#him being triggered by cigarettes in certain ways/on some days but also enjoying the calm a cigarette can give him in the way he did as a

[autisticredhood]

Does jason smoke in canon?

quick response is here is him post-crisis shown lighting a cigarette in batman #408, so yes he did smoke. can't recall a panel of him post resurrection smoking but wouldn't be surprised if there is one, if i remember later I'll add it on. smoking isn't a BIG thing with him, not like fanon can emphasize, but there is an origin to him smoking when he was younger

[ID: two images of young post-crisis Jason Todd. First image is a panel of him sitting on a mattress in the apartment he's squatting in lighting a cigarette to his lips as Batman watches in the doorway. Second image is a close-up of the next panel where the cigarette has fallen from Jason's lips in shock and there is a little swirl of smoke. End ID]

[aenngelic]

I will protect her at all costs (chapter 2)

Disclaimer: please don’t hate me for it, if you don’t ship them please just don’t read it ok 🥲

contains: slow burn, Sniper falling in love with Kuon, Snipers view/thoughts, sexual fantasies, nudity, lemon stuff overall

It is a very long chapter I’m sorry

Note: please feel free to message me if you have certain romantic moments to include in the story! (Already running out of ideas oops)

It did not take long for us to find a bag of supplies. It was on a coffee table in some sort of lobby area. It seemed as if this building probably was meant to represent some kind of hotel, which I thought was a good thing, because that meant that there would be beds and showers to be found here as well. To our surprise, the bag contained mostly candy, which I wouldn't interpret as a balanced meal. However, the girl seemed to like this finding. It was only a matter of minutes before the chocolate residue stained the corners of my companion's mouth in a brown color. However, I preferred to smoke a cigarette at first and watch the girl devour her own body weight in the form of chocolate.

" This is fantastic! It feels like forever since I last ate chocolate! I faintly remember dieting before I entered this world too, so this must have been probably weeks since I held chocolate in my hand." Kuon said with delight. It was amusing to watch her enjoy sweets. Kuon's carelessness may be a burden at times, but her innocent character makes up for it.

" you partly remember your life prior to this, don't you?"

" Yes, not much to be honest. I'm sorry you can't," Kuon replied in a concerned voice.

"Tell me about it."

She gave me a visibly puzzled look before straightening her back so that she was sitting as straight as a candle on the sofa across from me, staring at her hands somewhat lost in thought. She seemed uncomfortable that I had now brought up this topic. Unfortunately, I could not take back my question. "Well," she began, "to be honest,the life I remember has not been the greatest, I guess." Kuon abruptly shook her head. " That's not true either. I was born into a rich family and had many privileges. My father owned a large company and had very high expectations of me from the very beginning. One day I was supposed to take it over. I was probably pretty lucky compared to other people. I was probably a big disappointment for him. My character was just not strong enough in his eyes. I also remember not really having any friends either, because I was privately educated. And anyway..." I could literally hear the lump in Kuon's throat as a tear began to stream down the girl's cheek.

" i'm sorry. You know, I didn't really mean to end up crying."

I felt my heart break once again, watching the girl grieve. I was surprised now, though, to find out that this yet seemingly uncomplicated high school student was actually carrying a lot of emotional baggage. I did not hesitate as I jumped up from my seat to calm the blue-haired girl. I really hated it like the plague when she cried. Trying to preserve my Coolness, however, I grumbled, "oh girl. What's wrong?"

I placed myself to her left, and pressed her against my shoulder while running my hand over her hair a few times. There was no way I could bring myself to face her, though. It would be too embarrassing and, after all, I was far from being the Prince Charming who would dry her tears with a silken tissue. Besides, I could not withstand the sight of her teary eyes. So there I sat, a weeping teenage girl wetting my blazer with salty drops of grief on my right, awkwardly staring off into the distance.

"It's, it's..." she stammered, not being able to form a word. "You're the first person I've been able to trust, and because of that, I'm kind of..."

