#he's living in a converted office space and only knows about food from getting it from a cafeteria and/or eating dead bodies

[blueish-bird]

I'll make the character as introspective and poetic as I want but I will respect that in canon they probably don't know what a whisk is

[pftones3482]

Sometimes Stupid

Commission for @randomfandomfan from one of their many prompts they gave me. Took forever bc of work and life and also???? Now I have a cat??? So that's fun. But this was fun to write. Read it here on AO3

Set post TLO and pre HOO (and a little bit post HOO). Under a cut for length.

~~

Contrary to popular belief, Leo Valdez was not stupid.

He was an idiot, at times – for instance, maybe running away from his seventh (fifteenth? He’d really lost track at this point) foster home wasn’t the best decision he could have made, especially given that it was the middle of summer and oh, also, hurricane season. And okay, maybe he should’ve taken more with him than a single change of clothes, a box of Ritz crackers, a pocketknife, and a water bottle that had definitely seen better days, but he was in a rush, okay?

But he wasn’t stupid.

When he ran away from his foster homes, Leo tended to stay away from people where he could. And if he had to be around them, he cleaned up, smiled brightly, “Yes ma’am”ed and “Yes’sir”ed to an obnoxious point, and lied his pants off. People were less likely to call the police on a Hispanic kid if they thought he was just a darling little angel waiting for mom at the grocery store, and the last thing he needed was the cops in his business.

Not that it hadn’t happened, of course. He’d dealt with cops of all kinds – nice cops, bad cops, black cops, white cops (WAY too many of those, in his opinion), the occasional cop who would speak Spanish with him, cops who were just there to write a report and move on with their days – cops.

He tried to stay away from them.

Which meant sticking to beaches and forests, lakes and campgrounds, middle of nowhere places with no people for miles. Leo was good at disappearing. Hiding.

But there were always times when he needed an adult. When he needed to hitchhike, or when he needed food to the point of near passing out. Once for serious medical attention. There was a system to what adults you could trust.

Never cops. You could never trust the cops, no matter what naïve white parents thought. Leo had been in cuffs enough to know that was false.

You also couldn’t usually trust priests. They meant well, sure, but they always ended up calling the authorities in the end. That, or they tried to convert Leo to Catholicism, and while one of those encounters had ended with a swiped bottle of watered-down red wine and a night that made him vow to never drink again, he wasn’t trying to contact the church.

(THAT night, Leo would say he had been stupid. He could admit that)

Homeless people were usually okay. While a lot of them were very suspicious of everyone, almost every homeless person he’d ever met would point him in the direction of food, water, free showers, free clothes, or a library (his saving grace during the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter). The times when he came across gay homeless people were when he felt safest – they especially never pressed him about his background. Ironic, really, that he felt safer with strangers on the street than his foster homes.

Moms were sometimes okay. Especially if they were Hispanic, or black, or just anything but white. They, at least, wouldn’t call the cops on him. But they were also hit or miss – sometimes they helped in way of a meal, or a new bottle of water. One mom even took him to the store and got him new socks and underwear (he had cried that night). But other moms rushed him away from their precious babies. Some moms called him ungrateful for the “space he had.”

Dads were a never. Leo never went to men if he could help it, even if they had children with them. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and that wasn’t very far.

But it was hurricane season. And he was on the coast. And it was downpouring, and he was starving, and the only people he had seen for miles were a white couple, a man and a woman, standing on the porch of a somewhat rundown shack that Leo would’ve probably thought was abandoned if he hadn’t seen them there.

The man was tall, peppered hair that was shifting more to salt, with a rough beard and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. The woman at his side was short, probably Leo’s height, with dark curly hair and vibrantly blue eyes. It was streaked with gray, but she was, admittedly, a very pretty woman. Something about her smile put Leo at ease.

He clutched his backpack tighter in his fist and stumbled over the sand towards the shack, ankles rolling uncomfortably on the wet ground. He was sure he looked atrocious, sure that the moment they spotted him, they’d shriek and cuss him out and lock the door.

But then he coughed, hard, his shoulders shaking, and the woman whipped her head around. He watched her eyes widen, watched her tug at the man’s sleeve, and then she was bolting – barefoot, Leo noticed – down the steps and over to him.

He flinched when she wrapped an arm over his shoulders, jolting out of her grip more from habit than anything else. She froze, holding both hands up and relaxing her stance. “Hey, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Somewhere deep down, Leo’s brain was scoffing at the patronizing words. But on the surface, he focused on the words, and then sharpened his eyes onto the man as he approached, phone in hand. “I-I c-can’t-”

The woman looked back, down at the phone, and her shoulders stiffened. “Paul, put the phone away, please.”

Her voice held an intonation that Leo couldn’t decipher, but the man – Paul – instantly shut the phone off and pocketed it. The moment it was gone, Leo let his shoulders loosen, and he looked at the woman anxiously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just…”

“Hey.”

Her arm was more cautious this time, sliding around Leo’s shoulders with a pace that would let him move if he wanted. He didn’t, just let it happen, and then the woman was easing him over the sticky sand and up the steps of the shack, Paul close behind them. He stopped at the door, pushing back hard against the woman’s guiding grip. “I don’t want to ruin your house,” he managed.

The woman’s laugh was…well, to be perfectly honest, it made Leo feel warm. Like she could never hurt him.

Those are usually the most dangerous people, his mind tried to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a rental cabin. Besides, I’ve had far worse than a little sand and water on my floors before.”

Before he could wonder at that sentence, she opened the door and nudged him inside. The second that Paul closed the door, the sound of the wind died down and the chill in the air evaporated. Leo realized he was shivering.

The woman’s hands were warm on his cheeks. “My name is Sally, hon. You are-?”

He usually gave a fake name, but – “Leo, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me,” she scoffed, her voice easy as she helped Leo to the couch. “I’m not that old, am I Paul?”

Paul put his hands up. “I abstain from answering.”

Sally scoffed and pressed a cool hand on Leo’s forehead. “Can I take your backpack, sweetheart?”

Something like panic flared in Leo’s chest, and Sally must have seen it, because she pulled her hand back and held it up. “I’m not moving it far, I just want Paul to dry everything out for you, okay?”

Fingers shaking, Leo shrugged off his bag – the one he’d been carrying for nearly three states – and passed it over to her. She took it like it was a priceless artifact, and handed it to Paul with more tenderness than Leo had ever seen given to an inanimate object. “I think my son might have left some clothes here while he was with us last week,” she said, voice soft. “He’s a little older than you, so some things might be big, but is it okay if we give you some of his clothes while we dry out yours?”

Leo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Um. Yeah.”

She stood up and left with Paul, giving Leo a moment to be alone and take in the cabin around him.

It was old, but obviously well taken care of, with weathered planks of wood gracing the walls and the floor. He was in the living room, full of mismatched couches and chairs and a bookshelf stacked full of books and games. He didn’t see a TV in sight, but he wasn’t expecting to find one. He stood shakily, suddenly very aware of how wet he was getting the couch, and wrapped his arms around himself as he explored the rest of the main room.

The kitchen was small and cramped, but he could smell something full of tomatoes and spices in the oven that made his tastebuds water. He didn’t dare look for fear of getting caught, so he stepped away and into the tiny dining area. There was sand on the floor, spread thin and fine, and it was such a small thing, but it made Leo relax even more – Sally meant it when she said she didn’t care about him ruining her floors.

But she and Paul had been gone for a while, and Leo wasn’t stupid, okay? It didn’t matter how well intentioned someone was, they always thought they knew better, and if they were gone too long, it meant they were trying to decide for him. So he crept towards the hallway they’d vanished to, praying that he didn’t step on a squeaky board. Old homes always had them in the most inconvenient places.

“-not answering?” he picked up Paul’s voice saying.

“No,” Sally said, a sigh in her voice. “He did say he and Annabeth were on a date, but I didn’t expect them to be in Paris of all places. How did they even-?”

“Can you get ahold of Chiron?”

Not the police, then, Leo reasoned, unless they knew an officer by that name. He leaned a little closer.

“No – I try not to call the camp unless I need to. Phone lines and all that, you know?”

Paul huffed. “I know. And Rachel is at art camp, right?”

“Yup,” Sally said, and Leo heard a sound like a blowing raspberry. “He clearly isn’t aware of anything, Paul. He’s terrified.”

“Probably a runaway,” Paul hummed, and Leo flinched at the damning statement. “Met a couple kids like that teaching.”

He looked like a teacher. You couldn’t trust most teachers either, Leo had learned. They were just like priests. Tried their best, but they always inevitably called someone.

“What did you do? Who did you call?” Sally asked, and Leo stiffened. Here it comes, his brain taunted.

“No one,” Paul said.

Leo blinked, taking a slight step back. What?

“Kids don’t run away for no reason, Sal. Especially not kids like him. Perce taught me that. I mean, maybe in my early days of teaching, I might have called the authorities, but ever since this summer I…how could I risk that? Even before then, I mean…the stories I’ve heard from some of these kids I’ve talked to. We don’t know anything about him. If he ran away, all this way, in this weather? It was bad, love.”

Leo’s throat ached.

He’d never, the whole time he’d been in foster care, ever heard an adult admit that they were wrong to call the authorities on him. Never heard an adult take his perspective into account, especially without even knowing him. Never had an adult admit that his life could be anything other than ideal.

He took another step back and oh shit, there it was, the cursed piece of wood in every old house to ever exist. He cussed under his breath and ducked his head as Sally stepped into the hallway. He refused to look up at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were just gone for a while a-and I thought you might be calling someone.”

No verbal response. Instead, a soft bundle of fabric was pressed into Leo’s hands. He startled, gripping onto the clothing, and looked up at Sally and Paul with wide eyes. Paul shook his head. “We’re not calling anyone, son. Not if you don’t want us to. But we do ask that you get cleaned up, before you catch pneumonia.”

Sally tilted her head towards the door across the hall. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer. Paul was just finishing up dinner when you came along. Do you like lasagna?”

Leo’s mouth watered at the thought of eating any kind of food that wasn’t stale crackers and canned tuna. “Yes ma’am.”

“What’d I say about that ma’am nonsense?” Sally scolded.

Leo ducked his head, trying to press down the tears. “Yes, miss,” he chuckled.

Sally laughed as Paul headed for the kitchen. “It’s a start, love.”

~~

Sally’s son’s clothes were soft, well loved. They smelled like sea water and lavender detergent, and though the t-shirt was a gaudy orange with letters so faded that Leo couldn’t read them, he sank into the fabric with a sigh. Sally had also passed him a pair of sweatpants, and Leo hoped that her son wouldn’t be mad if he ever found out that some random foster kid had borrowed them.

If he was anything like Sally, though, Leo had the feeling he’d like him.

His hair was still wet, but this time from a shower, and Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to stand under an actual stream of hot water without people literally timing him to make sure he didn’t take too long. He stood in front of the mirror, sighing a little at how skinny he’d gotten. He’d always been small – being skinny only made him more of a punching bag for the bigger foster kids. His hair, untamed from weeks of running, hung in his eyes, and he wondered briefly if Sally might have a hair tie he could borrow.

He left the bathroom and crept into the dining room, where Sally was setting the table and Paul was pulling one of the most beautiful lasagnas he’d ever seen out of the oven.

“-texted me, said they’d be back tomorrow morning. He offered to come back sooner,” Sally was saying as Leo stood in the doorway, “but I know he and ‘beth haven’t really gotten to go on any non-monstrous dates recently.”

She blinked when she saw him standing there, and her smile softened into something warm and inviting. “Come on, hon. Paul was just getting dinner out.”

Maybe it was the malnourishment, or Paul’s cooking skills, or Leo’s exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but Leo had never tasted such good Italian food in his life. He downed one, two, three pieces and a full salad before he finally slowed down. To his relief, neither Paul nor Sally gave him any grief about how many pieces he took. Honestly, he thought he watched Paul actively make his slices bigger than theirs.

They’d clearly been talking about their son when he came in the room. This guy was in Paris, on a date with his girlfriend, and he was coming back tomorrow. Leo wondered just how rich this family was – the dad was a teacher, but Sally hadn’t said what she did, and Leo was a little afraid to ask.

When Paul brought out a pie for dessert, Leo almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any dessert fancier than a stolen Ding Dong from a corner store. Paul definitely gave him a larger slice than them, and as he ate it, Sally poked at her own pie.

“Leo, we’re not going to pry,” she started, gentle. “Your story is yours, and I know how tricky it can be to share yourself and your past with new people.”

The sad smile Paul shot her didn’t go unnoticed by Leo, and he internally bristled at the thought that this wonderful mom in front of him could understand anything about how he felt, because that meant that she’d gone through shit she didn’t deserve. He said nothing, though, just nodded.

Sally eyed her pie thoughtfully, stabbing a blackberry that had escaped the crust. “But I feel like…well, I feel as though my son especially can relate to how you’re feeling, or at least some of it. If you’d be willing to wait for him to come home, maybe we can figure some things out together.”

Leo felt lost. He’d been lost a lot before, but this was the first time it was mental and not physical. “What?”

Sally looked up, seeming to realize that she’d baffled him. “I mean…”

She looked at Paul, and Leo looked between the two of them, tightening his grip on his fork. They were having a silent conversation. Leo hated when adults did that. “You mean you want to wait until I’m asleep so you can call the cops o-or foster services or-or just wait until your son gets back so he can tell me to get out.”

He shoved his chair back from the table, tears prickling at his eyes. Every time. Every time. He always got his hopes up, always thought he’d found the perfect people, people who got it, and every fucking time, he-

Hands settled on his shoulders, and he ripped away, scowling at Sally. Her eyes were sad, and Leo felt an unwelcome stab of guilt in his chest. “That is not what we were suggesting, ever, honey. I would never call foster services, first of all. They’re atrocious, especially for kids of color.”

Leo jolted back. He’d never had a white woman actively acknowledge his race so bluntly before – it was usually partnered with some demeaning comment about “his kind” of people. He eyed Sally warily.

She lowered her hands, keeping them on her hips where he could see them. “Second, I’d never call the police either. You’re not a problem, and my son has had enough unfortunate encounters with them for me to…distrust them severely, to say the least.”

Her son had-?

“I just…we know a place. Where you would genuinely be safe, hon. No foster homes, no cops, with people who get it.”

She was lying. She had to be lying, no matter what Leo’s heart said. But she wasn’t going to let this go, and he knew it. So he sighed, fidgeted with his fingers. He wished he had something to build. “Okay. I’ll wait for your son to get home.”

Sally relaxed, and Leo gave her a thin smile.

He helped her and Paul clean up the kitchen, put away the leftover lasagna. Sat with them and did a puzzle, played a game of Clue with them. Fixed their radio for them, much to their surprise, and then watched with a small smile on his face as Paul and Sally danced around the living room together. They tried to get him to join, but he’d never been much of a dancer, so he declined.

They bid him goodnight around 11, and he shut the door of their son’s room, let the hours tick on.

At three am, he got up, changed back into his own clothes, left the borrowed ones folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He took a flashlight from the bedside table and slid it into his backpack, stepped out of the bedroom and avoided the squeaky floorboard.

The tool kit from fixing the radio was still on the coffee table, and he picked it up with only the slightest feelings of guilt. Went through the cabinets and pulled out sleeves of crackers, a box of granola, eyed the leftover lasagna with a sad gaze. He found a roll of toilet paper under the sink, a bottle of hand sanitizer in a junk drawer.

He paused by the game of Clue, left out on the table from their match, and let his fingers trace over it sadly. His gut screamed at him to leave. His heart screamed at him to stay. He wasn’t stupid.

Leo had always trusted his gut.

He pocketed the candlestick piece and turned for the door, flinching the second his eyes landed on Sally.

Her hair was done up in a braid, her pajamas wrinkled, and the moon shining through the window reflected the sadness in her eyes. Leo opened his mouth, but couldn’t find it in him to speak – the lump was back.

She stepped forward and he shut his eyes, expecting a lecture. Instead, her hand cupped his cheek. Her other hand pressed into his, and he gasped as he felt the telltale touch of money in his fingers. He looked down at the wad of cash – he couldn’t see how much it was, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He looked up at her, panicking. “I can’t-”

“Stay, I know,” she whispered, and that wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, and he knew that she knew that. “I understand, Leo. I understand, sweetie.”

The sob slipped out before he could stop it, and Sally’s eyes softened. She bent at the hip, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “When you end up meeting my son,” she murmured, “come visit, okay?”

Leo had no idea what that meant, but he nodded, if only to appease her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Be safe.”

Sally watched him go, watched him shut the door behind him, and he looked down at the money in his hands with a choked feeling in his chest. It was more than he’d held in his entire life. He couldn’t take it, but he knew she’d be upset if he didn’t. And if there was one thing Leo refused to do, it was make Sally more upset than he already had.

So he pocketed it and, with an aching heart, stepped off the porch of the cabin. The storm from earlier had died down, and, fingers tight on his backpack straps, he started making his way up the beach.

~~

Percy was bouncing up and down at the entrance to Camp Half Blood, fingers curled around Annabeth’s hand. “Do I look okay?” he asked for probably the thousandth time that morning.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Percy, it’s your mom. She doesn’t care what you look like.”

Percy shot her a mock glare. “I haven’t seen her in over a year, McClean, sue me.”

“You look fine, Perce,” Annabeth laughed, kissing his cheek. “She’s gonna mostly care that you’re alive.”

“Okay but this tattoo-”

“Sorry, you vanished on me for over a year, crossed the globe, and you got a TATTOO?” came a very scolding, very obviously Mom Voice, and Leo snickered, turning to see who was about to absolutely whoop Percy’s ass.

And he stumbled on his own feet, lips parting as Sally (Sally Jackson, his unhelpful brain mocked) appeared at the top of the hill. Her hair was a little grayer than it had been when Leo met her, her hips a little wider, but her smile was the same, her laugh as Percy launched himself at her the same peal of delight Leo remembered on his toughest nights, and when she caught his eye over Percy’s shoulder, her smile only widened.

Okay, so sometimes Leo Valdez was kind of stupid.

[maandarinee]

what are all the podcasts you listen to?

anon I'm so glad you asked

Since it is a pretty long list including synopses (stolen from the podcast feed or website because I'm Bad at summaries and in some cases it's been a while since I listened) I'm going to put it under a cut.

I've separated the list into "Complete" (either finished or cancelled) and "Ongoing" podcasts. Some have additional comments by me. Current favorites are marked orange. My eternal beloved are Our Fair City and Wolf 359.

Complete

ars PARADOXICA: "When an experiment in a time much like our own goes horribly awry, Dr. Sally Grissom finds herself stranded in the past and entrenched in the activities of a clandestine branch of the US government. Grissom and her team quickly learn that there's no safety net when toying with the fundamental logic of the universe."

Blackwood: "Five years ago, Molly Weaver, Bryan Anderson, and Nathan Howell started a podcast focused on the local legend of a monster called The Blackwood Bugman. Quickly, the investigation grew out of their control, as they discovered that, not only are the legends seemingly true, many people in Blackwood have turned up dead or disappeared without a trace." --> [this feels like the Blair With Project, but as a podcast. Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

Dreamboy: "Dane, a spun-out musician spending the winter in Cleveland, Ohio, has two main goals: keeping his job at the Pepper Heights Zoo and trying not to waste all his time on Grindr. What he doesn’t expect is to get swept into a story about dreams, about forevers, about flickering lights, about unexplained deaths, about relentless change, and about the parts of ourselves that we wish other people knew to look for. Oh, and also a murderous zebra." --> [very NSFW; does cool things with music! Didn't get a second season due to no funding, but it works as a standalone]

King Fall AM: "...centers on a lonely little mountain town's late-night AM talk radio show and its paranormal, peculiar happenings and inhabitants." --> [cancelled after 100 episodes, ends on a huge cliffhanger]

Our Fair City: "A campy, post-apocalyptic audio drama." --> [I know the description sounds like nothing but just trust me, I love it so much]

Steal the Stars: "...is a gripping noir science fiction thriller in 14 episodes: Forbidden love, a crashed UFO, an alien body, and an impossible heist unlike any ever attempted."

Stellar Firma: "...a weekly Science Fiction, Comedy podcast following the misadventures of Stellar Firma Ltd.'s highest born but lowest achieving planetary designer Trexel Geistman and his bewildered clone assistant David 7. Join them each episode as they attempt to take listener submissions and craft them into the galaxy's most luxurious, most expensive and most questionably designed bespoke planets. However, with Trexel's corporate shark of a line manager Hartro Piltz breathing down their necks and I.M.O.G.E.N., the station's omnipresent and omniinvasive stationwide A.I. monitoring those necks to within 3 decimal places, they'll be lucky to make it a week before being slurried and recycled into raw human resources." --> [semi-improvised, I thought I'd have a problem with the improv bit because that's not usually my thing, but no, I absolutely devoured this]

TANIS: "...is a serialized docudrama about a fascinating and surprising mystery: the myth of Tanis. Tanis is an exploration of the nature of truth, conspiracy, and information. Tanis is what happens when the lines of science and fiction start to blur." [+ spinoff The Last Movie] --> [I have no clue what the hell is going on here]

The Black Tapes: "...is a serialized docudrama about one journalist's searc for truth, her enigmatic subject's mysterious past, and the literal and figurative ghosts that haunt them both."

The Magnus Archives: "...is a weekly horror fiction anthology podcast examining what lurks in the archives of the Magnus Institute, an organisation dedicated to researching the esoteric and the weird. Join new head archivist Jonathan Sims as he attempts to bring a seemingly neglected collection of supernatural statements up to date, converting them to audio and supplementing them with follow-up work from his small but dedicated team. Individually, they are unsettling. Together they begin to form a picture that is truly horrifying because as they look into the depths of the archives, something starts to look back…"

Time:Bombs: "...a new audio drama podcast about the hilarious world of bomb disposal. Ride along with EOD technician Simon Teller on the busiest night of the year for him and his team - when business is, quite literally, booming."

Wolf 359: "Life's not easy for Doug Eiffel, the communications officer for the U.S.S. Hephaestus Research Station, currently on Day 448 of its orbit around red dwarf star Wolf 359. He's stuck on a scientific survey mission of indeterminate length, 7.8 light years from Earth. His only company on board the station are stern mission chief Minkowski, insane science officer Hilbert, and Hephaestus Station's sentient, often malfunctioning operating system Hera. He doesn't have much to do for his job other than monitoring static and intercepting the occasional decades-old radio broadcast from Earth, so he spends most of his time creating extensive audio logs about the ordinary, day-to-day happenings within the station. But the Hephaestus is an odd place, and life in extremely isolated, zero gravity conditions has a way of doing funny things to people's minds. Even the simplest of tasks can turn into a gargantuan struggle, and the most ordinary-seeming things have a way of turning into anything but that." --> [starts funny, turns very intense]

Ongoing

Alba Salix, Roya Physician (+ The Axe & Crown): "A witch, her apprentice, and her fairy herbalist treat the ills of a fairy-tale kingdom." + "Gubbin the troll tavernkeeper deals with his clueless new landlord, his shady niece, and some new competition."

Archive 81: "A found footage horror podcast about ritual, stories, and sound."

Arden: "A (fictional) true crime podcast about cold cases and the reporter and detective who try to solve them."

Brimstone Valley Mall: "The year is 1999. Lurking somewhere between Hot Topic and the food court, five misfit demons from Hell kill time inciting sin in a suburban shopping mall. When the lead singer of their band goes mysteriously missing, the demons only have two weeks to find him before they play the biggest gig of the millennium - or face the wrath of Satan herself."

CARAVAN: "First rule of Wound Canyon: No one who gets in, ever gets out. So when a brilliant, ghostly specter flies through the sky amid the rain and lightning, Samir stumbles off a steep cliff and into a hidden world, one in which demons, vampires, and all other manner of paranormal creatures take sanctuary." --> [also pretty NSFW and horny in general]

Death by Dying: "The Obituary Writer of Crestfall, Idaho finds himself deeply in over his head as he investigates a series of strange and mysterious deaths… when he is supposed to simply be writing obituaries. Along the way he encounters murderous farmers, man-eating cats, haunted bicycles, and a healthy dose of ominous shadows." --> [I had to stop listening to this in public because it kept making me undignified laugh and snort noises]

Desperado: "Blood magic, Voodoo magic, old gods, new gods: We've got it all! Follow the story of misfits from all over the world, as they try to survive and protect their heritage from modern-day crusaders."

EOS 10: "Doctors in space, a deposed alien prince, a super gay space pirate and a fiery nurse who'll help you win your bar fight."

Girl In Space: "Abandoned on a dying ship in the farthest reaches of known space, a young scientist fights for survival (and patience with the on-board A.I.). Who is she? No one knows. But a lot of dangerous entities really want to find out. Listen as the story unfolds for science, guns, trust, anti-matter, truth, beauty, inner turmoil, and delicious cheeses. It’s all here. In space."

Janus Descending: "...follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place. Told from two alternating perspectives, Janus Descending is an experience of crossing timelines, as one character describes the nightmare from end to beginning, and the other, from beginning to the end." --> [absolutely harrowing horror]

Love and Luck: "...is a fictional radio play podcast, told via voicemails and set in present day Melbourne, Australia. A slice of life queer romance story with a touch of magic, it follows the relationship between two men, Jason and Kane, as their love grows both for each other and their community." --> [soft and gay, feels like a warm hug]

Potterless: "Join Mike Schubert, a grown man reading the Harry Potter series for the first time, as he sits down with HP fanatics to poke fun at plot holes, make painfully incorrect predictions, and bask in the sassiness of the characters." --> [the only non-fiction podcast on the list]

Primordial Deep: "When a long extinct sea creature washes up on the shores of Coney Island, marine biologist Dr. Marella Morgan is contacted by a secret organization to investigate the origins of the creature’s sudden and unnatural resurgence. Soon, she and a team of experts find themselves living on the research station The Tiamat, traveling along the abyssal plains as they search for answers far below the waves. But there are dangers in these ancient waters. Reawakened, prehistoric monsters are rising from the deep -- jaws wide and waiting, and in the darkness, something is stirring."

Red Valley: "No one at Overhead Industries wants to talk about defunct research station Red Valley, and account man Warren Godby is out of his depth. When he meets Gordon Porlock, a disgruntled archivist with a bag of tapes from the station’s last known occupant, they will begin a journey to the limits of experimental science, confront horror and trauma from the past, present and future, and try to remember the cheat codes from Sonic the Hedgehog 2."

