydration had done you no favors. The color in your cheeks had yet to return and your hands trembled as you ran them over your face. Apparently the first medic on site had struggled to find a vein, leaving the inside of your elbow an abstract mess off deep purple and sickly yellow skin. The bruise bloomed around the needle in your arm like a dying violet. Growing more gruesome by the moment.

When word first made it to Roland that you had ran out of the bunker with less than three minutes to spare he had assumed it was just another rumor. They seemed to have been following you as of late. Sprouting like weeds about your feet. It was only when Penny began to panic, pushing through the rows of bunks and cots towards the small infirmary area that he began to believe it. Nearly 30 flights of stairs and you had ran it three times in under five minutes. It was no wonder the exhaustion had gotten the better of you, not to mention the liquor. “Well maybe-”

“Give it!” You held your hand out, turning your attention away as you waited.

Dragging his feet Roland placed the pile of money into your palm. Licking your thumb you flipped through it before handing over a small percentage.

“Finders fee.” You smirked softly, feeling your head beginning to clear.

Following the IV in your arm you recognized the mixture hanging above you. A combination of saline and nutrients. Glancing around it was obvious that you weren't the only casualty of today's surprising great escape. A handful of cots sat occupied in the dimness. Strangers with swollen ankles and knees, a man with a thick piece of gauze wrapped about his head. Even from this distance you could spot where the blood had began to seep through. On the cot nearest you Penny lay dozing with no sign of visual injuries. Gently pushing aside her red curls you couldn't help but chuckle as the drool ran down her cheek. For now she would be fine, the hangover wouldn't hit her till she woke up.

“Where's Zara?”

“Off sleeping I think. Took some skinny kid half an hour to convince her you'd be fine.” Roland replied. “Want me to go tell her you're up?”

“No let her rest.”

“They need you.” Roland's eyes again shifted to the ground as he spoke. “In the control room.”

“Why?” You asked, unsure as to why the Rebellion saw need to punish you so quickly. Sure, you had disobeyed a direct order which in itself wasn't a first, but no one had gotten seriously hurt. Minus the guard you had punched but he had it coming. You still had the scar beneath your hairline from where he had struck you long ago. That was well worth a week of messhall duty. Still, that wasn't an urgent matter, not enough to warrant a trip to the control room in the middle of a code black no less.

“The hell if I know.” Roland spit bitterly. He was an amazing soldier yet for all his military prowess he hated authority more than a hormonal teenager.  “Captain Andor ordered me to stay here and fetch ya as soon as you woke up so hop to it.”

“You do see the IV in my arm right?”

Licking his thumb and forefinger Roland reached forward, snatched the plastic butterfly wings on either side of the thin needle and slid it out from under your skin like a warrior drawing a sword.

“For fucks sake Roland!” You hissed, reaching up to smack the curly haired man across the back of the head. What had only moments before been a dull ache now stung white hot. “There's a reason people don't actually do that you jackass!”

A half roll of gauze and a handful of curses later Roland was escorting you through the dark tunnels that lead to the lowest level. To keep the temperature from spiking most everyone had been spread out among the various floors. The bunker itself had seven and at its heart sat the war council. The most highly concentrated area of people and still it did nothing to stave off the cold. By the time you made it through the beehive of workers busy at various consoles and tablets you could faintly see your breath in front of your face. Wrapping your arms around yourself you tried to find some degree of warmth. Dragging the sleeves of your jacket over the palms of your hands as Roland motioned you forward.  

“Baby...” Roland muttered, side eyeing you as you began to shiver.

“Not all of us have been blessed with blubber to keep us warm.” You replied, eyeing Roland's protruding gut. Typically you weren't one to shame a person for their body but considering this was the same man who had only minutes before ripped an IV from your arm, you found it in yourself to make an exception. Thankfully it shut him up, allowing you a few moments of silence before coming to a stop outside a large set of wooden double doors. Unlike most on base these had been built in the old style that swung inwardly rather than sliding open or closed.

“From here on out your on your own kid.” Roland leaned against the wall as he spoke, retrieving a small knife from his pocket he began to pic the dried grease out from under his fingernails.

Sighing you knocked on the old wood nervously. The door opened with a low groan, kicking up a whirl of dust around your feet as you slipped inside. The space was noticeably cooler, the mood even more so.

“Sargent L/N please come forward.” Mon Mothma spoke calmly as always. She was a decent and honorable woman but that didn't mean her composed demeanor wasn't hiding an ugly truth.

Perhaps they had finally decided you were too much of a liability.

Maybe this most recent act of defiance truly was the last straw.

Stepping forward into the dim light your eyes scanned the various faces for anyone who might speak on your behalf. Cassian's dark eyes found you instantly, as if your gaze had been magnetically drawn to him. He stood with his arms crossed, jaw tense as if he were grinding his teeth. Draven sat at the large wooden table that stood in the center of the room. A massive piece carved with the same script and symbols as the door behind you. It had likely been there as long as the temple itself. Standing strong for hundreds of years. You couldn't help but drag your fingers across the surface as you made you way to your seat. 

“We have serious matters to discuss.”

The edge to the ginger haired woman's tone might have upset you if it weren't for a sickening realization, one that washed over you like an icy wave.

“Where is Theodren?” You asked instantly, trying hard to hide the fear growing inside you. The silence that followed was no help, seconds ticking by like hours as you waited. “Where is-”

“We don't know.” Mon Mothma replied, her tone gentler than before yet straight to the point. No time for curtsies. “Commander Theodren had departed for Bakura shortly before we were alerted of an Imperial patrol entering our atmosphere. Until the code black has been lifted any attempts to contact him are impossible.”

It felt as if the floor had been ripped out from beneath you. That weightless feeling of falling that jolts you awake. Surely you must be dreaming. Your luck may have been notoriously bad but this was nightmarish. Grabbing a hold of the table for support you allowed your body to slump into the chair nearest you. Mon Mothma continued to speak, for how long you can't be sure, it wasn't until General Draven snapped his fingers in front of your face that your mind cleared. Glazed eyes blinking for the first time in minutes.

“Sergant L/N?” Mothma spoke calmly, holding out a hand to hush Draven as she stepped closer. The room was dim but it may as well have been pitch black. Even with eyes open you looked but did not see. It was only Theodren you thought of and the space where he should have stood. “You're bleeding.”

The words had no sooner left the woman's mouth when you felt the first drop collide with the back of your hand. Closing your eyes tightly you allowed a second and third to fall before reaching for the source. A stream of blood trailed from your right nostril. Stickily coating your fingertips and leaving the taste of metal on your lips. Out of the corner of your eye you watched as Cassian moved forward. His face calm and composed as ever. Before he could step any further you were already standing. Hand held firmly against your nose trying in vain to stem the flow. It made sense, your tears had long ago been used up, only blood remained to spare.

“I apologize...” You muttered, pushing yourself away from the table and towards the large doors you had came in through. They sprawled open rather easily at your touch. The chill of the room a distant memory as the heat bloomed at the base of your neck and began to spread. The mix of worry and fear enveloping you as you searched for an exit, not caring where it went. It was solitude you yearned for. A space of your own where you could internalize the wars currently raging between your head and your heart.

Sighing you spotted a door that led through yet another dark hallway. Pushing your way further down till the last door stood waiting. Without so much as a knock you let yourself in. The stale smell of dust and age rushing up to greet you as you stepped inside. Rows of empty shelves lined the walls. The pale light above flickering out as you settled to the floor.

You hadn't prayed in years. After everything you had done you doubted the anyone would pay you so much as a passing thought. Still, even as the cold seeped through your bones you found yourself murmuring the words. Blood stained hands held tightly together.

“I didn't know you prayed.”

“I don't-” You replied, red eyes adjusting to the small lantern the captain held in his hands. “not usually at least.”

“Neither do I.”

“Why not?”

“Because they were never answered.” Cassian's eyed you cautiously as he knelt in front of you. Noting that the bleeding that had provided you a perfect out had yet to stop. Sitting the lantern to the side Cassian dug his hands into his pocket, retrieving a clean rag he leaned forward to press it delicately around your nose.

“Mine were never answered either.” Your voice felt small as you reached forward, trying to take a hold of the rag yourself, expecting Cassian to let go yet he held on.

“What were you thinking?”

“Excuse me?”

There was no hiding the tone to your voice. It was one thing to question yourself. The last thing you needed right now was Cassian doing the same.

“I told you to stay where you were.” Cassian replied calmly, ignoring your weak attempt at an attitude.

“I never told you how my brother died, did I?” That caught him off guard. The frustration draining from his eyes as he gazed back at you. “Come to think of it, I'm not sure I ever mentioned him at all...”

Settling onto the floor with a thump Cassian let the rag slip from his grip. His expression gentler than before, clearly this new revelation was not what he had been expecting.

“His name was Willis I had just turned eight when he was born. I was so excited. I'd finally have a friend that I wouldn't have to say goodbye to after a few months...but mama died on the birthing bed so I had to step up. It wasn't easy, especially not at first. I was still just a kid myself, and a part of me hated him for taking my mother away, but that didn't last. He was too kind, too gentle to hate and he was so smart. He could be a real brat about it too, always correcting my spelling.” You chuckled lightly, losing yourself in a memory for one brief moment.

“He heard it first, woke me up. I thought he was just having another bad dream but then I heard it too. It all happened so fast, the chaos, the slaughter. It started in the outlying villages but it didn't take long to make its way into the city. All of the sudden they were in the streets, kicking down your door, coming through your front room window. That's when the exodus started. I had never seen anything like it. All around us the buildings were going up in flames. You could hear people screaming. I passed the body of the baker who had made my bread that morning lying in a gutter as we fled. His face was gone but I recognized his apron. It felt like we were at war.”

“Antar IV.” Cassian said quietly, turning his head to face you. “The massacre. You were there?”

Nodding you tried to steady your breathing. It had been years since you had spoken about that night and for good reason. Anytime it came up you felt your pulse quicken, the cold sweat forming on the back of your neck. As if some small part of you was forever trapped in the moment and just for a second it had pulled the rest of you under. Drowning you on dry land.

“I lost my father's hand in the crowd, my brother begged me to go back, but I had promised...so I didn't. I couldn't. I wanted to more than anything but I knew if I stopped, if I looked back we would both be lost. So I lied. I told him we would meet my father at the ship. The old man had been working on the same one for ages, kept it docked at this little hole in the wall station he worked at. I thought for sure by the time we got there all that would be left was ash and rubble but there it stood. No more than twenty yards away. I was moving so fast I didn't even see him until-”

You voice hitched in your throat with a weak shudder. The hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as you began to run your hands up and down your thighs.

“I begged him to let us go. We were just children. I swore to him we wouldn't tell anyone, not a soul, but he just put us in his sights.” Turning your eyes to the ceiling you were happy not to have to look at Cassian's face as he heard what came next. “I tried to move Willis out of the way, but he had twisted his ankle during the run and I was carrying him. All I could do was turn around, try to cover him with myself but it didn't make any difference. That fucker cut us down like we were nothing.”

“How did you survive?” Cassian asked softly.

“I drove a screw driver through his eye and out the back of his skull.” You replied coolly, the sadness in your voice replaced with an entirely different emotion. “The first life I ever took and it didn't even matter. Willis died anyways. He bleed out in my arms. One second he was crying and trying to say something and then he just...went still. I had never seen someone die before but I watched as the spark drained from my brothers eyes, and that pain...”

Again you had to stop, try to calm your thumping heart as it pounded away against your chest. There was a reason you avoided this subject. It was always painful to speak of, but now with Theodren's fate so uncertain it only served to frighten you more. To remind you of what it felt like to lose someone you love.

“I didn't think I'd ever get over it so I locked that part of me away. Stopped caring about everything and everyone.”

Across from you Cassian shifted, leaning his back against the wall as he took in all you had to say. Not entirely sure if he should be relieved that you were sharing so much with him or worried. Crossing his arms to stave off the chill he watched as you fidgeted with your hands, pulling at the edges of your sleeves, tucking those relentless loose curls behind your ears. His own hands itched to reach out, take a hold of your own and still them but he thought better of it. Now wasn't the time.  

“I didn't join the Rebellion because I wanted to be a hero Cassian. I didn't give a damn about glory. A quick death was all I wanted, but then I met Theodren, and he was alone too. He was the only one that ever...he was my one true friend. I lost him once already, I don't want to lose him again.”

“You won't.” Cassian said with a bit too much certainty, overcompensating in his hopes of comforting you. “Theodren is the smartest person I know. I'm sure once this code black has lifted you'll hear from him.”

“Why are you here Cassian?” You asked suddenly, the urge to be alone over powering your usual politeness.

“I was worried about you.” He replied, not defensive in the least. A welcome surprise given your own change in demeanor.  “Didn't want you to be alone.”

“I appreciate that Cassian, truly I do, but you don't have to worry about me.” You stated, maintaining your full attention on him. Noting the subtle change in the distance between the two of you. Typically the captain preferred to put added space between the both of you yet today seemed the expectation.

“Look, I worry.” He stated simply, laying his hand out flat in a gesture to simply accept that fact and let it go. “Just promise me you won't do anything stupid.”

“Cass I-” Chewing your bottom lip you considered lying, it would be easiest for everyone but Cassian deserved the truth. “It's Theodren, if there is even a small chance I have to try.”

“Are you in love with him?” Cassian asked, his eyes glued intensely to your own.

“Who?” You scoffed. “Theodren?”

The dark haired rebel nodded sheepishly and in that moment you could have kissed him because despite everything that had happened Cassian had managed to do the unthinkable. He made you laugh. No sweeter a gift could he have given you in that moment.

“What?” You half chuckled, the very idea of it still tickling your sides. Not that Theodren wasn't a catch, it was just so far removed from anything you could have imagined. The two of you had been best friends for years and not once had there been even an inkling of romance. “No! Of course I love him but Theodren is like family to me.”

“I understand.”

“Are you alright?” You asked, watching as Cassian began to draw in on himself. Scooting himself to sit with his back straight and flush against the wall. Hands swiftly shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

“I'm fine.” He replied but you simply shook your head. How the hell was this guy a spy?

“You're a shitty liar you know that.” You nudged Cassian's knee with your foot as you spoke. Thankful that the tension had for a moment been lessened enough to catch your breath.

“Only with you.” His answer was short but it was enough to return the tension tenfold.

Whelp, that didn't last long...

“And that bothers you?”

“I'd be a fool if it didn't.” Cassian's brows knitted as he spoke, looking any where but at you.

“Why?” Leaning forward you grabbed a hold of Cassian's hand and squeezed it tightly. “What's so wrong with being honest with me?”

“You're always saving people.” Cassian said simply, at last turning his gaze to meet your own.

“What-”

“Just-just listen.” He insisted calmly and you couldn't blame him. You were well aware of your bad habit of interrupting people. It wasn't that you were rude, some people just spoke so slowly by comparison.