She took a deep breath, "It makes me so unbelievably happy."

Almost for the second time that day, a cigarette nearly got stuck in my throat, but this time I was able to suppress my urge to cough. The girl seemed to really like me. But did I like her too? I would be lying if I said I did not care about her. And if she got killed, I could never forgive myself. It was astonishing how one could form such a strong bond with another person in such a short period of time. However, pouring out my entire feelings in front of her would not come close to the cool lifestyle I was pursuing.

" i'm also happy to have met you, Kuon.", i finally decided to answer after a moment of figuring out how to respond.

Kuon's face, which was still streaked with tears, started to smile again, which made me feel much relieved. However, it took her a while to completely stop her wailing . We remained in this position for a while, until at some point I realized that the girl had fallen asleep. Her head had lowered in the meantime even further toward the ground, so that after some time she was no longer leaning against my shoulder but much rather against my belly. When I noticed this after some time and looked down to the girl, a cute sight presented itself to me. Admittedly, on the one hand it felt nice to act as this girl's pillow. On the other hand, it triggered an immeasurable amount of embarrassment in me. But cool guys do like to take care of girls' comfort, don't they?

Therefore, I decided I'd rather not wake her up and hardly moved at all. I looked out the window to my right, watching the sunset and reflected on certain issues. I was thinking about Rika as well as the two girls we were trying to find and, of course, about Kuon and so many other things until my eyes started to close.

When I regained consciousness, the night must have settled in. Before I could even perceive my surroundings properly, I swiveled my head once to the left and once to the right and let my gaze wander through the room. Because the moon was particularly bright this night, everything around me had taken on a deep blue tone. It was so quiet around me that I could have heard a pin drop. In the next second I realized that I should not have fallen asleep in the first place. Somebody would have had to keep watch, after all! Crap! If an enemy would have come along the way, it certainly would not have been good for me and Kuon. I looked down to my thigh where the blue-haired girl was supposed to lie. I felt her place her head on my thigh at some point during the night, but when I looked down at my thigh, I could not find any girl. Where the hell was Kuon? A rational thinking person, as I was one, could of course assume that my companion did not necessarily have to be in danger, but could also have simply visited the toilet, for example. Nonetheless, my alarm bells started ringing immediately. Kuon was, after all, a young girl who, apart from the "rail gun", did not posses many possibilities for self-defense. So of course I was worried.

Without thinking much, I hopped up from the sofa, on which I had been napping a few moments before. In quick stride I wandered through the poorly lit hallway without really having a clue where I was heading. My head was foggy from the idea that the girl might be in serious danger. A few days ago, I probably would have accepted the fact that she was suddenly nowhere to be found and continued my journey. And now my stomach was already twisting at the thought of her getting in trouble.

Nevertheless, a short moment later, my heart pounding madly from the ever-repeating scenario in my head, I heard a noise at the end of the corridor. A soft, high-pitched humming was heard, drowned out by the pattering of many drops. Light emerged from the crack of a door on the left. Was she taking a shower? The feeling of relief spread through my chest, followed by some degree of annoyance. Why did the girl not wake me up? I took a few steps towards the door, but before I was about to reach for the door handle, I remembered that I should not do so. A gentleman never violates a lady's privacy. So I decided to wait.

I leaned against the local wall, one leg bent. Then I let my thoughts wander, while the pattering of the raindrops in the bathroom right next to me showed no indication of stopping anytime soon. A lady of high society must spend quite a bit of her life showering, I thought to myself. And before I knew it, the image of Kuon suddenly popped up in my head. In my imagination I pictured her body, wondering what it looked like completely naked. A bar of soap running over her plump breasts, leaving traces of foam on her soft, wet skin. A body swinging under the hot rainfall like a leaf in the wind, presenting its vivid buttocks. I wonder if she was shaved? Hardly had I been able to finish this dirty thought of mine and get mad at my filthy thinking when my ears picked up the sound of footsteps in the distance. And they were coming ominously closer.