Rusty Quill Gaming: "An actual play podcast following a mixed ability group of comedians, improvisers, gamers, and writers as they play through the extended, tabletop roleplaying campaign Erasing the Line, an original game world of the GM’s crafting." --> [took me a while to get into because I have trouble focusing on non-scripted things, but eventually I got really hooked on the plot and attached to the characters. This podcast is really fucked up at times if you think about it]

SAYER: "A narrative fiction podcast set on Earth’s man-made second moon, Typhon. The eponymous SAYER is a highly advanced, self-aware AI created to help acclimate new residents to their new lives, and their new employment with Ærolith Dynamics." --> [feels like Welcome to Night Vale but narrated by GLaDOS from Portal]

StarTripper!!: "Join Feston Pyxis on a road-trip through the cosmos, as he leaves behind his old life in search of the best and wildest experiences the galaxy has to offer!"

The Amelia Project: "...is a secret agency that fakes its clients' deaths, then lets them reappear with a brand new identity! A black comedy full of secrets, twists... and cocoa."

The Big Loop: "...a biweekly anthology series. Each episode is a self-contained narrative exploring the strange, the wonderful, the terrifying, and the heartbreaking. Stories of finite beings in an infinite universe." --> [I don't like anthologies, except this one]

The Bright Sessions: "Dr. Bright provides therapy for the strange and unusual; their sessions have been recorded for research purposes." --> [think X-Men, but with therapy instead of a school]

The Deca Tapes: "Recordings have surfaced of ten people that are locked into the same space together. We don’t know where they are, or if they'll get out. But the answers must be somewhere on these tapes."

The Silt Verses: "Carpenter and Faulkner, two worshippers of an outlawed god, travel up the length of their deity’s great black river, searching for holy revelations. As their pilgrimage lengthens and the river’s mysteries deepen, the two acolytes find themselves under threat from a police manhunt, but also come into conflict with the weirder gods that have flourished in these forgotten rural territories."

The White Vault: "Follow the collected records of a repair team sent to Outpost Fristed in the vast white wastes of Svalbard and unravel what lies waiting in the ice below."

Tides: "...is the story of Dr. Winifred Eurus, a xenobiologist trapped on an unfamiliar planet with hostile tidal forces. She must use her wits, sarcasm and intellectual curiosity to survive long enough to be rescued. But there might be more to life on this planet than she expected." --> [think The Martian, but on a water planet]

Unwell, a Midwestern Gothic Mystery: "Lillian Harper moves to the small town of Mt. Absalom, Ohio, to care for her estranged mother Dorothy after an injury. Living in the town's boarding house which has been run by her family for generations, she discovers conspiracies, ghosts, and a new family in the house's strange assortment of residents."

VAST Horizon: "Nolira is an agronomist tasked with establishing agriculture in a new solar system, but when she wakes up on a now- empty colony ship, the whole of her plan disappears. The ship has been set adrift, with numerous mission-critical problems requiring immediate attendance outside of her area of expertise. Nolira is aided by the ship’s malfunctioning AI, which acts as her confidant and companion during the fight for survival."

Victoriocity: "Even Greater London, 1887. In this vast metropolis, Inspector Archibald Fleet and journalist Clara Entwhistle investigate a murder, only to find themselves at the centre of a conspiracy of impossible proportions."

We Fix Space Junk: "...follows seasoned smuggler Kilner and reluctant fugitive Samantha as they travel the galaxy, dodging bullets and meeting strange and wonderful beings as they carry out odd jobs on the fringes of the law."

Welcome to Night Vale: "Twice-monthly community updates for the small desert town of Night Vale, where every conspiracy theory is true. Turn on your radio and hide."

Within the Wires: "Stories told through found audio from an alternate universe."

Wooden Overcoats: "Rudyard Funn and his equally miserable sister Antigone run their family's failing funeral parlour, where they get the body in the coffin in the ground on time. But one day they find everyone enjoying themselves at the funerals of a new competitor - the impossibly perfect Eric Chapman! With their dogsbody Georgie, and a mouse called Madeleine, the Funns are taking drastic steps to stay in the business…" --> [one of THE funniest podcasts I have ever listened to]

[vanmccannonlyfans]

Cocoon

part i.

But in hell, there was relief in the utter helplessness. Here, your actions had both consequences for yourself, and others. You weren’t sure which was worse.

“How do you have so many of these?!”

Alicia had 10s of boxes of tests in her suitcase, as if they were hotel shampoo bottles or restaurant breath mints. The pink floral branding stuck out against the sea of black leather and denim that comprised her wardrobe.

“Get em in bulk on amazon, cheaper that way and saves me a trip to the store.” As if bulk buying pregnancy tests was as casual as ordering toothpaste or tampons.

You moved to the bathroom to take the test, stepping over used towels strewn across the floor. You were glad you were doing this in a place so impersonal, however uncomfortable. Whatever the outcome, good or bad, you would be able to leave without any memories tainting the space, never to return and have to relive the feeling. If this was your bathroom at home, you’d be reminded every time you had to go.

Alicia camped in front of the mirror, smacking her lips together after every layer of strawberry gloss, the wand alternating between tracing her plump lips and pumping the tube for more product. Leaning against the fake granite hotel counter, she fussed with her raven black bangs and adjusted her top.

“Is it ready yet?” She asked, without averting her eyes from their own contact, her lips now more reflective than the mirror.

“I can’t look..” The room was twisting more than your stomach as you picked up the test, double vision making it impossible to count the number of lines.

Was there just one? Two? How dark does the second one have to be?

“Does this look positive to you?”

Alicia cocked her head at the test, brow furrowed.

“The second line is faint...but it’s there.”

“Fuck,” You exhaled as you fell against the wall, exasperated.

“Didn’t you always want to be parents?”

“Well yes, but...not so soon. We don’t even have a place to live...”

Life on the road was hollow and lonely, even with your best friends. Playing shows every night to strangers who saw you as enigmas, then returning to cold hotel rooms to sleep until the having to get back on the bus or plane for the next event, repeat ad infinitum until you had crossed off a laundry list of places you had stepped foot in but not actually experienced. It all seemed so fun and exciting until you realized that you didn’t know anyone anywhere and were too tired to do things even on days off, and ended up just sleeping the day away and ordering in pizza. It wasn’t a viable situation for raising a child, and hardly sustainable for an otherwise healthy adult.

-

You laid on the scratchy quilted comforter, each tick of the clock intensifying your anxiety, like a bomb about to detonate. Every second brought you closer to confronting a situation that felt neither fully real nor fantasy. Like your whole world depended on what he would think.

The beep of the key card brought you back down to earth from the peaks of your existential dread. You couldn’t wait to be held, comforted, told it was going to be alright, even if neither of you had any idea what to do. His touch was a balm to your aching soul, one that no antidepressant could rival.

Van entered without a word.

“Baby?” You called to him, as if he couldn’t see you.

He remained silent, dropping his guitar case on the ground. After what felt like eons, he looked up toward the window behind you, as if you were invisible.

“I think you should go.” His eyes were sallow, skin dehydrated from all the smokes and shitty fast food and beers every night.

“What?” The single word came out like a croak, your voice evading you. First you couldn’t be seen, now you could hardly be heard, as if you were dissolving from material reality. As if only his acknowledgement made you real. “Van--”

“No,” He cut you off, wiping his nose with the back of his hand, the other on his hip, swiveling him towards the wall. His adams apple rose and fell without a word, bobbing like a buoy on a choppy sea.

“I don’t want to fight about this. I just want you to leave.” He looked down, running a hand through his hair before tucking it under his armpit as if he were chilled.

You were in disbelief. The same man who had invited you to accompany him across the world was discarding you as easily as you had tossed the test that said you were carrying his child into the bin.

“But Van--”

“JUST GO!” He belted, shaking the room with his volume. You had never heard him yell like that, hardly had ever seen him genuinely angry.

You struggled to catch your breath, hot tears erupting from your eyes.

“--I’m pregnant.”

There was a loud crack as Van’s phone hit the wall, leaving a mark.

“STOP LYING!” He thundered, grabbing your shoulders.

He was finally looking into your eyes. His were red and glassy and you could smell the last cigarette on his skin, so much so that you found yourself on the floor throwing up, then running to your suitcase like a wounded animal, then in the brass elevator, then out the lobby and into the street. You weren’t sure where you were going or how you would get there, just that you wanted to be gone.

When your legs finally collapsed from exhaustion, you found yourself out of breath in front of a bodega, simultaneously sweating and shivering from the physical and emotional trauma. You went in to buy a bottle of water and drank it in greedy gulps while scrolling on your phone to take your mind off of your predicament. At the top of your inbox was a flight confirmation, forwarded from the band’s manager. It was a plane ticket back home.

-

The sterile, unfriendly design of airports had always thrilled you. They were an exciting gateway to a new place in the wide world you hadn’t explored much of. You had never even been on a plane before Van had toured outside of the UK. The complete lack of rules and disregard for conventional social norms enchanted you; how strange a place to have bars open at 6am next to designer shops and restaurants more expensive than you had ever eaten in. Van would order bailey’s in your coffee while he had a morning beer, before sneaking tipsy kisses in cheap seats at 42,000 feet.

Now the airport felt like a portal to hell, sucking you back to the place you had escaped from.

You hadn’t told anyone you were coming home, or that you had broken up, or...anything. You hadn’t spoken a word to anyone besides the cab driver who asked which terminal to drop you off at. You weren’t sure who you would tell first, what you would say. If you opened your mouth, nothing would come out. Except maybe some incoherent stuttering and word salad, which fit how you felt inside--both numb and acerbic, cold to the touch but teeming with a pain so primal and acrid it could kill a horse. The water in your stomach felt like it was curdling, and you hoped you could make it through the flight without throwing up.

-

The cab dropped you off on the corner of your parent’s property where the guest house loomed, hardly visible through the gloaming. You fumbled with the key, hoping it hadn’t been changed since the last time. The door rattled open to dusty furniture and soupy air; musty and untouched as if it had been abandoned. You and Van used to sneak in here in for quickies and hold clandestine parties, lighting candles instead of turning on lights to not tip off your parents that you were present. The stain from when someone dropped a bottle of whiskey still marred the floorboards, and you wondered if anyone had been in here since you left.

You had hardly surveilled the place before the door snapped open behind you.

“Fuck, you scared me!” It was your brother, shaking the dew from his trainers. “Why are you back? I thought you would be gone until next year, at least.” You sucked in the thick air, scanning the room for alibis. Stretching the last few moments before you had the acknowledge that you now walked the earth all by yourself.

“Oh, you know. Just felt homesick.”

Your brother respected your lie, letting it dissipate in the stale air like the smoke from a snuffed wick.

“I never liked him, anyway”

-

Your parents were happy, albeit a bit startled, to see you. They had converted your room to an office and all of your old things from high school, like notes from Van and old chemistry notebooks, were collecting dust in the attic. It was good to have the guest house to yourself, to be miserable in peace without the lingering tension of having to acknowledge the reason for your return, or to have anyone ask why you were throwing up so much and sleeping for 14 hours at a time.

Your dreams were so deep and lifelike that you had trouble discerning reality from fiction in your own memory; your nightmares even worse. Once you dreamt that Van had come into the guest house bedroom with a cup of tea asking how you’d slept, how his baby was doing. When your eyes had burst open, you were cold and alone. Anguish gripped your stomach, forcing it’s contents up your throat then down onto the floor.

Other times the dreams were of him fucking you.  Most nights it was just replays of your breakup, repeating every time you fell back asleep after being jerked awake from the sheer horror of that moment, worse than any organic monster ridden nightmare you had ever had. Each iteration more fresh than the last, as if someone was rewinding it over and over again on a cassette tape, starting at a high pitched blur then ending only when you could feel his hot breath ghost across your face.

Some days you woke up so paralyzed by your grief you wondered if you were in hell. Each moment was unbearably painful and eternal, the mere act of breathing felt sisyphean. But in hell, there was relief in the utter helplessness. Here, your actions had both consequences for yourself, and others. You weren’t sure which was worse.

-

The clinic was on the outskirts of town, far enough away you weren’t likely to run into anyone unless they were there for the same reason. The ultrasound tech didn’t make eye contact a single time, snapping her gum as she dispensed the chilly ultrasound gel in a single deft shake.

Your chest tightened when you heard the heartbeat for the first time, eyes prickling with tears. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump ticking through the monitor flooded your heart with a profound sense of relief.

Finally, something that was yours.

-

Tour stretched on, every night sold out. Press junkets, radio shows, interviews, and photoshoots were plastered all over social media, news papers, television, even the bus station adverts and shop bathroom posters. You quickly learned not to check your phone outside of calls and avoided the media. It was easy when you hardly had the energy to lift your head in the first place. Isolation was easier than breathing, and a lot less painful.

You had learned the hard way when you had tried reading the paper each day. You could leaf through mindlessly, until page 6 which always featured a half page spread of Van and a nameless girl, all uniquely the same. They always took similar form, as if made in a factory by formula: tight jeans and low cut blouses, cakefaced and bottle blonde; each one skinner, prettier, and younger than the last. Some looked like they had school the next day. You stopped reading the paper.

-

When you told your family you were pregnant, your mother cried--whether out of shock or happiness, you weren’t sure. Your brother punched a hole in the wall, then went outside to smoke. Your father just sighed--a long, deep sigh that validated his disappointment in your circumstances and choices.  His reaction was the most heartbreaking.

Unlike your mother’s reaction, you knew unequivocally that his was one of disappointment.  You were supposed to go to uni, maybe Oxbridge or a fancy American school or even elsewhere in Europe where you could learn a new language and lounge on picnic blankets in the sun with a bottle of wine and fancy cheese while mulling over your Literature seminar readings. You were supposed to be interesting and clever and successful and far away from here. Instead you were back where you had started, some wash up’s discards, nothing to show for it except a new dependent on your taxes.

Your brother followed you back to the guest house, determined to argue as ever. He was a man of few words until he was upset, and then every word cut like broken glass.

“Are you sure you want to keep it? It isn’t too late for you to finish up and go to uni.”

You had almost forgotten that you basically dropped out to follow Van on tour.

You had told your family that it would just be a couple stops, then you never came home. Until now.

-

One day your mother phoned in a rage after receiving a letter from the school that you had been expelled on the grounds of truancy. You remembered you told her you were turning in your work remotely—an obvious, bold faced lie.

Your relationship with Van had changed you from a studious rule follower to a fool, lucky in love, dropping out of high school to accompany someone else building their dream. Loving Van was like climbing a tree, higher and higher with no thought of how you would get down. But now you were flat on your ass, with another between your legs.

Your personality change had sparked concern in your friends in family, allegeding that you were “not that type of girl” to abandon everything for a man.

“I’m not really sure what type of girl I am,” was your only response.

After all,how could you know who you were meant to be when you were so young? Being with Van, being Van’s, was fun and exciting in a way you had never experienced. You’d never really dated, and didn’t have a lot of friends outside your brother’s friends, which was how you met Van. He was always nearby, goofing around and causing trouble.

Your earliest memories of Van were of riding bikes through town, collapsing in the cool grass when your legs turned to jelly and you could hardly peddle anymore. Van would blow dandelion seeds in your face while you giggled and rolled away from him. All of the hours spent under the gushing lemony sunshine ended in grass stained knees and freckled cheeks that lingered long after the popsicle drippings had been washed from your fingers.

That was the beginning--the familiarity; the quintessential bedrock of love that matures as you do, which each outgrown shoe and lost tooth. The type of childlike innocence entwined with companionship that warms your stomach just to think of, having had such a pure memory to call your own; an endless syrupy summer’s day that no one can take away from you.

-

As you grew and changed from girls and boys to women and men, your love morphed right along with it. There were many long stretches of time you hadn’t seen him at all, either from busyness with school or a row with your brother. But whenever you saw him again, that warmth returned right back to you, starting in your stomach and burning up to your sternum, bright and effervescent.

Your relationship mutated from platonic to romantic one night at a house party. Alcohol was still a novelty to you and two bottles of beer was your limit. You and Van were sitting together on a couch, the dim room filled with your other friends, illuminated only by fairy lights and the occasional flicker of a lighter. Van was telling ridiculous stories all while gesticulating wildly, each one making you laugh harder than the last. The combination of the alcohol and throwing your head back with laughter so many times had made you feel like you were on a rollercoaster, vertiginous and bubbly.

As if you hadn’t had enough, you got up to get another drink and fell back down onto the couch--except you missed your original spot by several inches and landed squarely on Van’s lap. You laughed out loud at your clumsiness. If you were sober you would have been so embarrassed! But your lowered inhibitions helped you see the humor in the situation. The room was aglow and the world was still big; the energy of youth electrifying the room.

Van instinctively placed a hand on the small of your back to steady you, and quickly jerked it up towards your shoulders as to not make you feel uncomfortable. A twinge of excitement seared in your stomach. You had never really touched before, and this felt nice in the most unexpected of ways--as if you had found something you didn’t know you were looking for.

You studied Van’s face, having never been so close to it. The perfect slope of his nose, the confetti of reddish freckles across high cheekbones, the pink pillowy lips that outfitted his wide mouth.

He must have been staring at your lips, too, because they clashed together as if drawn by magnet. There was no saying who kissed who as your heads met, puckering together needily. You wrapped your hand arms around him, leaning into his warm body so that your heads were resting on the couch, lips married together. His mouth tasted sweet like fairy floss, the room spinning like a carousel. You weren’t sure how long you made out for, but it felt like you were alone in the room full of people, coiled in the sweetest embrace that made time stand still. When you finally came up for air Van was grinning like he knew something you didn’t, gingerly tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I hope your brother didn’t see that,” he joked, making you blush.

You didn’t remember much of how the rest of the night went or how you ended up in your own bed the next morning, but the mere thought of having kissed Van so publicly both thrilled and mortified you. Surely people would talk--or were they all too drunk to notice? Did this mean he fancied you, or was it alcohol fueled happenstance?

At school the next week you heard his voice echoing in the halls, and turned to see him hanging on another girl while fraternizing with a group students the same year as Van and your brother. He tickled and teased her before hugging her from behind, then kissing her cheek with fervor. White hot shame flared inside you, ruddying your cheeks. You hurried home in a daze, scolding yourself for being so naive. He was a flirt and you were a fucking idiot for allowing yourself to be involved with someone like that--your brother’s friend, no less.

But the next weekend the same booze soaked gathering reoccurred, this time with more warm bodies packed into a smaller room. You sipped from a can while exchanging small talk with a girl from your chemistry class, wondering if you should leave or have another drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Van had arrived with the same girl from earlier, making a scene as he greeted his friends.

You decided to have another drink.

Cracking open a fresh can, you turned away hoping Van wouldn’t notice you. You smiled and nodded while your classmate blathered on, not registering a single word she said, unable to concentrate on anything other the imaginary tension in your head. The slick condensation beading on the aluminum can was your only anchor to reality as your body flushed from the discomfiture as much as the humidity. Though you hated to admit it, you wanted to be the girl next to him. Instead you slurped more beer, hoping to reach a level of inebriation where someone else started looking better.

Eventually the heat of the room became too suffocating to bear, and you excused yourself for a smoke. The noise of the party was barely a low thrum from the cement patio, despite being eight feet away. You sat on the very edge of the pavement, stretching your legs out into the dewy grass. The damp chill grounded you, your heart rate descending as you exhaled into the ether. The stars scrambled against the inky sky, floating in and out of focus as your nerves melted away with each crisp breeze. You were more drunk than you thought, but it felt nice out here where you weren’t being choked by calefaction and confronted with Van with the other girl.

The first drag of your cigarette was interrupted by a body shuffling next to yours, thumping down beside you on the cement.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here by yourself?” It was Van.

You scanned over the back of your shoulder to see if the girl was around you. She was not.

“I’m alright,” you sighed, tapping the ash from your cigarette onto the curb.

Van wrapped his arms around his crossed legs, shaking his hair out. From under his fringe, his eyes searching your face for clues to decode your expression.

You exhaled the smoke so at least there would be something between you to shield you from his intent gaze. The chirp of crickets in the distance filled the silence. Snuffing the butt out on the cement, you got up to leave without a word. Van grabbed your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

His expression nearly broke you, wide eyes begging for an explanation, confused as it was hurt. Letting out a deep sigh, you weighed your options: stay with him and exchange meaningless platitudes or leave. Leaving seemed like the better choice.

“I’m going home.”

Van sprang up. “You shouldn’t go alone this time of night after drinking. I’ll walk you home.”

Secretly, you loved the initiative he was taking. He wasn’t asking, he was announcing. This type of attention and caretaking were foreign to you, even as the kid sister and tagalong. No one ever fussed over you. Even though Van was known for being sweet to everyone, you were pleased as punch he was fussing over you.

Dark was the night as you trudged home, guided only by the flaxen incandescence of streetlamps and drunken intuition. For a long time neither of you spoke, reveling in the quietude of the sleepy town in the dead of night.

Van broke the silence. “So how’ve you been?”

“Same as it ever was,” you sighed, still uncomfortable with the hidden motive of his small talk. “Is your girlfriend gonna be upset that you’re walking me home?” Van laughed to himself, even though it wasn’t a joke. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Only partially did those words alleviate the tension that had been badgering you all night. The alcohol poisoning your bloodstream was making you bold.

“So you just kiss all your friends like that,” You kicked a bottle down the road. Van’s head jerked up, turning towards you.

“Let me kiss you not as a friend then.” You stopped dead in your tracks. Of course he could be bolder than you. For the second time that night, you looked into his eyes and saw he was serious. You could feel yourself freezing in place like a deer in the headlights, but your bodies were being pulled together as if magnetized. Van grabbed your face as your lips married; exchanging greedy, hungry kisses. His arm migrated around your lower back, pulling you into him, subsuming your bodies as one. You kissed as if you couldn’t breath without the other’s air, desperate and smacking.

Even when your lips finally parted, your figures remained cocooned together. Your noses brushed at the tip, studying each other’s faces. Never had you seen Van so still and ruminative before. He brushed his thumb across your cheek before imparting a final kiss.

“How’s that for not friends?”

-

Soon Van was coming to your house to see you more than your brother and their friends. He would meet you in the hallway to exchange forbidden kisses, risking demerits and suspensions. Now instead of lurking on the outskirts at parties you were right next to him, the center of attention, with his arm wrapped around you.

You could tell your brother wasn’t comfortable with your arrangement, but he never said anything discouraging. You had never smiled so much in your life, and people sometimes didn’t recognize you next to him. You drank more and wore less. School began to feel like a prison, entrapping you 8 hours a day when you’d rather spend time with your sweetheart. Even in subjects you loved, you couldn’t focus. You tried to study while the band practiced, but you’d always get distracted by how cute Van was and his never ending questions about their creative direction. You started helping manage their shows, calling venues and arranging transport and making sure every piece was in its place.

Soon you were helping out so much that you were hardly home and rarely saw your other friends. As the band became more successful, you would occasionally skip school to accompany them to far off gigs and events, reveling both in the rebelliousness of playing hooky and the sheer delight of watching your favorite person achieve their dreams.

-

One of your favorite teachers had warned you against following Van, confronting you during office hours when you had dropped in to ask about an assignment.  There was genuine concern in his expression, as if you were his own child that was making a stupid mistake.

“I shouldn’t be saying any of this, but you really should rethink your decision to leave. You could go to a great school and study whatever you wanted. You’re brilliant and clever and could charm the most stoic of souls. There are plenty of people in the world like Ryan, who will want to harness your energy to use for themselves. Don’t let them.”

You had thought he was just jealous, or perhaps had a tiny crush on you. You smiled at your past naivety. He was right. Your brother agreed.

“He picked you because you were hardworking and clever and too sweet to realize he was taking advantage of you! You were the best girl at that school and he fucking knew it. None of the girls like Alice or Nia would have lasted longer than a second with him! They would have crumbled from not being the center of attention, nor do they have a brain cell to show for it. He wanted someone to support him and do all of the hard work while he took credit for all of the glory. I mean, he didn’t even arrange you as a manager or assistant like Larry so you could get paid by the touring company!”

You hated when your brother was right, because it was a gut punch every time. He was a man of few words, but those choice words stung.  You had organized much of the band’s earlier endeavors, like communication with agents and venues and examining contracts for faulty clauses and loopholes. The band was hardworking and talented, but still too hungry for success to make good judgements on their offerings. Without you, they surely would have fallen prey to a lecherous label under a contract that would have destroyed them.

“I know it wasn’t malicious, because he can’t pull his head out of his ass to think about anyone else. He surely knows you could achieve more without him, the thought just never occurred to him because it’s his world and the rest of us just live in it. And now you’re having his child in the town he abandoned while he’s living out his rockstar fantasies. Did he ever even call you to make sure you made it home, and the plane didn’t fucking explode with his unborn child on it? Does he even fucking know your pregnant? Does he even care?”

You turned away so that your brother wouldn’t see the hot tears in springing from your eyes.

“You can go now,” you mewed, hoping he would take the hint.

“If he sets foot in this town again, I’m going to fucking kill him.”

It was a promise.

-

[huearmy]

The Smell of Truth - V

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 6971

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: None.

Chapter I  Chapter II  Chapter III  Chapter IV - Chapter VI ChapterVII

The four of you walked a few blocks to a restaurant on the same street. Despite the cold air, the sun was warm and pleasant, so Jimin really wanted to sit at one of the outdoor tables, and nobody objected. You and the cat were still talking about work, Taehyung making comments here and there, but Jungkook only walked in silence beside you, holding your hand, happy he was finally having some contact with you. He wasn't even paying attention to the conversation until he sitted down at the table but you didn't.

"We're gonna order and pay. It won't take long." You told him. "Do you want anything specific?"

"Cake?" He softly smiled.

"I'll buy you a big slice. I'll be back." You said already going.

"Ok!"

Only then he noticed that he didn't stay alone. Jimin was sitting by his side, eyeing him sharply, vertical pupils almost disappearing, he was analyzing Jungkook. It is not the first time that another hybrid looks at him like that, and whenever that happened in the past, uncomfortable things happened next. Jungkook sat back in his chair trying to create space between them.

"So..." Jimin purred, dropping his chin in the palm of his hand. "How did you end up as Y/N's roommate?"

"I asked!" Jungkook spitted out. "I told her I want to be with her... I-I don't know why she wanted me neither... I..."

Jungkook kind of choked on his own saliva. So far Jimin seemed to be just cute, but of course away from you, he was going to try to establish some dominance over the new hybrid. Jungkook should have imagined this was going to happen. Even so, the cold tone that came from the other caught him off guard.

"Y/N have always liked hybrids... But not that much." In the absence of an answer, Jimin continued. Clear jealousy in his voice. "What did you do to make her let you in?"

Jimin gave an unbelieving laugh, tapping Jungkook's shoulder.

"It's okay! No need to be so nervous. I'm sorry I scared you." He said not in full cute mode yet. "I just really care about Y/N... She is my favorite human besides Taehyung. So until I get to know you for real, I'll keep an eye on you. For Y/N sake."