“You're always saving people. You saved Zara, you saved Roland, hell you saved me the night we met. Its who you are.” Sighing Cassian let his eyes drift to where your fingers sat wrapped around his own. Your knees inching closer, unwilling to give in to his poor attempt at gaining distance.  

“When I came down here I wanted to yell at you, to tell you that you were being foolish, convince you to stop...but I can't because that's not you.” Shaking his head Cassian smiled gently, his eyes warmer than before. Filled with an emotion you couldn't quite peg down but you were all too aware of how it made you feel.

“What's so wrong with that?” You half whispered.

“Nothing.” Cassian answered, turning your hand over in his own. Fingertips softly tracing along the lines of your palm. “Nothing, it just frightens me.”

“Cass I'm fine, seriously you don't have to worry-” You tried to put on your best smile as you spoke. If Cassian truly worried about you the least you could do was assure him you would try your best to stay alive. It was a bit of a priority anyways but if it mattered to someone else why not try harder?

Even if you weren't sure how to feel about it.

“And what if you weren't?” He asked sharply, turning the tables and instead interrupting you. “I know why you went back for Zara. I know why you want to go after Theodren. Because what if something happens and you could have done something but didn't? Then that's on you right? But if you go back and something happens to you then that's on me.”

“I'm not your responsibility anymore.” 

“It's not like that.”

“Then what is it?” You pushed, trying to hide the faintest hint of desperation in your voice. As if months of second guessing had inevitability lead you here. “What are you so afraid of Cassian?”

“You want to know what I'm afraid of?” Cassian eyes burned as he leaned closer, bursting the tiny bubble of personal space that existed between the two of you. “Losing you.”

And there it was. The truth you had been running from. It wasn't often that you felt vulnerable. It wasn't the sort of thing you were allowed, not if you wanted to stay alive.

“Your turn, no bullshit this time.” Cassian said, his mouth twitching as he spoke.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose you allowed yourself a moment of rational thought. To think of how very wrong this may all go. How much you could stand to lose, but that moment ended.

Unblinking you watched as Cassian's eyes flickered with longing. Something you only now realized had been there all along. They continued to follow your every move, watching as you inched closer until your knee dug into his thigh. Trembled and shifted. A pale hand snaking its way along the back of his neck. For a moment Cassian felt as if his brain had stalled, unable to process what was happening like a teenager second guessing themselves, but then you kissed him, putting those fears to rest in an instant. It was everything he had remembered from that night many months ago when he had first stolen a taste. 

Only now there was no limit. No hesitance.

It surprised you as well, how easily you melted into his grasp. Calloused hands swept along your sides until your shirt began to bunch between his fingers. The touch of his skin burning as it grazed your own. Feather light fingers threading through your hair as he pressed you against him.

Sometime later after you finally gave in to the need for oxygen did you allow the reality of what had just happened sink in. The terrifyingly true severity of it washing over you all at once. Still, it was impossible not to smile and lean into the palm of Cassian's hand as he held you close. Foreheads pressed against one another. So close you could feel his every exhale on your skin.

“That.” You finally admitted, knowing for certain that you were now well and truly fucked.

[maanling]

HC: THE LUPIN FAMILY GENEALOGY.

[ I didn’t think this would get so lengthy so I put most of it under a “read-more”! Please don’t feel obliged to read all of this -- I just felt like rambling about the Lupin family history ]

          The first known records of Remus’s ancestors are from 15th-century Scotland, when muggles Radulph Creich and Rhona Brothaigh wed. Unbeknownst to either of them, Rhona carried magical blood in her veins that did not become apparent until their youngest child Mairi (b. 1489) reached the age of nineteen. 

        Mairi, only just married to Carrick Lippincott, tried her utmost best to hide her powers for two whole years, but was eventually found out by her husband, who tried to have her imprisoned. By then, their family was already expanded with two children, named Greer (1508) and Dunbar (1510), who never saw their mother and were raised by maids.  Carrick, who was nearing his fifties and would be unlikely to find a new wife, hoped that his children could live as ordinary heirs if only he were able to suppress the magic that they possibly got passed on from their mother. However, both son and daughter displayed signs of their powers at the ages of twelve and fourteen, respectively. 

                Greer, like her mother, tried to hide her magic, but Dunbar saw his own potential and wanted to explore his skills and their limits. He travelled a lot, experimenting with spells, and eventually found out about the magical community that existed amongst the ordinary people. Dunbar began attending several courses at Hogwarts at the age of 26, which was not uncommon at that time, and was sorted into Ravenclaw house. Gradually, he became further removed from his father and sister, taking on the surname Lupin as a shortened version of Lippincott to ensure he would no longer be associated with the muggle name.  In 1540, he married Florence Fawley (b. 1520), an early ancestor of the Fawley pure-blood wizarding family, and moved to Glasgow. 

                        Florence and Dunbar got a total of seven children: Hilda (1542, Ravenclaw), Agnes (1545, Hufflepuff), Symon (1547, Ravenclaw), Gaufrid (1548, Ravenclaw), Morogh (1553, Gryffindor), Jonet (1555, Gryffindor) and Lycidas (1559, Ravenclaw). Morogh Lupin lived together with several Gryffindor friends after graduating, including a woman named Mariella Carmichael with whom he fell in love and had a son, Coire (1585). Although he never married Mariella, Morogh openly acknowledged his son and gave him his surname. 

     Coire Lupin, sorted into Ravenclaw like many of his aunts and uncles, became renown for his elaborate theories on arithmancy, even teaching the subject at Hogwarts for two years. He married a Dutch witch named Antonia and lived in the low countries for several decades before moving back to his family home in Glasgow in 1621. The pair had five children on the continent: Lourens (1610, Slytherin), Dierdre (1611, Ravenclaw), Angus (1613, Ravenclaw), Lyall (1615, Ravenclaw) (not to be confused with his later relative), and Alida (1618, Ravenclaw). Their move back to Scotland had been partly because of the unrest caused by the muggle Eighty Years' War, but also because their eldest son was to attend Hogwarts. 

                                   Lourens Lupin showed no interest in his father’s field of study, but was rather fascinated by darker forces and ways to counteract them. This interest led to his untimely demise in 1637, when he interrupted a druidic ritual involving black magic and was killed on the spot. Lourens left his modest estate in Glasgow to his wife Elspeth and their three children Lourens II (1630, Slytherin), Finnea (1633, Gryffindor), and Ranulf (1637, Slytherin).

             Ranulf Lupin lived quite a solitary life with his wife Nairne, who sold potions for a living on the local market or to the occasional traveller. Their wish for children lasted many years but was not fulfilled until they attempted a fertility ritual, and were finally blessed with twins in 1685. Rafe and Laire (both Gryffindor) were eager and adventurous, yet their frail health prevented them from doing many energy-draining activities. Rafe passed away aged 20 due to a flying incident and a pregnant Laire was abandoned by a man who had promised to marry her. Ranulf, a proud man, did not recognize her son Eachan (1707) as his grandchild until he was on his deathbed.

        Despite trouble with her parents, Laire loved and protected Eachan and ensured he never had to wish for anything. The shy boy was sorted into Ravenclaw and proved an apt yet quiet pupil. After graduation, he married Isobel MacLennan, the daughter of a renown bookbinder that specialized in educational spell books, and was taught to continue this family business. The two got a total of eleven children, two of which passed away during or shortly after childbirth. Their second-youngest son, Lorne (1750), soon became the odd one out as he was the only one of his siblings to be sorted into Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw.

   Lorne was a talented duelist and was often punished at school for engaging in battles against classmates. He strove to make a living off duelling, but his parents believed there would be no money in it and discouraged him to do so. Determined and stubborn, Lorne signed up for the auror program, introduced by the ministry only a couple of years before he was born. That very same month, he eloped with a witch named Paisley, promising her riches from his future job. Although his duel technique was "worthy of sincere admiration", his temper was a failure and he was not admitted into the training program. Paisley reminded him that he could always find another job, which utterly harmed his pride and caused him to turn quite bitter for the rest of his life. They got four children: Tavon (1771, Gryffindor), Wynfreda (1774, Gryffindor), Murdoch (1780, Gryffindor), and Neilan (1785, Ravenclaw).

                                Although practically all his ancestors resided in Scotland, Murdoch moved to Liverpool in 1815, which had become both a muggle and wizarding hub due to the increasing industrialisation. The magic community still very much had to live a life of secrecy and found that Liverpool was a suitable location for magical trade. Not soon after he had set up his trading business, Lupin Purveyors & Co. ( “ supplier of the freshest ingredients & latest spell books ” ), he wed Viola Firmstone. The pair was blessed with six children: Karter (1818, Gryffindor), Remington (1820, Gryffindor), June (1823, Ravenclaw), Eloise (1825, a squib), Godfrey (1830, Gryffindor) and Tidus (1835, Ravenclaw).

                                                  Godfrey Lupin continued the family business along with his older brothers, but despite the fact that Liverpool had grown as a trading port for the wixen community, Lupin Purveyors & Co. did not make the family incredibly wealthy. Godfrey figured that their connection with Diagon Alley in London should be strengthened in order to flourish, for their main clients were now only owners of smaller shops in Liverpool and its surroundings. He owled frequently with several stores in the busy shopping street and managed the advertisements for their company. By 1860, the purveyors had grown somewhat in status. One year later, Godfrey would meet Meriel Hopps, with whom he fell hopelessly in love, and get two children: Ives (1862, Ravenclaw) and Leopold (1866, Ravenclaw).

                Even though neither sons wanted to take over the family business, having more ambitious goals in life, Ives Lupin owned the business for five years. In 1889, he got into financial trouble with Gringotts and was forced to sell Lupin Purveyors under a new name. Leopold, in the meantime, still lived in Liverpool, but worked as an Obliviator at the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes in London. He was married to a Hufflepuff named Cindy Shires, with whom he had three children: Fiona (1890, Ravenclaw), Harris (1892, Ravenclaw) and Elsie (1904, Hufflepuff).

                            Harris soon followed into his father’s footsteps and became an assistant-Obliviator in 1914, shortly before the start of the First World War. He was sent to the front-lines, tasked with obliviating muggle soldiers whenever involvement of magic occurred. He came back home in 1917, having lost his left leg as the result of a severe hex by an enemy wizard. Shortly after the war ended, he married the witch Coralie Bicknell. They pair had two sons: Bryce (1923, Gryffindor) and Lyall (1928, Ravenclaw).

                                The youngest son grew up with a fascination for ghosts and creatures, and eventually became “a world-renowned expert on Non-Human Spirituous Apparitions”. While Lyall was chasing a particularly violent boggart in the Scottish Highlands, he met Hope Howell, the daughter of a muggle pharmacist. He saved Hope from said boggart and eventually married her after she fell pregnant of their son Remus (1960, Gryffindor).  The pair moved into Lyall’s apartment in Liverpool, where they lived for five years.

         Remus’s youth started off happily enough, until he was bitten by werewolf Fenrir Greyback at the age of five. The boy would be cursed for the remainder of his life and rarely got in contact with strangers until he began attending Hogwarts in 1971. During the Second Wizarding War, Remus fell in love with the younger auror and metamorphmagus Nymphadora Tonks, both of whom were part of the Order of the Phoenix. Even though he tried to talk her out of starting a relationship with him, since he was older and dangerous due to his lycanthropic condition, they married and got a son named Edward “Teddy” (1998). 

[wtfdavidsvlogs]

Not here...Not now (D.D)

Warnings: talks of naked bodies, nudes, swearing, dirty talk, sexting,

Requested: Anon said

You're supposed to meet with David after work at his place and he's been so busy with work lately you've been getting impatient. You show up, he's not there. You text to see where he is. He says he had to film with Jason driving around cause Jasons memory card broke. Annoyed but feeling flirty you step out of your comfort zone and start sending him pictures.

Gif by: @allthesepurplelights

I was finally on my way home. Thank the Lord. I seriously couldn’t have gotten out of that office quicker. I work in a tax office as a receptionist. I know worlds most boring fucking job ever. But it pays very well and money is not boring. Anyway, I was finally on my way to Davids place because we had previously agreed to stay in and just hang out. The two of us. We’ve both so busy with our work that we set aside tonight for us. I stop the car in the driveway after being let into the gate. I grab my bag, jacket, and my keys and make my way inside. I unlock the glass door and proceed to take off my glossy heather grey heels. I hang my keys on the hook and carry my bag to lay it down on the pool table.

“David! I’m home, baby!” I said excitedly. I waited a couple seconds for a response from him and nothing.

“David?!” I yell again while walking around the house. Confused, I decide to text him asking where he is.

You: Where are u?

It took him a while to text back with an excuse. I don’t want to sound petty and jealous but we set this day aside specifically.

David❤️: Holy shit, baby! I’m so sorry. I totally forgot. I had to film with Jason cause his memory card broke. I’m coming back right now.

“Aw man!” I yelled into the empty house. I knew he’d try and get here as soon as possible but it sucked that he wasn’t now. He does everything for me I should just be glad that he is trying. Some guys don’t but he does. As I start to trap myself in thinking about amazing my boyfriend is, an idea passed through my frustrated mind. Maybe he isn’t here, but I can sure as hell make him wish he was. I’ve been with this kid for 3 years, I know what it takes to ya know...get things started. I grab one of his shirts and my black lace panties. I throw my hair up and go to the mirror with my phone in hand. An outfit like this is sure to drive him nuts. I lift up the side of the shirt closest to the mirror and lean on my one leg to make my ass look big. I snap the picture and send it his way. This is revenge. He can never control himself when it comes to me no matter the time or the place.

Davids Pov

I felt awful. I know how long she’s been looking forward to our night and I ruined it. I told Jason the situation and he understood. He started to drive me back home which we were thirty minutes away from. When I suddenly get a picture sent to me from Y/N. I open my phone to see her in the big mirror with my shirt on and black underwear on.

“Jesus Christ.” I said quietly while choking on my tongue. She was gonna torture me in the car, over text message, with Jason in the car. She knows exactly how to fuck with me in that way and she knows I can’t control what happens down there when that time comes. I bite my lip and look to Jason who is too focused on the road to notice this. My fingers fly across the keyboard.

You: 1 image attachment

David❤️: Baby, not here...not now

Your Pov

It was working. I had this idea to start sending videos of me slowly taking off articles of clothing. I pressed record while doing different poses and stuff I then proceed to take off my panties and drop them on the floor. This was gonna kill him inside. But it wasn’t done there. I sent the video and felt absolutely no regret.

David pov

A video?! God this girl was trying to get me killed. I opened it while scooting a bit further back and raising my phone closer to my face. I press play and see her in the mirror still doing different poses amd she then uses one hand to remove her underwear and drop them on the ground. My jaw is practically on the floor. I watch the 9 second video over and over again to make sure what I’m seeing is real. I throw my head back whispering curse words to myself. I look back to my keyboard. This was starting and I couldn’t stop it.