Damn, I thought to myself and was about to reach for my rifle, only to realize that I forgot it next to the sofa where I had been sleeping. I had been so upset about her disappearance that I could seriously forget the most crucial item for our survival.What was I going to do? For a brief moment I was at a loss. Escape proved almost impossible at this point, since I was at a dead end and I could not force the approaching enemy down with any surrounding objects. Besides, if I escaped, it would only be a matter of time before the enemy would track down my helpless companion. In the next moment, almost instinctively, I reached for the door handle that led to the bathroom that Kuon had still claimed. Perhaps there were objects in the room that were suitable for fighting, or perhaps we could be lucky and not be found, I speculated in the heat of the moment. So I tore open the door and rushed into the bathroom, greeted by a hot haze that took over the entire area.

"Kuon!" I called out in a hushed tone.

Without hesitation, I pushed my way through the door that separated the shower from the rest of the bathroom as if I was walking through nothing. Until that moment, I had hardly given a thought to the circumstances of this situation. But at the latest, when finally the naked body of a schoolgirl jumped into my field of vision, I quickly realized this again. I was just about to violate Kuon's privacy. An obviously shocked girl looked towards me, that from 1 second to the other tried to cover herself desperately.

"Mr.Ma-", she was about to say, but I interrupted her raised voice by pressing my hand to her lips as quickly as possible.

While I was still in the act of stepping into the shower, I flicked the light switch in the same movement so that no sign of our presence could escape from the room. Maybe they would not find us here, I hoped at this point.

"There's someone out there," I whispered to the naked girl in front of me.

" if we are quiet, maybe we won't be found. If we are, then..."

Kuon replied to me with an unintelligible "Mmm" , which resembled the sound of a frightened gasp. My body had pressed so close to hers by now that I could feel the wetness of her skin soaking through my shirt. I had directed my face facing away from her so that I could sharpen my hearing for the footsteps I could hear. Furthermore , I did not want to add unnecessary tension to the whole situation. It was uncool enough to interfere with a naked girl taking a shower even if it was an emergency. My hand was still resting on her lips and even though I was wearing gloves and looking away, I could clearly feel the warmth building up in Kuon's cheeks. She was obviously blushing in this moment. But having her pressed against the bathroom wall while forcing my hand tightly onto her lips and not even keeping a distance of not 2 inches, I could not blame her.

For quite a while, we did not move at all. We listened closely to the footsteps, which came a little closer and finally slowly moved away from us again. Temporarily it was even so quiet in this bathroom that we could hear each other breathing. Kuon's breathing was fast and almost verged on hyperventilation in this situation. Because there was hardly any distance between our bodies, I could literally feel her chest rising and falling in short intervals. With each rise, her breasts brushed my upper body a slight bit. I tried, as always, to keep my composure and block out the fact that Kuon was completely naked. Only when several minutes had passed did my posture loosen and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, we should be safe for now," I stated and let go of the girl.

I flipped the light switch and had to swallow.

Kuon had been naked before too, but it was only now that the danger was gone that I could really comprehend this fact. She had tried to cover her breasts with her hands and had simultaneously crossed her legs, looking down with a shameful expression on her face. However, the concealment attempt seemed to be unsuccessful for her. Although I only caught a glimpse of her appearance before I turned away from her as quickly as possible, I saw her entire beauty for a moment.Her breasts were in relation to her otherwise so petite body, large and plump. She had a narrow waist and perfectly shaped legs, in combination with her smooth, fair skin. And so she shaved, I could still tell. What remained most imprinted on my mind, however, was the look on her face.I of course preferred to see her friendly smile a thousand times more than this face that expressed pure shame. But I could not help but adore the sight of her big sparkling dog eyes looking at the ground helplessly.

My breath stopped for a moment, but then I quickly cleared my throat, my gaze already averted from her, scanning the room for a towel. I tried to hide the fact that I actually wanted to slap myself for the thoughts I was having. Luckily, my embarrassment was not visible through the mask. I had to change the subject immediately before the situation became even more awkward:

"Sorry, Kuon." , I mumbled. I was surprised myself by my harsh tone. It took me a while to recollect the words.