Jungkook gave Jimin his doe eyes and nervous bite bottom lip, and the cat had to work hard not to drop hard stare away and end up losing the threatening effect.

"Ok." Jungkook said with conviction "I will do my best to have you trust me."

Jungkook got bright red again, for real. One thing is you calling him cute, another completely different thing is a strange calling him cute. He formulated something to say to change the focus a little bit.

Jimin couldn't help himself any longer and smiled brightly, his eyes fading into two moons again.

"Awn you cute!"

"How did you meet her?"

Jimin is an egocentric cat, talking about his story with you made him happy, he was actually hoping Jungkook would ask.

"Ah... She and Taehyung are childhood friends. His father worked for her mother. I'm Tae's family cat. We have known each other since we were ten and she was eight I guess. In the beginning Y/N  treated me better than everyone, even him. I was never a pet to her, and she taught Tae to see me as a brother. Now I live with just him and my life is almost perfect."

If Jungkook was feeling like an intruder before, now it was definitely worse. From their table he could see you and Taehyung on the line, and the two of you really looked like he thinks what childhood friends must look like. You were arm in arm, and he couldn't tell what he was saying to you, but you were laughing with such pleasure that your whole body seemed to smile with you. You slapped Taehyung's shoulder, looking around with a red face, and then leaned your head on him in embarrassment. In the short time that Jungkook has known you, this is the moment when he saw you more relaxed. He could see how safe you feel with these guys.

He was left out, wasn't he?   

Jungkook raised his hands to cover his ears reflexively.

"Y/N said you are a pitbull, that's right?" Jimin continued the conversation, as if he hadn't noticed where Jungkook was looking, and the sad face the boy made.

Jungkook doesn't like this question. In fact, he doesn't like to touch the subject of breed, because it involves a lot of prejudice. People usually change the way they act with him after they learn what his animal half is.

When Jungkook just nodded in response, Jimin continued.

"You really look like one, you are a muscle tower with a cute face." Jimin laughed. "But your ears aren't clipped, which is nice."

"I didn't let them..." His voice escaped quietly.

Jimin's eyes got round as he realized that he touched on a sensitive subject. It was his turn to trying to change the focus to lighting up the conversation.

"I'm a lynx!" Jimin pointed to his own extra pointed ears. "That's why I have a short tail, and the color of my fur changes with the seasons. But there are people who don't notice right away, because we usually have big hands and feet, but I have baby hands."

 A long second went by, the four of you - uncomfortably - looking at each other.

Jungkook let out a cute laugh looking at Jimin's cute hands extended to him. Both of them gave up on trying to continue a conversation.

Yours and Taehyung's voices got closer as you passed through the glass doors, leaving the restaurant's internal lounge. You found Jungkook and Jimin in awkward silence, so dense it made you and Tae shut up, exchanging confused looks.

"What happened?" Taehyung mouthed to you behind his hand.

You shrugged, eyebrows high.

"The food will be here in a few minutes!" Tae cheered, pulling the chair for you to sit before doing the same for himself. Since no one responded in the same excitement, he cleared his throat and continued the conversation he was having with you before. "Anyway, Y/N... You should see the doctor."

Jungkook and Jimin's eyes widened.

"You said it was ok. I thought you already went to the hospital..." He whined, crossing his arms, feeling betrayed

"Why do you need to see the doctor?" Jimin went faster to the point.

"She hurted her wrist and didn't get it examined." Taehyung exposed you with a pout as you showed your bandaged hand to the cat.

Jimin was pouting at you too... Angry pouting.

The two of them kept raining down arguments that an injury if left untreated can have complications, that they love you too much to see you suffer in the future, and that you should simply listen because they are older than you, and therefore, you owe respect and gratitude when they try to take care of you. They don't even let you talk. 

"If I go to the hospital they'll tell me to make a cold compress, take pain medication, use athlete's ointment, immobilize and don't use my hand in excess. I'm already doing these things." You calmly said, as what they are saying wasn't a big deal, and in your head it really wasn't.

"And what if it is a serious injury?" Jimin took your hand in his as if he could heal you himself. Your indifferent expression melted a little when he planted a kiss on the knots of your hand.

"I already said it to her, but she don't listen!" Tae was outraged.

"Guuuuuys" You were the one whining this time.

"Don't 'guuuuuys' me Y/N" Jimin rolled his eyes. "After we have lunch, Tae will drive you to the hospital."

"I think they are right, Y/N." Jungkook timidly interrupted the staring contest you and Jimin were having. "You should see the doctor."

"What now? Besides being forced to go to the doctor, can I not even drive there?" You ask, with your own piece of drama.

"Exactly." Jimin said firmly.

You were ready to fight your right to just stay home with your work and deadlines, treating your injury the way you know it is best without having to waste time with professional help. After all, you know all the best strategies to beat your best friends in an argument, which work eight out of ten times you try it.

Jungkook was still feeling guilty for hurting you, and the idea of the injury not healing right just terrified him. Also, now he knew your friends he felt the heaviest guilt on his shoulders, if they found out that it was he who hurt you, even if by accident, would they forgive him like you did? Would they still be so nice? Jungkook was sure they wouldn't. And looking at him across the table, you could read all these things on his forehead.

"You said it would heal faster if you treat it right. So please do it." Jungkook said, biting his bottom lip.

"Ok." You sighed, more worried with him than your wrist at all. "Happy?"

"Yes!" Jimin hugged you, and then Jungkook, taking him by surprise.

"Get in loser, we're going to the hospital." He said to you with a mischievous smile.

The waitress brought the food, and the conversation changed course.

___________________________________________________________________________________

With full bellies you got back to your building. Jimin said bye and went to the office to get back to work. You and Jungkook followed Taehyung to his red convertible, which was parked across the busy street. With the roof off - as almost always, Tae likes the wind in his hair - he jumped in without opening the door, and put his glasses on.   

"Loser?" Jungkook looked at him, confused. Clearly he is not used to playful bittering.

You sighed.

"Don't mind him, JK." You opened the door to him, and also entered shortly thereafter. "Don't Regina George me, Tae. I'm being forced to go, so I'm in a bad mood."

Tae smiled, turning on some music and starting the motor. And of course he took the longer way to the hospital to just enjoy the view. After all, what is the fun of going for a ride with friends in a convertible, if it's time for light traffic, and it will only last a few minutes. Going around the city, passing through the park and the historic area is pretty nicer - and the city is small anyway.

Besides the ride clearly affected your mood for the better - you are not a difficult person to please - and Taehyung found it amusing to watch Jungkook through the rearview mirror. The dog was having the time of his life, with the interesting view and the wind in his face. If you hadn't told him to put on the safety seat, you would expect him to be standing on the back seat.

As you passed by the side of the municipal park, with the lake shining in the middle, people running, walking their dogs, having picnics, playing with children, Jungkook's eyes shone with curiosity. It was so beautiful.

"It has plenty of space to run..."

"What is here?" He asked, tapping your shoulder and pointing.

"The park. We can come here sometime if you want."

"Do you like to run?" Tae asked, looking over his shoulder, his glasses on the tip of his nose.

"So we'll come next Sunday. Jimin can try to cook something and we have a picnic. You also need to sunbathe, Y/N." Taehyung determined without wanting to know your opinion, knowing that you'll just accept and prepare something else delicious for them to eat on sunday.

Jungkook nodded with his smile so wide.

"Mostly outdoors." He said dreamily.

Few minutes after you left, Taehyung suddenly stood up.

"Shut up and tell me what you want me to cook." You laughed, and looked to Jungkook. "Excited?"

"Yes."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

At the hospital you got an appointment with an orthopedist - Taehyung made you to, and Jungkook just agreed - even if you knew it wasn't needed, that a general practitioner would solve the problem, and would also release you earlier to go back to work.

After ten minutes of waiting in silence, your name was called by the doctor, you quietly got up leaving the two boys alone in the empty waiting room. The woman at the desk didn't look at them once, the sound of computer keys coming from her direction. One of the walls of the room was made of glass, with a view of an internal garden, and in the corner of the room there was a small water source beside the magazine holder. Apart from the sound of the water and the woman's typing, no sound gave any sign of life in the place, all very quiet, so quiet that Jungkook was afraid to make any noise. He was getting sleepy. 

"I need to pee." He said, already heading towards the corridor.

"Are we going home now?" Jungkook asked too eagerly.   

"Will you leave me here alone?" Jungkook loudly whispered, still afraid of breaking the silence.

Tae looked at him, confused.

"Do you want to come along? Need to pee too?"

"No..."

"I asked him to not let you alone... Well I guess he won't take too long. Wait here, ok?" You said this last part in a kind tone. He just nodded. "I swear that going with me is even more boring than waiting here."

"No, I have to do an x-ray. Where's Taehyung?"

"I know. I've had x-rays a few times before." He relaxed in the chair, your presence being enough for him to feel safe and free from paranoia.   

You tried not to think too much about the idea that Jungkook had to undergo medical procedures in the past, to not have to think about the causes of it, so you smiled and walked down the same corridor as Taehyung, looking for the elevator.

Before Jungkook could feel sad for being alone again, you got back in fast steps.

"Here..." You held out some money to him. "There's a snack machine in that direction, soda and coffee. If you want something, just go get it... Just wait for Tae to come back. Ok?"

And then you ran to take the elevator that finally opened with a 'ding'. 

Jungkook couldn't help himself but think you are cute being so attentious like this, taking care of him the way he always dreamed someone would do. Less paranoid than before, he released all the air from his lungs and got up to change of chair, to sit closer to the glass wall, where the sun was shining. Since he had to wait, at least wait absorbing some vitamin D. 

He was looking at the garden, trying to remember the name of one of the plants, he had seen one exactly the same at home among yours, when two people entered the garden from the other side. One was a woman in a wheelchair, and must have been a hospital patient, the other who was pushing the wheelchair, dressed in a baby pink nurse uniform, was a hybrid. Jungkook frowned and looked more closely, curious. The girl with dog ears stopped the chair beside a tree, and crouched in front of the woman, the two seemed to be nice talking, because even with a tired and pale face, the woman was smiling, and the girl waved the golden fur tail, gesturing her hands as if she were telling a story.

"What are you looking at?" A deep voice spoke behind him.

Tae was back. He held out a can of soda for Jungkook.

"Thanks. I was just..." He tried to form a sentence to explain why exactly he was so curious about the two women, but the only thing he managed to say was. "I just found that strange."

Taehyung looked at the two too, now both of them were doing crochet and laughing.

"What is strange? Is just a patient and hybrid therapist." Tae put his hands in his pocket, finding the scene very cute.

"Hybrid therapist?" If Jungkook was confused before, now he was much more.

"Exactly like a job. They are very well trained from an early age to work with this. " Tae smiled, remembering that depending on what Jungkook's life was like before he met you he really had no way of knowing basic things in the normal world. Not every hybrid owner lets them know about the few rights they have. And well, Taehyung had no idea that Jungkook was a fight dog, if he knew he would have understood the doubt right away.

"Yeah... Like animal therapy with dogs, but with hybrids. They help the recovery of patients. Basically they serve to make patients who are hospitalized happier and healthier." Tae got a seat beside Jungkook, opening his soda and taking a sip.

"Wow. I didn't know hybrids can have jobs." A whole new world opened up in Jungkook's eyes with this information.

"Well... Hybrids cannot formally study yet, so the jobs they can have are still very limited. It is usually manual labor, waiter, janitor, store attendant, things like that. All Y/N stores have at least one hybrid among employees, for example. She believes that this is a way for them to have some independence, and takes great care to make sure the hybrid really wants to work, and is not being obliged by the owner." Tae explained.

"Independence, so that when the hybrids are free they have the means to go on with their lives. Is that right?" Jungkook concluded, putting together things you said and your uncle's speech on TV, and ideas that an old friend of him used to have.

"That's right! You're smart, man!" Taehyung cheered. "Are you interested in having a job?"

"I don't know. As I didn't know I could, I didn't even think about it." He opened his soda too.

Tae smiled in a way that his mouth formed a box.

"And that's totally ok. We have time to think about the future."

Jungkook's mouth formed a bunny smile.

"Yeah."

He was a little scared of your friends, but because they are so close to you, they are as cool as you are. Taehyung only has an evil face, because most of the time he is frowning, but in fact he is also a cinnamon roll as you said.

"Hyung..."  Jungkook got another doubt.

Taehyung gave a choked laugh, looking around to see if they were really alone. The woman at the counter still didn't give a shit about them. When he finally answered, it was in a much lower, secretive tone.

"Humm?"

"Jimin is a special case. You see, my dad wanted me to go to accounting school like him, and I did. But I'm dumb for math, and I'm definitely not an office man." He raised his eyebrow suggestively. "Basically all of my college tests and exams were made by Jimin, which is fraud and against law, but it gets worse... On the payroll, his name is as an assistant in Y/N’s  floriculture, and mine as an accountant. But he is the one who does the work, because he is the genius who likes numbers. That way Jimin does what he likes and is happy, my dad thinks I do what he wants and is happy, and I have time to do what I like and I'm happy."

"And what do you do?" Jungkook asked.

Taehyung was expecting Jungkook to deal less naturally with the revelation he made, but the dog didn't seem impressed at all. He just seemed to think it was cool. Usually he, Jimin and you keep this secret between you, but since you trust Jungkook so much to bring him to live with you, Tae didn't think it would be a problem, and that quiet response proved that thought right.

"Hey, both of you, you can't use flashes here." The woman at the counter finally paid attention to them.

"I like that you asked..." Said Taehyung, he is not a cat, but he is as egocentric as Jimin. He reached into his bag that he hasn't taken off his shoulder since he left the office and took something out. Before Jungkook could see what it was, a light temporarily blinded him. Flash. "I'mma photographer."

"Sorry...ah... Nicolle." Tae read her badge. When turning back to Jungkook he was rolling his eyes. "I was going to stop using the flash myself. With this sun I don't need to."

And he kept taking pictures of a Jungkook who didn't know what to do other than avoid eye contact. The photos were beautiful at the end.

"Not at all. I have a lot of work to do, and I'm kind of wasting time here." You tried to hint to get her to liberate you soon.

"Thank you, doctor. I knew it wasn't a big deal." You eagerly smiled.

"Why did you come, then?" She didn't get the hint at all, still not looking at you.

You held a sigh of frustration and responded in a joke tone.

"I know a handprint when I see one, and your bruise is one. Honey, if someone hurt you, you're in the right place to ask for help. I can call the police and make sure it's safe for you."

"My friends forced me."

You finally understood what she was thinking. And even if it wasn't your situation, with every word she said a shiver went down your spine, and you really felt safe. You almost wanted to cry at the thought of working normally and suddenly realizing that someone needs your help, but don't know how to ask. Well, your job is similar to that in a way.

"Thank you. Seriously, you... are amazing." Your voice was small. "But that is not the case. I do not suffer domestic violence."

She raised an eyebrow at you, still not believing one hundred percent.

"It was actually my hybrid." You felt pressured to say.

"This is pretty serious, too, you should call hybrid control." She dropped your hand on your lap and walked over to her table.

"No!" You almost yelled. Almost. "It's not his fault. He's been suffering from night terror and nightmares. I was careless when I woke him up."

She started to write on her computer.

For a moment she just nodded. She printed two sheets of paper for you.

"Then you should take him to a hybrid psychologist." She stated.

"Here. The prescription of your medicine and the guide for you to get a decent splint to immobilize that hand." She reclined in her chair. "And recommendations of good hybrid psychologists, there are three names on the list. And that's it."

"Thank you!" You were really grateful for that. You took your coat and headed for the exit, stopping with your hand on the handle. "And mainly thanks for your attitude, I didn't need any help but I know there are a lot of women out there who need it, so thanks for being available."

Back to the white corridor you sighed checking the hours, you only have a gigantic legal report to deliver before midnight, okay, no need to freak out. Ready to get your medicine and go back home put your slippers on. You hate hospitals to be honest, your quota has been hit for an entire month.

In what you came up at the corner of the hall, Jungkook's head snapped in your direction.

"I need to go to a pharmacy on the way."

"Yep. It wasn't anything serious, like I said." You answered with your hands inside your jacket pockets.

Tae whined.

"Ah, Y/N... I thought you were going to say something more fun. Like, I need to stop by an amusement park on the way..."

"As if Jimin wouldn't kill us if we did such a thing without him." You started walking to the exit, both males following you.

"So we pick him in the office and then we go." He tried to negotiate.

Jungkook looked from you to Taehyung with a little line of doubt forming between his eyebrows.

"No Taehyung. I need to work."

"You are no fun, Y/N!" Tae passed an arm by your shoulder. "Your job shouldn't be that important... You don't even like being a lawyer..."

You rolled your eyes.

"But it is! I'm new to the company and I want to be part of a specific case, and for that I have to be soooo efficient for them to trust me for this. It's not fair for you to be tempting me like that Tae." You pouted. "Besides, I wanted to be able to finish everything early, to have a free night today, and it won't happen anymore because of this silly visit to the doctor."

"Why did you want a free night?" Apparently this was the only part that Taehyung heard.

Before you could answer very grudgingly, Jungkook asked the question that was bothering his little cute head.

"What is an amusement park?"   

Both you and Tae looked at him, forgetting the former argument.

"That's where we go on Saturday. Right, Y/n?" A smile spread on Taehyung's face.

"Damn." You whined, watching the water go down the drain. You always liked your freedom. One of the reasons you never considered adopting a hybrid - apart from everything else - or having a roommate at all is that you like being alone, you value privacy. One of your favorite things to do is walking around the house all naked and free, and now you were realizing that you could probably never do that again with a man living with you now . As you closed your eyes, resting your forehead on the cold tiles on the wall, the happy face of Jungkook appeared in your thoughts. "Shit ... it's worth it."

To avoid the noise and be able to focus on work, you found a good lo-fi playlist and put earphones on. The streetlights started to light up and the sun was going away when you decided to take a break to eat something and take a shower, feeling pain in your back and your butt square of sitting for so long. From the sound of a third voice downstairs, you assumed that Jimin finished the day's tasks and closed the office at normal hours, and joined the other two.

Entering the living room you were taken by surprise by kicking high in the air and jumping boys, the couch out of place, and a mix of music and laughter.

Feeling fifty percent renewed, you dried yourself with a fluffy towel and applied a moisturizer to each corner of your skin before dressing up, and then brushed your wet hair.

"You are playing Just Dance now?" You laughed.

Jungkook, who was sitting in the corner watching Jimin and Taehyung dancing, reached to your hand pulling you to sit with him.

"Jimin hyung wanted to dance..." He said, holding you by the shoulders. He looked like he was having a good time.

Jimin and Taehyung burst into screams and laughter when the song ended and the score appeared in the center of the TV screen.

"Noooooooo! How is this even possible!" Jimin threw himself on the floor at the same time Tae made a winning dance.

"It's because you stop to laugh a lot, hyung!" Jungkook mocked.

He looked so, so happy.   

"Totally worth it." You let it slip, looking at him.

"What?" He looked back at you.

"Nothing." Your face heated up. "Play you now, I want to see you dance."

He made a happy squick getting up so fast he almost passed over you like a steamroller.

"Ok."

"Jackson!" Jimin greeted.

"I want to dance a hard one!"

You and the man named Jackson let go from each other, but instead of getting apart from him, you enlaced your hand with his, pulling him inside the apartment. He kissed your temple, making you blush, and Jungkook's jaw dropped.

"Hi guys." Jackson said, lifting some cardboard bags with his free hand. "I brought food, but I didn't know you were here so there's not much..."

"It's okay, let's put it in the kitchen." You said already turning around there.

"I message you telling the boys are here." You said to him.

"Did you hurt your hand?"

"This is nothing. You know me, I'm reckless." You laughed to yourself.

You two disappeared into the kitchen.

"Did you know he would be back today?" Jimin whispered to Tae.

"Don't know. She didn't kick us off." Tae was thoughtful.

The two exchanged a weird look. Jimin made a face.

"Nice, because I don't want to go home just yet." Jimin returned to the choice of songs.

You were happy having a glass of mocha latte Jackson brought to you when you said.

"But we should...!"

"I have to introduce you. Jackson, this is Jungkook... JK, this is Jackson."

"Hi." Said Jungkook.

"Did you adopt him, Taehyung?" Jackson asked cordially.   

"Hi. Nice to meet you." Jackson reached a hand to Jungkook, wearing a genuine smile. "I'm Y/N boyfriend."

"Is that what you wanted to tell me?"Jackson looked surprised, and maybe a little uncomfortable.

"No." You answered, kind of nervous. "I did."

"Yes. You said we could talk about it when you got back, I didn't want to disturb you. You were working." You talked faster than you intended.

"But this is important, it wouldn't disturb me at all." Jackson looked from you to Jungkook and back to you and smiled. "It's just too sudden... Mostly coming from you."

"It was not planned at all, it is that Jungkook is special. It was destiny." You tried to explain, regretting the last part as soon as the words came out your mouth. It was a bit too much. You took a sip of your coffee.

"Got it..." Jackson shrugged.

Before things could get any more weird, Taehyung talked in his cheer tone.

"Since there's no food for everyone, we are going out to get hamburgers. Right, JK?"

Something clicked on Jungkook's mind and he came back to planet earth a little.

Jimin started pushing the taller boy for the door.

"Right?" Jungkook looked at him without understanding.

"Yeah, put on your shoes and let's go."

Over the shoulder you mouthed a grateful "thanks" to Taehyung, both by saving the conversation, both for letting you have alone time with your boyfriend and taking care of Jungkook at the same time. The three of them left the apartment as if you had thrown them out - as fast as they could. You sighed when the door closed behind them.

That said, you grabbed the jacket and ran out the door, not paying attention if he said something to you, skipping steps down the stairs to go faster, before the boys got in the car.

"Did you finish work?"Jackson released your hand so he could hold you.

"Jungkook!" You arrived in the courtyard behind the building, where Tae's convertible was parked next to your SUV. Jungkook was getting into the car, but stopped in mid-motion when he heard you calling. "Your jacket!"

"I forgot it!" His ears went up.

He came to you, and instead of giving it to him, you threw the jacket over his shoulders, making him wear it, and then zipped it up to the top. Something occurred to you, something important that you should have already said to Jungkook, and that now, more than before, needs to be clear.

"Jungkook, maybe you have already figured this out, because you are smart. But my work with that organization is a secret. All my hybrid rescue work with them is secret. So you can't talk to anyone about it, that includes telling how and where we met. It doesn't matter if you know that I trust the person... In fact, even if you know that the person knows the secret, avoid talking about... Got it?"

Jungkook's gaze became serious, in a way you haven't seen yet, a strong look. He was always good at keeping secrets, his, of the owners he had, of the other hybrids he was locked up in in the dark basement ... Keeping a secret of yours, who is a person he cares about so much, wouldn't be so difficult. "Yes. Does that include, Taehyung, Jimin ... and Jackson?" You looked away, biting your lip. "Everyone, JK. But mostly Jackson. Please?"

His gaze went from one eye of yours to the other, trying to understand what you meant by that. You are a person full of secrets, he already realized, and he has no problem with that, because he believes that you have your reasons just as he has his. "You can count on me." He smiled, holding out a little finger for you. You let a laugh take over you all. "A pinky promise?" "These are the best contracts." He shrugged. You hooked your little finger in his, sealing the secret of how your lives intertwined only between the two of you. Jungkook ran back to the car, where your childhood friends were waiting for him, wishing him fun and you returned to the warmth of the apartment where your boyfriend was waiting for you.

_______________________________________________________________

If you want to be tagged let me know.

Tag list:  @stayunderthelights  @deolly  @panconte @serendipityoreuphoria @madygswich @namjoonies-dimple @givebuckysomelove @imluckybitches @hoseokslefteyebrow  @yzkyzkuniverse @flaring-vibes @justpeachyjoon @narcissism-iskey @angeltothecore @tiberiaxs @minikolima 

sorry not sorry

[lumos-solemn]

Moving On

Summary : The war is over, so is the threat of the Dark Lord lurking around Muggles and Muggle-borns. When everyone's finally safe, Harry couldn't help but think about a certain Muggle Family with whom he spent almost 16 years of his life - The Dursleys. Though unwillingly, They had kept him with them and thereby strengthening the protective shield around his mother created and unknowingly keeping him safe. So, Harry decides to take a visit to them and ensure that they are leading their 'Normal' life.

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

As Harry stood at the small turning towards Privet Drive, Memories, though not so good, flooded into him. He had just apparated there deciding to pay his dear Uncle, Aunt and Cousin a little visit. Harry didn't expect them to welcome him with warn heart and happy faces; In fact he could absolutely imagine the expression of Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's face when he shows up on the door on a clear and bright Sunday. He was not sure if he is doing the right thing by revisiting them and just making the old memories fresh but a talk with Ginny told him he need to.

When he talked to Ron, He clearly said it was a bad idea and Harry kind of agreed with him. Hermione, on the other hand, asked him to go and said in a rather Hermioneish way- "You should do what you feel like Harry! If you are feeling like going, Just do it! Other wise, No!". That definitely didn't help. But Ginny convinced him to visit them, especially after he recollected his last interaction with Dudley a year ago. She thought it will be good if he just paid them a visit cause none of them expected Harry to come out alive after the war. So, After so many negotiations with himself and with his friends, He found himself apparating to Privet Drive.

As he walked through the streets looking at the similar houses built on the same line, He couldn't help but go back in the memory line and though not good, It indeed bought a smile on him. He remembered meeting Sirius for the first time; He thought it was a Black Dog attacking him. He recollected being attacked by the Dementors along with Dudley. He remembered going to everyday Markets to get things for Mrs Figg when the Dursleys leave him with her. He passed the house of Mrs Figg, the old Squib who lives there in the disguise of a strict and cold Muggle lady. He grinned thinking how Uncle Vernon would react when he finds out.

At last, He reached the 2 storey house which looked like every other houses in that line and stood before the doorstep anticipating what to do next. The Garden was well kept just like how it used to be. Taking a deep breath, He pushed the calling bell button on the right side of the door. As he stood there, pocketing his hands inside his jeans, He heard footsteps coming closer and within some seconds, the door opened revealing Dudley Dursley.

Harry looked at him like he didn't believe his eyes. The Dudley before him didn't look like the one he last saw. Though not slim, He has definitely lost a serious amount of weight and is looking lot a more fit. He has started growing a good amount of stubble and his face didn't look Pig-like.

The express on his face clearly told him He was least expected there. He was looking at Harry like an odd thing, his eyes wide. Harry tried to smile but ended up twitching his mouth in an awkward sort of way.