David❤️: Stop. Now. I’m in a small car with Jason right now.

You: I bet this is killing you inside and you haven’t even seen me yet..

You: Dirty thoughts

She decided to send a video holding up the shirt passed her uncovered boobs. Exposing herself to me completely. I took a sip of water now sweat was running down places trying to keep myself contained. Oh my god this little bitch took it all off. She twirled around and shook her ass and ran off camera.

Your pov

I think I got my point across. In the last video I decided to shake my ass at the camera a little bit because David is and always has been, an ass man. That for sure drove him over the edge. I put my clothes back on because Davids guys friends would be arriving any second. I invited them over so that when David did get home he wouldn’t be able to get his hands on me. That would be the ultimate tease. A picture with these guys in mirror I was just naked in. I waited for them to arrive and literally in minutes they all did. I yelled hello and ushered them all inside. I greeted people and said hello to everyone. I suggested that we all take a picture in the mirror. I crouch down while the rest of them hold up peace signs or blessing positions. This was going to kill him.

Davids pov

One last picture I hoped. I open my phone to Y/N in the mirror with the guys. They had no idea what she was just doing. Now they are all going to be there when I get back so I will have to wait hours to get to her completely. She is the devil in an angels suit. She was the ultimate punisher. I inhale through my nose as we finally reached my house the driveway filled with cars. I walked in to all of the guys chilling and talking to one another some of them talking to Y/N. She gasped and got up slowly from her seat but came over to give me a kiss.

“Hi.” She said to me quietly. I looked at her up nd down. She looked like she had never done anything bad in her life. An innocent little snowflake but I was the only one that really knew how wrong that was. i touched her hip and pulled her a bit closer.

“I. Will deal with you later.” I growled in her ear. She shivered at the sound of me. Knowing I have that effect on her gives me such a power rush. She walks away from me swaying her hips back and forth in the process. God the things I was going to do to her. The night went on and we exchanged glances from time to time. When Zane was the last to leave Y/N shut the door behind him. I waited by sitting on the edge of the pool couch. She turned around and found me. She discarded her jacket.

“What now?” She said wrapping her arms around my neck. I stand up and I grab her ass so that she she can straddle me in the air. She wraps her little legs around me.

“Now, it’s my turn to tease you to death, and I won’t be going easy on you either.” I said into her ear. Her head leaned back as if she was gaining pleasure from me just talking to her like that.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” She said pecking my lips. I carry her into my room and throw her on the bed.

“You left me in a car trapped with Jason with all of these videos and pictures of you teasing me out of my mind which left me with the worst blue ball I’ve ever had and you have the audacity to ask me if I’m threatening you or promising this?” I said to her. She batted her thick lashes at me and looked up with her sparkling Y/E/C eyes. “Let’s just say...you’ll feel this tomorrow.”

Wow that took so much longer than I had originally thought. wow i hope you enjoyed anon!!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The magic theatre of High Weirdness

In Hermann Hesse's novel Steppenwolf we visit a mysterious and strange magic theatre, where some pretty weird things happen. Meant for madmen and madwomen only, the price of admission is nothing less than one's mind. In High Weirdness, you are invited to enter another kind of magic theatre. It is a place of magic and madness, heaven and hell, beauty and terror. Luckily, the price of the ticket is not your sanity, but just the price of the book, High Weirdness, the latest literary exploration by Erik Davis.

Erik Davis, PhD

A long-time Boing Boing pal, Erik Davis is an intellectual of the highest caliber: a persuasive and provocative essayist, an erudite and unconventional scholar of religions, a charismatic and engaging speaker, an adventurous-minded tripster and all-around experienced explorer of the edges of our reality. Davis is one of the most admired and refined interpreters of all matters mystical, psychedelic and occult. His decades' long travels in hyper-reality—roaming seamlessly from musical festivals to Burning Man to academia—make him a uniquely qualified cyber-anthropologist, a keen observer of our contemporary and turbulent cross-cultural mazes of techno-mystical realms, fringe subcultures, neo-shamanic practices, pop mythologies, conspiracy theories, and spiritual impulses. For those who arrived late to Erik Davis' extensive body of work, let me single out three important contributions: his classic (and still  relevant) read Techgnosis; his musical hermeneutic homage to the Led Zeppelin IV album; and his podcast, a cornucopia of weekly interviews with artists, intellectuals and all sorts of weirdos, all concerned with the cultures of consciousness.

Consensus Reality vs. High Weirdness

High Weirdness can be seen, in part, as a playful assault on reality, which, after all, is a complicated business. We all go through life, trying to make sense of things, navigating a so-called "consensus reality." Our very notion and understanding of what "reality" is (and, as a consequence, our own experience of it) is dependent and mediated by an existing matrix of institutions and cultural frameworks. These frameworks filter, shape and organize the world through shared and enforced patterns of perception, signification, and conceptual organization. In other words, whatever we ultimately come to believe to be possible, real, legitimate, or reasonable is a function of these structural mediations at play. We are all subject—more than we are generally able to acknowledge—to what our culture has programmed us to believe about the way things are and how the world works. However useful and necessary these structures and frameworks are, they are too limited, flawed, and incomplete to encompass of the whole spectrum of reality. To paraphrase a famous Aldous Huxley piece: every individual is at once the beneficiary and the victim of the consensus reality into which s/he has been born. We are beneficiaries inasmuch it allows us to build a coherent and useful model of reality; we are victims in so far we believe that this reduced awareness and understanding of reality is the only thing there is. The point is: there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy. And sometimes, weird shit just happens: the rug is pulled from under our feet, our known terrain and categories won't work anymore, and our familiar consensus reality threatens to crumble to pieces. We are not in Kansas anymore. We are entering the space of high weirdness, which can include intensely bizarre and extraordinary experience, paranormal phenomena, overwhelming synchronicities, extraterrestrials communication and direct encounters with nonhuman entities, mystical seizures, occult effects, and psychedelic experiences.

Whenever faced first-hand, such anomalous experiences are ontologically confusing, potentially disturbing, and unnerving. They deeply shake our very model of reality, our beliefs about the nature of consciousness and the physical cosmos itself. Inherently ambivalent and paradoxical, high weirdness events have a peculiar mix of sacred and profane elements, both alluring and scary, terrifying and blissful, a blessing and a curse.

Trying to dismiss these "perturbations in the reality field" (as Philip K. Dick called them) as mere glitches, or hallucinations, or delusions, or pathological conditions is a shallow oversimplification. The stale rhetoric of rationalism and materialism falls short in providing satisfying answers or sustainable explanations concerning these enigmatic and compelling events.

High weirdness is a kind of incandescent magma running underneath the quiet crust of our ordinary consensus reality: be it by mere accident, or disciplined training, or intentional ingestion of psychoactive compounds, high weirdness can erupt into one's life—potentially everybody's life—with an unannounced and unpredictable degree of power.

Read the rest:

https://boingboing.net/2019/06/28/the-magic-theatre-of-high-weir.html

[skeletonscribbles]

Wishes - Ch. 2

she promises, she delivers. this is the Mike Hanlon chapter which means it is Blessed. I think I got everyone on this taglist but if I missed someone lmk I’m a little outta my head atm

Rating: M, eventually. G right now, except for cursing. Pairings: Reddie, Stan/Bill/Mike, Benverly WC: like 3k? idk math Summary:

you know what tumblr there was gonna be a summary here but since you keep fucking up my apostrophes ive decided you dont deserve it

Other: Martin Short is actually a blessing dont listen to Mike

Chapter 1 / Read on Ao3

Tag List: @roobarrtrashmouth @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @tozier-club @aizeninlefox @stanheartsbill @latinxrichie @softeds @pretzelstoday @melancholypurple @wheezygreens @ayyyymichele @loser-marsh

MIKE HANLON - KIDCOT STATION AT THE CANADA PAVILION, EPCOT CENTER THURSDAY, OCTOBER 8TH 6:55 P.M.

There were two hours and five minutes until the Epcot fireworks show began, signalling the imminent close of the park, which meant there were three hours and five minutes until Mike Hanlon could finally clock out.

Not that he was counting, of course.

Sighing, he shifted in his seat at the Canada KidCot station. He’d been scheduled for an afternoon 8 hour shift, 11 to 7, but they’d asked for someone to extend because they were short-staffed and he apparently couldn’t help himself. He agreed to work until close, which was an extra three hours. Normally, he wouldn’t be phased by that, but he was bone tired today. He’d been up late with his Imagineer roommate, poring over plans and ideas for Star Wars.

He should have known better. No amount of arguing for Lando Calrissian or Finn was going to make Bob Iger, the CEO of the company, less racist, which meant that there was little to no hope for representation in the new Star Wars World. His roommate Ben had tried to warn him, but he’d pushed the issue anyway, feeling restless and irritated that he worked for a company that didn’t value people like him.

Now, he was paying the price. He stifled a yawn as a mother with two children hustled them by his table - he would kill for someone to actually talk to, but he wasn’t the type to hustle people over to him Gaston-style. (The Magic Kingdom Gaston was notorious for cat-calling girls, which Mike supposed was in character...but it was deeply unsettling to watch.)

Sighing, Mike picked up a marker and began to color one of the Duffy* drawings at his station. As bored as he was, he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Disney, for all its flaws, was more of a home for him than Canada had ever been, and KidCot was his favorite rotation. He loved telling stories and teaching kids about his home country - he loved teaching.

He loved Canada, too...it was his home, after all, but it had never been freeing for him like Florida had. Home came with expectations - from his peers, from his teachers, and most of all, from his parents.

Mike loved his parents, but he was definitely not the son they needed. He had no interest in hanging around and taking over the farm. His dreams were bigger than that.

His parents, for their part, had totally supported his move...at their own expense. He felt guilty about that sometimes, but he had a feeling that all three of them knew, in their hearts, that it was the right choice for Mike to go.

He’d come to Disney World because he hadn’t known where else to go. Disney had a work program for international students that promised to give him opportunities to connect with people around the world, and that promise had really appealed to 21 year-old Mike Hanlon. It had been the right choice, definitely - his first three months at Star Tours had been like a dream. He got to talk Star Wars all day, he got to choose Rebel Spies**, the ride wasn’t that complicated, and he hadn’t had to slog all the way around the perimeter of Hollywood Studios to get to his attraction like the Tower of Terror bellhops did. (There had to be a more efficient way of moving around backstage, and someday, Mike imagined they’d invent it, but for the time being, it was long walks and bikes over at Studios.) All in all, it had been a perfect fit for him.

Then, he had three months doing outdoor vending (ODV) at Studios, and that was...less exciting, to say the least. ODV was hot, sweaty work, and the guests that wanted popcorn or pretzels or light-up Mickey ears were usually tired, hungry, and cranky (and sometimes racist). Still, that was manageable, especially when he got into the groove of Fantasmic shifts. In fact, he still picked up Fantasmic shifts from time to time, for nostalgia’s sake.

After that, his program was over, but he didn’t feel ready to do something else, so he went to Casting to see about applying for a more regular job (and what he would have to do to renew his US work visa). The only full-time position they had to offer him was in the Canada Pavilion, so that’s where he was for the time being. It wasn’t ideal (he was putting in to transfer back to attractions as soon as he was able), but he’d gotten that temporary worker visa for it, so he had no choice but to make it work. So far, the only thing that had been completely ruined for him was Martin Short movies, because after watching the Martin Short ‘O Canada’ film a thousand and twelve times per work shift, he’d sooner die than watch Three Amigos ever again in his life. (He considered himself extremely lucky to have found the roommate that he did via the CM Housing Facebook page, but if Ben put on Father of the Bride one more time, Mike was going to kick him out immediately and permanently.)

Mike finished coloring his Duffy and looked around. There were no kids anywhere in sight. It was around dinner time, and the Canada pavilion wasn’t a highly popular family destination to begin with, so Mike was going to be alone for a long while, people-watching as young hipster couples walked by with Disney shopping bags full of maple syrup and plaid clothes.

He was so zoned out, he almost missed the two attractive men that were walking out of a shop and towards him.

Now, Mike had spent quite a bit of time coming to terms with his sexual identity. His father extremely traditional - which was not to say close-minded, but there was just no opportunity for exploration on the farm. It wouldn’t have made sense.

Disney was on the extreme opposite end of that spectrum. A huge percentage of male Cast Members were gay, and for the first time, Mike had the opportunity to consider his own feelings.

As it turned out, he was pretty equally interested in men and women. He’d had a couple of short relationships during his time in the States with people of both genders, and they’d all been pretty nice...just, not lasting, and none of the people he had dated had been as compelling as the two men - a redhead and a boy with light brown curls, he could see now - that were walking his way.

It was a bit disconcerting, actually. Mike usually wasn’t attracted to white people (they were so entitled and pasty), but there was something almost cosmic about these two. It felt like the universe calling.

Before they got close enough to see him, Light Brown Curls stopped and turned to the redhead, holding up a Disney bag and smirking. The redhead blushed and grabbed for the bag, but Curls swiftly moved it behind his back. They began to engage in a game of keep-away. Mike was mesmerized.

“You trying to stamp their passports?” Mike jumped at the sound of a leering female voice, and almost fell out of his chair. “If you know what I mean?”

“Ma’am, I---” he began, turning to look at the perpetrator and stopping short when he saw her pretty green eyes. “Huh?”

She laughed prettily. “The ginger making an idiot of himself is named Bill. He works Guest Relations over at MK, and he’s been super hung up on these two guys he saw in passing in the Boardwalk slash Epcot area recently. Classic pining gay.”

Mike looked back over at the two men. The ginger (Bill) had retrieved his bag, and was waving it in front of Curls’ face. Curls seemed unimpressed.

“Is the skinny brunette boy one of the guys Bill was pining over?” Mike guessed, watching the bounce of the haughty man’s curls.

“Yep,” said the girl, joining Mike in looking over. “His name’s Stan, apparently. He’s a front desk coordinator over at Yacht, because of course he is. Everyone at Yacht is so fucking put together. Pardon my French.”

“It’s a relief to hear cursing every once in a while,” Mike admitted. “It can’t be princesses and rainbows all the time.”

The girl nodded appreciatively. “I like your style. I’m Beverly. I work in costuming over at MK.”

“Oh, word.” Mike stuck out a hand for her to shake. She took it, and he was immediately impressed by the subtle strength in her grip. “I’m Mike. You wanna learn about Canada?”

“At some point,” Beverly said, smiling amusedly. “Right now, though, I’m trying to play matchmaker.”

Mike squinted at her, confused. “Aren’t your friends already together, though? I thought you were just third-wheeling.”

“Fourth-wheeling, if all goes to plan.” Beverly waggled her eyebrows. “Weren’t you wondering who else Bill has a crush on around here? I did say that he was pining over two guys.”