"You should let me know next time you decide to go somewhere else."

"Oh yeah right. I didn't mean to cause any trouble.", Countered the girl who also seemed to be a bit embarrassed. So it wasn't just me who was feeling uncomfortable about this situation. Without giving my companion another look, I threw a towel right over my head at her. I had a precise aim.

" I'm going to get my rifle. I forgot it in all the hurry near the sofa."

Just as I was about to open the door to step out, the girl interrupted my process by grabbing my arm with unusual intensity.

" can you come back here afterwards? Please?"

"That's what I was planning on doing anyway. I'll be waiting right outside the door," I replied, a bit puzzled by this question.

" but I have -." she interrupted herself, shaking her head slightly before continuing.

Then her facial expression regained its former composure, whereupon she gave me her typical, beaming smile. I could tell, however, that she did not mean it honestly. How I could tell that, I had no idea myself though. But did she want me to stay here with her?

" no you're right. I'll hurry up and be done in a few minutes," she said. While she was talking, she wrapped the towel around her body in a quick movement, fastening it in front with the help of a knot.

I had meanwhile turned my gaze back to her. Although Kuon was now dressed, it was difficult for me not to inspect her from top to bottom. Her entire body was still drenched in a hint of wetness, so that her skin was reflectingthe bright bathroom light. It was also slightly red from the hot shower water. I wondered if the red tint to her cheeks was also caused by that, or if I was responsible for it.I could not help but notice the way the towel just managed to hide all the places it was supposed to cover and yet was far too tight. If she bent over, a special view would present itself to me. Immediately I dashed this disgusting thought from my head. If I continued to reduce myself only to her appearance this could end in negligence on my part and I would not be able to protect her properly.After all, that was the most important thing. I also discarded this thought. Had this strange girl really become so important to me? Nevertheless, there was no place for interpersonal relationships in this world.Before I could get any further into this train of thought, I turned away again and finally walked out of the room. I was in need of a cigarette.

[1p2p-heta-imagines]

can you do a 2p allies version of the 2p axis as ghost/poltergeists please? xxx

(Tw for death mention and suicide mention on 2p France’s!! Please don’t read if that could trigger you, and please take care fo your mental health 🖤)

2p America:

- He’s not quite a poltergeist, since he can be calmed down and he’s not always very vicious but he would technically be classed as one. He knows he’s dead but doesn’t like to admit that so he will take it out on people in the house

- He died either by alcohol poisoning or some kind of overdose during a party and he spent a lot of his first days thinking he was still alive until he realized no one could see him

- When people first move in, he tends to be really vicious. He likes seeing how terrified they are, it amuses him in a lot of ways so he keeps doing it

- He sort of feeds off of the fear that people show to him. The more scared someone is, the more vicious and active he will get

- However, should they attempt to talk to him, he actually gets a lot calmer and typically shows himself to people because he does actually feel extremely lonely most of the time, not that he’d admit it

- Likes to mess with ghost hunters, he enjoys throwing them around or throwing things at them because they’re almost always extremely terrified

- Young children can typically see him even if he doesn’t want them to, he doesn’t want to scare small children so he typically ends up just talking to them and making sure they’re ok

- He also usually ends up stopping being so violent/active if he sees that he’s scaring the child because he wants to make sure they’re ok

2p England:

- A ghost that doesn’t know he’s dead. It’s almost like he’s stuck in a certain time before he did die, reliving the day before

- His bakery caught on fire and he didn’t end up making it out in time, the building collapsed very quickly and no one found his body so he didn’t get a funeral or anything

- He has the same schedule every single day, he couldn’t change it, even if he wanted to do so

- It was since remodelled into a house, but Oliver still sees it as the bakery he built from the ground up so him walking through walls/sinking through floors is just him believing that he’s walking through the hallway that’s there or going up or down the stairs