"Dudley..!!", A female voice came which Harry couldn't recognise but that seemed to knock some sense into Dudley as he suddenly shook himself and spoke, " Ha.. Harry?"

Harry found it odd when he heard his name from him. As far as he remembers, He was never called by his name in the house. It was always 'Boy' or 'Kid' or just 'He'.

"Hi Big D!", Harry greeted trying to ease the situation a bit.

Dudley smiled which Harry found amusing as well as nice and spoke, "Come in!"

Harry stepped inside the house and his eyes involuntarily travelled through the rooms. It looked exactly the way it was when he had left last time. Nothing was changed.

"Mom and Dad are not Home. They went to attend a Party from Dad's Office!", Dudley informed and Harry found it hard digesting such mannered behaviour coming from him. Of course, He knew he has changed since Harry had saved his life from the Dementors some years ago, But this was a lot to take in.

Harry nodded as Dudley sat on the couch and Harry too took his seat opposite. Just as was about to ask about when they had gotten back, A blond girl with a pointed nose came into view from kitchen. She was a pretty girl with, Harry noticed, an uncanny resemblance to Aunt Petunia. She was quite tall and had a pointed face but it looked less strick and more carefree.

Harry looked at her and then at Dudley expecting him to speak up. He thought he just saw a blush playing on his face and found it hard not to laugh, not when he was being so nice.

"Er..-This is Betty! And Betty, This is..Harry, Er..-My Cousin!", He said standing up and introducing both of them. It was like a day of Surprises for Harry. Firstly, Dudley's changed appearance and behaviour, and then his Girl in his house. Harry found it hard to believe. Nevertheless Harry smiled and shook hands with her who was looking at him sceptically for some reason Harry didn't give much thought to.

"I will get something to drink!", The girl spoke and looked at Dudley before leaving.

They both looked at each other for some time before Harry speaking up, "Er... That's your Girlfriend then. Right?", Harry asked fighting hard not to laugh.

Dudley went pink before muttering, "Yeah..Sort of!"

Harry didn't understand what Sort of meant there but nodded. "She seems so familiar here!"

"Yeah! She comes often. Mum likes her a lot!", Dudley answered.

"I see!", Harry replied and looked at the floor for some moments.

"So..", Dudley started and Harry looked up. "The war's over then?"

Harry nodded.

"So you defeated that..Er..-", Dudley seemed to think hard. "That guy who killed your parents?", He said finally.

Harry nodded, "Voldemort. His name!", He spoke.

"Oh..Yeah!"

Another round of awkward silence followed in which the girl called Betty came and served him drinks and snacks. Harry thanked her and she smiled at him. She then told Dudley she is leaving and left not before offering him a final smile.

"She knows!", Dudley spoke when he found Harry looking at her go. Harry jerked his head and looked at him enquiringly, "She knows you being...Er..-"

"Wizard?", Harry asked.

"Yeah! I told her about you lot. She found it interesting! Said, she reckons one of her neighbour from her old household was also one!", Dudley explained.

"So when did you get back here?", Harry asked.

"Oh..!One of your guys came to our apartment personally and informed us all about you and told us it is safe for us to come back here. So, We moved back here the next week itself. They offered to take us but Dad refused considering there is no danger anymore."

"Oh..Yeah..!!", Harry replied.

They sat silently for another few minutes, only the sound of Harry sipping the coffee could be heard, before Dudley asked, a rather surprising one, "Do you want to see your room? The old one?"

Harry almost choked on his tea but balanced himself before looking at him amused. What the hell happened to the Diddykins?

But looking at the enquiring face of Dudley, Harry considered the question. He pondered it and thought it would be good if he just did. "Yeah. Sure!", He said standing up followed by Dudley.

They climbed the stairs, a feeling of thick memories overlapping Harry. They reached the room and opened the door slowly. Harry stepped into the room and looked around. It definitely didn't look like the one he left. It was clean and mended. There was a big cardboard box on one corner with something inside.

"Mum cleaned after we came here. No one usually comes here. There were some stuffs that you left here, Dad was about to throw it away but Mum and I insisted to keep it. Its in that box.", Dudley spoke.

Harry felt overwhelmed. Such an act was the least expected from the Dursleys. He probably expected his room to be renovated and converted into some Game room and useless stuff for Dudley. Harry looked around the room and slowly moved around observing the place. He went near the big cardboard box, his heart pounding fast, Not knowing what he will find it in there. Harry looked into the box and found so many newspaper cuttings, some letter covers, old boxes of Weasley's wizarding wheezes and many more. There was some Owl food also in a box and Harry was painfully reminded of Hedwig. And in a corner in the box, He found a toy soldier and bent to pick it up.

It is probably 10 years old. He nicked it from Dudley when he was almost 7 or 8. He glanced at Dudley and saw him smiling at him. He too smiled back, "Can I take this?", He asked and Dudley looked rather surprised.

"Yeah! Its your stuff!"

Harry smiled gratefully before pocketing it. He then moved away from the box and went near the bed. He looked through the window towards the bright sky and suddenly felt a Flying Blue Ford Angelia is coming through the clouds towards him. He smiled fondly at the memory.

Harry took a deep sigh and turned to Dudley. "I think I shall leave! Its time!", He looked at him and Dudley nodded going out followed by Harry.

They were at the door when Harry turned to Dudley, "So you mean it then?"

Dudley looked at him confused and Harry continued, "That I am not a waste of space?", He smiled.

It took some seconds before Dudley actually realised what was said, "Oh? Yeah! I mean it!"

"Thanks Dudley! It was nice meeting you again!"

Dudley smiled, "Yeah! You too! You couldn't see Mum and Dad though!"

"Oh! I am pretty sure they will be happy with that!", He grinned and Dudley chuckled.

As they opened the door and stepped out, They saw a car coming towards them before stopping before the house. And to Harry's amazement, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia stepped out, both looking extremely stunned.

"Yo..You...Here?", Mr Dursley stuttered. Petunia looked simply surprised.

Harry smiled, "Yes Uncle Vernon. Thought I will just pay you a visit!", Harry said coolly.

Both of them didn't say anything and Harry didn't wait for them to speak either. He turned, "Goodbye Big D!", He smiled and Dudley reciprocated much to the amazement of the other two.

He turned to Petunia and Vernon, "GoodBye Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia!", He said both finding it hard to speak up. "And Thanks Aunt Petunia-", He paused, "For not throwing away my stuff!", He smiled genuinely and Petunia tried to smile but ended up twitching her lips unpleasantly.

Harry gave them a last smile and started walking away when he suddenly heard Mr Dursley, "How are you going to go?", He turned and saw Dudley too looking at him puzzled. He grinned, "Oh. Don't mind. I will just apparate!"

The expression on their face clearly gave Harry a hard time not to laugh as he walked away mentally thanking Ginny for convincing him to do this!

[spookyseraphs]

supernatural and the x-files (specifically destiel and msr) parallels

this was intended to convert my spn friends to txf and my txf friends to spn and then it got out of hand. i got tired of finding sources for everything, so you’ll just have to trust me, i’m an expert on both subjects.

cas=scully

cas/scully's faith in god vs dean/mulder being non-believers (but believing in the other) (spn) (txf)

cas being the healer, scully being a doctor (spn) (txf)

cas is supposed to guard the michael sword but falls in love vs scully sent to debunk the x-files but falls in love (spn) (txf) 

cas and scully are both immortal (spn) (txf) (also)

cas/scully's families hate dean/mulder (spn) (txf)

cas/scully coming to believe in humanity/the paranormal (spn) (txf)

i'm an angel vs i'm a medical doctor (spn doesn’t have a compilation)   (txf)

they’re not like... the best drivers

hello dean vs mulder it’s me (spn) (txf)

dean=mulder

dean/mulder's fucked up fathers (spn) (txf)

dean/mulder's eldest child syndrome and their unhealthy need to protect their younger sibling (spn) (txf)

dean/mulder being the best in their respective fields (hunting and criminal profiling) and being well known for it

dean/mulder and their porn habits (spn) (txf)

no one has ever hated themselves the way dean and mulder hate themselves (spn) (txf)

dean and mulder both have issues with fire (spn) (txf)

both die, get buried, and then come back

sunflower seeds vs pie

also they both hate nazis (spn) (txf)

yellow fever vs war of the coprophages  (spn) (txf)

ship parallels

blue and green eyes (hazel is close enough)

for some reason theres a pizza man parallel? (spn) (pt 2) (txf) (pt 2)

mulder/krycek vs dean/crowley (spn) (txf) (also)

cas/hannah vs scully/pendrell (poor hannah and pendrell never stood a chance... and died)

also cas/scully get laid ONE TIME (april/ed jerse) and they almost die because of it and then never do it again (spn) (txf)

vs dean/mulder having plenty of love interests/hookups

cas/scully have never done anything wrong ever

dean/mulder... sigh... i love them... but they've made some questionable decisions (i'm looking at you mulder: fucking the vampire THE EP AFTER SCULLY'S ABDUCTION AND WHILE WEARING HER CROSS and dean, kicking cas out and locking jack in the ma’lak box?? really guys?) (spn) (txf)

creators who think their relationship is platonic despite everyone with eyes saying otherwise (spn) (txf)

also the way that neither were ever written or intended to be romantic

the fandoms were split heavily between shippers and non shippers 

they also both had to have scenes changed because they were being played too romantic

a kiss was cut from the episode memento mori and gillovny were always trying to hold hands (x)

jackles forever wanting to cradle misha's face and the cut i love you from the crypt scene (x)

just... gillovny vs cockles in general, i am not a real person shipper, HOWEVER they are both messy (spn) (txf)

their first meetings? iconic. chemistry? immaculate. dean/mulder are super defensive but tbh cas/scully fell in love at first sight (spn) (txf)

they also had no concept of personal space pretty much immediately (spn) (txf)

they have a baby (that has magic powers) together that they lose twice (jack dies and becomes god, william/jackson is adopted and then as far as they know he dies) (spn) (txf)

cas/scully also have a kind of kid (claire/emily) that dean/mulder are willing to co-parent regardless of the fact that they definitely aren't theirs (spn) (txf)

we get an i love you that still doesn't get taken seriously or make them canon (stuck in the middle (with you) and triangle) (spn) (txf)

dean keeping cas's trenchcoat vs mulder keeping scully's cross (spn) (txf)

they go absolutely batshit when the other is in danger or dies/is dying (spn) (txf)

they're also known and used by their enemies as each other's weaknesses (spn) (txf)

msr being mistaken as a couple vs every angel and demon cracking jokes about destiel being a couple (spn) (txf)

skinner and sam just off to the side looking frustrated while msr and destiel are having a couples moment (spn) (txf)

eating each others food (spn) (txf)

appreciating each others interests (spn) (and this one) (txf)

parallels except the roles are swapped

dreamland/small potatoes vs casifer, i just think scully/dean should have realized IMMEDIATELY (spn) (txf)

mulders fight the future speech vs cas's confession (spn) (txf)

they should have kissed and didn't

it almost ambiguously canonizes them both

AND THE SECRET TAPES, the most famous msr kiss isn't an actual canon kiss, it's a blooper of gillian and david making out in front of the camera (two different times) and it wasn't scripted it was literally just them messing around (x)

this is me manifesting jackles dropping the tapes and those tapes having the same energy

they just really love each other (spn) (txf)

non ship/general parallels

leyla harrison vs becky rosen being fandom stand ins (spn) (txf)

they were supposed to end on season 5

Good but bad (absolutely iconic) sci-fi shows

they both had two finales which both sucked

they shared soooo many cast and crew and both filmed in vancouver

they're such similar shows, motw/story episodes, the funny and serious episodes, dealing with the paranormal, they're basically siblings

also siblings in the way that they handle racism, misogyny and consent/rape/bodily autonomy

the supernatural book series vs the movie made about mulder and scully (spn) (txf)

mystery spot vs monday (spn) (txf)

tall tales vs bad blood  (spn) (txf)

 the benders vs home (spn) (txf)

why did both shows use live bees??? (spn) (txf)

the fbi's most wanted and the fbi's most unwanted (also everyone involved looks cute as fbi agents) (spn) (look how cute!) (txf) (cuties!!)

the syndicate vs heaven and the cigarette smoking man vs god

the bunker vs the basement office

every single side character on both shows deserved better!!! most of them literally didn't need to die!!! and i'm still angry!!!

the poor brothers adam milligan and charlie scully existing and then being literally forgotten about until the last season

the fandoms living for things cut from the scripts (spn) (txf)

team free will vs mulder, scully, and skinner

these ones are shippy, but more my opinion than factual

both pairs just keep getting traumatic events dumped on them for absolutely no reason

cas/scully both have major exasperated why do i love this man vibes

absolutely most iconic and slowest slow burn romances of all time and are just the longest games of will they/won't they, baiting, and were never INTENDED to be slow burns

they're always willing to die/kill for each other, however they WILL NOT talk about their feelings under any circumstances

in the field where i died, mulder says that he and scully have been around each other in past lives but never romantically and according to chuck, every other universe's castiel just pulled dean out of hell and listened to his orders

SO in these other lives/universes they were always linked to each other but only in this life/universe do they fall in love

the last seasons really fuck up my favorite characters

dean should not be that shitty to jack OR cas for that matter

and mulder shouldn't have left scully and william (and dearest dana?? DANA?)

and, controversial opinion, but cas/scully could do so much better and deserve so much better but dean/mulder... it's the best they'll ever get

HOWEVER, i feel like their love is MORE powerful BECAUSE cas/scully could do better but they don't want better or normal they want dean/mulder and they will fight to the death for it, it's not the easy choice, it's just what they want

and i say this with all the love in the world for both dean and mulder, but cas could have just followed his orders and returned to heaven like every other version of himself did. scully could have easily found a normal man to settle down and have 2.5 kids with. dean was always going to be stuck in chuck's plans, and mulder absolutely could not just go find a wife to settle down with.

cas/scully put up with SO MUCH SHIT from dean/mulder, while being ALWAYS FAITHFUL to them, it was never the easy option to love these men and stay by their sides, it was hard and they worked for it!!!

they’re both the greatest love story ever told, they tied

[newstfionline]

Saturday, August 21, 2021

Landlords look for an exit amid federal eviction moratorium (AP) When Ryan David bought three rental properties back in 2017, he expected the $1,000-a-month he was pocketing after expenses would be regular sources of income well into his retirement years. But then the pandemic hit and federal and state authorities imposed moratoriums on evictions. The unpaid rent began to mount. Then, just when he thought the worst was over, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced a new moratorium, lasting until Oct. 3. David, the father of a 2 1/2-year-old who is expecting another child, fears the $2,000 he’s owed in back rent will quickly climb to thousands more. The latest moratorium “was the final gut punch,” said the 39-year-old, adding that he now plans to sell the apartments. Most evictions for unpaid rent have been halted since the early days of the pandemic and there are now more than 15 million people living in households that owe as much as $20 billion in back rent, according to the Aspen Institute. A majority of single-family rental home owners have been impacted, according to a survey from the National Rental Home Council, and 50% say they have tenants who have missed rent during the pandemic. Landlords, big and small, are most angry about the moratoriums, which they consider illegal. Many believe some tenants could have paid rent, if not for the moratorium. And the $47 billion in federal rental assistance that was supposed to make landlords whole has been slow to materialize. By July, only $3 billion of the first tranche of $25 billion had been distributed.

Student loans (WSJ) The Biden administration announced it will wipe out $5.8 billion in student loans held by 323,000 people who are permanently disabled. This means the Education Department will discharge loans for borrowers with total and permanent disabilities per Social Security Administration records. Currently there is $1.6 trillion held in student loan debt, much of which could be eliminated through executive action.

New England preps for 1st hurricane in 30 years with Henri (AP) New Englanders bracing for their first direct hit by a hurricane in 30 years began hauling boats out of the water and taking other precautions Friday as Tropical Storm Henri barreled toward the Northeast coast. Henri was expected to intensify into a hurricane by Saturday, the U.S. National Hurricane Center said. Impacts could be felt in New England states by Sunday, including on Cape Cod, which is teeming with tens of thousands of summer tourists. “This storm is extremely worrisome,” said Michael Finkelstein, police chief and emergency management director in East Lyme, Connecticut. “We haven’t been down this road in quite a while and there’s no doubt that we and the rest of New England would have some real difficulties with a direct hit from a hurricane.”

Booming Colo. town asks, ‘Where will water come from?’ (AP) “Go West, young man,″ Horace Greeley famously urged. The problem for the northern Colorado town that bears the 19th-century newspaper editor’s name: Too many people have heeded his advice. By the tens of thousands newcomers have been streaming into Greeley—so much so that the city and surrounding Weld County grew by more than 30% from 2010 to 2020, according to the U.S. Census Bureau, making it one of the fastest-growing regions in the country. And it’s not just Greeley. Figures released this month show that population growth continues unabated in the South and West, even as temperatures rise and droughts become more common. That in turn has set off a scramble of growing intensity in places like Greeley to find water for the current population, let alone those expected to arrive in coming years. “Everybody looks at the population growth and says, ‘Where is the water going to come from?’” [one local professor] said.

Everything’s Getting Bigger In Texas (AP, CNBC, Forbes) Texas has long been a popular destination for newcomers, thanks to cheaper land and housing, more job opportunities, lower taxes, and fewer regulations. There’s also the great weather, food, schools, and medical facilities, the abundant resources and year-round recreation and outdoor activities, artistic and cultural events, fairs, festivals, music venues, and the diverse and friendly people—you know, just to name a few. Texas has always been a business-friendly environment, which has certainly not been lost on tech and financial companies headquartered in strictly-regulated and high-priced states like California and New York. There are 237 corporate relocation and expansion projects in the works in Texas just since the pandemic hit. Tech giant Oracle moved its headquarters to Austin in late 2020; Tesla is building its new Gigafactory there, and Apple will have its second-largest campus there as well. Both Google and Facebook have satellite offices in Austin, and the file hosting services company Dropbox will be leaving San Francisco for Austin. Recently, the global real estate services firm CBRE and multinational financial services behemoth Charles Schwab moved their headquarters from California to the Dallas area. Hewlett Packard’s cofounders were two of the original grandfathers of Silicon Valley, who started their company in a Palo Alto garage in 1939. Now, the corporation is moving its headquarters from San Jose to Houston. And the number of mega-wealthy individuals who’ve moved to Texas are too numerous to mention. It’s not just big cities like Dallas, Houston, Austin, and San Antonio that are seeing an influx of people—bedroom communities are growing by leaps and bounds as well—places like New Braunfels, located in the Texas Hill Country, Conroe, 40 miles north of Houston, and McKinney, just 30 minutes up U.S. 75 from Dallas.

‘Bracing for the worst’ in Florida’s COVID-19 hot zone (AP) As quickly as one COVID patient is discharged, another waits for a bed in northeast Florida, the hot zone of the state’s latest surge. But the patients at Baptist Health’s five hospitals across Jacksonville are younger and getting sick from the virus faster than people did last summer. Baptist has over 500 COVID patients, more than twice the number they had at the peak of Florida’s July 2020 surge, and the onslaught isn’t letting up. Hospital officials are anxiously monitoring 10 forecast models, converting empty spaces, adding over 100 beds and “bracing for the worst,” said Dr. Timothy Groover, the hospitals’ interim chief medical officer.

Grace heads for a second hurricane hit on Mexican coast (AP) Hurricane Grace—temporarily knocked back to tropical storm force—headed Friday for a second landfall in Mexico, this time taking aim at the mainland’s Gulf coast after crashing through the country’s main tourist strip. The storm lost punch as it zipped across the Yucatan Peninsula, but it emerged late Thursday over the relatively warm Gulf of Mexico and was gaining energy. The U.S. National Hurricane Center said Grace’s winds were back up to 70 mph (110 kph) early Friday and were expected to soon regain hurricane force. It was centered about 265 miles (425 kilometers) east of Tuxpan and was heading west at 16 mph (26 kph). The forecast track would take it toward a coastal region of small fishing towns and beach resorts between Tuxpan and Veracruz, likely Friday night or early Saturday, then over a mountain range toward the heart of the country and the greater Mexico City region. Forecasters said it could drop 6 to 12 inches (15 to 30 centimeters) of rain, with more in a few isolated areas—bringing the threat of flash floods, mudslide and urban flooding.

“Self-determination 1, Human Rights 0” (Foreign Policy) Most Latin American governments offered little official support to the U.S. War in Afghanistan when it began in 2001. At the time, Venezuela put forward a blistering critique of meeting “terror with more terror,” and then-Cuban leader Fidel Castro said U.S. opponents’ irregular warfare abilities could draw out the conflict for 20 years. Over the weekend, as the Afghan government collapsed and chaos engulfed Kabul’s airport, today’s leaders of Cuba and Venezuela echoed their critiques while foreign ministers of other Latin American countries diplomatically issued statements of concern about Afghanistan’s humanitarian needs. Chile and Mexico made plans to accept Afghan refugees, and several countries signed on to a joint international statement protecting Afghan women’s rights. To many in Latin America’s diplomatic and foreign-policy communities, the dark events in Afghanistan confirmed the importance of the principle of non-interference in other countries’ internal affairs. The extended U.S. presence in Afghanistan was “the same mistake as always: trying to build democratic states through the use of force,” Colombian political scientist Sandra Guzmán wrote in El Tiempo. Many Latin Americans stressed that methods other than military interventions should be used to work toward human rights, even as they acknowledged how challenging it can be to make progress. “Self-determination 1, human rights 0 #Afghanistan,” tweeted Uruguayan political scientist Andrés Malamud after Kabul fell.

Afghanistan war unpopular amid chaotic pullout (AP) A significant majority of Americans doubt that the war in Afghanistan was worthwhile, even as the United States is more divided over President Joe Biden’s handling of foreign policy and national security, according to a poll from The Associated Press-NORC Center for Public Affairs Research. Roughly two-thirds said they did not think America’s longest war was worth fighting, the poll shows. Meanwhile, 47% approve of Biden’s management of international affairs, while 52% approve of Biden on national security. The poll was conducted Aug. 12-16 as the two-decade war in Afghanistan ended with the Taliban returning to power and capturing the capital of Kabul. Biden has faced bipartisan condemnation in Washington for sparking a humanitarian crisis by being ill-prepared for the speed of the Taliban’s advance.

The U.S. Blew Billions in Afghanistan (Bloomberg) The rapid collapse of Afghanistan’s government to the Taliban fueled fears of a humanitarian disaster, sparked a political crisis for President Joe Biden and caused scenes of desperation at Kabul’s airport. It’s also raised questions about what happened to more than $1 trillion the U.S. spent trying to bring peace and stability to a country wracked by decades of war. While most of that money went to the U.S. military, billions of dollars got wasted along the way, in some cases aggravating efforts to build ties with the Afghan people Americans meant to be helping. A special watchdog set up by Congress spent the past 13 years documenting the successes and failures of America’s efforts in Afghanistan. While wars are always wasteful, the misspent American funds stand out because the U.S. had 20 years to shift course.

Western groups desperate to save Afghan workers left behind (AP) The Italian charity Pangea helped tens of thousands of Afghan women become self-supporting in the last 20 years. Now, dozens of its staff in Afghanistan are in hiding with their families amid reports that Taliban are going door-to-door in search of citizens who worked with Westerners. Pangea founder Luca Lo Presti has asked that 30 Afghan charity workers and their families be included on Italian flights that have carried 500 people to safety this week, but the requests were flatly refused. On Thursday, the military coordinator told him: “Not today.” Dozens of flights already have brought hundreds of Western nationals and Afghan workers to safety in Europe since the Taliban captured the capital of Kabul. Those lucky enough to be rescued from feared reprisals have mostly been Afghans who worked directly with foreign missions, along with their families. European countries also have pledged to evacuate people at special risk from the Taliban—feminists, political activists and journalists—but it is unclear exactly where the line is being drawn and how many Afghan nationals Western nations will be able to evacuate.

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 74: Enclosure

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter 5. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Alcohol, transphobia, prejudiced behaviors, ghoul fetishization, brief unsanitary stuff, dysphoria. (A/N: This is a difficult chapter.)

Doors, keys, barriers, and binding.

_____________________

As his food settled, ‘Choly found his gaze more upon Sticks than anything else. He’d watched as the ghoul ate his stew (and polished off his own as well), watched him as they shared the slice of pie, watched as the two each finished off their chilled cans of Vim. The tonic soda’s alcohol content crept up on him, insidious and heady. Observing Sticks’s indelicate spoon technique juxtaposed against his precise methodology of ripping the bread bowl piece as he went, the angles at which he held his broken lips to prevent dribbling, the diligence and enthusiasm with which he dispatched the meal... He didn’t notice his intoxication until Sticks squarely caught him not just watching, but staring. He frowned softly, stymied and a little too wide-eyed.

He wondered if Sticks had meant to get him drunk, and if so, why. He disliked his reflex to question such a thing.

Angel vocalized as though to clear an imagined throat.

“Ah, yes, gentlemen. Allow me to clear the table for you.” As it did so, it remarked to ‘Choly, “I certainly hope dinner treats you well, Sir.”

“Yeah, it’s gotta be.” Sticks grabbed the cans to collect the ring-pulls from them, before relinquishing them to Angel. He shifted in his seat to lace his hands over his belly. “Surely, I picked out a decent meal.”

‘Choly sat up straighter and reached for his cane hooked on the back of his chair, in preparation of standing, knowing it would take more focus than usual.

“I’ll know sooner or later. I can’t recall a single food since the Vault that hasn’t given me awful indigestion.” His features tightened and he leaned nearer across the table. “The stew didn’t have milk in it, right? Or the bread?”

Sticks didn’t know whether to take the worrying personally.

“Most things don’t. Brahmin don’t produce much milk. It’s usually made into a cheese so it lasts longer. Why?”

Angel finished its bussing. Sticks stood.

“Food allergy. Thanks, Angel.” With a sigh he pushed back the chair. Leveraging off the floor with his cane, he steadied himself against the edge of the table until his balance carried confidence. “Though, I couldn’t say I’d have the same reaction as to cow’s milk. I doubt I’ve had brahmin milk, if it’s rare as you say.”

They passed through the security point again, back into the mall proper. ‘Choly understood this time that the food court took that measure because it had its own door to the outside as well. He supposed that, in addition to the main entrance to the Concourse, each anchor store would have such a weapons check.

It took several tries, and Sticks’s assistance, before he could manage to mount Angel successfully. He laughed it off. They strolled amiably, oblivious to anything but their after dinner leisure. ‘Choly soon stopped them, in front of Sutter Grove, to marvel from a distance at an entire department store space he believed housed nothing but books.

“Sutter Grove was an upscale department store. I understand why a place with a prejudice for robots would clear out their General Atomics in favor of their post office and all, but-- but... did they do similar for every single anchor store?”