Mike’s stomach lurched. Pretty boys weren’t generally in the business of looking Mike Hanlon’s way...unless he was reading the whole thing wrong?

“No, but there’s already...they’re already….” Mike protested weakly, hoping his assumptions were correct. “I couldn’t intrude.”

Beverly shrugged her freckled shoulders, looking down nonchalantly. “Two’s an arbitrary number, bud. You can do whatever you want.”

The boys’ eyes were on Mike, now - they must have noticed him talking to their friend. The redhead was smiling, and Mike suddenly felt hot.

Being with more than one person at a time had never occurred to Mike, but now that the idea had been planted, it was taking root in a really fast and embarrassing way.

“Bill, Stan,” Beverly called, beaming, “meet my new friend Mike. He’s from Canada.”

Feeling a little stupid, Mike gestured to his nametag. “Saskatchewan.”

“Mike from Saskatchewan.” Stan stepped forward, confident and smooth. “Very, very nice to meet you.”

Bill smiled knowingly. “Told you, didn’t I?”

“You were right,” Stan said, eyes never leaving Mike.

Mike looked between the two, hoping for an explanation, and Bill promptly provided him with one. “I saw you here the other day, talking to kids. You’ve got incredible charisma.”

Mike was painfully cognizant of the blood rushing to his cheeks. “Thanks. Uh. Bev says you guys are CMs, too?”

“Yep!” Bill tapped his chest where his name tag would be if he were in costume. “I’m in the Magic Kingdom, and Stan’s your neighbor over at the Yacht Club.”

“It’s a shame you don’t have any guests,” said Stan, examining the Duffy coloring pages at Mike’s table. “I don’t know why people aren’t flocking to you, honestly. You seem like the kind of person that I’d actually enjoy learning about Canada from.”

“Do you wanna hear some facts?” Mike asked, and then immediately cringed. Why couldn’t he say something compelling for once?

Fortunately, Bill and Stan seemed to find it endearing rather than weird. Stan opened his mouth to speak again…

...and was immediately interrupted by a freckly, frizzy-haired tornado of a human being, who swept in and slung his absurdly long arms over Bill and Stan’s shoulders. Mike blinked rapidly, trying to take stock of the situation, but before he could get his bearings, the new person adjusted his glasses and started speaking in a thick Russian accent.

“Eet eez veddy hahd, Comrade, for me to trahhck you eef you do not answer calls, da?” He was talking to Stan, but Bill seemed to recognize him, too, if his eye roll was any indication.

“Why the fuck did you need to find me at all?” Stan groaned. It was obvious that he was fond of this weird, lanky guy, but he was playing at irritation. “I turned off my phone for a reason, you nerd. Take a hint.”

“Eh, I was bored. Also kinda sad, thanks to Big Bill here.” The guy abruptly stopped with the accent, turned to Bill, and tutted loudly. “Can you believe that Bill stood in the way of true love today? Also, how the hell do you know Bill, Stanny?”

“We’ve literally just met,” Stan said, “and preventing you from feeling love is only serving to make him more attractive to me, so by all means, Bill, continue.”

“It’s not up to me,” Bill said sadly, “and tragically, Eddie does think he’s hot.”

The third guy inhaled sharply. “Hold on, say that last bit again.”

“Mike, this is Richie.” Bill ignored Richie’s request and turned to Mike. “He’s bad, sorry.”

Richie’s eyes flicked up to Mike for the first time. Mike sat awkwardly as Richie took him in, smiled, and said, “A fucking pleasure. Has anyone ever told you that red’s your color?”

“Just you,” Mike replied honestly.

“Glad I could be your first.” Richie winked, and Mike felt charmed in spite of himself.

“Okay, so how do we all know each other again?” Bev asked, frowning. “I know Rich because he’s a giant pain in my ass when he comes through costuming, I know Bill because I know Bill, and now I know Stan and Mike through Bill…”

“Richie’s my roommate,” Stan said flatly. “Unfortunately.”

Bill whipped around to stare accusingly at Richie. “You’ve been keeping that from me?”

“Hey, I didn’t know you were into stuck-up assholes,” Richie shrugged. “Besides, that’s justice in action for not giving Cute Character Attendant Eddie my number.”

“He was working,” Bill said defensively.

“He was working,” Richie parroted mockingly. “That’s never stopped me from hitting on him before, and it won’t stop me again.”

“I wouldn't,” Bill warned. “Eddie’s no joke.”

“Didn’t say he was,” Richie agreed, bouncing excitedly. “Did he actually say I was hot, though, because--”

“Where do you work, Richie?” Mike asked, trying to save Bill from the conversation.

Richie’s smile was huge and sweet. “The World Famous Jungle Cruise, of course! Why, you itchin’ to ride my bote?” His expression turned suggestive. “Because I’d let you. It’d be worth the long, painful death Stan and Bill would put me through--”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Bill said loudly, elbowing Richie hard in the gut. Richie doubled over on to the damp wood of the pavilion floor.

Stan quirked an eyebrow, obviously impressed. “Beep beep, huh? I’ll have to remember that for next time.” He brushed Bill’s arm with his hand as he said it, and the corner of Bill’s mouth twitched up. Mike was enamoured by the interaction, and wanted more than anything to be on the other side of the table, included in whatever it was they had going on…

...fuck, he was so fucking fucked.

“Richie, if you’re not here for any real reason, then you should come with me,” said Beverly, looking like she was already regretting her offer. “I was gonna ditch these three in a couple of minutes, anyway. Let ‘em have a Food and Wine date, or something.”

“You’re sweet, Bevvy.” Richie gave her a sappy look as he peeled himself off of the floor. “Askin’ me out. Adorable. Unfortunately, I’m gonna have to pass, because Bill, I’m not going anywhere until you promise to get me Cute Eddie’s number.”

“You’re really dedicated to that, huh?” Bill asked, tone halfway between ‘impressed’ and ‘alarmed’. “What the hell happened between you two to make you so frigging obsessed, Rich? Normally you’re all jokes and no follow-through.”

Richie tried to be nonchalant, but Mike could see a bit of red creeping up his neck under the collar of his shitty Toy Story t-shirt. He was silent for a moment, and then when he spoke, his voice was soft. “He’s just...I don’t….he’s all the stuff I like, you know?”

Mike looked at Bill, whose forehead was scrunched up in obvious concern at Richie’s words, and then at Stan, who had his hands delicately on his hips and was trying and failing to not seem affected, and understood that he, Mike Hanlon, knew exactly what Richie was talking about.

“Let’s talk more about this later,” Bill finally suggested after a long moment. “Okay?”

Richie nodded quietly. Something had happened in the last few minutes...it was like someone had toggled the Richie off-switch. Mike hoped it wasn’t something he had said. “Roger that, Billiam.”

“Hey,” Mike said, feeling suddenly bold in the wake of Richie’s vulnerability. “Listen. I can’t hang with you all now, because I won’t be off of work until 22:00. If you guys are free and still awake at that point, though, y’all can come to my place after I’m done. I can write down an address. I bet my roommate won’t mind.”

Bill’s responding smile could have lit up the whole park. “I’d love that.”

“Me too,” Stan said immediately, looking between Bill and Mike with a soft expression (well, soft for Stan the consummate professional, anyway).

“You want us there, too?” Richie asked cautiously.

Mike nodded, and was relieved to note that Stan and Bill were nodding too. “Dude, I could really use some friends. I’m fresh out of those.”

With that, the tension was broken. Richie let out a great howling laugh, and moved over to clap Mike on the back. “Oh, Mikey! You just hit the friend jackpot, my man. Just ask Stanley Uris! Richie Tozier’s a top notch amigo.”

Stan shrugged listlessly. “I mean, if you like people that try to give you sloppy handies every time they’re intoxicated.”

Richie’s expression twisted up, and for a split second, Mike thought he was gonna lose it, but then instead of yelling, Richie groaned. “They’re not sloppy, Stanley, Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus who?” Stan asked, reaching out to yank on Richie’s sleeve, which presumably was meant to signal that he was kidding. “Anyways, yes, the three of us will be there, Mike. Bev?”

“That depends,” she said slyly. “Is your roomie hot, Mikey?”

Mike couldn’t help but laugh at that. Ben was an objectively handsome man, but he was less sexy than he was warm and comforting. “He’s a beautiful, wonderful guy, Beverly.”

“Then of course,” she agreed, laughing her little laugh again. “Write your address on the back of one of these Duffys, yeah?”

Mike obliged her, and when he was done, Stan took the paper and folded it up neatly, ultimately placing it in the breast pocket of his shirt.

“All right,” Richie announced. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, Micycle, but we must go purchase overpriced cocktails now. Adieu.”

“Bye!” Bev called, and almost immediately, the two of them were off, merrily making their way to the main World Showcase walkway.

Stan and Bill lingered for another moment. They were both looking at Mike with expressions that made Mike feel like his stomach was going to explode with butterflies. He didn’t know what it was about these two that made him feel all of 17 again, but he wasn’t complaining. He hadn’t been this excited about romance since middle school.

“We’ll see you later, okay?” Stan said assuringly. He slid his hand into Bill’s after he spoke, and Mike watched their fingers entwine. Absurdly, he wasn’t jealous at all...any interaction at all between the three of them felt right and good.

“Have a nice couple of hours,” Mike said, trying to convey the giddiness he was feeling through his words. “Enjoy the fireworks!”

“It’ll be nicer when we’re all together,” Bill said meaningfully, and then he and Stan were disappearing into the throng, too.

It looked like it was going to be another late night for Mike Hanlon...but somehow, he didn’t think he was going to regret this one tomorrow.

One hour and three minutes until park close, two hours and three minutes until clock-out.

Notes:

we don't deserve Mike Hanlon

*Duffy is Mickey's teddy bear, apparently. He's very popular in Japan. You used to be able to go to a Duffy meet and greet in Epcot, which is fucking wild.

**There's a moment in the Star Tours ride where one guest on that particular simulator is identified as a "Rebel Spy". The cast members get to pick that guest. I have never been that guest, and I will be bitter about that until my dying day.

[off-color-darkrai]

So I wrote a Urban Fantasy/Self-Help fiction Novel- Chapter 4

Ima is having the worst time, Kriss isn’t doing much better, and it all just goes down from here...

The holiday has been... rough, which is why there’s such a time gap here, sorry

I don’t know how many people, if any, are reading this, or even like it

Please leave feedback 

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Summary:

A story about inner strength, mental health, and finding the reasons behind even the worst circumstances. Kriss only wanted to stop the rumors, the lies that followed him into high school; he didn’t expect and innocent action to leave him twisting, falling, changing. Ima just wanted to do her duty, to live up to her family’s legacy, to keep everyone safe; she should have expected it all to slip through her fingers, to fail, for it all to go so horrifically wrong. Their worlds are shattered under the weight of something ancient, something dark, something inhuman, and neither of them know how to pick up the pieces. All they can ask is “why”? There has to be a reason; for the pain, for the suffering, for every broken shard of thought and memory, there has to be. But reasons aren’t always easy to accept, and even then the hurt doesn’t always fade away. It is a long path to fixing your mistakes, and a longer one toward acceptance, but they find that they don’t have to take it alone. Sometimes a curse can be a gift. Sometimes tears can be a blessing. Sometimes to win the day, to fix everything, salvation can be found in the strangest places.

Chapter IV:

The Brown was the most popular bar and grill in the entire downtown area. Good food, a great atmosphere, easily attainable prices, and a healthy night-life helped it stand out far from the competition, not that there was much of that. Open most days from 12:00 PM to 2:00 in the morning, 3:00 on the weekends and Fridays, it was rather popular with both locals and college students from a few cities over. It was always packed, with a line of people waiting to get in out front, and a delirious line of happy drunks loitering against the walls out in the back. The owner insisted that everything about his business always be in top working order, and even if it wasn’t, the doors would always be open at 12:00 on the dot. Right now it was after four, nearing the end of The Brown’s happy hour. As was custom, this was the time that the crowds outside the building were at their largest, and most restless, each person vying for a better spot in line as the other near-by businesses catered to the growing throng, drawing a profit off The Brown’s success.

Today, however, the entire block was silent. Businesses windows were dark, and The Brown’s doors were strangely closed, its crowds conspicuously absent. The news said there’d been a large, ruptured gas-main, flooding the area with gas that, while non-fatal, could cause some respiratory problems. People were to avoid the area, and the whole block, as well as the two next-door, had been shut down so a crew could come in and fix the pipe, as well as allow time for the gas to dissipate. The place seemed like a ghost town, the whistling of the breeze through the buildings the only sound that broke the silence. The absence of people on a street built with crowds of them in mind lent to the illusion, the vast empty space eerie without the hum of life.

Even the cars that usually parked along the street were gone, all except for a single, white workers van. It was parked as close to the curb as possible without being on the sidewalk, blocking the entrance to a service alley. The van had no logo on its side, and the front windows were tinted heavily, making it impossible to see into the cabin. Its back windows were tinted as well, the back doors closed tight. It looked abandoned, out of place almost.

On the other side of the vehicle, leaning against the nearest wall were a couple of men in pale blue-grey workers’ uniforms. They loitered side by side, one with his arms crossed, the other with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, their patched clothing not displaying any logos or symbols, much like the van.  Neither of them seemed to want to show their eyes, the man on the left was wearing a pair of dark shades, and the man on the right had a faded ball-cap perched on his head, the brim pulled about as low as it could possibly go and still provide visibility. They were obviously the ones who were sent to repair the ruptured gas-main, but they didn’t seem inclined to do any work. They lacked any of the necessary tools, either on their belts or placed at their feet, and they weren’t making any moves to open the back of the van. They just stood there, looking about slowly, as if waiting for someone to appear. No one did, and the silence continued to stretch on, while both men stood there, unbothered, quietly scanning the area as they leaned against the brick wall behind them.

Suddenly, something changed. One of the men stiffened and put his hand to his ear, tapping the almost hidden device, as his friend’s hidden gaze turned to him. After a stretch of silence that was decidedly tenser than the one before, the first man gave a firm nod in answer to whatever message he was receiving.

“Yes, area’s all clear, we will be with you shortly sir.”

Whoever was on the other end of the line appeared to confirm as the connection was cut and the man lowered his hand. He looked at his companion, their eyes meeting briefly. Then both nodded and pushed off the wall, giving one last look around before ducking into the large alleyway on their left. The alley was wide, meant to allow delivery trucks and worker vans access to the closed-off area behind a near-by bookstore and a modest flower shop. The men walked down it quickly, keeping as close to the walls as possible, not at all bothered by the pair of dumpsters and the occasional pile of trash bags waiting for pickup. They simply stepped around them, avoiding the open center of the alley until they had reached a turn that obscured their view of the outer street. Now they entered a much shorter length of the alley, one leading to a sizable open area, shielded on all sides by towering buildings. What windows they could see were dark, just like the ones outside, and the one security camera that looked over the area hung down, turned off for the time being. A white van, the twin of the one parked at the alley entrance, came into view, its engine idling quietly, its doors flung wide open. The men had to pass it as they entered the open space, neither of them even bothering to look into the empty cabin, or at the young man sitting half in, half out of the back, who took the time to glance up at them from the computer in his lap. He continued to watch them as they moved away, heading for the middle of the area, where a man in dark clothes was standing with his back to them.