- Sometimes, he gets short-lived moments of seeing it how it really is or seeing his final moments due to the house owners saying something but he ignores it when they’re over

- The smell of freshly baked bread and cookies always seems to linger in places he’s been, and no one can really figure out why

- It looks like he almost glitches into reality when he shows himself as he has no control over when he does

- House owners typically don’t notice him until later, and even then, they don’t really do much about it because there is nothing that can be done about it and the house is quite cheap to live in

2p Canada:

- A ghost that knows he’s dead but doesn’t really do anything about it because he doesn’t see the point

- Tree fell on him when he wasn’t paying attention and crushed him, he typically stays around that point if he isn’t back at his cabin

- No one really moves into his cabin as it’s quite far into the woods and he built it himself so few know about it. However, people typically end up stumbling upon it by accident. 

- People who are seeking refuge from people or the cold are allowed to stay, he doesn’t mind them too much. People who are there for no reason, or are there for malicious intent, are immediately scared out.

- He never shows himself to people, unless he has reason to like if they’re trespassing and need to be told to leave

- His life isn’t actually too different, he lives it as he usually would minus going to to get food and other small things like that, he’s perfectly content with staying in his cabin 

- Ghost hunters came over once but he didn’t interact with them so they just assumed it wasn’t haunted and never came back, he’s happy about this

- He has the option to pass on, considering he’s at peace with everything and has no reason to stay, but stays anyway because he likes him home

2p France:

- A ghost that knows he’s dead and thoroughly hates the fact he’s still on Earth

- (Tw suicide mention) Hung himself in the attic when he was drunk enough to finally go through with his thoughts since he had them for years previously. He never really had anyone close to him so his body wasn’t found until the landlord realized he hadn’t paid rent that month

- People moving into his house bothers him immensely but he doesn’t become violent or vicious, he just shows up when he wants and goes throughout life

- He can’t drink but is still known to steal the owner’s alcohol along with their cigarettes if they have either in the house. He’ll find them.

- If people scream at seeing him suddenly appear, he’ll scream back and them and become extremely grumpy because he doesn’t want to deal with the other dead, never mind the living

- Just wants to lay in the living room for a few days without being bothered but the homeowners always make him have to move

- Surprisingly, the homeowners typically just get used to having his presence in the home, he doesn’t really do anything bad and he disappears if they try to nudge him so it’s not a big deal to most the people

- However, ghost hunters are getting smacked if they try to bother him. This doesn’t qualify him to really be a poltergeist, just a moody ghost.

2p China:

- Mischievous ghost that sort of knows that he’s dead but has never really accepted it as a fact so he tries to trick himself into thinking he’s still alive or just blocking the entire idea of it out

- Murdered by a random one night stand he met at a bar, they didn’t find much of his body or much evidence so there wasn’t enough to indite the murderer

- He’s always showing himself to humans as he thinks it’s weird to just stare at them without them knowing about it

- Keeps freaking homeowners out and scaring them off so he has new “roommates”, as he calls them, practically every other week. Sometimes, homeowners stay for a while when they lack money to move again and they slowly realize that he’s not exactly a big issue since he doesn’t do much

- Changes the channel a lot to something he wants to watch, the homeowners get annoyed but he could care less because his favourite show is on

- Steals their stuff a lot, he always keeps one thing from every “roommate” of his to “remember them” by and it’s mostly thrown in a closet that he literally never goes into until he throws another thing in there

- Just floats around a lot, he doesn’t see the point in walking since it’s using energy when he could just float around

- Will rummage around in the kitchen at 3 in the morning and wake everyone in the house up because he’s hungry, only to be told he can’t eat and then cries about it for 20 minutes and falling asleep shortly after

2p Russia:

- Quiet ghost that doesn’t know he’s dead as he never believed in the supernatural when he was alive

- No one really knows that he’s actually dead, never mind how he died. He was very much a loner when he was alive and they always see him outside in the garden, tending to flowers and such as usual