“Hadn’t really thought about it.” Sticks shrugged, hands in pockets. “I guess. What’s the use in trying to remember what they used to be, though? It might house hundreds of merchants, but Ant Lane’s more... streets-in-the-sky than a mall anymore.”

“Helps me couple my understanding of things against their reality.”

“Like you keep doing with me, I’m guessing.”

They’d continued along, and it took a moment for ‘Choly to process the jab.

“What, what was that?”

“What’s history matter anymore? I’ve lived so much of it, seen so much of it--made so much of it. We’re in the now, Mindy. Let’s stay here a while, huh?”

He murmured in uncertain agreement, trailing off as he noted the aforementioned Gate City Clinic at one corner of the crossway one might take to get to See’s or The Hall.

“Do you need to see that Liam fellow before we check in?”

“Bah, it’s fine. As long as it stops bleeding, I heal up P.D.Q.--and whatever it is you did, it’s sure stopped, or my sleeve wouldn’t still be white.”

“Is it white?” he mumbled, slouching to ineffectually adjust his half-moon glasses. “This lighting...”

“Tell me about it.” Sticks checked the time on his Pip-Boy and grunted. “It’s five minutes to lock-up time. We need to hoof it, or we’ll have to deal with See’s.”

“Why do I worry you know this from experience,” Angel fretted, matching the ghoul’s haste.

As they passed the glass elevator shaft, converted to a two-story pillar light fixture, ‘Choly looked behind them to confirm his suspicions that See’s guards had spread throughout the mall to empty all visitors from the Concourse.

Five guards stood at the lower level entrance to the Anchor Inn. Its upper level entrance had already been shut off, so as to usher non-Laners into the inn’s first floor lobby. The trio speculated where the Concierge line began, but as the See’s guards pulled shut the Concourse entrance’s rolling metal doors, Sticks encouraged ‘Choly in confidence to make themselves last in line. With easily a hundred people waiting for their rooms, ‘Choly worried they’d fill up before they got to the desk, but did his best to trust his friend. He glanced to his Pip-Boy: curfew came at nine here. Once only ten or so people remained, he dismounted to totter on his cane.

By the time their turn arrived, only one Concierge clerk stood at the desk: the tall, stocky Latin woman with dark teal victory rolls from before. She wore a cravat-bow, with tuxedo-piped slacks and a matching jacket with rows of brass buttons down each side, braided shoulders, and a contrast collar and cuffs. A small pillbox hat was secured cocked on her crown. She’d long since taken notice of Angel’s presence in the lobby, and her confident curiosity indicated easily that she’d assured her coworkers to leave the trio to her.

“I always expected robots to look as dangerous as they’ve been made to sound.” Intrigue piqued her well-manicured brows as she paid the ledgers most of her mind. “Have you stayed with us before?”

“I have. He hasn’t. I’m Sticks, and this is Melancholy. The robot’s Angel.”

She paused as she wrote, processing it all with a faint smile which grew into a beaming grin. She extended a lace-gloved hand and firm handshake, first to Sticks, then to ‘Choly. Angel offered a tendril as well, which she snagged with enthusiasm.

“I’m Orqueida. Rates are nightly or weekly. By the night, it’s ten pulls per person. By the week, it’s fifty pulls per person. Check-out’s at noon the following day. Anything you leave in your room past the time you’ve gotta be out gets donated to our Gift Shop.”

“Let’s start off with that week-long price ticket.” Sticks leaned coolly and removed his ushanka, holding it at his breast to smile at her. “Could I persuade you to give us a slight discount? Say... forty pulls each?”

Her misgivings skewed her features just so.

“We’ve got monthly rates, too, but if you’re intent to stay more than a month, it’s cheaper to speak to Mayor Knott about leasing a space in the Concourse. Are you... gonna be around more than a week?”

“Probably,” ‘Choly mumbled aside. Knowing my luck.

Scrutinizing her ledgers, she placed a dark, enameled fingernail on her floor map with a pleasant nod.

“I can do... forty-five. Best I can do. Our monthly rate breaks down to that. Management’s got a strict no-nonsense policy when it comes to haggling. Let's give you Room 110.”

“You’re too kind.” The ghoul’s rumbling, cordial voice ingratiated, firm but humble. “So neighborly-like. Thank you.”

‘Choly crossed his arms firmly, nearly grabbing fistfuls of his cardigan as he chewed at his lip. It didn’t much reassure him, that she hadn’t said one-eleven. He craned his head a bit to discern the room’s location.

“Excuse me... but I’m to understand that the escalators or elevators are no longer in operation. I imagine the inn uses both stories of the DeMarco-Boyle’s. I really struggle with stairs. I hope it’s no bother for us to request we receive a first floor room?”

“One-ten is. Besides, rooms are only in short supply during blizzard conditions. Long as it’s vacant, it’s for grabs. Psh, talking like you knew what the place looked like before it was an inn. You just said you hadn’t stayed at the Lane before today, and the inn itself is well past centenarian.”

“I haven’t been in this DeMarco-Boyle’s-- I mean, not the Anchor Inn, no.”

Orqueida simply stared at length, her lazy eye overt.

“Is your friend always this weird? Or is he just disoriented from traveling too long with a prewar ghoul?”

“Ohh, this is him coherent.” Sticks shrugged it off with a chuckle, and gave ‘Choly a pitying shoulder pat which elicited pedantic sulking. “He’s got a point, though. He hardly gets around without help, from Angel or otherwise. A first floor room is probably a good idea.”

“Of course. Of course.” After annotating their booking in the ledger, Orqueida leaned her elbows on the high desk, to eye Angel with interest. “Now about that robot. Checks out with the Aldermen, right?”

They both nodded, though ‘Choly couldn’t confidently be sure any officials of any kind had given them explicit verbal clearance to bring Angel with them.

“The instant Yancy gives warning, you’ve gotta follow technological protocols. Lock it in our work closet. Turn it off. Chain it down. Non-negotiable.” She softened, and her fascination shined through once again. “Only other choice is to toss it outside at that point, and I couldn’t have the heart for that. It’ll be neat to have a bot around for a change. Looks a fierce one.”

“My ferocity, madam, is only rivaled by my cleaning prowess!”

She let out a barking jolt of a laugh, and tidied her workspace.

“Ha! Madam. A sense of humor, too.”

“To confirm we’re on the same page about storing Angel,” ‘Choly hemmed, unsure whether to even ask. “You say, ‘at Yancy’s word.’ Is Yancy one of your Aldermen?”

Orqueida gagged and teetered in place before laughing at him pityingly.

“Fuck, I hope not. Ask most people, they’d tell you Yancy’s our resident ant farmer, but he’s our meteorologist. Our weatherman.”

As Sticks handed her fistfuls of pulls from his sack, she strung them onto a set of graduated check spindles to count them in a way not dissimilar to Darryl with his abacus. Until then, ‘Choly had presumed the broker-creature had paid his friend in caps. She deposited their payment in an under-desk till. Then she fished the right room key off the wall pegs behind her, and shut the desk-gate behind her to join them.

“Could I walk you to your room, then?” When they appreciated the gesture, she continued their chat on the way. “You aren’t from the Hinter, or you’d know not to bring Angel along... and it’s rare anyone’s here by accident. I was a real little girl, the only other time I can ever remember the Lane letting in a robot. Nor’easters mess up technology. Something about the electricity in them or something. I’m not sure. It was a lot like Angel. Smaller. It didn’t have any arms. See’s removed its weapon. It had a recording about enlisting to the military base to the South. But, sometimes it’d pick up funky radio music. That’s the part we liked about it. Well, See’s locked it out in the Concourse during a storm. It rammed itself to pieces against the rolling doors of the apartments. Heaven knows what the hell its radio was picking up that week, either. Haunting. So yeeaaah. You’ve gotta turn Angel off if Yancy says a storm’s coming.” She eyed Angel amid the tension of her ghost story, heavy lidded and smiling. “Just the armless one was scary enough. Your voice is yours, not others’. Don’t give me nightmares.”

Angel stuttered at length, guilty and incredulous.

“If it is unsafe for me to remain here during certain conditions, then my liberty holds no priority to everyone’s safety. If... if powering down during such a storm means we prevent any injury--to others, property, or myself--then I’ll make no argument.”

“Nor’easters aren’t as common as you’d think.” Sticks patted Angel’s chassis.

“Any is still more common than we’d like,” she added. They stood at the door to Room 110. “The average Laner won’t know that thing you wear are Pip-Boys. I don’t know why you’re here, but while you’re here, you should see Sutter Grove or Grey & Gould about a lock box, if you have any holotapes you want to keep safe. Better to have the arrangements made, than to scramble last minute, afloat in a thousand people caught up in storm preparations.”

“What do you know about Pip-Boys?” the ghoul started.

“I know they’re not just a computer, for one.” She dangled the key fob at arm’s length to see who’d take it, but she snatched it away from Sticks. Slowly, she grinned at him knowingly. “They can also be a key.”

She let them in, then gave the ghoul the key.

“If you need anything else,” she said, “ring at the Concierge desk. But for an hour or so, don’t need me in particular. Now that everyone’s checked in, I’ve got dinner plans. I’ll be back no later than midnight. Goodnight.”

The halls’ chevron walls contrasted to the geometric scale-like fans of the room. Two wall sconces to either side of the bed sported four of those strange curly red-green Burlington glass bulbs, and a matching swag lamp also hung opposite the bed. They had enough room to move about, but Angel still opted to extinguish its thruster and crawl about on its tendrils.

“I’ll bulk up some figurative guns in lieu of those I can’t have indoors, ha-hah!” it announced. The puffing up in its voice crumpled shortly. “Will we be at the mall all too long?”

“As brief as we can, chap. Brief as we can.” Sticks tossed down his hat and flopped to sit on the end of the bed with his untied apron in his lap. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and be done with all this by this time tomorrow.”

‘Choly hung his visor on the coat rack by the door. Then he pulled some things from Angel’s storage, and tucked his cash into it. He slung a fresh work rag over his shoulder, and grabbed Sticks’s right arm to drag him back up to stand.

“We don’t have our own private bathroom. Could you show me to the public bathroom? It sucks that I didn’t think to see if any of the stores had any toothpaste, but I still want to brush my teeth.”

“Sure. I think one’s just around the corner.”

“I trust the two of you can manage without me,” Angel said, nesting into the corner beside the low chest of drawers. “I’ll stay right here. Out of the way.”

“Angel...” ‘Choly put a hand on it as it tucked its ocular lenses flush to its chassis. “You’re not in the way.”

Sticks plopped his apron in the nightstand drawer.

“Come on. Sooner we can get back to the room, sooner I can finally get a good night’s sleep. It’s been almost two weeks.”

“I told you we could’ve pulled over in Concord for you to nap,” ‘Choly poked on their way out.

“We only made good time because I didn’t.”

The public bathrooms had been converted to showers. Most of the toilets’ plumbing now accommodated shower heads and floor drains, in individual stalls minus the doors. ‘Choly counted nine men besides themselves using these facilities: four in the showers, at least one in the toilets, and the rest at the sinks. The first moment he could, he squeezed in at a sink, and wet his toothbrush to get started. In a fit of stupidity, he turned to the fellow beside him.

“I couldn’t bum some toothpaste from you, could I?”

The middle-aged fellow jerked in place. His glare sobered ‘Choly on the spot.

“You’re in the men’s room. You know that, right?”

One of the men in the showers overheard him and covered up with his hands, cowering to one corner of his stall. Sticks steadied ‘Choly by the shoulder and cocked his head at the guy.

“Last I checked, men use the men’s room. If you’re not sure he’s in the right place, are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“Whatever, shambler. Yer both blind. I was just finishin’ up anyway.”

He slapped a half-crumpled toothpaste tube in ‘Choly’s hand, expectorated, and muttered the entire way out.

‘Choly nearly couldn’t bring himself to use it. He trembled the whole time he brushed. Meanwhile, Sticks stepped up to the sink the other man had been using, to whistle and use their bar of soap to wash up his face and mostly-bald scalp. He hadn’t brought in a toothbrush, so he just rubbed around some of ‘Choly’s toothpaste with a finger and rinsed his mouth out. ‘Choly put up blinders so no one would think he was watching them, but it felt more like deer in headlights. He eventually got the nerve to work at pocketing the bobby pins from his French twist, to brush out his hair at the sink, and rinse the road debris from it. He grounded himself by enumerating tasks for the next day.

I’ll need to bring in some things from the car. My robe. My change of clothes. Some towels. Surely, one of the stalls has a door, so I can--

Sticks laughed suddenly.

“You believe that guy? It’s like he’s never met a pint-sized Russian with long hair before.”

‘Choly glowered at him, with a panicked hush.

“Jacob, please. I just want to forget about it. It’s been happening all goddamn day, if you didn’t notice.” His body slacked in defeat. “Angel’s not the only one who feels unwelcome here.”

“Then that makes three of us. Ignorance isn’t always bliss. But we came here for a reason, and we’re going to see that through.”

‘Choly washed at his hands with their bar of soap, and couldn’t stop sighing.

“...Come on now. Let’s see your arm.”

Sticks removed his shirt without questions. ‘Choly unwrapped the wound to inspect it. Even despite the unusual lighting, it struck him dumb to see the wound had stopped bleeding, and had begun to close up quite cleanly. He carefully soaped up his hands to rinse the injury again, then patted it dry with the old rag, in the delirious inundation of an infatuated stream of thoughts.

Instead of a laundry list, his mind now recited all he could recall of Sticks’s Pip-Boy vitals mere hours ago. He couldn’t believe Sticks hadn’t somehow sneaked a Stimpak while he wasn’t looking. This ghoul... Dreamily, he awed in unmistakable proof his friend was more than a burn victim. He felt more brazen, more justified, in his ardor--the ghoul was a ghoul, long since not human. Unlike at the food court table, this time he caught himself lost in his dopey admiration, and straightened up to finish dressing Sticks’s upper arm. Sticks put his shirt back on, oblivious to ‘Choly’s fascination.

‘Choly’s stomach shifted characteristically. His mouth tugged to one side, and he swallowed at an excess of saliva.

“You go on back to the room without me. Don’t wait up. I... I might be a while.”

“You all right?”

“Dinner caught up with me, is all. I’m fine.”

Fortunately for him, most people seemed to use other bathrooms for the toilets, so not only was the line short, but the time he had to take didn’t much affect anyone but himself. There wasn’t any toilet paper, though he questioned whether it was supposed to, since the dispenser had no empty tube left. He would’ve felt even more disparaged if he hadn’t accidentally kept the rag from Sticks’s arm. He tried not to think about it.

Upon emerging from the stall, he flinched and nearly skipped washing his hands, only to flinch even harder at the need to wash out the rag. He ran a sink tap as hot as it would get, and praised that he’d managed to keep the bar of soap in the shuffle.

“The laundromat’s downstairs, pal,” he heard someone offer in nuisance as he wrung out the rag.

“I’ll remember that, thanks.”

When ‘Choly got back to the room, Angel let him in. It knew the sound of his steps without him even needing to knock. One of the two had pulled drawstring curtain-shades over the Burlington glass fixtures in the room to dim the lights, as they couldn’t simply be turned off. When he heard him enter, the ghoul sat up from the bed, in just his underwear. ‘Choly sat on the dressing stool at the foot of the bed and began to undress. The ghoul tenderly helped him out of his orthotics. He handed ‘Choly back his shirt, and sat on the side of the bed. ‘Choly tossed his orthotics, pants, sweater, and socks on the dressing stool. Then he set his glasses on his nightstand and crawled into the bed with Sticks.

'Choly would’ve melted readily into the full set of clean sheets, but he still couldn’t quite unlatch his brain from his day. He stared up into the recently repaired tiled ceiling. His thoughts wandered back to Sticks’s vitals diagnostics, as the ghoul took off his Pip-Boy and prosthetic, and laid back down with him. He cuddled up to Sticks, to feel his chest, his heartbeat, his body temperature... He started to kissing him, desperately wishing to get in the mood to do more than kiss him... but when Sticks held him closer and kissed him back, he crumpled to rest his head on Sticks’s shoulder. Even shirtless, the brackish scent of Glenn Johnny’s fry oil permeated him.

Sticks didn’t pressure him to continue, and they laid there in silence.

“I don’t know that you should’ve trusted me to know where to find the orthotics,” ‘Choly uttered finally, broken. “I’ve been to three Waldens now. The first only had a few scraps of paperwork left. The second had a lab, but I got it burned down. And the third? You just saw it. The next nearest Walden’s all the way in Bangor, if it’s still standing. And you already said hospitals are a no-go for some reason. Maybe... maybe I’m not supposed to have better medical equipment.”

“Oh shut up. Shut up.” Sticks grabbed a fistful at the back of ‘Choly’s head. “I won’t have this after everything I’ve dealt with to get here. The stuff that was in the warehouse, isn’t. So what?” He let go once he knew he’d shaken ‘Choly to really hear him. “This is the oldest settlement in the Hinter. Of course the city’s picked over. Angel’s right. There’s Laners who scav to stock their shops. We’re bound to find some of the stuff from Walden here. It’s too close to the Lane, for us not to.”

“I... You’re right.” His mouth did most of the trembling at that point. “I don’t think you understand, though, just exactly how dearly I need these orthotics. The corset in particular serves multiple purposes for me. My physical state and my gender have begun to blur together. For the past few months, I’ve been using the canvas orthotic corset over there. It does a similar job to the bust flattener I had before, well. I still resent the Vault staff for burning all my belongings, but the flattener wouldn’t provide me any spinal stability anyway... The shape of me gives me such an unbearable grief at times. But the corset helps some.”

Another lull transpired, while Sticks caressed ‘Choly’s scalp from where he’d gripped it. It was almost like the ghoul didn’t know what to say. Or maybe, he just could tell ‘Choly’s silence said multitudes, and he didn’t want to interrupt him.

“...Is that what all this is about? No wonder you’re so upset about earlier.” Sticks pulled him tighter to him, and held him in both arms. “We’re going to find those things.”

“It doesn’t bother you, does it? For a man to lie beside you, looking like I do?”

“I don’t see why it would. Not that my opinion really weighs in on who you are. People come in all kinds of shapes. You’re... you-shaped. Always have been.” He kissed at ‘Choly’s forehead a few times, then pressed his lips to his, letting his hand and wrist wander impassioned. “Now are you up for a little fooling around a little on a nice, big, fresh bed? Or are you still mopey? There’s only one right answer.”

“You’re the best way to get my mind off things,” he relented.

“Attaboy.”

Go to Next »»»

[ace-beef]

Truth Seekers spoilers

okay so I have a lot of thoughts surrounding the characters Dave and Jojo and I’m gonna talk about them under the cut so don’t look any further if you haven’t watched the show yet and don’t want to be spoiled!! 

so... what exactly ARE Dave and Jojo? 

I think we have three main options: gods (more specifically God and Satan), angels and/or demons, or aliens, and there’s a decent bit of evidence for each thing/stuff that could be interpreted to link to each thing, and I’m gonna delve into that in this post. So buckle up lads this is gonna be a long one. 

First I’m gonna go over the possibility that they’re aliens since that is the one I personally think is least likely since most, if not all, of the evidence that suggests that they’re aliens is linked to Dave and not Jojo. Anyway, Alien Evidence:  - Dave pulls out the Pioneer Plaques to show Jojo what he based his human appearance on. So they could be aliens that came across the Pioneer spacecraft and decided to investigate Earth further - Dave himself is a huge Carl Sagan reference, as listed by this tumblr post here, so his appearance could have been a result of him being inspired by one particular human he happened to like a lot (similar to how he appears to like Gus and Astrid a lot)  - the slogan on the side of Gus’ van says “connecting worlds”, and we can safely assume that that is Smyle’s slogan, the slogan of the company that Dave is in charge of. So this could be a similar situation to The Network in The World’s End in the sense that Dave could be an alien aiming to connect different intelligent civilisations throughout space. Although it definitely seems like Dave isn’t seeking to aggressively convert and control these civilisations that he connects like The Network... right? I’m fairly confident that he’s supposed to be a Good(TM) character and not some surprise twist villain but y’know we’ll never know 

So yeah while there is definitely some stuff to suggest that this mysterious pair are aliens, I personally don’t think they are since I’ve found more evidence suggesting that they are something else. They appear to be too in tune with Earth, the creatures inhabiting it, and “the other side” that souls pass on to after animals and humans die just to be aliens from another world that are observing the planet. Plus the use of the phrase “Super Being” for some reason doesn’t feel alien to me, because unless they’re very self entitled aliens (and Dave definitely doesn’t give off that vibe) then I don’t think they would consider themselves as above humanity, which is the energy that the phrase “Super Being” gives off. I heard that phrase and interpreted it as meaning ‘beings that are above humanity and above human comprehension’. Aliens for the most part are depicted as being just another race of beings, not above humanity despite how much further advanced they are. There is the possibility of Dave being the only alien of the two but then how did these two creatures meet? It just doesn’t feel right since they both appear to be on the same level as each other and have some kind of mutual understanding as if they were both the same thing, not two different creatures.

Anyway next I’m going to move onto the things suggesting that they’re angels and/or demons. This seems more plausible to me than aliens but I’m still not 100% sure on this one but I will say that there is a lot of evidence/interpretations that could suggest both this possibility and the possibility of them being gods. Angel/Demon Evidence:  - the name ‘Jojo’ could be a link to the angel Jophiel  - there is a mention of a ‘bigger picture’ so we could have a Good Omens-type situation where there is a plan in motion that both Dave and Jojo are a part of and are making sure that it is played out  - the “what did you come as?” “same as always, a man” bit obviously suggests that their actual forms are definitely not human and probably not even humanoid (whereas an alien would be at least humanoid in some capacity). Bibically accurate angels do not look human/humanoid in the slightest, and demons, while a bit more humanoid than angels, are still very animalistic in appearance. Also, imagine an innocent angel that has never pried to look at what a human ACTUALLY looks/acts like suddenly panics about having to look and act like a human and pulls up that one thing the humans sent out to the aliens as a reference and goes entirely on that (listen I really like Dave he seems like such a Good Boy who isn’t the brightest but he’s trying his best) - Dave’s aversion to swearing, links to the theme of purity which is obviously an angel thing. Plus ‘Good’ characters will often have a trait of being against swearing to reinforce the idea that they are Good and Pure - Gus makes a comment about Dave “never not being [at Smyle HQ]” so he’s clearly there all the time, which could suggest a lack of needing to go home and do basic human functions such as eat and sleep etc (I do want to bring up that an alien still would probably need to continue with some kind of basic functions that have similar purposes). Plus while he does have a coffee cup on his desk, it’s only filled with pens - in a similar vein, Jojo appears to spend all of her time in the abandoned Happy Eater, and even though it’s an abandoned restaurant, it’s been abandoned for over 20 years and therefore won’t have any edible food still in it (except for the crisps but let’s be real Elton why did you try and get those out they’re probably horribly out of date). The still steaming cup of tea/coffee and the crisps in the vending machine I feel like were put there by Jojo to play to the gang’s curiosity and prompt them to explore further and find her 

there are a few things here that could also be used to suggest that they are gods/God and Satan, plus there’s a few more bits that would also go in this section but I’m saving them for the next bit. Anyway there’s the stuff pointing to them being either both angels or Dave being an angel and Jojo being a demon, and there’s plenty more evidence compared to the amount of things that suggest that they’re aliens. 

Finally we have the things linked to the idea of them being gods of some kind, or more specifically God and Satan. This is the idea that I am the most sure of.  Gods/God and Satan Evidence:  - as I mentioned already, the idea of the ‘bigger picture’, but instead they are the ones in charge of carrying this out. This feels more likely especially when considering the way that Jojo talks about her ‘use’ of Toynbe. Plus the way that the two go about doing everything, the ambiguous vibe that the two are either having the equivalent of a friendly card game against each other or are actually on opposite sides. Consider the placement of the rose in the field and the planting of the cameras etc - also as mentioned earlier, the implication that Dave never leaves Smyle HQ and Jojo stays in the abandoned restaurant. Also I want to add on the fact that neither of them appear to have cars, like Dave outright says “I don’t have a car” and yet knows how to drive the one he borrows, and there’s no sign of a car at Jojo’s hideout. Plus the way she doesn’t make any kind of journey and just appears in Dave’s office: he doesn’t look up to see who’s walking through the door and there is no shot of Jojo walking through the door, he simply smiles as if he senses her presence appearing in the room before looking at her - Dave wears blue, white, and grey clothing, which are also the same colours used in his office, and the lighting whenever he’s in shot is always either bright and white or a light blue, especially in that last scene where Jojo and Dave are chatting in his office; every time the camera is on him, the lighting of the shot is always blue. White especially is associated with holiness and purity, as well as being a colour that is associated with God, angels, and heaven. Blue is similar in the sense that heaven is always depicted with white clouds and bright blue skies, as well as blue often being a colour used to represent ‘Good’ characters - speaking of colours, Jojo is also linked to certain colours, with those colours being red and black (but primarily red). The abandoned restaurant is dark and barely lit, and her hideout in the basement is primarily lit with red lighting, both in the scene where she encounters the Truth Seekers gang and at the end where she rings Gus and orders that guy to send a cleanup crew. Also, once again in that last scene, she not only is wearing a black item of clothing, the lighting of her shots are always red to oppose Dave’s blue lighting. Red obviously is synonymous with hell, evil, the Devil/Satan, sin etc. Red is also often used to represent villains and evil characters, and black is similar with its themes of darkness and it’s use for villains. I like to think that Jojo got that blue rose for Dave partially to mock him, especially when considering that apparently blue roses are often used to symbolize mystery or attaining the impossible. (Also I want to point out that we already know that these boys do love their colour coding/theming as evidenced by the Cornetto Trilogy) - once again I’ll bring up the phrase “Super Being”, which really does sound like a phrase that a god who is very much above humanity would use, like that just screams ‘gods’ to me  - I used this as alien evidence but Dave looking like Carl Sagan could also be applied to him being a god and just deciding to base his appearance on a human he liked a lot - same with the “connecting worlds” slogan, since I think that part of Dave and Jojo’s game/contest involves experimenting with and/or influencing the boundaries between the ghost realm and the living realm, this slogan could have something to do with that - the way that Jojo says she “shouldn’t have used [Toynbe]”, which reminds me of the story in the Bible where the Devil tempts Jesus, except Toynbe succumbed to the temptation and “focused too much on the immortality”  - speaking of that line in particular, it also makes me think that Dave and Jojo are the ones ‘in charge’ of whatever game or contest or battle that the two are having, as I mentioned already. But that line, as well as other things, also gives the impression that they are alone in this, like Dave isn’t just one of many angels or a god with loads of angel lackeys to do things for him, and the same goes for Jojo. They do appear to have human ‘lackeys’ to do more basic tasks such as Jojo requesting the cleanup crew and Dave having a company with human employees, but overall the humans are unaware of what is really happening. Whatever thing that these two have with each other, whether they’re friends having a casual game or are on opposing sides and having a serious battle of some kind but are remaining friendly with each other because there isn’t anyone else like them, it definitely feels like these two are pitting against each other alone, with nobody else who really knows what is happening 

Overall, I think the two are some kind of higher entities that are above humanity yet they are still very strongly linked to and woven into the fabric of the Earth and the human race, so like they’re not outsiders to the mechanisms/forces of the planet. They seem more knowledgeable on the ghost realm/afterlife than humanity is, but whether they can actually control/influence it is still a bit of a mystery, like part of their game/contest could be one big experiment with the living realm and the ghost realm. Who knows? Not us, since season 2 isn’t going to be a thing, so I’m just gonna theorise until I die /j

So there ya go, all of my current evidence and thoughts on what the hell is going on with Dave and Jojo. I will probably update this post if I come up with/find any more things to add, probably by reblogging it. Also of course do feel free to reblog and add your own theories! 