“Sir.” They both said as they reached the man, dipping their heads as a small show of respect.

The man turned to them, acknowledging them with a nod of his own.

“The street was clear when you left?” The man asked.

“Yes sir.” The first man answered. “All clear, not a soul in sight. They’re staying away just like the news told them. Should be back in a few hours at the least, tomorrow at the most, depending on when we send them the ‘all clear’.”

“Good.” The man in black responded, gesturing over at the young man in the back of the van. “We can have Jim continue watching through the street cameras, just to be safe, but otherwise I believe we are free to complete our job here.”

The two men in workers' clothes smirked with barely concealed triumph as they followed the man in black’s gaze toward the far end of the enclosed space.

The fifth and final member of their group stood there, dressed in black just like his leader, his shaggy face split in a grin much like his compatriots as he leaned his large form over a much smaller, crumpled heap at his feet. One booted foot came out and roughly nudged at the pile, earning a stifled noise that could have been a whimper, could have been words. He listened, his grin only getting wider as he looked up at the others, shrugging his shoulders a bit. His leader gestured with one hand, urging him to continue where he left off. The man’s thick fingers reached down, snagging a portion of what looked like torn clothing before hauling the entire mess into the air, earning another noise, this time one that sounded suspiciously like a swear word.

The group’s leader allowed his own smile to surface as he approached, but unlike the others, this one was cold, serpentine. He reached his underling and the strange heap he held, stopping just close enough that he could hold his arm out and touch it. This he did, slim fingers brushing ever so slightly, causing a feeble jerk of reaction, another whimper, but not much more. Victory, success, it was so close. His hands moved downward, and another, weaker, jerking reaction followed as he gently cupped his fingers and lifted.

Dulled green eyes, dark hair, a face, slightly obscured by blood, rendered unrecognizable by a myriad of cuts and rapidly forming black bruises. He knew there was more of the same, seen and unseen, decorating the rest of the thin body, all of it showing in the pained, weak movements that were steadily dwindling to a stop. Nothing was broken, yet, but the damage was still severe enough that he was vaguely surprised their captive was even still awake. All this over a lost little girl? He resisted a bitter laugh, after six long, tiring years this had been just way too easy. It was almost painfully so, and he had to wonder why it had taken so long in the first place.

Ah well, it was pointless to think about such things, especially since their mission had yet to be truly completed. Best to finish his task, and then ponder all that had led to it. With that in mind, he looked into those dull, pained eyes, the sharp shiver as their eyes locked not going unnoticed. He saw a shiver playing through the man holding her as well. Her natural defenses were still at work, but despite that, the grip on her didn’t loosen.

“None of that.” He muttered, tightening his own grip ever so slightly. “It will not work.” He looked deeply into her eyes, letting her see just how hopeless her situation was, willing her to stop trying to fight the inevitable. “You know how this ends, how it always ends, and you know what we want. We will get it, just so you know, whether you tell us or not. You are helping no one with your silence, not even yourself.”

The girl stared back at him, her eyes the only part of her face he could clearly see, and they were held in what he assumed was a glare. He false sighed—she was being uncooperative, but what else did he expect? She and her ilk always tried this. It never truly worked though; it just made things mildly more frustrating.

“Where are you hiding it?” He got to the point, no use in beating around the bush.

She didn’t answer as he pulled back a bit, glancing up at the man holding her.

“You checked her belongings?”

“Yes sir.” The man answered, gesturing at the green backpack laying a few feet away, contents were strewn along the ground, seams ripped open, revealing the insides. “We checked her current residence as well. Thoroughly. It wasn’t there. It has to be on her person, it’s the only place we haven’t checked.”

The Leader looked back at the girl, not looking at her face this time, his eyes roving along her beaten form, searching for any suitable hiding places. There was no one for her to pass it to this time, so she had to have it with her. A small glinting caught his eyes, hidden, dimmed by shadow, but still visible, hanging down around her neck. His free hand reached for it, his eyes meeting the girl’s for the briefest instant, catching the fear that flashed in their depths.

Bingo.

Looking away he snagged the long, thin, almost imperceptible chain that had caught his attention. He gripped it firmly, drawing it up until he could see the slightly heavy golden locket dangling from its end. He released the girl’s chin, allowing the trinket to rest in his now free palm.

He felt it as soon as it settled, the subtle humming of power vibrating through the locket’s thin enclosure. The object of their search, so long in eluding them, contained behind such a feeble barrier. Now he did laugh, a short, solid bark of laughter, before holding his free hand out behind him and snapping his fingers.

“The box.” He ordered, hearing a short scrabbling of movement before someone pressed it into his hands. He didn’t thank them as he brought it around, dropping the locket just long enough to unlock the small dull silver box he now held in his hands, and to pull on a set of gloves. Wouldn’t want to touch the thing by mistake, the results could be more than disastrous. With the gloves in place and the open box held in one hand, he scooped up the locket again, the harsh flinch accompanying his movements going unnoticed as he turned the trinket over, looking for the way to open it. After a few seconds of study, he turned it back to face him, his thumb running over the teardrop-shaped gem in the center before pressing down. There was a click as the lock released and the locket came open, letting its contents drop into the leader’s gloved palm.

The hum of power was so much stronger now; he could feel it as he peered at the object of their search. So much power, so much danger, from such a tiny thing, it was unbelievable. As carefully as possible he lifted it to the open box, slipping it inside before hurriedly shutting the lid, the box’s own heavy-duty locks clicking into place.

At that moment his smile became victorious. He held the box up, showing it to the others as he pulled off his gloves. They grinned with him, the one with the sunglasses actually started to chuckle as the Leader strolled over to the van and handed the box to Jim.

“Verify that.” He told him, earning a quick nod, as he turned back to the others.

“Mission success gentlemen.” He told them.

There was a small ‘Whoop!’ and a brief smattering of applause from those around him.

“The Boss’ll be real happy with that, Sir.” The man with the ball-cap said. “You’ll get a promotion for this, and definitely a raise in pay.”

“Yeah.” The man with the sun-glasses agreed. “You’re moving up Sir. Just hope you remember us a little when you reach the top.”

“You’ll have your reward gentlemen.” The Leader told them. “Just as our employer rewards our loyalty to him, so will I reward yours to me.”

Their smiles grew impossibly wider at this, and he took a second to watch before he turned to the man still holding the severely damaged girl. She was slumped over even as she was being held in the air; her injuries must have finally caught up with her. She was practically useless to them now, she’d given them all they needed, plus the little added bonus of that book they’d found among her belongings, she had no further purpose. She was disposable.

Then again, the Leader thought, there might still be a few secrets tucked away in that young mind of hers, something useful to them, to their employer. He was never one to waste an opportunity, even one that may be possibly nonexistent. It wouldn’t hurt to keep her alive, bring her back to base and glean whatever useful information she had from her brain, and once it was determined that she was of no use whatsoever, then they could dispose of her.

It was a good plan, he decided and left them a lot less ‘aftermath’ to hide. Not to mention the advantages of displaying such initiative could have on his own career. The Leader began to instruct the man holding the girl in what to do, to secure her for transport in some way, when he was suddenly interrupted by a shout from the van.

“Sir, there’s something wrong!” Jim called out, sounding panicked.

The Leader turned on his heel, any good mood he’d managed to get into evaporating, and marched over to where the startled young man looked like he was about to have a panic attack. Jim was relatively new to his team, considering his expertise was in the areas of digital tracking and other such things, he’d only been needed within the past year or so. He was definitely not as experienced as the others and tended to come running to his leader when that inexperience translated into stupid mistakes. A growl rose in the Leader’s throat in his throat as he wondered exactly how Jim could have screwed everything up now. All the rookie needed to do was run the box through the specialty equipment they’d brought, that was it, it was so impossibly simple!

“What?!” He barked, looking for the problem as Jim scrambled out of the van and over to him, holding out the box as he did so.

As soon as the Leader saw it his anger cooled instantly, shock making its way across his features as Jim rapidly passed the box to him, fortunately still sealed.

“I don’t know Sir! I was verifying the contents like you ordered me to when it suddenly started reacting!”

Jim looked terrified, to be honest, his whole body quivering with fear, and with good reason. Even he knew they all knew what it was they’d been sent to retrieve, and what it could do if you weren’t careful. They were told as long as it was contained it would be docile, and you were safe. Now though a flashing golden light shone from between the seams of the box, hot power practically vibrating the metal. The box, while small, was built to withstand much more than this, it wouldn’t break, it would hold, but the violent reaction of the object contained inside still set everyone on edge.

“Wh... what’s going on?” Jim shuddered, wisely keeping his distance from the clearly unstable object.

The Leader crushed down his own rising sense of dread as he examined the pulsing glow, thinking back over all he’d been told of this thing when he’d accepted this mission. This sort of occurrence had been explained to him, he remembered but had been declared extremely unlikely, and thus the information had settled deep in the deeper part of his subconscious. Now though he dragged those memories to the surface, flicking through them as the golden light continued to pulse, seeping from the seams.

“It’s calling…” He said, making sure everyone could hear him as he spoke. “It’s calling one of its children.”

He heard a shuddering gasp from Jim and the rigid stiffening of the others.

“Bu—but we have no records of… there hasn’t been anyone infected in at least the past hundred years!” Jim’s eyes were wide as he stared at the box in his leader’s hand.

“It must have happened recently then.” The Leader answered, still examining the box.

“We need to… We need to get out of here!” Jim gasped, turning to hurriedly shut the back of the van. The others saw this and made to do the same—they knew the stories, old as they were, and saw no need to add a modern one to the list.

“Stop!” The Leader ordered, his voice ringing with authority. “We’re not going anywhere!”

Everyone froze as he said this, their faces reading a strong mixture of obedience and shock.

“Sir, we don’t have our weapons. We were only prepared to handle the girl; we didn’t come equipped to handle something like this.” The man in the ball-cap said, his hands fidgeting slightly as if trying to wrap around the handle of his very absent gun.

“Guns are practically useless against things like this.” Their leader calmly informed them. “And besides, even if we left, this thing,” He held up the glowing box. “would still call to it. Its child would be able to follow its call right to us and give chase, no matter where we were, and I do not want to be the one to explain to our employer why his plans have been blown to smithereens by a video of that thing chasing us on the Six o’clock news.”

Everyone’s eyes seemed to fill with fear as this thought finally occurred to them. Whatever the object or the thing coming for it could do to them, it was nothing compared to what their employer would do to them if they screwed this up. Whatever was coming for them was better in every way imaginable.

“We don’t have guns, but I know none of you were stupid enough to leave your knives. There are five of us; if we can corner it here it will have nowhere to run. It is a newborn, so it will be weak. We were trained for this…”

All of the men nodded as their Leader outlined his plan, their confidence, though still rattled, returned, strengthening their resolve. The Leader ordered them to their positions, the two dressed as workmen slipping just out of sight while the man still holding the girl dropped her unconscious body and moved to his own position. Jim climbed back into the van, being the least experienced his sole job would be to help corner the incoming threat. He glanced at his leader as he situated himself.

“Sir, you should hide too.” He said, watching the Leader slip the still glowing box into one of his pockets.

“No, someone needs to lure this thing in.” He replied, checking the knife hidden up his sleeve. “And as you said, there hasn’t been one of these things for over a hundred years; I want to be the first to see it.”

Jim still looked terrified, but nodded anyway, pulling himself deeper within the van as the Leader turned his face toward the alley entrance. He could feel the pulsing hum of the object in his pocket as it called to its child in a voice none of them could hear. The rhythm increased, steadily rising until the pulses became one long heat filled thrum. Then, without warning, it stopped.

It was here.

 o0o

Gasping, panting breaths filled the still air, interjected every couple of seconds by a low whimpering moan. It was dark and quiet, quiet, save the breathing. Crouched down in the shadow of some random building, eyes closed, hands clasped tight to the side of his head, Kriss tried to focus on steadying his breathing as his whole body quaked, attempting to flush out the excess adrenaline.

He’d run, he’d run hard and far until he wasn’t running anymore. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here, wherever here was, he only knew that when rational thought had returned he didn’t recognize anything, and that the horrible scene from earlier was no longer in front of him.

Another low noise escaped his lips.

Despite no longer having the scene right in front of him, it was by no means gone. He could still see it behind his closed eyelids, in shockingly clear detail, and he remembered… he remembered everything.

What...what did he just do? What was that? How…how…?

How could he have done that?

He’d stopped shaking so badly, and, while his heart was still pounding, he’d finally managed to even out his breathing. Slowly his death grip on the sides of his head loosened, his arms dropping to instead wrap around his knees, but he still didn’t open his eyes. His body had calmed, but his mind was still working furiously, thoughts and memories meshing, burning, fighting for space. Everything, he was seeing it, was living it all over again, every excruciating detail, like some horrible dream. He was torn between wanting to stop the endless loop that was playing over and over again behind his eyelids and wanting to hide from reality a little longer, to avoid seeing the proof that all this wasn’t some nightmare hallucination.

‘But’, one clear thought whispered, making its way through the jumbled mess, ‘but he couldn’t hide forever’. Someone would eventually see him and start asking questions, questions he didn’t know the answer to. He...he needed to know what happened, and he couldn’t find that sitting here in the dark.

Kriss opened his eyes slowly, almost unwillingly, casting his gaze upward as he did so. Despite wanting to know, he didn’t want to see, not yet, not without preparing himself. His thoughts still churned wildly, drawing him back even with his eyes wide open. He remembered everything, every movement, every instant. He could feel the ghosts of sensation as his mind forced him to relive the whole incident, moment for moment, his eyes blindly staring at thin air.

He remembered the feel of G yanking his head back, the anger and rising irritation at the man-handling and taunts, the fierce pain of his hurt fingers, and the only slightly less painful kicks to his head and his chest. In the real world, he twitched, reacting to nothing. He remembered G crushing his hand a third time, the sheer agony once again burning through his body, and how he’d dissolved into that agony.

That was when the pain had stopped, or at least dulled considerably, swept away in a flood of energy along with most of his thought processes. It wasn’t that he’d stopped thinking, perse, more like all unnecessary higher-level thoughts had shut down, greatly clearing his frazzled, still slightly scattered mind and allowing him a certain amount of focus.