- No one tries to move in, no ghost hunters try to come over so his life goes on as usual without much disturbance

- Writes a lot about strange things he’s noticed since he can now technically see the other dead in the historic mansion but brushes it off as his imagination rather than admitting the paranormal may be real

- His crow stares at him a lot of the time and will move away from him a lot unlike how the crow used to be which Viktor found strange but brushed that off as well

- Literally will brush off anything, to be honest. He could find his body and just believe that he’s having an out of body experience or something along those lines, he’s way too stubborn in his beliefs

- He never really went out, so he would never even experience not being able to leave the house. He makes his money at home, he pays someone to get groceries along with having a space to grow his own fruits/vegetables/other things, his sisters would visit him, etc.

- Has phased through the walls a couple of times in front of people, but he didn’t notice he did it and gets concerned for their mental health if they tell him what he did

[sunlitcigars]

Soft!Dallas Headcanons

(Is this a little ooc? Yes. Am I also a slut for Soft!Dallas? 110% also yes.)

(Not my GIF)

Tags: @lastluvbug @disasterinadress97​

General:

 Dallas would never admit it but he has separation anxiety 

It's always why he stays at Bucks because he knows he's not alone and also why he's always at the Curtis'

He's also got PTSD from New York

Certain gunshots trigger memories in him

We all know the boy is touch starved let's be honest

He's subtle about it though like him always swinging his arm around Johnny and/or touching shoulders with Ponyboy or anyone of the gang

He loves the feeling of someone running their fingers through his hair

He really enjoys cuddles

Doesn't really matter what kind they are he just wants someone to hold him and make him feel okay

Always has his shirt tucked in as a habit because back in New York a lot of people would touch up on him 

 When he's nervous or on the verge of a breakdown he either starts bouncing his legs non-stop or starts scratching at his arms 

Will also play with his ring if he has it on

When he's stressed out and doesn't want to bother the gang or anybody else he'll usually go to the lot and watch the clouds go by if it's nice whether 

But when it rains he'll usually be up in his room at Buck's and watch from his window as it passes by (same goes when it's snowing)

He may like rain but he's scared of thunderstorms

Whenever he hears thunder he either puts his knees to his chest and bury his head in his legs or cover his ears or both

When that happens at the Curtis' one of the guys rub his back and pull him close to them until it's over 

 One of the things he's also afraid of is the dark since his whole life has been consumed by it

If the power goes out when he's alone he grabs a pillow and imagines one of the gang or someone so it doesn't seem like he's alone 

If the power goes out when he's at the Curtis' he'll grab someone's arm or hide his face in their shoulders

Can make bombass cupcakes and cookies but no one has ever tried them except for Tim

He actually really likes jazz because it reminds him of a simpler time in his life

Dallas doesn't really like big parties because the amount of loud shouting reminds him of back in New York when either the police would shoot at random gang members or something else

HE'S EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE AND WE ALL KNOW IT 

Dallas was close to Mrs. Curtis because she was the only women in his life that represented a motherly figure to him 

But when he heard the news about the crash he locked himself up in his room silently crying and never left the room the gang or anyone for that matter saw him for at least two weeks

(The only time anyone saw him in between those two weeks was at Mr. and Mrs. Curtis' fun

NSFW:

He's the type to talk big but is actually really shy in bed

Some people thinks he's the bratty sub type but really he gets flustered so easily

He's packing a 5 ½ to 6 Inches let's be honest here

He's not good with words in bed so if he wants something he'll stutter it out or whisper/mutter it under his breath

He feels so vulnerable laid out naked for the person on the bed 

He wants to feel he's validated enough to know that he's loved by the person 

He won't say it to anyone but he loves the feeling of being filled with cum 

His nipples are sensitive as fuck

Like if someone only played with them he'd orgasm in less then four minutes

D A D D Y  K I N K

H U M I L I A T I O N  K I N K

O R G A S M  C O N T R O L

He's actually really vocal during sex but would muffle his sounds with a pillow or cover his mouth with his hand or bite down on his lips