[wintrgarden]

a latte for your thoughts?

// a fan fiction dedicated to the winter garden couple of hospital playlist //

-----

"Ikjun, do you have my warm cup of hot latte?" Jeong won said, while walking towards him in the hospital's open space to take a break during his night shift.

"Here. Isn't it tiring in the PICU these days?" Ikjun replied with worried eyes.

"A little. I don't mind it though.

Yah, do you remember my liver transplant patient, Mina?"

"Yeah, the one where we had to cut the donor's liver to a quarter because it won't fit the tiny baby's body. What about her?"

"I went to her a while ago. She woke up, and winked at me like this!" Jeongwon lit up whenever he talks about his patients' recovery. His eyes sparkled and his smile widened. He repeated the wink so much that it could have been mistaken for a blink. In fact, he was so giddy that he didn't notice someone approaching.

"Professor Ikjun? The test results of patient Jiwon are out. Could you take a look at it?"

Jang Gyeoul, the third year resident of General Surgery has been standing there for a few moments, waiting for the two professors to actually notice.

While hiding his laugh, Ikjun followed suit. Jeongwon was left on the bench with an unwavering smile on his face.

Looking at him, one would think that his drink was too sweet to make him smile like that. Eavesdropping on their conversation would transform him into a humanitarian. But to delve into his thoughts --- now that, that's a different story.

It's nice to actually see an angel, once in a while. Just enough to keep me on my feet. I might be even enthralled by its eyes that don't wink but are enveloped with fascinating halo-like things. Even if this angel doesn't have wings, it has the most power to chase evil away. I wasn't sure if this angel could save me --- until it actually did.

------

"Yah, Ahn Jeongwon, are you sleeping here again?" Junwan said, while entering their shared office.

"O~ I just finished my night shift. I just lied down."

"Have you eaten?"

"I'll eat later."

"I also haven't eaten yet. Let's eat breakfast."

"Will you stop bugging me if I eat?" Junwan then pulled Jeongwon out of the cot, and dragged him to the packed cafeteria to fall in line.

------

"One iced latte, please. Oh, and a sandwich."

With the same baggy eyes and pale skin, Gyeoul was ordering her morning coffee. Just enough to keep her awake until she gets home.

"Annyeonghaseyo~" She greeted the two professors.

"De~" Jeongwon said, while Junwan nodded in response.

CODE BLUE --- CS. 3RD FLOOR. CODE BLUE --- CS. 3RD FLOOR.

Without a beat, Junwan, a Cardiothoracic Surgery Professor, left hurriedly. Jeongwon was then left alone. Gyeoul took her order and searched for a seat.

"One warm cup of hot latte and a pancake, please."

After getting his order, Jeongwon followed through and tried to find his way in the crowd. It was full of doctors and nurses waiting to start their morning shifts, so the noise was understandable.

"Professor! Here!" Gyeoul pointed to a newly vacant seat in front of her. The morning rush got the best of them that Jeongwon didn't think twice and made his way.

The crowd was boisterous. Jeongwon and Gyeoul's silence was awkward. It was not the kind of environment you'd want after a 12-hour shift.

But it was all worth it. At least for one of them.

"How was the Emergency Room last night?" Jeongwon blurted after taking a bite of his pancake.

"It's okay. There were a lot of unpredictable cases, most of which were tiring, as usual." Gyeoul's detailed answer was so calm. It seemed that the Professor's unexpected friendliness didn't bother her.

"Do you have someone to take you home?"

"What? No. I can go by myself." With a polite tone, Gyeoul showed her surprise with the question.

"I'll give you a ride home."

"No, you don't need to---"

"I insist. I still haven't bought you the meal you asked from me, anyway. Can a ride home suffice?"

Gyeoul was bewildered. But with the professor's kind nature, it seemed like something he would do for literally anyone. He wasn't called the "Buddha" for nothing, anyway.

-----

"It's that apartment on the right, Professor."

"This one?"

"Yes. Thank you for the ride."

"It's not a problem. The next time we catch ourselves on a rough patch, I can take you home again."

Gyeoul smiled. Her first that day. Then, she opened the door to get out.

"Oh, shit! I forgot!" The car stopped. Jeongwon's shock even surprised Gyeoul.

"Why, Professor? What happened?"

"I totally forgot about it. I was scheduled to get my car battery change the other week, then I forgot and was planning to do it today."

Sleeping in the cot that morning wasn't just to save time to rest up. He actually had long, overdue chores and was saving some energy to do them.

"Do you have a contact to a car battery seller?" Gyeoul asked.

"Yeah, I'll contact them now."

It was still early in the morning, around 6 o'clock. The service opened at 9 o'clock, so delivery wasn't possible after an hour or so.

Gyeoul stayed with him until things got settled. It was getting chilly, and the overwhelming fatigue got the best out of Jeongwon.

"Professor, you could rest a little in my place... if you like. You can sleep while waiting."

Jeongwon hesitated a bit, but decided to give in.

------

"I'll just get an extra pillow and some blankets." said Gyeoul, while Jeongwon helped in fixing the convertible sofa bed in her living room.

Once fixed, he sat and removed his shoes.

"You live alone?" he asked Gyeoul once she got back.

"Yes, for a while now." she replied as she handed him the pillow.

"Ah, I see."

"I'll just be in my room. You can call me if you need anything."

"Thank you... Also, I'm sorry for being so troublesome." His shy look gave him away.

"It's nothing, don't worry." Gyeoul smiled, and went into her room.

Jeongwon lied down. He couldn't believe what was happening --- and how the situation could naturally give a wrong impression. If he told Ikjun about this, he would make fun of him and joke about how he got things to escalate so quickly. Junwan would tap him on the back and commend him for finally picking up some tricks of his. Songhwa would be very much amused, and would romanticize the whole situation. Meanwhile, Seokhyeong would remind him that he's an OB-GYN Professor, and that he delivers babies very well. He would be of service to Jeongwon if ever he needed one.

His thoughts started to tone down, and after no time, he was asleep.

-------

"Professor?"

......

"Professor? I fixed some lunch. Do you want to eat?" Gyeoul wore an apron over some loose shirt and pajamas now, and sun was already high up.

Jeongwon looked at his wrist watch.

2:24 PM.

He quickly sat up.

"I'm sorry, did the service arrive? I must have been in a deep sleep."

"Yes, they arrived a few hours ago. I tried to wake you, but you were soundly asleep."

"I'm really sorry. You had to pay them, didn't you? I'll just pay you back."

"The receipts are there, over the table."

Jeongwon went to get them, and was distracted with the smell of food coming from the kitchen.

"Professor, I fixed some lunch for us, if you want to eat..."

He felt ashamed to take another offer, but hearing his stomach grumble made him look the other way, again.

Gyeoul was already fixing the table for two, while Jeongwon sat quietly and contemplated how much trouble he caused her all in a single day.

"I'm really sorry... I meant to wake up, seriously. I was just really tired from last night."

"It's okay." Gyeoul said with a chuckle. "I'm not holding anything against you, Professor." she added as she handed out his chopsticks.

"Thank you for the meal." he then said.

Everything was new to Ahn Jeongwon. He didn't need to wipe the table, or arrange the food, or even wear an apron. He didn't even need to worry if he was going to get enough food, as everything was already at his disposal. This new scenario keeps him gushing.

Being alone with a girl, in her apartment, eating her cooked food, and feeling something that only grown-ups alone in an enclosed space would feel. It wasn't like this was the first time something like this is happening, he often said to himself. It somehow eased his discomfort.

All while knowing the truth that this is in fact the first time.

But it's not like Jeongwon didn't have the opportunity and ability to; he just chose not to. His faith led him to a different path, and he was decisive to go this way. For the longest time, this weighed more than any choice he had to make in his life. But this time, something, or perhaps someone, was gonna tip the scale.

-----

"Yah! Jang Gyeoul! What's this?" Chu Minha screamed as Gyeoul entered the GS Department, in time for another night shift.

Someone left iced latte for her. With a double bacon sandwich. And some patches to ease pain. It came with a written note, saying:

"To my Good Samaritan. Thank you~

---- Ahn Jeongwon"

The handwriting made Gyeoul smile.

"Why did Pediatric Surgeon Prof. Ahn Jeongwon gave you coffee? And why are you smiling?"

"Nothing. It's just to repay a good deed."

"That's the most vague yet unsuspicious answer I've ever heard! Good deeds really cannot be questioned at all. I wish someone would also give me coffee." Minha wouldn't stop, but Gyeoul wasn't listening either.

She focused on the note. And the coffee. And the sandwich.

While remembering the long day with Ahn Jeongwon.

[verai-marcel]

The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 1 of 6, 18+)

Summary: John Marston was proud to be part of the VDL Riders, a biker gang led by Dutch van der Linde, and had been with them since he had run from home at the age of 15. He and his makeshift family lived by three principles: live free, help those who need it, and punish those who deserve it. For five years, his gang was all he cared about and nothing else mattered. But then John meets you, and his priorities start to change.

Author’s Notes: Go check out @veradia’s biker AU RDR2 art for what inspired me to write this. This is a prequel to Before This Dance Is Through, so everyone is 6 years younger; John is about 20 in this story and so are you, my dear reader. 

Tags: prequel fic, eventual smut, romance, drama, violence, cheesy 80s vibe even though it's 2012, modern AU, switching POVs

AO3 Link is here, sweetheart.

--------------------

Chapter 1 - Start at the End

Word count:  2032

“Dammit Morgan, you could’ve warned me!”

Arthur grinned as he slapped John’s back. “Well, that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?”

The others laughed while John rubbed the back of his head, leaning down to pick up the can of beer. It looked too shaken up to open at this point, so he set it on the table and glared at his brothers. Stalking past them towards the mini-fridge, he pulled out another beer, popped it open and took a long gulp. Dressed in his favorite black leather jacket over a plain white shirt, ripped black jeans, a chain on his belt to keep his wallet from being stolen, and scuffed biker boots, John looked like he bought all of his clothes in the late 80s and never changed.

“So, what’re we doing tonight?” Javier asked, leaning against the mezzanine railing. He had his medium length hair tied up, strands of it falling from the hair tie to frame his angled face. His leather vest and his blue jeans were impeccably clean, and not a single misplaced thread was on his V-neck shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He carried his favorite combat knife in a holster on his hip, hidden under the vest, and he wore black fingerless leather gloves.

Lenny sat on the couch, his freshly polished black boots propped up on the coffee table. He looked like he didn’t quite belong in a motorcycle club, in his black pants and black T-shirt. His white cowboy hat was clean, his white blazer crisp. He had his own knife holster, concealed under his jacket. 

Sean was standing behind the couch, leaning against the back of it. He wore a green headband around his shoulder length hair, fancying himself an Irish Rambo, choosing to wear a blue athletic cut T-shirt and olive green khakis. He wore his brown Timberland boots, the same ones he had since he joined the gang. They looked dirty and scuffed to hell, but they still did their job, so he had no reason to buy new ones. His green & red striped flannel was tied around his waist, hiding a knife holster.

Charles was sitting back in one of the arm chairs catty-corner to the couch. He had his long hair braided tight, the sides of his head shaved. His dark blue peacoat was open to show his black turtleneck and blue jeans. Both of his black biker boots had knife holsters with a few throwing knives.

They all looked towards Arthur, who shrugged as he looked at all of them. He had his worn cowboy hat on with his old bomber jacket over a grey shirt, faded blue jeans, and cowboy boots. He pulled a cigarette out and lit it with his silver zippo lighter, breathing in and letting out a puff of smoke before he responded. 

“Dutch wants us to go run security at some rich feller’s house party.”

“And how are we supposed to manage t’at? I don’t have any fine clothin’ for the occasion,” Sean groused.

“No amount of clothing can save you,” Javier joked.

Sean glared as the others laughed.

“Dutch said we just wear black polos and black jeans so we look like a security company,” Arthur said once the laughter died down.

“So. Is there an alternative motive for this job?” Charles asked.

“Of course there is,” Lenny said confidently. “There’s no way Dutch would deal with those kind of folks without a reason.”

Arthur nodded. “Word is that the rich feller has quite the car collection. We sneak in after the party while everyone’s wasted and drive a few of them outta there. Swap out the plates, get a paint job over at Hosea’s, done deal.”

“And if they have alarms or kill switches?” John asked.

“You know how to hot wire,” Arthur sniped. “You, Javier, and Lenny can deal with it.” He walked past all of them and headed down the stairs. "Meet you all back here by 6pm."

John shrugged. As they split up to prepare for the job, he looked around the small warehouse they called their biker club. Walking down the stairs, he went past their bike shop area underneath the mezzanine and paused for a moment. They had slowly built this place up from scratch, bringing in old furniture for their hang out space and tools to take care of their bikes.

And on the other side of the warehouse were two offices that had been converted into bedrooms. While the others had their own places to live, John and Arthur lived at the club, having both been orphans and taken in by Dutch. Their rooms weren’t anything fancy, just a little bit of room to sleep and store their worldly possessions. John headed to his room to take a nap.

Instead, he lay on his old mattress, staring at the ceiling. He had been with the gang for five years, since he ran away from his foster home. His mother had died six years ago from a drug overdose. When she was lucid, which wasn’t very often, she was kind, even as her eyes bled sadness at the edges; those were the memories he held onto the tightest. He didn’t even know who his father was, or if he was even still alive, but he knew that if he ever met him in person, he'd knock his lights out for leaving his mother such a wreck. 

After he had been sent to foster care, his foster parents didn’t try to understand him, they only tried to mold him into what they thought a proper young man should be. So he ran away. When Dutch found him, scrounging for food in a trash can behind the warehouse, he took him in. Gave him shelter.

Then there was Arthur. He was like a big brother, taught him how to fend for himself, taught him what it meant to give more than you received, even if it came with insults and punches to the face at times.

As more outcasts joined the gang, they also became his family, his brothers. Javier, Sean, Lenny, and Charles, one by one, they all joined and quickly became an intrinsic part of his life. He’d never want for more than this.

But lately, Dutch seemed off. For the past year, John had noticed him taking bigger risks, sending them on more violent jobs, and slowly stepping away from the hands-on work, leaving it to “the younger, faster men,” as he called them. There was a tinge of blind desperation in how Dutch led them now, almost as if he wanted to push them towards something greater, but wasn’t sure what that something was.

Rolling over, he stared at the wall covered in Led Zeppelin, Eagles, and other classic rock posters. He looked at the one Metallica poster he had and smiled wryly as he remembered Arthur throwing it at him, snarling “happy fucking birthday”, and slamming his door. He later found out that Arthur had snuck into the concert, stolen a poster, and ran half a mile to get away. And all because John had whined about not being able to go that night because he was sick.

He sighed and got up. He wasn’t going to get any sleep now. Leaving his room, he tinkered with his Honda Shadow Aero, his pride and joy, until it was time to go.

***

“We certainly look dangerous,” Charles said with a hint of humor in his voice as he calmly got out of the gang’s Sprinter van. 

“That’s because we are,” Javier said matter-of-factly as he hopped out next. 

Everyone bounded out of the van, with John the last out. He pulled the sliding door shut and followed the others into the house, hanging back as he listened to Arthur talk with the party host about the job. He trailed behind them as they were led around the house and made mental notes about where the party goers were allowed to go and where they were forbidden.

Once they were left to their own devices, Arthur turned around. “Alright men, let’s get to work.”

***

The party was wild, the party-goers were disgusting, and at the end, half of them were drunk, and the other half were passed out. 

It was almost far too easy to sneak into the garage, pick a couple cars that were not too flashy, and drive them off the premises. 

As they took off down some quiet back roads to lose any would-be followers, John sat and stared out the window into the pitch black night as Arthur drove with the window rolled down, his arm hanging out the window. Lenny and Sean had taken a car while Charles and Javier had left the party earlier, driving the van to Hosea’s shop.

“Hey.”

“What.”

John scratched his beard. “Do ya think—”

“I think more than you,” Arthur interrupted.

“Dammit Arthur, I’m tryin’ to be serious here!”

“Calm your balls,” Arthur said gruffly. “Yer so easy to rile up, I can’t help it.”

John let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you think Dutch is… do you think he’s tired of this? Of the club?”

Arthur was silent for a few moments. “Why do you say that?”

“He hasn’t been around much lately. He tells us to go do these jobs that are more and more dangerous. We haven’t done a charity drive or anythin’ nice for the community in the past two years.”

“Yeah, I noticed too. I don’t know, I’m sure somethin’ will come around. Maybe he’s been busy just tryin’ to get us steady work.”

“We used to just get jobs that were just jobs. Now we always have some double crossin’ or thievin’ or some shit that could get us in serious trouble!”

Arthur was silent for a little too long.

“Arthur?”

His sigh was long and tired. “I know. I know.”

The rest of the drive was silent as they drove the two hours back to the city.

***

After they had dropped the cars off at Hosea’s car shop, Charles drove them all back to the club in the van. It was 4AM by the time they all got back, and collectively they decided to call it a night and get back together the next night. As the others took their bikes and headed to their own homes, Arthur glanced over at John, who was still silent, still thinking.

“Yer goin’ to think yerself into the ground there,” Arthur commented.

John shrugged. “I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah. Let’s talk to Dutch tomorrow.”

As Arthur headed back to his room, John stepped outside and leaned against the brick wall. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with his disposable lighter, and slowly took a drag as he stared up at the twilight sky, the stars barely visible in the city. He had an itch to be out in the open again, to sleep under the river of stars like he did in the desert. Or even to be out of a city, just for a while.

John finished his cigarette and slunk back into the warehouse, crawling into bed and staring at the ceiling until the sun came up before finally passing out when even his churning thoughts could no longer keep him awake.

***

“I swear, if we have to hear one more lecture about not having enough faith…”

Arthur just shook his head as he followed John out of the convenience store, quietly drinking his soda. 

“We just asked one damn thing, and he blows up at us like we’re questioning his entire existence!”

“You know how he is,” Arthur mumbled.

“I know how he was. How he is now… he ain’t the same.”

John’s statement was met with silence.

“You know I’m right,” John insisted.

Arthur let out a long sigh. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know!” John looked away. "All I know is that things ain't the same anymore," he mumbled as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and went silent as they walked back to the warehouse.

"Well," Arthur said after a while, "It weren't us that changed, that's for sure."

----------------------

Chapter 2 coming soon!

[iholdmysaiproperly]

This is my contribution to the @daredevilexchange, a fic for @valinorbound using the prompts, Foggy, Karen, and Matt setting up their new partnership, a post-Defenders reunion, and team as family. 

“What do you mean you haven’t spoken to any of the other Defenders?” Foggy asked as he strained to squeeze a conference table into the space above Theo’s shop. The Three Avocados, as Foggy liked to call them, were busy trying to convert space previously used for storage into a semblance of a lawyer’s office. 

Foggy and Karen were trying to treat Matt’s vigilante side job like a normal extracurricular activity. But it was proving to be a little harder for them than if Matt had taken up, say, the violin. Foggy thought that Matt was better off in a team up, rather than working alone - safer that way - and had brought up the Defenders. It turned out that Matt hadn’t spoken to any of them since the Midland Circle debacle.

Matt, after trying to duck the question for at least five minutes by attempting to clear some clutter from what was soon to be their waiting room and keeping up a running commentary of what he guessed the items were, had finally mumbled something about not having seen them since the building had come down. He hoped they would drop the subject, but judging from Karen’s quick intake of breath and the fact that Foggy had completely stopped all movement for about 10 seconds told him that this was never going to happen.

“Matt, buddy,” Foggy began, “I saw them after it all happened. When we all thought you were, you know,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “dead.” 

Behind him, Karen rolled her eyes, but stayed silent, emptying out an old file cabinet she hoped they could use.

“And, let me tell you, man, they were pretty broken up about it. I mean, you stayed down there when they all came up. That leaves a mark on people. Hell, Matt, YOU leave a mark on people, and you really need to get better at the whole,” here he stopped his futile efforts with the table and leaned against it, “you know, communicating thing. Starting with NOT LETTING PEOPLE WHO CARE ABOUT YOU GO ON BELIEVING THAT YOU’RE DEAD.”

“What Foggy is trying to say,” Karen interrupted, shooting Foggy a look over her shoulder as she approached Matt, “Is that even if you don’t team up with these people again, you should at least let them know that you’re ok.”

“I’m sure they’ve heard by now,” Matt answered them dismissively. “It was a little hard to miss Daredevil’s return; it was all over the news!” Hearing both Foggy’s and Karen’s heartbeats start to pick up, he asked, “What?”. They were both getting worked up about something, but he really just wanted to focus on what they were doing - making a fresh start for the new Nelson, Murdock, and Page and making sure they were ready to open the doors on schedule. 

Seeing that Foggy was about to yell again, or possibly pull his hair out in frustration, Karen placed a hand on his arm and took a step forward, “Matt, don’t you think that they might want to hear it from you? Whatever the four of you went through down there, it was pretty intense. And then to think that you stayed down there when they all got out. That had to have been difficult for them. I think you owe it to them to at least let them know that you survived.” As she spoke, Karen moved slowly toward Matt, as if toward a skittish cat. “They may not love you like we do, but I’m sure they’d be happy to hear from you again if you were to reach out.”

Matt sighed, running his fingers back through his hair and turning away for a moment. They were right. He knew they were right, but at the same time, his plate felt awfully full just then. The Yakuza seemed to be trying to make a play for the hole left by the Hand, he, Foggy, and Karen were attempting to get their new partnership underway, which meant a lot of physical work as well as paperwork, and he was making more of an effort to be a better friend to both of them. This meant trying to juggle a worklife, social life, and his nightlife, and he lived in constant fear that one of those balls was going to drop on his head.

The thought of reaching out to three more people, even if it was just socially, was more than he really felt up to at the moment. Admitting that, however, was something that he just didn’t think he could do right now, either. He couldn’t see their faces, but he could picture the sympathetic looks that Foggy and Karen would give him, as well as the requisite pep talks and encouragement to cut back on his nighttime activities if he so much as hinted that he was feeling a little overwhelmed. 

After a moment, he decided that the only way through this was to admit that Foggy and Karen were right, and call up the other Defenders. Maybe he would get lucky and a quick phone call would suffice. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Murdocks don’t get lucky, Matt thought as the limo he sat in propelled him through the city. We get hit, we get up, we use pain to keep us going, but we never get lucky. 

Matt’s hope and plan went off the rails with his first phone call. It was to Jessica, who first hung up on him, then called him back to yell at him until he had to hold the phone away from his ear fearful of hearing damage. She hung up on him again, then called back, clearly inside a bottle, to yell some more. It took him two days before he recovered enough to call Luke, who was overjoyed to hear from him, but a lot more sane about the call than Jessica had been. Fewer expletives as well.

The call had gone so well, in fact, that he immediately called Danny, a decision he was now regretting. Danny had also been overjoyed to hear from him, and had immediately suggested that the four of them meet and catch up. “You don’t have to do a thing,” he promised over the phone, “I’ll arrange everything. Hey, did I tell you I bought that restaurant we all met at? Yeah, after the car came through the front window, I sort of had to in order to avoid being sued. Anyway, it’s mine now so I can host you all there for a reunion dinner! I’ll call the others and set it up, how’s the 20th work for you?” Given that it was the 1st, and the 20th seemed ages off, Matt agreed and hung up the phone wondering what he had gotten himself into.

The next few weeks flew by as they continued getting Nelson, Murdock, and Page up and running. They were officially open for business, and the word about the hot shot pro bono attorneys was spreading. Karen was almost never in the office, off following some lead while Matt and Foggy did their best to keep up with the unending stream of people who flowed through their doors.

They were so busy, in fact, that Matt had completely forgotten about his dinner with the Defenders until a limo had pulled up outside of the shop one evening, and a beaming Danny - he could actually hear the man smile - had him by the arm and inside the limo before he had time to blink. 

Any attempts Matt made at stalling or entering the restaurant quietly were thwarted by Danny, who pulled him inside, while calling out enthusiastically to the others the whole time. Matt was immediately greeted by a punch to the gut and an, “Asshole!” from Jessica, who was clearly still mad at his failure to communicate the fact that he was still alive. He struggled to get his breath back while he felt Luke watching him, “I’m STILL not giving you a hug,” the bigger man told him, his hands folded inside his hoodie, “But I am glad to see you, man. Glad you’re still with us.” And with that, he good naturedly swatted Matt on the arm while Matt tried not to flinch, remembering the wallop he had just received.

Luke moved off toward Jessica, who Matt could hear pouring shot after shot of what smelled like cheap whiskey. Guilt flooded him for a moment as he faced the fact that his decisions had caused this pain. But, he had promised Foggy and Karen that he was going to start doing better, so he took a deep breath and steeled himself for what was coming next.

Danny, who hadn’t let go of his arm as if afraid Matt was going to turn around and leave again, pulled him further into the restaurant toward a table in the back that was already filled with food. Given how much Danny could eat, that wasn’t surprising. Matt seated himself and began to toy with this knife and fork. For a moment he was actually thankful to be blind, as it meant he didn’t have to make eye contact with anyone as the others seated themselves at the table and dinner got underway.

The meal started out somewhat awkwardly with Danny doing most of the talking. Eventually, Matt managed to get a word in edgewise, and apologized to the others for not reaching out sooner. There was a brief pause while the others let him squirm for a moment, and then things relaxed and the evening became a lot more, if not fun, then at least enjoyable. 