He’d pulled himself up; the ground was too dangerous a place for him at that moment. His death grip on G’s wrist had been a simple reaction, needing the leverage and not wanting to risk more pain. It wasn’t meant to cause harm; he just needed to ensure he had enough time to reorient himself, to pull himself back together. He knew, looking back, that once he’d gotten himself together, that he would have left then, he should have left then, but he’d been so rattled, so confused, and the others had looked at him so strangely. Because of that, he’d forgotten the urge to leave; he’d forgotten almost everything happening around him. That strange emotion, he knew what it was now. Fear, he’d seen fear, and it confused him. His entire life Kriss had never seen anyone look at him fearfully. Sure he’d seen it before, Mark always displayed enough of that, and he’d seen it directed at others, but no one had ever been afraid of him.  Their faces flashed in his mind, and Kriss shuddered hard. He didn’t like it, it made him feel sick inside. Wrong, wrong, wrong, the fear had been all wrong. His stomach twisted and he let out a low groan of protest, but the memory still played on.

He felt it all again; the confusion, the blurry thoughts, and the phantom sensation of sickening warmth running down his palm, all of it building up to the point where he’d finally looked down.

He’d stalled. He shouldn’t have stalled. Up until that point, his head had been clearing, slowly, but steadily, and the shock had actually served to speed up the process. He’d frozen up a bit, his fight or flight response whirling, edging decidedly toward flight. But then, when he looked away there’d been the sudden impact to his already throbbing head, and everything had changed again.

There’d been danger still, he’d briefly forgotten, that there were others who wanted to hurt him. He was very tired of pain. Kriss hadn’t thought, he reacted, switching from flight to fight in less than a heartbeat.

Kriss was drowning in the memory, and even though the threat was gone his whole body began to react once more, his heart picking up the pace as his breathing sped up again.

Danger, danger, surrounded! So many of them, they’d wanted to hurt him, he’d wanted to escape. Danger, danger, away! He’d struck at his attackers, and they’d gone down, but there were so many. Threat! He didn’t want to hurt, just defend himself. They’d kept coming, less of them. He’d warned them off, but they didn’t understand the warning. Or they’d ignored it. They’d continued to attack, and he’d reacted, moved, fought until there’d been only one left.

He’d lifted him, his enemy, made sure he could see, could hear the warning he’d been ignoring, so he would know, next time he would know. He’d waited, waited for acknowledgment, and once he saw it in the other’s eyes he’d finally removed the threat. They would wake up and remember, but ‘til then the threat was gone.

He’d relaxed. Sort of. He was safe, so to speak. No more threat, so no more pain. He’d felt… good. Physically, anyway. Mentally could be left to interpretation. The pain was gone, though, and a calm feeling had settled where the restless energy had once been. Without the distraction, he was able to notice the feel of… something. It was all over him, making his skin itch faintly, a small irritation worming its way amongst the calm. His first instinct had been to try and get it off, but even though he swiped at it, it stayed on, getting more irritating the more he’d worked. It had been starting to get on his nerves, he’d just wanted whatever it was off, so he’d looked to see what it was, and…

Red…

NO!

Kriss pulled out of the memory immediately with a strangled yelp, the shaking from before returning full force. No, no, he did not want to see it again! What he’d done? What had he done!? It wasn’t… He wasn’t there, he tried to tell himself, he wasn’t there anymore! But it was still here, all over him. He didn’t want to look at it, he couldn’t look at it, but he really didn’t have to, he could feel it. His hands, his arms, his face, he could feel it there. What did he do? What did he do?!  How!? He didn’t mean…

A low, almost growling, keening noise interrupted his thoughts, piercing through the guilt and the panic and drawing him back to the real world with a jolt. The guttural vocalization startled him, easily washing away the rest of his overcrowded thoughts. What...what was that? The choking feeling of drowning in his own emotions rapidly faded away as he allowed his attention elsewhere. He was still staring upward, eyes focused on nothing, his brow knit in confusion. He listened to hear the noise again. For some reason, it didn’t bother him the way it probably should have, but it might have just been that he’d exhausted all of those kinds of emotions during his panic attack. Right now all he felt was confusion and a small amount of curiosity. It had sounded so close, where had that…?

He paused, remembering… What he was remembering he wasn’t sure, but he remembered… something…

A warning. He remembered a warning, a warning no one seemed to heed. He remembered… A noise, a deep rumbling in his ears during and after the fight…

An inkling of realization dawned, and Kriss slowly lifted one of his hands. It was deceptively calm, not even a tremor in his fingers as they came up to brush his own throat. It had—it was from… him…? That...those noises, had come from… him? How… how could…?

Kriss cleared his throat a little, feeling unsure.

“Hello?”

He spoke to the air, a test, and heard his voice, his normal voice. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected, something else maybe? He didn’t know how he should feel about that; that he’d expected something different, or that he’d been mildly disappointed whatever he had expected hadn’t happened. Curious, confused, he tried to speak again, to find proof of…whatever, but he was having trouble coming up with anything to say. Half imagined words kept forming on his lips, the first sounds emerging calmly, steadily, only to waver before so much as a syllable formed. It really shouldn’t have been hard, he didn’t actually need to say anything, after all, he was technically talking to himself, but for some reason, he kept drawing a complete blank. It was quickly becoming frustrating. Without thinking, Kriss released a small frustrated sound reminiscent of the rumbling from earlier, the sound building in his chest and emerging easily from the back of his throat.

Blue eyes suddenly shot wide and his whole body went rigid as he realized what he’d done. What was that!? He’d felt it this time, he’d felt the low vibrations beneath his fingers, so even if he’d wanted to deny it he couldn’t. That noise had definitely come from him, but what on earth!?

For some reason, he wasn’t having a panic attack this time. Was he startled? Yes. Frightened? A little. Confused? Understatement. But panicked? No, he wasn’t panicked. He guessed that was a blessing, maybe. It unnerved him, his own calm about this, and the feeling only increased when another noise escaped him and he realized how startlingly natural it felt. His conscious mind warred against his subconscious, the latter one trying to tell him that everything was alright, that this was normal, but it wasn’t! He knew it wasn’t; people didn’t make those sorts of noises, at least not naturally. He’d been growling at G and the others during the fight, growling! Like an animal. And he’d done all those other things…

Oh, look, the panic was back, but this time it brought with it a sickening dread, one that only grew worse when he couldn’t stop the low whine that bubbled up from deep within him. Had he… had he meant to…? No, he gave his head a hard shake. No, he’d been trying to warn them off. He’d been warning them, but they’d still attacked, and then he’d been defending himself. He’d been angry, but he’d only wanted them out for the count, he’d never wanted…that.

It was too much. Anxiety, confusion, shock, terror, guilt, anger, fear, it was like Kriss’ mind couldn’t settle for which emotion to experience so it had decided to bounce between all of them at once. This needed to stop before he drove himself insane, it was all too much! He was growling again; he didn’t care, his eyes tightly shut as he grabbed the sides of his head again. The memories were trying to overwhelm him again. Too loud, too close, too much. Stop. Stop!

“STOP!” The last came out as more of a snarl than a word as he suddenly surged to his feet, the noise tearing from his throat to echo in the otherwise quiet surroundings as Kriss forced out every single ounce of his inner turmoil. It dissipated into the air around him along with the last of the echo, leaving him feeling drained and empty, standing there, arms hanging limply at his sides.

He just stood there, panting, his mind now forcibly clear. He focused on taking deep breaths, calming his racing heart. He needed… he needed to think this through. No matter how much he didn’t want to, he needed to go through this, before he sent himself into another panic spiral by accident.

Kriss sucked in another long breath and let it out slowly.

Okay, he needed to think this out. What was his problem? His problem wasn’t the fight, at least not the act of being in a fight; fights were something he was used to. No, that wasn’t his issue here. It wasn’t him fighting back either, or even his reactions during the confrontation really, though that could be a secondary issue. But no, it wasn’t all that, he knew that wasn’t what was sending him into these emotional attacks every time he saw a flash of memory or felt the irritating itch running along his arms. His problem wasn’t the fight, or that he’d been in the fight, no, it was what he had done to G and the others, even if it was unknowingly. The damage, that amount of damage, how could he do something like that? He hadn’t meant to hurt, but somehow… somehow… It was awful, he didn’t understand, was having trouble comprehending. He’d done that, how had he done that? He needed to know…

His arms itched, as did parts of his face where the proof of his crime was smeared. He was wary of looking at it, he didn’t want to start another panic attack, but he couldn’t hide from this if he wanted any semblance of peace-of-mind. He would just need to face it, no matter how sick it made him feel on the inside. Kriss drew in a breath and let it out, steeling himself. He could do this, seeing wouldn’t make anything worse, and it couldn’t change what had already occurred. He would be fine, well maybe not fine, but he could still do this. He clenched and unclenched his fists, finalizing his resolve, before lifting them up as his gaze dropped down.

The sight of crimson almost sent him over the edge again, but he fought it back down, forcing himself to focus on what he was looking at. He didn’t fight down the rising feeling of sickness wringing his innards, however, a part of him actually relieved that all of him knew how wrong this was, even if it had been an ‘accident’. The crimson color wasn’t as vibrant as it had been before, and that thought made his stomach churn even harder. He forced himself to stay calm as he rotated his arms and wrists, looking them all over. There was a lot, though that could have been due to the smearing caused by his ‘cleaning’. How did this even happen? All of them had only been using their hands to strike at each other, nothing that should have allowed for this. Even if noses had been broken, which he was pretty sure there weren’t any; there wouldn’t have been this much. So how did this happen?

Kriss continued to examine his red-stained hands with a sort of morbid curiosity, and as he did so he had a brief flash of memory. Sick warmth running, small, pained, gasping noises, looking down at red pooling. It all passed in an instant, leaving him reeling a bit. He remembered, when he’d held G’s wrist, he’d drawn blood. He hadn’t meant to, he’d simply grabbed it, not even all that hard, so how had he managed to do that? He turned his hands over, palms up, letting his fingers curl gently as he tried to see what could have done all that. Something seemed off, not quite right, aside from the blood. He looked closer, closer than he was really comfortable with, and after a few beats he realized what it was.

Shock, horror, fear!

He pulled his hands back away from his face in surprise. Not what he expected, not what he expected at all! He didn’t want to freak out, not again, but this made it so hard to stamp the rising emotion down. Calm down. Calm down! Look at it, don’t panic, look! Kriss took a few deep breaths, calling on his confusion and bizarrely present curiosity to help crush out the rising emotions. Answers… Focus on getting your questions answered, just that, yeah.

He raised one hand, the previously injured one he realized, and stared at it. Before, he hadn’t noticed what had changed, because the solid red coating his hands had taken most of his attention, masking it. Now though, now that he knew what was there it was hard to miss, drawing his eyes along the length of his hand, stopping at the end.

Long and sharp, hard, emerging from the ends of his fingers, he didn’t realize what he was looking at, at first, simply because they were so out of place. Impossible, improbable, people, unnatural, normal people didn’t have…impossible.

Of course, normal people don’t growl like an animal either, he reminded himself, but that being the case, then why was it so impossible that he had …?

Had …

Horror, confusion...

Claws. Might as well say what they were, they were claws.

For some reason, acknowledging them like that didn’t make him want to freak out. Well, he did, but he’d felt a cold numbness setting in in its place. He looked over at his other hand; the claws were there as well. The blood, the growling, now these, it was all a little too much. Every answer he seemed to get just dragged up several more questions. He just… he couldn’t take all this at once; stuff like this doesn’t—shouldn’t—happen in real life. It made his head hurt, trying to figure this all out. He needed to know, needed to figure out what on earth was happening, and why.

Why?

His head throbbed, like before, when everything had still made some sort of sense. It forced him to grab the sides of his skull, some noise of protest leaving his throat as he tried to ease the piercing ache. This felt like before, first the headache, then the numbness, and then everything had gone insane. He wanted this to stop, he did not want to even think about what might happen if this continued.

A chill wound its way up his spine, and he could feel a slight buzzing in the back of his head. What was that? He looked up; he could almost hear it vibrating in the air around him. Where was it coming from? It made him feel…dazed a bit. Where was it coming from? Where? He faced the opening of the alleyway he’d secreted himself in; it seemed like it was coming from there. He took a step, unsure if he should be following this strange noise. It would only lead to trouble, he reasoned, and he shouldn’t go looking for more of that today, or ever. Despite this, he took another step forward. He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, but the buzzing was becoming louder, and his still present headache was making things difficult for him. Don’t, don’t, don’t… don’t… maybe… Maybe if he found whatever was causing the buzzing then maybe he could get it to shut up and quit aggravating his headache.

Something was…

Was...

He made his decision the same time he reached the entrance of the alley. The buzzing was louder here, and it was coming from off to the right. Kriss stepped out to follow it, any possible attempt at caution completely escaping his mind. Just… follow, find what… what is…? Only after he was several yards from his original hiding place did it finally occur to him that he hadn’t heard a single sound besides his own steps, and he was walking down the sidewalk covered in…well… He glanced around, an uneasy feeling building in his gut when he discovered he was the only living thing on the street. Everything else was dark and quiet, which would explain how he’d gotten here without causing any alarm the first time. This was not right, wrong, wrong, something was wrong… He kept moving, but now he did so with much more wariness, keeping his movements as quiet as possible.

The buzzing kept getting louder until it brought him to the mouth of another alley with a large white van blocking the entrance, the only vehicle on the street. If Kriss wasn’t on edge before, then he assuredly was now, moving closer to the buildings beside him as he peered down the alley. Keep going, keep going… He didn’t see anything, but the buzzing was definitely originating from deeper in. Cautiously he moved into the slightly darkened space, giving the van behind him a quick look. Forward, keep going forward... He couldn’t turn back, even if he wanted to, the call was too strong now. That didn’t mean he would just go running in there, however. Wrong, wrong, something was wrong here... Instead he pressed himself as close to the walls as he could, moving with a purpose, every step silent. He could see a bend up ahead in the alley, the buzzing becoming deafening the closer he moved, but it didn’t stop him from hearing the barest sounds of voices coming from the direction he was heading. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. He could sense the danger radiating from those voices, but he kept going.

Something was… was there...

He reached the bend, the buzzing rising to an unbearable pitch, before suddenly cutting off. It left an almost ringing silence behind it, and the sharp chill Kriss had felt earlier returned. The voices had stopped too, and he really had to wonder what he was getting himself into. Slowly, he peeked around the bend, spotting the back end of another van, but no people. There was a serious feeling of foreboding in the air—wrong, wrong, not right—making the hairs on Kriss’ body stand on end. He moved into the shorter section of the alleyway, focusing on his expanding view of the open area at the other end. He still didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anyone there, they could just be hidden from his range of sight. He knew he’d heard voices, not just one, plus there were two vans, someone had to drive them there. Whoever they were, they knew he was coming. How he knew this, he didn’t know, but he was sure of it.

Waiting, waiting, waiting for him, to hurt...

The end of the alley came up fast, and Kriss was forced to shield his eyes a bit at the sudden glare of sunlight, halting just within the alley mouth. He was so distracted for a second that he almost missed the sound of someone shifting. But he didn’t, and when his eyes finally adjusted he was able to see a man standing in the center of the open place, staring straight at him. His first reaction was to freeze in place, all of his muscles tensing under the man’s gaze. Their eyes locked, blue on brown, and they entered a sort of strange staring contest. The man didn’t say anything, but he didn’t break the stare either, somehow managing to slowly examine Kriss without breaking eye contact. Don’t look away, don’t look away. Kriss tried not to move, to focus on what the other was doing, but then a small breeze that had somehow made its way into the enclosed space blew past him, wafting a strange sickly scent by his nose.

All of his attention turned to it against his will, it was familiar, nauseatingly familiar. He actually broke the bizarre staring contest to try and find where it was coming from, his whole head turning away as he followed it back to its source.

There, lying against the far wall, a small heap of torn fabric, scarily still, aside from letting out small, ragged breaths that he could somehow hear, even from where he stood. And all around the form, in the air of the space, the sick smell of blood.

It was on the man too, Kriss realized as he slowly turned back to face him, it was on his hands.

Sick, sick, sick!

Blue met brown again, and Kriss felt his world haze over.

o0o0o

First chapter is Here:

Second Chapter is Here:

Third chapter is Here:

Link to buy full Novel is Here:

[heabidethfaithful]

I decided to write here again, because I havent been journaling. Carrying around a notebook seems burdensome whenever I feel like writing and I dont bring it, and when I bring it I dont feel like writing. So I guess ill have no excuse for an online journal haha! So... oh ya, I blocked all my previous followers cos I want to make this private already. I think there are some things even my closest confidant do not need to see. Also, I dont want him to have the responsibility to always attend to me, because that will make me rely on him too much. I suppose this space will force me to remember and turn to God, which is what it should be... so here goes. I can't seem to know how to make my entire Tumblr private again. I can't find the option. If anyone sees this page, can let me know and help? Thank you. somehow I “post privately” but I can't seem to view it on my page, only drafts and I never touch drafts.

Well hi God, I'm watching show as I type this. LOL. anyway, sigh ive been feeling down. I feel sad thinking that Darren’s fam doesn't like me. But maybe its just in my head. I should not over think. Today I also feel sad because a seller sold an item I wanted. I knew I wouldnt be able to afford it, but I never got a reply on my enquiry. She finally replied in a very deadpan manner, with a statement that offended me. Honestly, I dont mind if I dont get the item, usually I let it go, and I usually congratulate the seller on the sale. But I expected a standard “Oh I'm sorry, I didn't reply, and I sold it” kind of reply. then I replied in a way I thought was fair, and politely. In fact, I thought I should receive an apology, even though I didn't ask for it. the end result? I got blocked!? WHAT? does she hate me? and if she does, WHY? is it because I didn't complete my deal with another dealer and he told her? Did she judge me and never gave me a chance? In my self doubt, and fear, I consulted another seller. Okay Lord, you know la to be honest I just wanted someone to be on my side. I felt like angry that I was treated this way and I guess I wanted someone to be against her too. Anyway, turns out, to my surprise, she thought that MY message was slightly offensive. I dont know how?? Lord, I feel so like WHATONEARTH.... I mean, okay - Maybe I overthink too much at times.... did I read the original seller’s message wrong? because I fully believe that I think you know... its not like I see something and try to think of it in the worst possible light. How come, I’m always wrong? How come I’m wrong when I’m expressing my view and not even blaming? I feel like I'm always wrong. wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong and its no one’s fault but mine. WHY? how come I see one thing and everyone else sees a different thing?????? its so frustrating. Do I just have alot of insight or alot of wrong insight??????? sigh Lah lord. its making me start to feel alone and that everyone is against me. Another part of me thinks, no no one is against me, but I’m just screwed up. None are good. both are bad. sigh. okay I shall attempt some method to find verses haha:

Let love and faithfulness (Jesus) never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. Then you will win favor and a good name in the sight of God and man.Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. (proverbs 3:4-6)

I guess I must always remember that jesus is with me so I have favor and a good repute amongst sellers. I guess I must always see that other have love and are committed, and that they are good, so that they are encouraged by me, and I will also have favor and a good repute with them. I will also trust in jesus (that he is working in me and that he's working all things together for my good), and do not rely on my own thoughts and logic or sight. Also, to submit (listen to what he says and follow it, not listen to my own thoughts), and doing so he will make my path straight (things will be smooth.)

This is what the LORD says: "Cursed is the one who trusts in man, who draws strength from mere flesh and whose heart turns away from the LORD. He will be like a shrub in the desert; he will not see when prosperity comes. He will dwell in the parched places of the desert, in a salt land where no one lives. But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is Him. He will be like a tree planted by the waters that sends out its roots toward the stream. It does not fear when the heat comes, and its leaves are always green. It will not worry in a year of drought or cease to produce fruit.

I guess I must also not trust in man, to give me a good image or a bad image. They have good in them, but they have own things to deal with. As I will not be able to see when good comes if I'm always basing my expectation on them or their behaviours or their interpretation of mine! I will trust in the lord, for my relationships, finance, business, reputation. Then I will see it when good comes. Eg. I blame Darren that he didn't tell his family I got snacks for them, but I put it on him that he didn't help me have a favourable image in their eyes. I should quit depending on him and just look to jesus.., sigh. Oh well, thank u lord. Remind me when I forget. I still feel moody though., I think I'm physically tired... I think I feel condemned for not doing work today...I feel worried about my crisis module tomorrow...I feel like ugly from my pimples.... I feel less pretty than I was in the past... I feel unsuccessful in my business (and havent replied messages for over a week)... I feel worried that the seller who sold me the broken items would not want to refund me a portion of the amount.

Lord, you refresh me and give me the ability to sleep early today..its okay to take weekends off..I will still do well...I will do well in my crisis module...My overall score for crisis module will still be A+...My pimples will be gone with sleep...my pimples will not return...I am prettier in my own sight and other’s...I am successful and I shall be led by peace and not fear...I will be refunded more than I expect...it is a good night Lord.. thanks for helping me.. I guess no one could really fulfill all of the above... alls well with you. Thanks jesus. May your word fulfill its purpose.

[the-hunters-rebel-heart]

Please Vote - updated idea list

Your Vote Matters

April 5, 2017

Heya guys,

To say I have been busy would be an understatement, and over the next few days, I would like to get some writing done. The problem is, I have over 30 ideas and counting and I do not know where to begin. I do not know which ideas to write first. That is where y’all come in. I need y’all to go to my contact page ask or reblog and tell me which ideas YOU, the reader, would like to see done by telling me your favorites. The ideas, all 33 so far, are below. All that being said, some ideas might be able to be combined to make things even better in the stories, I just need to figure out how and if I want to combine those ideas. Note: These are not reader inserts and they are not smutty ideas.

Love y’all,

KC

PS: Crap, I just added a few more. Someone stop me!

KC’s IDEAS LIST

True Love’s Blessing – Jessica Moore returns from the dead and Sam is seeing another woman who is his true love. Things go awry when Sam runs off with Jess to keep her safe without telling anyone anything. Bonus: Sam’s true love is pregnant with his child. Jess is on the run from Abaddon.

The Knight’s Child – Dean adopts a hellhound as a demon, conceives a child with a woman while a demon. Dean needs to keep said child safe when the Men of Letters shows up.

Brothers Winchester – Dean has a twin who is an FBI Agent who discovers what is really out there. That brother also turns out to be an adoptive Cousin to Garth Fitzgerald IV. Werewolf hunt.

Family Secrets – Dean and Sam are hiding that they are both fathers to inhuman children. When the Men of Letters target them for being what they are, Sam and Dean have to step up to the plate to protect them. Mary’s maternal instincts finally kick in. Sam’s child – quarter angel; Dean’s child – half demon or quarter demon.

Love Remains – Two young hunters come bursting into the present from the future and they turn out to be Sam and Dean’s children with the women they love. They have to save the timeline from a rogue angel and ensure their survivals.

The Ascension – Sam and Dean, have to with the help of some others, gather weapons that were made by Chuck or Amara before they fall into the wrong hands. Those weapons end up imbibing them with the powers of Angels and Demons.

Papa Castiel – Castiel has a wife and child that he has hidden through the centuries

Castiel in Love – Castiel falls in love with a shape shifter named Maggie.

The Search for Dean Winchester – Dean disappears, and ends up in the wild west where he, upon giving up on being found or returning to his own time, falls in love with a werewolf. When Sam and Castiel find him, will he be willing to return?

Angel of Darkness – Amara created an angel of her own before being locked away, and Chuck hid from him that he was her creation instead. Other Angels have been suspicious for some time that the Angel was different because his eyes are pink and his wings are the color of light… which were not lost during the fall from grace. What happens when the only other Angel who trusts him is Castiel? Will he be able to keep his child safe?

The Curious Case of John Winchester – Michael was not the only Angel to ever possess John Winchester.

The Bond of Family – The Mark of Cain was never transferred to Dean Winchester and Cain killed Abaddon before being smited by Chuck. Dean and his brother Sam did not fix their brotherly relationship after finding Garth… and Dean fell in love with a member of Garth’s pack. When the British Men of Letters show up, they have Mary Winchester working for them, and she is after Dean’s family… and Sam’s when he comes to Dean’s Aid.

The Hunter’s Child – Dean has a long lost child who finds him after an accident in the Impala. The hunter has no way to find or contact his brother.

Dean Who? – Dean has amnesia, marries, and has a child. What happens when Sam finds him, and his family is placed in danger by others because they are not human or mistaken as something other than human?

The Men of Letters – Sam and Dean are reincarnations of the original Men of Letters – the two men who started the entire organization. Dean has an identity crisis.

The Devil’s Gates – Dean shuts the Gates of Hell after a fight with Sam and ends up dead. A year and a half later, he is revived by some unseen force and must find a way to reconcile with his brother.

Supernatural Minds – Sam and or Dean have been hiding that they are Government Agents from the other. What happens when it comes to the forefront of a case? Criminal Minds Crossover

Gunnery Sergeant Dean Winchester – NCIS crossover; Dean’s unit is being murdered due to his connection to them and a plane that went down while the oldest Winchester brother was doing a tour overseas, so he has to come clean to his brother about the activities he was involved in during the younger’s college days.

The Mechanic’s Secret – Sam and Dean travel back to the 1980’s to save a Nephilim that Michael has ordered a hit on… and they happen to know the Nephilim in their own time. Will she want to stay in the past, or return to the future with Sam and Dean?

The Mechanic – Series; Bobby Hired help, and that help turns out to be a hunter who disappeared during the 1980’s. He realizes it when she saves their lives. Later, she returns home with Sam and Dean to access her trust fund, set up by a cousin, only to be shot.

The Vampire’s Return – Benny Returns when Purgatory is ripped asunder, releasing all the creatures who were there.

The Curse of Honey Campbell – Honey Campbell left home at the age of sixteen against her father’s wishes to escape the hunting life and be with the man she loved who happened to be a witch.  When she is injured trying to save his life, he does the one thing that he can think of to save her – he entraps her essence within a 1967 Chevrolet Impala that belonged to the hunter who tried to kill him.

The Hunt for Sam Winchester – Jessica Moore was a spoiled rich child who was quickly running out of money. After finding out Sam has a very large life insurance policy naming her the payee, she has an affair and claims Sam is someone he isn’t in an attempt to get him killed. When she is killed by Azazel, Jessica’s lover vows revenge against the man he believes to have murdered her in cold blood.

Finding Family – Dean has a twin brother, who is best friends with Cole Trent. When his family is murdered and he is pinned for the deaths, he goes on the run, and Cole helps him get in touch with Dean and Sam Winchester.

Voices – One of the Winchesters finally hits rock bottom and cannot take it anymore, and a well hidden addiction does not help.

Friends of the Past – Mary ends up finding out a friend was tossed from the 80’s to the present, and that woman is involved in a love affair with her youngest son.

Samuel Colt’s Mission – Samuel Colt wasn’t just a man, he was an angel named Samuel who was building a set of weapons to help in the fight between good and evil.

Saving Chuck – Chuck has been on the run from the yellow eyed demons who want to kill him. Sam and Dean stumble across him, unaware that he’s God, and must protect him at all costs.

Rock Your Heart Out – Dean is dead. Sam burned his body and is trying to move on. Death has a secret. Will the music bring solace to the hunter, especially the singing of a man who looks and sounds just like his brother?

Man on the Run – The FBI is on Sam and Dean’s trail again, and the agent assigned to the case is one of the best in the history of the FBI.

Becky Rosen is kidnapped by a hunter for her own safety… who turns out to have a thing for Sam Winchester.                  

Becky Rosen convinces Sam and Dean to return to Delaware for a hunt involving a Revolutionary War Ghost at Cooches Bridge

Becky Rosen convinces Sam and Dean to return to Delaware due to a malevolent Civil War ghost at Pea Patch Island.

The leviathan are on the hunt for a teenage girl in an attempt to force the Winchesters to surrender. Who is she, and what is her link to Sam and Dean? Daddy!Dean.

Sam in Love – Sam had a friend in high school who lived up the road from Bobby Singer. She disappeared on her eighteenth birthday. What happens when she comes back into his life… as a huntress?

Sam in Love – take 2 – Sam had a girlfriend during college before he met Jess, who disappeared. What happens when she walks back into his life and turns out to be a hunter just like himself?                

[fan-fiction-book-club]

Surprise

WARNING:  THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SURPRISE.  IF YOU HAVE NOT READ IT, THEN YOU WILL NOT GET TO FULLY EXPERIENCE THE SURPRISE...I’M SORRY YOU HAD TO SEE THAT...

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, hi!  How are you wonderful people that have come to visit me at my beautiful side blog here?  Pleasantries aside, a little backstory about this particular fic.  Yes.  You read that right.  It’s one of my own design.  I’m going to be honest.  I panicked and couldn’t find anything for this month’s fic, so I was a self promo whore and here we are.  

But I had to write something for Yurio’s birthday.  It was the first of March and he is truly my son and I love him.  If I had to relate to one person in Yuri on Ice, it’s definitely Yurio.  He’s my level of bitter and angry and equal parts adorable.  Therefore, he’s me in a nutshell.  And I squeal a little inside over his cuteness.  He is my little squishy angel.  Why is everyone in in Yuri on Ice so squishy and cute?  Like...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!

....Sorry.  You know it’s bad when Sherlock busts up book club because I’m being a spazz.  Now, onto the actual story!

Let’s take a moment to talk about Yakov.  Yakov, we know him, we love him.  He’s a cranky, bitter, old man.  Like Yurio will be once he gets older.  And where does he get that from?  Yakov.  Let’s keep that in mind as we read along.  