So enjoyable, in fact, that when Jessica announced she had to leave to follow up on something, the other three decided to join her. A lot of whiskey went into this decision, but Jessica had said this was a routine surveillance, after all, so what could go wrong?

____________________________________________________________________________

Matt cursed the Murdock luck again as he ducked what sounded an awful lot like a computer printer flying at his head. The paper tray had come loose and was sliding outward in one direction while the power cord whipped around in the other, making a whistling sound that distracted him. He dodged the printer easily, but the cord caught him across the face. He grabbed it and used it to swing the printer back at the thug that had thrown it at him, knocking the guy backwards so that he stumbled into the man standing behind him, taking them both out.

 Jessica’s “routine surveillance” had turned out to be on a very angry and destructive executive who had been caught slipping back into his office presumably to destroy evidence that showed the fact that he had been appropriating funds. Jessica was acting on a tip that the scumbag was planning on leaving the country soon, and she was hoping to gather evidence of this tonight. 

A security guard clearly on the man’s payroll spotted Jessica taking pictures, though, and all hell had broken loose. The next thing any of them knew, they were engaged with several hired goons who had clearly been instructed not to let them get away. When the hired thugs realized that they were clearly outmatched, they became desperate, throwing everything but the proverbial kitchen sink at the group. It didn’t really matter in the end, but it did slow the Defenders down enough that the evidence was destroyed before the executive was out the door and into a town car. This led to a heated argument about whether they should follow him, or simply turn over the images that Jessica had managed to take before the shit hit the fan and walk away from the mess. Matt was personally torn on the subject; this wasn’t normally his game, but he hated to see guilty people slip away. Luke was all for turning over the evidence and getting out of there before someone called the cops on them, and Matt was leaning toward agreeing with him, but Jessica and Danny were outraged and argued that it wasn’t enough to simply send some images when the guy could be anywhere within an hour.

In the end, it was decided that Matt and Danny would trail him while Jessica and Luke got the images into the right hands. Thankfully, the guy was easy to trail from the rooftops, and they were able to keep reporting on his whereabouts while Jessica and Luke got the info to her client, who was able to go to the police with his case. 

It was dawn before Matt made it back to his apartment. He managed a quick shower and a quick nap before he dragged himself into the office for the day. For the first time in ages, he actually considered calling in, but he knew that if he did the others would worry, and he had enough guilt to deal with. Making them worry wasn’t something he could bring himself to do just then.

Foggy and Karen were waiting for him, both of them clearly eager to hear about how his evening had gone. Matt could hear them talking excitedly when he entered the shop and headed for the back stairs. They were hoping that he had enjoyed himself and that maybe he would consider working with one or more of them in the future, which Foggy felt would be safer for him in the long run, to have someone watching his back, what happened at Midland Circle notwithstanding. Matt was touched, and had to pause for a moment before he let them know he was there. He didn’t want them to realize that he had overheard them. That, and he was pretty sure he looked terrible after last night, plus he was moving a little oddly due to Jessica’s punch, which had left him a very sore, and black and blue stomach. 

He could smell coffee, though, and in his rush to arrive on time he hadn’t had any yet. He was so desperate for caffeine he was willing even to drink the coffee if Karen had made it. In fact, he might have to ask her to make him his own pot; he was so tired he was afraid he’d end up doing something dumb like forgetting to put the carafe under the stream. 

Pausing outside the door, he straightened up, suppressed a hiss of pain from his bruised abs, and plastered a smile on his face. He knew he looked bad, but he wasn’t sure exactly how bad until he went in and heard both Karen’s and Foggy’s heart rates jump up about 50 beats a minute each. They were both silent for a moment before they rushed him, talking at once.

“Matt! What happened,” Karen asked as she ran to take his cane and steer him toward a chair. 

“Matt, buddy! What the hell happened last night? I thought you were having dinner with Danny, Luke, and Jessica!” Foggy was alternating coming in close and quickly backing up again, obviously not sure what to do. “You look like shit, buddy. Don’t tell me you blew them off and went out Daredeviling,” Matt could hear the frown in Foggy’s voice and was quick to reassure him.

“No, no, I did meet up with them. I swear. And it was nice, really. I mean, Jessica punched me in the stomach when I first walked in,” Matt paused as he heard Karen’s sharp intake of breath. She reached a hand toward his stomach, but he brushed it away with a shake of his head. “I’ll be fine, really. And I did deserve it. I realize now that I shouldn’t have left them hanging like I did. And, can I get some coffee? Please? I was out till dawn, and I haven’t had any yet.” He trailed off, his head starting to pound from caffeine withdrawal. He must have looked as bad as he felt since Karen got up to fill him a cup without asking any questions.

“So, what, did Luke and Danny take turns on the rest of you? It looks like you got smacked in the face by a whip,” Foggy had finally succumbed to his need to be close to Matt, and was gently turning Matt’s face toward the window with his fingers so he could get a better look at the damage. 

“Actually, it was the power cord from a printer,” Matt said sheepishly as he took the cup of coffee from Karen, “Thanks,” he told her, “this is exactly what I need.”

“A power cord?” “From a printer?” Foggy and Karen spoke over one another in their confusion. Matt had to laugh in spite of himself. 

“Yeah, I know, it sounds weird. But… trust me we did have a great time. It was a little awkward at the beginning, but then we relaxed and it was good to catch up. I apologized for not having reached out sooner.”

“And they whipped you with a power cord?” Foggy interrupted. He and Karen were both confused, and starting to wonder if Matt had hit his head. 

“No, no, that happened later,” Matt laughed. “Jessica needed to go to check up on something for a client. We decided to follow her, and if I’m honest a lot of whiskey went into that decision. Things went a little sideways, which is where the printer came from. I’ll spare you the details, but the cops arrested the guy just before 4. We split up then and I made it home before 5, grabbed about two hours of sleep and here I am. We agreed to stay in touch, though, maybe make dinner a regular thing if not the fighting.” Matt smiled at his friends, who he could tell were torn about how they felt on this subject. 

“Well,” Foggy began slowly, “are you sure you want to be here today? No offense buddy but you really do look like shit. In fact, I’m not sure you should see any clients; I think you’ll scare them.”

Matt started to protest, but then paused, weighing Foggy’s words. It was true his appearance might be off putting to some of their older clients if Foggy and Karen’s reactions were anything to go by, and it was also true that he was trying to be more open about how he felt with Foggy and Karen - part of their agreement when they decided to work together again, but he honestly didn’t want to leave either, despite how gnarly he felt. He decided to come clean.

“Yeah, I know I probably look awful, and frankly I’m not feeling that great either, but I think I’d really rather be here with both of you than home on my own.” He paused to try to get a read on the others, but they were still and silent, heartbeats steady. More nervous now, he continued, “I could just hole up in the back, take care of the back end details, Foggy you could handle the face to face for the day,” he trailed off, as the others were still not giving him anything to work with.

Evidently, though, they had both come to a decision, “Sure thing, buddy,” Foggy said, standing, “Why don’t we clear off that table near the closet and you can work there for the day. It’s kind of hidden behind those weird Chinese screens my mom stashed up here, so no one will see you. And besides,” he said, with a glance at Karen, “I think I speak for both Karen and myself when I say that we’d probably be happier to have you here with us where we can keep an eye on you than have you off on your own, knowing that you’d be likely to jump off a fire escape or something just to help an old lady across the street.” He was smiling, Matt could hear it in his voice. Karen said nothing, but refilled his coffee cup and went to start clearing off the back table. 

Matt smiled at Foggy in relief, glad to finally have no secrets between him and his friends - his family.

[prorevenge]

You don’t want me to sleep for 9 months? Ok, guess you don’t need your degree.

So, I wasn’t sure if this story qualified for pro or petty. Everything I do, over the course of this, is extremely petty, but I think it probably is what I would consider a ‘scale up’ from low tier revenge, mostly on account of the last part.

So some backstory. This was about 6 years ago, during my first year at university. In the UK, you basically have two options for accommodations in your first year. The first option is called Halls, you stay in a huge apartment complex with a bunch of different students, you share a floor with about 10-15 people. Or, you go to a student house, which is basically a normal house, that some greedy landlord converts all the available space into bedrooms for 5-6 people (but, this is not always the case, in my second year I lived in a house with 15 people, many Petty Revenge stories there if I find the time to type them out). Anyway, I chose the latter.

I moved into what would be a 3 bed house, turned into a 5 bed. What would have been a living room, was converted into a bedroom below my room. 3 of my housemates were fine, we were civil to one another, but not really friends, we just lived different lives. We would go out for the occasional bevvy, have dinner together, but mostly just coexist peacefully. Notice how I said it was a 5 bed though?

Enter housemate in question. Let’s call her Cathy. Cathy was of African descent, very rich parents, sent to live in the UK to study Engineering, as the educational system in her native country was very poor. She was short, fat and quite obnoxious. When I moved in, I made a point of introducing myself to everyone. My first impression of Cathy wasn’t great. An issue I noticed immediately (of which persists throughout the entirety of our living together) is that Cathy f***ing stinks. You know when you work out for 4 hours but you crash out and forget the shower before? It was like that x1000. It was extensively unbearable. On top of that, Cathy is really rude. She basically starts out by saying she’s been here for 2 years already, and she wasn’t gonna change again this year. This had me a little concerned, but at the time it wasn’t a huge issue, I told her I kept to myself a lot, so she wouldn’t see any problems from me.

The first week or so I didn’t notice many problems. I was out partying hard during most nights (at English University, the first week is called ‘Freshers’ where everyone goes out and gets wasted for a week the week before studies start) other than some of my food going missing, and dirty plates staying on the side. F**k it, it’s week one, it’s fine.

Then Cathy rears her ugly head. So, I’m going to bed at 9pm the first night before studies (I had an hour commute to my campus and 1st day I wanted to be very awake) and I hear her shouting downstairs, she sounds very excited. I would find out tonight that Cathy is an avid gamer. Now myself I love games, I have late night sessions all the time, but I’m respectful of my housemates. I lie in bed, awake until 2:30am, hearing Cathy scream at her monitor and the sounds of a shooter in the background, very loudly. I didn’t want to be a bad housemate, so I let it happen. I barely slept and I went into my first lecture completely exhausted from sleep deprivation. I figured it was a one off, or it might happen every now and again. I was very wrong.

This carried on for 4 days before I said anything. On the Friday, I approach her in the kitchen and politely say “hey, don’t want to be rude, but can you try and keep it down a little late at night, I can hear you loud and clear through the floor and it’s really messing with my sleep. I don’t wanna be rude but I’ve noticed it’s been happening a lot”. She basically tells me I’m overreacting, she’s doing nothing wrong, nobody else has complained so it’s not a real issue. Cathy shares a wall with another housemate on the ground floor, so when she gets home I ask her about the issue. Turns out Cathy gave her the same spiel as to me. We knock on her door and ask what’s the problem, together. She gives us this whole sob story about how hard it is to make friends, that her online friends are her family, they live all across the world and she doesn’t want to break that relationship. I feel bad (stupidly) and tell her I totally get it, but just try and be a little quieter on weeknights. She says “I’ll try, maybe” and we leave it at that.

That night I slept fine. I thought it was over. The next night she’s screaming again, but it’s the weekend, so I get high as a kite and fall asleep in the bathtub. Sunday night rolls around, she’s screaming again, I can hear the sound of her rifle firing in game and she shouting obscenities with every shot. It gets to 11pm and I go downstairs and knock. Nothing. I wait a little while and try again. No change. I try again, same, so I go into the back garden and knock on her window. I hear her shout F OFF a few times and give up. I go to bed, but not to sleep.

This happens for the next few weeks. She screams, I go to confront, she screams at me through the wall till I leave. I approach her in the day, and she tells me she could hear me, doesn’t know what I’m talking about, I must have been DREAMING, think of a bs excuse and it’s probably on the list of things she would say.

So begins the revenge. I start by just going downstairs, flicking the power off and on for the router, and going back upstairs. The house is kind of old and creaky, so it’s pretty obvious that as the WiFi goes down, it’s me. This happens a few nights until she confronts me as I’m leaving in the morning. I tell her bluntly, yeah, it’s me, stop with the screaming or things are just going to get worse. She threatens to call our landlord on me. Great idea. I leave the house, go to my lectures, and after Uni I visit the landlord. I tell him the entire story about everything that’s happening, and how hard it’s making our lives. He says he’ll look into it, please be patient.

More weeks go by, no more pranks from me but no interference from the landlord. The night I contacted him was silent, but after that everything went back to scream-a-palooza. I contact him again, he says trust him, no changes. I try again, guess what no changes.

So I start getting pettier. So, I failed to mention before (at least in great detail) that Cathy is messy AF. She would eat, then leave all her plates, pots and pans on the side and return to her lair. For the first month, we just washed them up for her, nobody wants a messy kitchen. But, I was pissed off. So I started a new system. If I see a dirty plate of hers, I’d leave it in front her door. This was funny for a few days until I started finding my dirty plates she used at my door. From this point on, all kitchen equipment that was mine would from there on out live in my room until the end of my tenancy. This went on for another sleepless week until I am awoken by my landlord with a police officer. I’m told I’ve been stealing from my housemates and I need to go to the station. I promptly explain the situation, and my other housemates back me up. The officer clearly is annoyed to have his time wasted by us and leaves. Me, the housemates, Cathy and landlord have a group discussion on how to end the hostilities. We demand quiet weeknights and a clean kitchen, in exchange we (though, really it was just me) will not perform passive aggressive petty revenge. Seems like a fair deal right? No. Landlord said he can’t give any ‘preferential treatment’ so we need to stop regardless. I’m glad to say though, even though this guy was an awful landlord, he never interfered again, allowing for further pettiness to ensue.

So, back to revenge. Cathy would run an Ethernet cable from the modem to her computer, along the floor and into her room. I would start by unplugging this cable any time she was screaming. Cathy then started taping the cable so it was harder to pull out the socket. It got to a point were our hallway had a huge mess of tape and wire going across from the router all the way to her room. But f**k Cathy. I bought a roll of the same tape she had used, waited for her to leave the house. I had to wait 3 weeks for this opportunity. When I finally had the chance, I pulled up the tape, took a pair of scissors, cut the cable and taped it all back down. How she got into university was beyond me, as she didn’t figure it out for a few days. I slept wonderfully those nights. She confronted me days later and accused me of my crime. I simply denied it, and slammed the door in her face.

After this it was fairly passive aggressive both sides. Any time I heard noise I’d unplug the cable. She started eating my food (so I ended up buying a mini fridge and storing all my food in my room) and she would regularly throw out my belongings if I left them around the house. It was all getting a bit much. Mid year, I bought a cheap, turtle beach headset. I knocked on her door, and offered it as a peace treaty. I said the noise had to stop, and the revenge was starting to get out of hand. Please, take the headset, continue to enjoy your games, but I desperately need sleep. She took the headset, said thank you and promptly retreated to her room.

(As a side note, I’d never seen her room up until this point. It, was, disgusting. Old food everywhere, wrappers and cans. Her bed was half a space to sleep, half pizza boxes and rubbish. The smell was so bad, that after the conversation I went upstairs and threw up. I would only see the inside of that room once again until I moved)

So, overly generous peace offering? Yes. But I was desperate. The lack of sleep was really starting to affect my work, social life and relationship. I hoped it would turn a new leaf. Well, no. All night that night, screaming. I woke up the next day, and had a smoke in the garden. As I was pacing, I looked over at her window. Hanging out the window, I see a very damaged turtle beach headset. I decided in that moment, to destroy her.

Before I get into the big stuff, here’s a few c***ty things I did on top. I would pour salt into her milk and juice. Any time she left the house, I would cut the Ethernet. I put toothpaste onto her door handle. Any soft drinks she bought? Took them to class and donated them to my friends.

Anyway, so you notice that I said I had to wait 3 weeks for my cable prank? I became very aware that Cathy barely left the house. She was 100% not going to lectures or assignments. I started posting letters to her faculty posing as her parents asking for updates on her studies. After a few weeks she would start to get into shouting arguments with her parents over the phone. I then started ringing the faculty to let them know when she wasn’t in attendance. Our university had a relaxed approach to this, but all courses were expected to have an 85% attendance rating, or you’d face potential problems. After speaking to her staff supervisor, she had a whopping 23% rating. After a few more calls, it was established that she would have a ‘meeting’ as essentially a case for her to plead herself as to why she should stay. I took the time to somewhat befriend her supervisor, and asked if I could be present at the meeting to profess my story to aid in her expulsion. He agreed. As the days to her meeting rolled up, it was clear (due to the arguments with her parents on the phone) that she would not be staying here if she did not keep her position on her course. She began cleaning up after herself, and actually spoke to me semi-civilly begging me not to speak to the university any more. I told her, if she didn’t shout any more all the way to the hearing, then I’d retract all of my previous statements and give my verbal support to her staying. Zero noise. I slept like a baby for 3 days. Thursday night (meeting was the Friday) rolls around.

A final note, whenever Cathy did get up in the mornings, she had an extremely loud and obnoxious alarm clock, which would be on ages.

Thursday night, I give each of my other housemates the run down, and ask them to either skip town for the night and let it run its course. 2 stayed 2 left. Come 9pm, I proceed to invite my entire society around for drinks. 30 people in our tiny house drinking, shouting and playing loud music until 3am. Cathy comes out angry, begging, at one point in tears telling me to stop. But F this B, she had this coming. I go to bed at 4:30am. I wake up at 6am. No noise in the house. Good, she’s asleep. I go downstairs to the switchboard, and cut the power. I go out, eat breakfast, and go to the meeting at 8:30am. Much to my delight, Cathy does not turn up. At 9am I give the committee a full rendition of the past 9 months of hell, and proceed to strongly advise expulsion.

Afterwards, I call my university and fake having the flu, asking for a recovery period of 4-5 days. They accept, and I go back home to see my family for a week.

I return to a house one less occupied, with a few stand out pieces. In front of my room door, the now almost dust turtle beach headset. LOL. But, I ventured to her room. The smell had not left permanently, but it was bearable now. Many of her possessions were gone, but many left behind, most notably her printer and several pieces of balled up paper around it. Firstly, balled up print out copies of flight tickets to her native country, and a flight map. A letter from the university, denoting her immediate expulsion. A letter from our landlord, noting that as per the tenant agreement, if she cannot find study again within 28 days, she will be forced to leave the house. And finally; the creme de la creme. A letter, clearly intended for me and the housemates that she gave up on, telling us how this was all our fault and one day she would come back to haunt us.

(source) story by (/u/Tucker_Design)

[marshmallow-phd]

Innocent Intentions

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Tao x Reader

Summary: There was one thing you couldn’t stand in all your years at college: playboys. And the campus was riddled with them. So when Tao - a player with a particularly well-known reputation - inserts himself into your life, you come up with a plan to get rid of him, whether he makes your heart race or not. But the more he’s the around, the more you just might find there’s a hidden layer underneath all the rumors, including a secret you never could have guessed….

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

**

The earlier excitement of your date with Tao was now heavily weighed down by your encounter with Wyatt.

Your friend had some very valid points concerning Kendall. Would she really get that upset that you were basically seeing Tao now? It felt like the cliché devil and angel were sitting on your shoulders, tugging you back and forth, making you dizzy. The angel simply kept reminding you that Kendall was your best friend and she’d been there for you long before Tao ever came around.

On the other hand, the devil gave a very valid argument about how it was only one date between them and just this past weekend Kendall had mentioned she was talking to someone new. Besides, you were allowed to find someone to be with yourself, weren’t you? Was it a little selfish that you wanted it to be Tao? Yes. But wasn’t everyone allotted a little bit of selfness?

By the time your last class came to an end, you’d made up your mind. You were going on that date with Tao. You owed it to yourself to give it a chance. And you didn’t want to witness Tao’s disappointment if you turned him down after how excited he was this morning.

You really shouldn’t have been surprised to see Tao leaning up against the wall opposite of your classroom when you exited. This was a much better sight than Wyatt had been earlier in the day. However, while one was your friend and knew your schedule….

“Are you stalking me now?” you asked teasingly.

“It’s actually fairly easy to find out a student’s schedule here,” Tao smirked, throwing an arm around your shoulders as the two of you walked down the hall. “A school should really protect its students’ privacy better than that.”

You rolled your eyes. “So, you went to Jace in the front office again?” If that boy kept giving out your information, you were going to have to put the fear of god in him. Or at least, beg him to stop.

Tao shook his head. “Nah, I just asked around. Figured someone might know you. Turns out, I found a kid that was supposed to be your class, but he ran late so he skipped it all together and was hanging out in the lobby. Very convenient for me.”

“Oh, yes, very convenient,” you said dryly. No longer able to fully walk properly with the extra weight, you gently removed Tao’s arm from your shoulders. That earned a pout from the supposed bad boy, but he simply slipped his hands into his pockets, respecting your personal space. “So,” you turned to him with a wide smile, “where are we going?”

That mischievous gleam that you knew all too well to fear was back in his eye. “It’s a surprise.”

You groaned. You hated surprises.

“Don’t be like,” Tao whined as he stepped in front of you to block your way. “I’ve been planning this out all weekend.”

Shaking your head, you commented, “You’re like an attention-starved puppy, you know that?”

Tao shifted uncomfortably before clearing his throat, turning on his heels and telling you to follow him as he hiked across the courtyard. Was he sensitive to dog comments because of his reputation? That would make sense, you guess. Wyatt even called him a dog on that night of Kendall’s date.

A sense of excitement surged up your heart as Tao opened the passenger side door to his convertible for you. Taking your bag off your shoulder, you slid onto the leather seat, a smile unable to be contained. Tao took your bag from you and put it in the trunk of his car before hopping behind the wheel, once again opting to ignore the door. He really needed to stop doing that or you might have a heart attack one day. Smooth moves like that didn’t usually get to you, but Tao, as always, was the exception.

You were given absolutely no hints of your destination, just letting the wind kiss your face as Tao drove through the city.

At one point, while you were staring out at the side, watching the building pass by, he reached over and grabbed your hand, wrapping his fingers around your own as they rested on your lap. A furious heat exploded on your cheeks. You chewed on the inside of your bottom lip to discretely hold back the face-splitting grin your lips were currently fighting to reveal. While your face remained facing away from Tao so you couldn’t see his expression (which was probably much calmer and more collected than your own), you glanced down at your intertwined hands out of the corner of your eye at an interval of maybe thirty seconds or so.

His skin was warm – inhumanely so. For a moment, you worried that your palm would start to sweat from the temperature, but you refused to let go. It felt too nice, this innocent proximity, this comfortable silence. It didn’t feel like a first date, even with the jitters in your stomach. The boy next to you felt too familiar for you to be overly nervous about how this would go. You didn’t really know Tao, not like how you’d like to, but this relaxed state you were always in with him around was nice and different.

All too soon, Tao pulled into a parking lot, letting go of your hand to safely park the car and turn off the engine. Taking at your destination, you gulped.

The restaurant Tao had brought you to wasn’t the average first-date type place. Twinkling lights hung on the aesthetically faded red brick walls even though the sun was still very much present in the sky. From what you could see of the patrons that were seated on the large patio area, this was a place where you dressed up and expected to pay a hefty price per dish. While you weren’t dressed in sweatpants, you were still in your school day clothes of jeans and a comfortable shirt.

You were so focused on staring at the building you hadn’t realized that Tao had gotten out of the car and was now holding your door open.

“What are we doing here?” you asked shyly as he helped you out of the car. Tao at least was dressed a little more high end with his tight black jeans and designer jacket that was probably meant to be casual.

“This place looks expensive. Maybe we should go to a café or something,” you suggested nervously. There was no way there’d even be a table open given the amount of cars currently in the lot. If luck was on your side, that’d be the case waiting for you inside.

“Just trust me,” was Tao’s reply. Your nerves were in high gear as he led you to the front entrance, his hand back in yours. A smart, fiendish part of you was relishing in this scenario, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. Tao had taken Kendall to a bar. Albeit, definitely one of the nicer bars in town, but you were being treated to a fancy five-star dinner in the pricey art of town. Perhaps more proof that you really were different to him?

“Mr. Huang!” The hostess greeted as soon as you stepped through the door, ignoring the others waiting around the lobby for seats to become free. “We have your usual table ready for you, just as you requested.”

Usual table? Not that special, apparently.

Your smile dimmed a little as the hostess showed you through the restaurant until reaching a rounded booth in a secluded corner away from the others. Sliding in, you kept a little distance from Tao, your eyes scanning every part of the room that didn’t put him in your view. Too easily that doubt crept up on you, making you wonder all over again if he was truly serious when it came to you. He’d given you more than enough evidence and yet here you were, poking at the sore spot, making it worse.

As if he knew exactly what was on your mind, he scooted closer to you, taking your hand as he gave you a small, crooked smile. “I haven’t brought any other girls here before.”

You pursed your lips. How did he guess that right away? “The hostess seemed to know you fairly well.” It was a bit sad that you’d become that girl who needed reassurance and explanations, but it was hard given that Tao constantly looked like he just walked off a runway in New York.  

“I come here with my brothers,” he told you. “I like the food and the quiet atmosphere. When I was younger, I’d come with my parents.”

You frowned. “You’ve lived here your whole life?” Granted, this wasn’t a tiny city by any means, but you’d think you would have seen him at some point.

Tao shook his head. “No. My family moved around a lot. But we passed through the city several times a year. Never failed to have at least one meal here.”

“Are your parents rich or something?” You meant it as a joke given the status of this place, but Tao nodded seriously. Well that certainly explained the car and clothes.

Tao didn’t seem phased by your hanging jaw. “It’s not mansions and private jets, but my father was always a good businessman. Our family stays comfortable.”

Comfortable. Exactly what rich people say. Their level of “comfort” is pretty high up there. You pushed all negative thoughts aside, mostly because they were hard to maintain with Tao’s fingers intertwined with your own.

The waiter came by, placing the menus down in front of you along with fresh glasses of ice water. You untangled your hand from Tao’s in order to figure out how bad this check was going to be.

Browsing over the offerings, you could almost feel the sweat forming on your forehead. Rich or not, these prices were ridiculous. How could such a small steak cost that much money? When the waiter came back, you opted for one of the cheaper appetizers, lying to a frowning Tao that you weren’t that hungry. In fact, your appetite had greatly subsided after reading over the menu, so it was only a partial lie.

“So,” Tao smiled at you the waiter walked away, “tell me about your family.”

Caught a little off guard, you nearly choked on the sip of water you’d just taken in. When you finally had your coughing fit under control, you gave Tao a death glare. He’d been giggling at you the whole time rather than actually helping you or being concerned like a gentleman.

There wasn’t much to tell about your family. Both of your parents worked which allowed you to live in a nice home with nice things, but it was nothing overtly grand or impressive. Your parents always taught you to give back and lend a helping hand, which was how you ended up both in the math lab and the children’s home.