I want to be a fly on the wall now that Yuri and Victor are living together and practice on the same rink.  I like to think that Victor is still sort of Yuri’s coach and his coaching always turns into them being adorable together and never getting anything accomplished and that pisses Yakov off to no end, not to mention makes Yurio dry heave in the corner.  

I also love that in the back of Yurio’s mind, he still thinks about Yuri coming to him, asking him about doing quads.  I bet that’s one of those things that keeps the fire in his belly lit.  And so, our sweet little bean begins his practice with Yuri’s EROS ROUTINE.  And I’m just...

 And only one thing can make his eros routine any better is the source of his eros.  Let’s throw in Otabek! 

It’s enough to get Yurio to bite the ice because my son is a huge dork and doesn’t know how to process his feelings for Otabek.  And all it took was his voice to make him completely distracted.  And Yakov’s blood pressure goes up, but not so much.  Remember when I told you to keep Yakov’s disposition in mind?  That’s Yurio’s first red flag there’s something going on.

The actual first red flag was Otabek showing up out of the blue.  Otabek always tells Yurio when he’s coming.  But now, he shows up and takes Yurio out to see Moscow.  And I melt a little inside because it’s basically a date for those two.  And that makes me so happy.

Now, I need to do a little explanation here.  The story of the Machine.  It’s a true story.  I highly suggest listening to it because it’s an absolute roller coaster from beginning to end.  And it happened in Moscow in 1995, way before Yurio was born.  The Reader’s Digest version?  This guy accidentally takes Russian classes in college thinking they’re Spanish and sticks through it, so his teacher can get her masters degree.  When he takes Russian IV, they went to Russia and he accidentally ended up joining the Russian mafia under the name “The Machine” because the only phrase he could think of in Russian was “I am the Machine.”  Therefore, he became known as the Machine.  What does that have to do with Yuri on Ice?  Absolutely nothing, but I think it’s a fantastic story that everyone needs to hear at least once in their life.

I LOVE that Otabek still calls Yurio a soldier.  But not just any soldier.  Because of their new relationship status of six months, He’s Otabek’s little soldier.  And because we can’t have nice things, Yuri’s Angels come in and screw us all over.  So much for Yurio and Otabek’s date.  However, it does end up with them back at Victor and Yuri’s.  Not the first time Otabek’s saved him from his fans.  Probably not the last.  

Can we take a sec to think about Otabek putting Yurio on his shoulders to get the house key?  And Yurio being a smol?

Because I think about that on a regular basis.  And Otabek giving him shit for it made me giggle like a little girl.  I can’t even begin...Now that I’m done gushing about my child, let’s gush about his boyfriend.  Otabek yells at Yurio for cursing.  And I, for one, find that adorable.  Along with Yurio wanting to mainline Red Bull.  I know that feeling all too well.  

But there’s a line in here that needs to be addressed.  Because I have a feeling that Yurio has stayed with Yuri and Victor a time or two and has seen some shit.  Some shit he didn’t necessarily want or need to see.  Some shit that makes this:

...Look like this.

And my little angel goes like:

My poor baby...Ahem.  Back to the story and no more overkill on the GIF usage.

Because we’re about to get some Yurabek cuddles and I love it.  They’re having a moment because practice wore poor little Yurio out and all he wants is some warm snuggles with his boyfriend in the guest room.  The way I wrote this scene out sounds so relaxing.  Also, Otabek’s personal fulfillment being Yurio’s success makes me feel so warm inside.  Because he knows how much winning gold means to him.  And that makes me happy.  I can see Otabek being the one to set himself on fire just to keep Yurio warm.  No one else, but he’d do it for Yurio.  

Let’s put their love aside for another couple that I can’t help but gush over.  Victor’s birthday party.  We always hear that whole horror stories of getting drunk at the office Christmas party.  And since Victor’s birthday happens to be on Christmas, I figured his birthday would be a nice stand-in.  That’s what happens when we see both Victor and Yuri drunk at the same time.  And Russia declares a state of national emergency.   That’s one of those things that we don’t need to talk about...

But now, Yurio starts piecing things together.  He’s going to vent to Otabek about the day feeling off and weird and that there’s something going on, but he doesn’t know what.  And when he comes to the conclusion he’s being paranoid, Otabek tells him he loves him for that very reason.  And again, I become a puddle.  This entire story is good old fashioned fluff and full of moments like that and gahhhhhhhhhh...

Let’s talk about Yuri.  Not Yurio.  We’ve talked about him this whole time.  We’re going to talk about our little sexy pork cutlet bowl that we can’t help but love.  Yuri Katsuki is a tiger mommy.  I can guarantee it.  When it comes to his adoptive son, he is a tiger mommy.  He wants to see Yurio grow and protect him with every fiber of his being.  Honestly, I can’t blame him.  For the next ten minutes, Yuri’s going to bitch at Otabek for falling asleep with Yurio.  Why?  Because that doesn’t fit into his plan.  That’s right.  Why do you think Yuri and Victor skipped out on practice that morning?  They’ve been busy with other things.  

And Otabek struck fear into Yuri’s heart.  Because not only is Yuri protective of his son, but Otabek is just as protective of his boyfriend.  Love has many different faces...And we see two of them right then and there.  But, because Yurio is an impatient little shit, Otabek had to fake a phone call with his coach about next season.  Which evolves into a little bit of trash talk from both sides.  Which ends up into some cuddles in Otabek’s back while they go back to his hotel.  

Now, the fun part.  SURPRISE!  Happy birthday, Yurio!  Everyone knew but him.  Otabek was just the distraction for the day.  Not that he minded much.  It was a day with Yurio.  He’s not complaining.  However, Yurio being sandwiched between his dads was an unwelcome surprise.  And all he wanted was cake and his boyfriend.  He didn’t want the surprise party.  But deep down...since Yurio is kind of a little diva whether he wants to admit it or not, he’s not going to say no.  It’s like the banquet when he said he got “dragged” into a dance off with Yuri.  No way in hell.  He looked way too willing in those pictures.  Phichit’s an excellent camera man.

Speaking of the selfie queen!  Yuri, God bless him, found the champagne again...And he’s reeeeeeeeally drunk.  Unfortunately, Victor stepped outside for a minute for whatever reason.  Yuri’s getting all nostalgic about when they met and all that happiness.  We all know how that went.  And Yurio’s ready to drive his foot in Yuri’s back again.  And Yuri slips back into speaking Japanese and tells him he loves him.  

I’m sure you’re wondering.  Lumi, how the hell does Phichit the selfie queen fit into this?  Well, friends, because Yurio doesn’t have Victor to pawn Yuri’s drunk ass off on, he turns to Phichit.  And Phichit is more than happy to take him.  Bless.  Bless the selfie queen.  

And now, the night has began to wind down and the birthday boy has had enough, so they go back up to Otabek’s hotel room and go sleepy-by.  And all is right with the world...

[therecoveringcatho-holic]

mannn.. life is just getting so much better!!! i just have to share where i'm at y'all bc ive been pretty excited about who i'm becoming bc i'm actively working on my spirit and who i am thru Christ.

first off - i'm fortunate for past, current and future *pain* bc it's brought me many blessings and will continue to bring me more.. just watch. it's just all about perspective and mines slowly but surely turning around! 💕 pain is a blessing bc without it we wouldn't know joy & we wouldn't be able to help others with similar problems!! i def struggle with my own share of health issues, a lot more at 31 than i ever wanted to have but i gotta be realistic about it: i treated my mind, body and spirit like a trash can off and on for the better part of a decade, i have trauma that i wouldn't dive into - like for real, for real - until 2 years ago or so bc i kept wanting to mask it. all that did was make it fester and then i projected it on others so what should i expect you know?? i used to complain constantly that 'life is not fair' and until very recently, i couldn't turn that around in my head and look at it positively .. like I AM ACTUALLY GLAD it's not bc if it was fair then i should have died yearssss ago.. one way or another esp if you look at it from a scientific standpoint. i may not know what my purpose is in life y'all but it's not my job to figure that out, it's my job to trust The Lord and His plan for me even if it doesn't always make sense to me. He is a God beyond my understanding and letting Him run the show makes life a lot better. we're not meant to have it easy but we weren't designed to make it so hard on ourselves or others either. He provides us the tools, it's just a matter of if we choose to use them or not. we all struggle so let's help each other out but the right thing is usually not the easy one so be proud of yourself when you make good decisions, no matter how small. the small things become big things; choices become habits -- that can be good or bad so make it a good thing 😘

one main problem i've always struggled with is consistency, esp when it comes to obeying The Lord. i am finally aware that my behavior does NOT affect Gods love for me bc He's an unconditional, loving God but my behavior dictates how much easier or harder life becomes for me.. and it's a daily thing y'all but it is for a lot of people, not just me. i just know that when i impulsively react to somebody or something, my

m o u t h is the first to go 😬😏SOOOO now im pretty good at waiting it out and if i think the same thing 2 mins later or so, you bet i'm gonna say it bc i'm blunt like that and i don't care to sugarcoat my thoughts BUT i also don't have to be hateful/disrespectful about it.. so that's been a turn around, for sure! �� most people have a filter and i seem to lack one so i'm trying to develop one.. haha, it's funny but it's not at the same time.. actually it's been quite debilitating, really. my impulsivity and my mouth have burnt a lot of bridges in my life. not everybody or everything deserves a reaction and i don't need to waste my energy on things that arent my business -- and huge surprise here guys -- there is a LOT of stuff that is not my business so i take my nose out of it now 😜. i thrived off the drama and chaos for so long bc i didn't wanna look inward at myself and work on what was actually wrong -- which was me and my spirit. i am blessed for awareness and personal perspective.. it is everything.

ive been going back to AA and someone mentioned that theyve been praying for people that they have issues with, don't like or whatever the case may be and it's been helping them change their reaction/perspective towards that individual. at the end of the day, people are gonna do what they're gonna do but the way i choose to respond to it says everything about me, not them. that's why i love "The Four Agreements" book so much -- seriously life changing bc it's helped me realized that like i had so much displaced anger for so long and made it about everybody else and "what they did to me" , how "i'm not like everybody else", "why do they have a career / family / house and i don't?" WHATEVERRRR blah blah blah 😑 when at the end of the day, it had nothing to do with them. i was unhappy with myself, pissed that i got "cursed" with alcoholism and depression, sleep issues, etc. so instead of looking at it my difficulties as strengths and blessings, i had my own definition of what successful, happy people looked like or what they had and i was straight up mad and jealous of y'all. like how dare y'all have it so easy, right?! 🙄 omg hahaha how delusional is that!!! NOBODY has it easy!!! we all have something man and just because others may not see it doesn't mean it's not there!!!

"be kind.. for we are all fighting a battle others know nothing about." amen!!

my life has turned out to be nothinggggg of what i thought it was gonna be .. and i'm at a place of acceptance about it now and what a blessing it is to feel at peace more often than not. i think the real definition of serenity is when you stop wishing you had a different past and appreciate what God trusted you to go thru bc He knew Y O U could handle it 🥰

my alcoholism has about damn killed me but i'm resilient and ive been able to help others who battle my demon too; my depression has helped me understand deep sadness and how not running away or being scared of somebody bc of that can really change another persons life for the better.. one conversation can literally save somebody's life so don't underestimate what it means when someone disabled from depresssion reaches out to you bc you could be a life changer to them, i know this from experience. sleep issues suck but i've had a lot of deep, thought provoking conversations at 3a, ill tell ya that! but lately i sleep better bc i'm getting the garbage out of my soul and giving myself some grace. i'm blessed to not hold on to people who left me during my darkest hour bc they weren't meant to see me grow and to take part in my joy now.. it's all how you look at it!! i tried holding on to soooo many people for so long and now i just feel free of that negativity .. and i'm sure some people feel the same about me these last few years.. i was very toxic to some people so they were right to let me go as well. there's always two sides to everything y'all -- like be blessed for those who have let you down!! now you have room for people who are loyal and worth your damn time!! but as i just mentioned, i had to look in the mirror though and humble myself bc at one point or another, i was "that person" on more than one occasion that let somebody down and perspective on that is key to moving forward and not hurting somebody like that again. hurt people hurt people and i was the queen of that. when i get what i feel is a proper amount of time under my belt, i have so many amends to make that its quite.. sick, really. in the 5 years i've been in and out of AA, ive only been told to F off and/or burn in hell twice after trying to make an amends so that's better than i deserve lol most have been receptive of my amends but this will be the second round for some of those same people and i don't expect the same forgiveness i got the first time bc i don't deserve it. i'll also be frank with you .. some people i don't want to make amends to bc i don't feel they deserve it so clearly i still have work to do on my heart and hopefully thru the program and in time, i will feel differently but right now that's honestly how i feel.

to sum it all up, here are some things that help me:

-if you have to hide it, don't do it. -chaos always proceeds change.

-people will treat you with as much respect as you show yourself (thank you Lord for helping me with this one!!)

-validation may come from other people but that's just temporary. if you ain't happy in YOUR heart, with who YOU are.. check your morals and standards my dear! it doesn't matter if the entire world thinks you're great -- you need to KNOW & BELIEVE you are and that begins with the belief system you set for yourself!

- the saying "one foot in front of the other" goes a long way.. act blessed and you'll become blessed; no matter how stupid it sounds in your head, talk kindly to yourself until you believe it -- affirmations work, i swear!!! most importantly, show others grace so you'll eventually show yourself some 💕

i am a sinner but i am not my mistakes. my alcoholic demon is strong but God is stronger.. and thru Him, so am i. without my community from TN to NC to GA, my friends, my family of choice, my medical team and The Lord God, id be an empty shell of a person still at the bottom of a bottle at all hours of the day wanting to die every second i was breathing.. yes, it got that bad more times than i can count so THANK YOU to everyone who has given a shit about me and this crazy life i've had!!! once i realized that roughly 10% of my life is whats happened to me and came to accept that 90% of my life were problems that i created myself, was when i was able to become grateful for all the problems i DONT have & blessed that although some bridges are forever burned, there are many that are not!!! if i continue to act right, i have beautiful opportunities to improve myself and my relationships, the most important one being with God.

i know ive got some haters but i don't view them as enemies anymore bc i don't like harboring anger in my heart anymore .. it doesn't feel good and it only speaks to my own personal insecurity when i've talked poorly of somebody in the past. ive never quoted tupac in my life but there's a first time for everything 🤣 "i want you to eat, just not at my table." to the people i don't like and to those that don't like me, let's pray for each other. everybody deserves happiness and to thrive in their own way.. i'm not gonna be apart of some people's lives and BOTH of us are better because of it! God, i loveeee acceptance!!!! 🙌

above all.. do & be YOU, boo boo!

if it matters any, i think you're pretty great! 😋😙

as alwaysss, much love from knox & prayers to friends in mid tenn!! hope everyone is safe!! 🙏

xoxo

kels