Tao finally explained to you how he came into volunteering at the children’s home. His “brothers” (he also explained that the ones he lived with weren’t related to him by blood, just simply close enough to use that label) weren’t the ones who made him go. He was getting a bit too close to the wrong crowd, so they encouraged him to try spending his time elsewhere. There was a signup sheet at his high school. He’d always liked kids so he gave it a try. After that first time, he went back every day before he went traveling.

“But you said that you didn’t grow up here?” you pointed out, very confused.

“I didn’t for the most part. But when I was in high school, I settled down with Junmyeon and the others… for a little more stability,” he clarified.

“And your parents were okay with that?” You couldn’t imagine your parents ever allowing you to just live with someone else who was only in college when you were in high school.

Tao nodded. “Things are a bit… different with my family. They knew I belonged here. Right now, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 You were sure that he just meant here in general, in the city, but the look in his eyes implied maybe he meant it a little deeper and that made your face heat up.

Dinner turned into a several-hours-long affair, the two of you mostly ignoring the food sitting on the table, only picking at it occasionally. There was hardly ever a quiet moment, conversation flowing easily inside that booth.

“Mr. Huang?”

The waiter shyly interrupted Tao’s story about one of his brother – Luhan – starting a fire in the kitchen while cooking and then blaming it on someone named Kris. “Yes?”

“We’re still about an hour out from closing, but I thought I should let you know how late it was getting. Would you like the check now?”

Tao nodded and the waiter handed over the black leather folder. Before he could walk away, however, Tao already had a credit card out and slipped into the slot ready to be run. The waiter was back in no time with the receipt and after leaving a generous tip, Tao led you out of the restaurant.

“Wow,” you sighed once you were in the car. “I didn’t realize we’d been here that long.” It was pitch black, only the waning moon gave light to the sky above. The twinkling lights on the side of the restaurant were fully visible now, giving the night a romantic glow.

“Do you want to go home?” Tao asked hesitantly.

Looking at him with a smile, you shook your head. “No, not really.”

“Good.” He threw the car into reverse and left the parking lot, taking you to who knows where.

Tao took your hand again as he drove, this time lacing his fingers through yours for a better grip. At one point, he lifted your hands together, shifting them so the outside of your hand faced him and placed his lips against your skin, kissing it softly. Your heart went into a frenzy. The only time you’d ever actually seen someone do that was in the movies or in a drama. Boys didn’t do things like that in real life.

He didn’t look at you as he lowered your hands, simply letting them rest back down on the middle console as he kept his eyes on the road. Occasionally he’d run his thumb across your knuckles, but you really wanted him to do the kiss thing again. If this was how you were acting now, you dreaded on how out of control your nervous system would be when he kissed you for real.

When? You nearly scoffed out loud. Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?

For the second time tonight, Tao took you by complete surprise. You figured whatever he had planned next involved something just as fancy and mature, but when he came to a deserted park and playground, you were confused all over again.

Tao just laughed at your furrowed brow, motioning with his head, “Come on.” He took off from the car, leaving you behind and bewildered.

You followed him with complete trust. What could be so scary about a park at night?

Meeting him on the playground, he was already in one of the swings, swaying blissfully. He patted his lap. “Sit down.”

That made you laugh. “Are you serious?” He nodded. You shrugged, going with it since you couldn’t resist anyway. When you were settled in, he wrapped his arms around your waist and began gently swinging back and forth, his feet not leaving the sand pit underneath.

“This is quite the date,” you whispered. You meant it in a good way. It was different and sweet, not like the awkward ones you’d been on the past. Granted, those were a long time ago and it was possible that it was Tao himself that was making all the difference. The two of you were spending actual time together, getting to know one another and listening.

“I wanted to make it special for you,” he admitted softly in your ear. You didn’t know how to respond besides grinning to yourself.

For several minutes, the two of you sat there in silence, just taking in the moonlight and each other’s presence. Out of nowhere, Tao lifted you up, replacing you in the swing where he was sitting only a second ago.

“What-”

“Stay here,” Tao ordered before running back to his car. When he came back, he had a pair of Bluetooth headphones in his hands that he put over your ears. “I made you something,” he somewhat explained as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “The quality isn’t the best. We used Chanyeol’s homemade studio.”

You frowned. Did he really-

The music started in your ears before you could asked out loud what he meant. It was a soft, piano based melody that came through the speakers; a ballad. The notes, as they pieced together, felt like an original soundtrack that – if you were a character in a movie – would play as you walked down the sidewalk, slowly, at a pace no normal person would go, but everything would be peaceful. A small smile would tug at your lips while you took in the scenery, maybe stopping at a park or a pier to watch the sun set on the horizon.

A small tear formed in the corner of your eye as the last measure faded out. When it finally fell, Tao reached out and wiped it away.

“Did you like it?” he asked eagerly. You nodded enthusiastically, unable to form the words to express how much you loved the instrumental song.

Your answer made him smile so brightly he looked like a little kid. Straightening up from his crouched position, he started to lean forward, his face inching closer to yours. In your own seat, you shifted closer to him as well, wanting to meet him halfway.

A bright light interrupted the moment, both of you squinting towards its source.

“Hey, kids, what are you doing here?” A cop asked as he approached, his flashlight on and raised to his eye level. Oops.

“Just hanging out,” you replied, standing up from your seat and removing the headphones. “Is something wrong?”

“The park closed at ten so I just making sure you guys are alright,” he said.

Oh, crap. You never thought about that. Was it really that late?

“I’m so sorry, officer,” Tao apologized quickly.

“Just head on home,” the officer suggested nicely.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Grabbing your hand, Tao pulled you back to the car, chuckling. Back behind the wheel, he sighed. “I guess that was ruined, huh?”

He was probably talking about the second almost-kiss, but you disagreed overall. Even with that ending, this night was perfect. And there would always be another chance for a kiss.

“No,” you shook your head. “I had fun tonight. Thank you.”

“Well, I guess that means we can do this again tomorrow?”

“Uh,” you cringed. “I can’t tomorrow. I’m working at the shelter. But I��m free Friday?”

Tao turned to you, his face shining like it was midday. “Friday, then.”

If tonight was any indicator for how the end of the week would go, you couldn’t wait. If someone out there had mercy on you, this week would fly by at record speed.

[blue-bismuth]

Case #0161210

i have been egged on to post this so! here’s what i consider my tma oc’s first real involvement with everything going on. it’s formatted like a statement but pretty much everything else i post here about them will be in my more traditional writing style

tws: mentions of trans/nbphobia, people acting uncanny, animal harm/death (no pets), kidnapping, cannibalism

EDIT: here’s the ao3 link if you wanna read it there!

-- -- --

Avery

You’re sure this isn’t too much of an inconvenience? I-I don’t have to talk about it. You probably still have more statements to get through.

Archivist

If you ask me that one more time, I won’t take statements from you ever again.

Avery

Christ, alright, I’ll stop. At least I won’t get in trouble, ‘cause I got everything assigned to me done already…

Archivist

Aren’t you fast.

Avery

It’s a blessing and a curse. Curse in that I get chewed out if I’m caught fucking around on the office computer.

Sorry, sorry, getting off topic. I’ll make the statement now.

Archivist

Statement of Avery Linwood, a finance worker in the Magnus Institute, regarding their time living in the rural town of Crestfallen, between the spring of 2014 and the summer of 2016. Statement taken direct from subject, December 10th, 2016. Statement begins.

Avery

Man, okay. So, as you can probably tell, I’m not from England. I was born and raised in America, Wisconsin to be specific. I graduated college in 2009 because I had to get 150 credits to qualify for CPA exams--although I guess in the end it did jack shit, ‘cause I only ended up staying in the U.S. for five years. 

Archivist

Sorry, could you clarify what a CPA is?

Avery

Oh! I-it stands for Certified Public Accountant. It basically means that I can provide accounting services to the public alongside working for companies. And since I’m here now instead of my home state, I have to do continuing education if I wanna keep that license active. I guess it makes sense, but it’s still extra work, y’know?

Sorry, getting off topic again. I feel like that’s gonna be a theme for this statement.

Archivist

I’ve had my fair share of ramblers. I’m guilty of it too.

Avery

I mean, still. Anyway, that shit kinda drove me into the ground. I never managed to get enough money to rent a decent office space so I could be independent, and the closest I ever got to that was working in assurance services. I would’ve stayed in forensic accounting, but every office I was in had a terrible culture. One of my ex-bosses told me that I, quote unquote, “had too big of a rack” to be anything but a girl. So...yeah.

Archivist

And I assume this is why you left?

Avery

Pretty much. I wasn’t too keen on moving anywhere inside the U.S., everywhere was either too bigoted or too expensive or too crowded...you get the picture. I guess I just wanted something different, something where I didn’t need to sit in an office all day and handle people’s taxes or whatever. I’ve always loved those kinda video games where you move to some old farmhouse and clean it up, start taking care of crops and livestock, making friends with the townspeople...it was a form of escapism I could never really afford--honestly, unless you’re a big dairy farmer, you’re not gonna get anywhere stable in Wisconsin. 

I don’t know how I found my way to Crestfallen. I think I saw a post on Tumblr about how, if you promise to restore an ancient castle--the ones that’re all over Europe--you can live in it for free, and there was a link to some website where you could register to do that. I guess it held more than castles, though, ‘cause I saw a section for old farmhouses. The one in Crestfallen was the cheapest, and apparently I would even get a financial reward from the mayor if I helped out enough. It was a moment of weakness, I guess.

I don’t tell my parents a whole lot of stuff anymore unless they ask, but I felt the need to tell them I was moving to a different country. They must’ve seen it as odd, but they knew I wasn’t doing too well in my...current line of work. They gave me their well wishes and I left for England.

I guess the first thing that tipped me off was getting there. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I told the bus driver--coach driver for you guys--where I was going, he seemed...surprised. He didn’t know the place at first, that it wasn’t even on his map. I pointed it out on my phone, and he said that the nearest stop was Billingham in County Durham. I said that was fine, that I could probably catch a taxi the rest of the way. I don’t know if he believed me, but either way, he accepted my ticket and I boarded. There wasn’t anything unusual about the ride up, and at the time, I just guessed he didn’t know because the town was so small.

When I finally arrived in Billingham, I managed to flag a taxi down and asked the driver to go to Crestfallen. He also seemed surprised, but it must’ve been for completely different reasons. Whatever they were, he shoved it down and told me it was going to be a fairly expensive taxi ride. That was fine by me, I had already converted all of my money to pounds anyway. So I loaded my luggage and got in the back.

Thankfully, he kept silent most of the way through. He told me when we were about five minutes away from the stop, and followed it up by telling me that if I wanted to turn back now, he wouldn’t charge me anything. 

I realized what he meant: I had been paying attention to my book and not to the town itself, which was covered in a heavy fog. I hadn’t noticed any fog when I got to Billingham; the skies were clear all day. Maybe it was just foggy west of the bus route and Billingham--I wanted to get away from my old life so desperately that I was denying any possibility that my new life would be worse.

I shook my head and said that I was staying. The taxi driver laughed, a short, almost bitter laugh. Told me that I was gonna die in Crestfallen one way or another before he dropped me off. I paid him and took my luggage, still questioning what exactly he meant.

The odd thing was that, after I stepped off, the fog had lifted. I mean, the sky was still overcast, but I could see clearly. I was in this...little clearing, with a path that presumably led to the town, and another one apparently leading to the farm. A man was waiting in the clearing, and he approached me. Said he was the mayor, and that he wanted to show me to the farm. 

I had already expected the farm to be a mess, honestly. I saw the pictures. There were scattered branches and stones throughout the farmland, wild grass growing everywhere...if there was even a previous owner, they must’ve left a long time ago. I wanted to ask the mayor, but he just ignored me. At the time, I thought he was just busy and that he had better things to do. He gave me a random bag of seeds and told me my tools were in the farmhouse. And then he just left.

I wish I could tell you more, but I just can’t remember a good chunk of my time there. My therapist is pretty sure it’s a symptom of my PTSD, which...if there’s even more traumatic memories my brain has blocked out, that’s scarier than anything I can remember.

Everything was just so uncanny. Most of the people always moved around like robots, their eyes glazed over, until I talked to them. And then they were all too perky. Even the people I were told were grumps acted like it. There were things that were superficially different about them, but they all acted so similarly, it felt like some sort of hive mind. I don’t know if that’s what was going on, and honestly, I don’t want to find out.

I say most of the people, because there were two I felt like I could trust. There was a huge lake on the outskirts of the town, and these two people lived on the beach. One of them lived in a small cabin, her name’s Odelia Stevens. She’s a writer, and she had gotten herself in the unfortunate situation where she couldn’t afford to move out, once she realized what was going on with the town. The second was an old fisherman living by the docks, his name was Langdon Averill. I’ll...get to why I say “is” for Odelia and “was” for Langdon later.

I think meeting them was the thing that kept me from falling into the town’s clutches. They were considered outcasts, and the town seemed to pretend like they didn’t exist. I never saw any of them go to the beach, and when one of them tried to talk to me after I left, they would tell me I just appeared out of nowhere.

I didn’t end up farming much. I would buy from the general store, at first, but when I harvested the crops, they were...god, I can’t think of the words. They were mangled and sickly, even though I knew the soil at least looked good. The seeds the mayor gave me, I think they were supposed to be parsnips, but the leaves were so shriveled, and the parsnips themselves were hard and spotted, and they were so small. When the mayor came to my farm to gather the harvest, I didn’t know whether or not to give...any of what I’d grown to him. But he saw them and he was overjoyed. He took one of those parsnips and bit right into it, dirt and spots and all. And he loved it! The only things that really prospered was food that I foraged from a nearby forest, and that became pretty much my entire diet. I took a sample of the soil from the farm; I have it with me if you want to keep it for testing or something.

Odelia and Langdon told me a lot about the other townsfolk, mostly so I wouldn’t outwardly freak out. I learned that they hate that the hard way--I once saw a child, couldn’t have been more than ten years old, shove a live robin down his throat and swallow it. I screamed, and the child’s mother descended on me, scratching me with her nails. Even though they were short, they were almost deadly sharp. I still have the scars on my cheek. She was screaming at me, over and over, screaming that he was just having a snack. It must’ve drawn the attention of the other townsfolk, because I could hear more voices yelling at me, telling me that I would be cooked in “his pot,” whatever that meant. Suddenly, the clock in the center of town rang and, like a reset button, they all stopped and went back to their usual activities. Thankfully, I had already met the two at the beach, and Langdon patched me up in his house.

I learned that they ate live birds a lot. They really seemed to like raw meat, flies or rotting be damned. I liked my meat, still do, but at least I cook it first. They would eat raw chicken and vomit in the streets afterwards. I never saw anyone die, funnily enough. 

They had celebrations every so often. I hadn’t properly learned from Odelia and Langdon yet, so I went to the first one in the spring. I think it was something for Easter, but all they did was crack a bunch of eggs in this huge pot and take turns drinking spoonfuls from it. When I declined, I could feel that they wanted to attack me, but something prevented them from ending the celebration in bloodshed. 

After that first spring, I spent a lot of my time at the beach and in the forest. The forest wasn’t completely free of the townsfolk, as one of them ran a ranch near the edge of that, but I needed it for food. Eventually, Langdon taught me how to fish--I couldn’t exactly subsist on wild leeks and berries forever. It was a nice way to pass the time.

By that first winter, though, things started to change. So long as snow covered the ground, the townsfolk would come in the night and write things in it. Sometimes I wouldn’t see them if the snow covered it up, but otherwise...it was always things about how I had betrayed their father, more references to his pot, that I would melt and cook while they feasted on my bones with said father. I wish I could remember more, Jon, I’m sorry.

Archivist

Do you remember anything else?

Avery

Well...sometime around the first fall, Odelia taught me how to make seeds out of the food and flowers I foraged. That was how I knew it wasn’t the soil that made the crops suffer, the seeds that I had made turned out fine--sometimes they were even better than what I had foraged. I ended up farming more for myself over anything, even though one of the points on that ad was that I had to be generous and donate some of my crops to the townspeople. I doubted it would make them happy, though. And I don’t really like hurting or killing people unless they’re actively attacking me or other innocent people; if my crops were going to poison the town, I didn’t want to risk anything. Chances are it would’ve just made them madder.

I tried to raise some chickens, though. Despite how much I didn’t want to interact with either of these people, I asked the carpenter to make a coop, and I got some chickens from the man running the ranch. By all accounts, they acted like normal chickens, and I tried to feed them good hay by harvesting the grass, but their eggs were still terrible: gray yolks, incredibly thin whites...I love scrambled eggs, but I could never use those. I eventually sold the chickens back to the ranch and had the coop taken down after a few months in the summer. I didn’t even want to try raising cows.

I wanted to leave so badly by the time that second winter rolled around. While Odelia and Langdon would often visit me and we would spend time on my farm or in the forest, by that time there was some odd force preventing them from leaving the beach. I witnessed it myself; anytime they would approach that border of trees separating the beach from the rest of the town, it was like they got...stuck. I don’t know if you play video games, but you know when you reach the border of the game map, and you just can’t go any further despite there not being anything physical stopping you? It looked like that. I could come and go as I pleased, but it was like...like the townspeople had rejected their existence so hard they couldn’t even penetrate the town they had constructed so carefully.

I think the final straw for the townspeople was late spring, the last year I was there. They had this sort of dance deep in the thick of the forest, apparently only accessible when the dance was going on. One of the men around my age there was the town doctor--which I doubt he was actually licensed to practice medicine, since I don’t even think he was thirty at the time--and he asked me to go to the dance. I’d never been asked before, in Crestfallen or in general, but I really didn’t want to go. I had no idea what kind of fucked up shit would happen there, and I didn’t want to find out. So I said no.

That night, just before I was about to go to bed, my door was broken down. I don’t remember how many people were there, but it was definitely the doctor and at least four other people. They descended on me like vultures, only instead of eating me they were savagely beating and kicking me. I was crying, and...sorry, hold on a second.

Archivist

Take your time.

Avery

[They nod, silently wiping tears away from their face]

Sorry, I...I have a bad habit of going nonverbal when I start crying. That, and I sound incomprehensible when I try to talk, and that’s especially bad considering you’re recording this. Anyway, I think one of them brought a bat down on my head, and I was knocked unconscious. I woke up the next morning in this weird white dress and a flower crown on my head. I could feel thorns on the stems threatening to pierce my already sensitive head. As my vision came into focus, I could see that my hands and feet were bound with rope. Actually, I wasn’t wearing anything but that dress, but when I tried to ask where my clothes had gone, I...I couldn’t make words with my mouth. Just a gentle sigh. It was a moment later that I saw the doctor holding my clothes, all neatly folded, approaching a blazing bonfire. Before I could even try to yell out, he threw them into the flames and turned towards me, watching me with cold infatuation as my clothes burned away.

Soon enough, the mayor approached me and grabbed my wrists, pulling me to the center of what looked to be the actual dancing part of the area. It was from here that I could see the whole field: the bonfire in the middle, separating what looked to be a buffet from the dancing. Various townspeople were milling around the buffet or looking at the bonfire, but when the mayor whistled, everyone turned to face me instantly.

They must’ve all known what would happen, because without a word or even a gesture from the mayor, the doctor stepped forward and grabbed my hands in his own. I tried to look at the ground, but the mayor held a hand under my chin so I would look my apparent dance partner in the eyes. 

I hated every second of it. I was basically just getting tossed around, since I couldn’t move my feet. I could hear the townspeople chanting and playing instruments, but it wasn’t anything I could decipher. That or I just can’t remember, I wouldn’t be surprised at this point. Slowly, more people joined in on the dance, although from the snippets I could see, their dance was totally different than whatever the doctor was doing to me.

It felt like hours, but the sun’s position hadn’t even moved in the sky when the dance was done and I was released. I didn’t get much time to relish it, though, because I was knocked unconscious again. When I woke up, it was night, and I was lying naked on top of my bed.

I knew at that point that I had to get out of there. But I didn’t want Odelia and Langdon to be trapped either. I needed to do something. God, I can’t believe I forgot to mention this, but the entire time I was there, I could never get a signal on my phone. And it wasn’t like I had run out of data or anything, I was on a by-the-gig plan at the time. At least I wasn’t wasting my money, but it still frustrated me. Most of my days after that dance were spent walking all around the town limits, trying in vain to even get one bar. I’d downloaded one of those rideshare apps forever ago, but I never used it, and I figured now would be the best time to see if anyone could show up. I didn’t have much faith, considering my previous experiences getting to Crestfallen, but dammit, I had to try. I did not want to die in this place, and I didn’t want Odelia or Langdon to either.

I know you’re probably wondering why I didn’t just walk the road back to where I came, but to be honest, I didn’t want the townspeople following me. None of them had cars, as far as I knew, maybe a motorcycle owned by one person, but I still feared that they could track us down anyway. Plus, I didn’t want to get turned around and end back up in Crestfallen again. So, I figured calling someone over would be the best solution. I really didn’t want to rope anyone else into this mess, but it had the highest chance of succeeding in my eyes. And well, I’m here right now.

I finally got two bars on May 31st. See, part of Crestfallen is on a huge hill, and on the peak of that there’s a train that comes through--no stops, unfortunately, and I never heard or saw one go by while I was living there. Either way, it was there that I finally found a signal. So, I told my plan to Odelia and Langdon: that as soon as I found a way to get them out of the beach and onto the single road that went out of Crestfallen, we were leaving. Langdon seemed more hopeless than Odelia, but they both eventually agreed. 

As it turned out, Odelia was on her high school’s swim team, and she had kept that up. She found that, so long as she swam to where the river flowing through Crestfallen emptied into the lake and kept her body underwater the entire time, she could escape into the rest of the town. With the added bonus of this river emptying out in the forest, she and Langdon could have some secrecy coming up. Meanwhile, I could take their luggage beforehand and keep it at my house until they were ready to go.

They were ready June 7th. The three of us stood at the top of the hill, Odelia and Langdon soaked, while I got someone to pick us up. Once the ride was approved, we raced back down to my house to get our luggage and wait for our driver. Unfortunately, the rest of the town seemed to have picked up on our plan.

Five minutes before our driver got there, we could see a mob approaching us, and they had weapons. Crude ones, but I could see kitchen knives glinting in people’s hands, sharpened sticks and stones and bats. They didn’t want to just beat us up this time; they were either going to indoctrinate us or kill us.

Despite his age, Langdon was surprisingly good at defending us against the mob. While we were able to avoid things being thrown at us, and at a couple points we threw them back to keep individual members from attacking us, Langdon was actively keeping them away with his suitcase. Two minutes before our driver got here, he was able to wrestle a butcher’s knife from a woman’s hand--the same woman that clawed my face so long ago. It felt like slow motion, watching him throw the knife right in the center of the woman’s forehead.

As she collapsed into a heap, the mob paused. They looked at the dead woman, and their faces contorted into anger. One of them cried out, and the mob descended on him just as the driver pulled up. Langdon screamed at us to save ourselves, and Odelia pulled me into the car. As she told the driver to go as fast as she could, I watched helplessly as the mob tore chunks from Langdon, and he screamed in pain as they ate his flesh.

When the driver dropped us off at the bus station, I gave her a five star rating and a tip that basically doubled the cost of the ride. She didn’t sign up to see a man be cannibalized, so it was the least I could do for potentially traumatizing her.

As we waited, I asked Odelia if Langdon sacrificing himself was something he planned. She shook her head, but she did remember hearing him say that he would rather he die on this mission over either of us, his rationale being that he was just an old fisherman, that we had more potential than he did out in the rest of England. I don’t know if he was right, but I can’t exactly change the past.

When the bus drove up, we boarded. I ended up sleeping most of the way down, which gave Odelia the chance to rest her head on my shoulder. Even though it was on a bus, it was the most comfortable I slept in the longest time. She must’ve had family or something in Liverpool, since that was where she requested to be dropped off. At first, I didn’t really know where I wanted to go. I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore; all of my plans for the future had been dashed by Crestfallen. I ended up telling the bus driver to bring me to Greenwich, since it seemed far enough away from the center of London that I wouldn’t be overwhelmed. I applied for temporary housing there while I looked around for jobs to tide me over. It took about a month for me to get my own place, and as you probably know, I got a job here in August.

Archivist

That’s...certainly a lot. Do you have any way of contacting Odelia to perhaps get her perspective on Crestfallen?

Avery

I have her number, yeah. Though I’m not sure how willing she’d be to talk to you about it, considering whenever I’ve tried to bring up her time in Crestfallen, she doesn’t want to talk about it.

Archivist

Well, I suppose that’s understandable. As much as I would want to send someone up there to investigate, it would likely take a day at least, and if your claims are true, it would be very dangerous for--

Avery

What, you don’t believe me?

Archivist

You said yourself that you don’t remember a whole lot. But considering some of the...more horrific things you’ve told me about Crestfallen, I don’t want to think about what’s been blocked from your memory due to trauma. 

Avery

I...I guess. I wouldn’t want anyone going out there either. Not without a weapon, and I doubt you can have those on public transportation.

Sorry. It’s just...wanting to tell someone about this was part of the reason why I applied to work at the Institute. Not all of it, but...I was kind of worried you wouldn’t believe me if I was some stranger. Although, I guess now’s not much better.

Archivist

[Sighs] Avery, I know I might act like I do, but I don’t hate you. I’m not around you enough to hate you.

Avery

I have a feeling you will if you get to know me better. It happens a lot. [Sighs, getting up from chair] Well, if that’s all you need from me, I should go.

Archivist

For now, yes. I’ll reach out if I need additional information.

Avery

Cool. [Footsteps, door opens then closes]

[CLICK]

Archivist

[CLICK]

Despite the...awkward ending to that statement, Avery has been surprisingly cooperative in regards to follow-up questions. They asked Odelia Stevens if she could come in and give a statement, but apparently her work schedule would make that difficult. However, Avery has arranged a video call with her and myself, so maybe she’ll be able to give us some more insight.

As it turns out, Crestfallen is a registered town in County Durham, despite there being very little information about...anything involving it, really. I don’t know how I could convince anyone to go there, even if they don’t know about it. I don’t think I could live with myself if I did that.

I really don’t know all that much about Avery, now that I think about it. As much as I don’t want to trust them, I’ve been trying to let my paranoia go. It’s strange, you’d think knowing them less would give me more reason to be paranoid about their intentions, but...quite the opposite, really. I don’t know what motivation they’d have for faking something on this scale, especially when their job is so removed from the more paranormal aspects of working here.

I just don’t know. And I don’t know if that’s a sign I should get to know them better, or keep them at arms’ length.

Recording ends.

[CLICK]