He whimpers

A lot

If he's feeling special then he'll put on a little show whether that's him strip teasing or touching himself for someone

If he's having a one night stand he prefers to be on his stomach/or hand and knees but if he's in a relationship then he prefers to be on his back so he can look at them and feel comfortable and safe

Hickeys are a huge fuck yes because they remind him who he belongs to and shows people not to try and hook up with him

Another one night stand vs. An actual relationship is that he usually has a cigarette after having sex but if he's in a relationship then he doesn't need one since he already feels content

Aftercare is a huge part for him 

He loves getting pampered and cared for because it's the only time he feels like he doesn't have to act so tough and can relax and let his walls down

FYI he's capable of doing grabby hands just so y'all know

In A Relationship:

He's with the person 24/7

Will low key freak out if he doesn't know where they are and where they went

He's afraid of them finding someone better than him because he feels like he's not good enough for the other person 

Is a little possessive overprotective of the person

If he gets sent to jail he'll give the person his necklace until he's out

He'll also grab something from the person so it doesn't feel like he's completely alone in there

He won't show it but when him and the person are talking through the glass his eyes are filled with loneliness and desperation 

Once he's out he's not leaving their side

Will beat the shit out of anyone who talks shit about his person in a god damn heart beat

He used to be in an abusive relationship so he doesn't let down his walls all the way

If he did something wrong he's always expecting for the worse but then he has to remind himself that they aren't his ex

If him and the person are arguing and they lift up their arm to make a gesture or whatever he will flinch away from them

If they try and leave the bed he'll cling to them like his life depended on it

E X T R A clingy when drunk

He never said I love you so when he said it to the person for the first time he was a stuttering mess

DD/LB: (If you don't like this please don't bitch about it or just simply skip this part)

His headspace is between 4 to 5 years old

Loves when his caregivers call him pet names

Baby boy and prince are his favorite

Likes to color because it keeps his anxiety at a neutral level

Slurs some of his words

Has a fluffy stuffed elephant named Lilac

Finds comfort in his caregivers voice

Clingy

If he wants to be picked up he'll make grabby hands

If he's tired then he'll crawl into his caregivers lap and nuzzle his face into their neck

When he's feeling on the verge of little space in public he'll unnoticeably hold the person's arm 

One of his favorite Disney movie is 101 Dalmatians

Loves to cuddle up in warm blankets

He has a habit of grinding his teeth so his pacifiers help him a lot 

It also helps him whenever he needs a smoke

Or when he needs to bite his lips

Likes bubble baths

His favorite scent to use is lavender :)

Unlike when he's in big headspace he doesn't try and break the rules because when he used to his past caregiver gave him harsh punishments

The first person from the gang he came out to was Ponyboy

One day Ponyboy had to go to Buck's place and while he was in Dallas' room saw Lilac

When he asked him about it Dallas was going to make an excuse but just decided to tell Ponyboy about it

Ponyboy told him he wasn't gonna tell anyone and he kept his word

He kept telling Dallas to tell the gang for a week

It took him a lot to tell the gang he was a little

They all had mixed reactions

All of them were very confused until he explained what it is

(Except for Ponyboy of course)

Darry started to feel more protective over him 

Johnny was surprised because he didn't think of all people Dallas would ever be a little but he was cool with it as long as it helps him

Sodapop is actually really happy about it and he wouldn't mind playing with him when he's in little space

Steve was a little uncomfortable knowing that the reckless hood was a little but he came to accept it

Everyone was waiting for Two-Bit to respond but all of a sudden he just walked out the door without saying anything

Dallas was on the verge of a panic attack and it took awhile for the gang to calm him down

It wasn't until later when Two-Bit came back but this time with a bunch of stuff

He'd gotten Dallas a stuffed animal, bottles, and even a fluffy blanket

Dallas almost started crying ngl

At the end of the day he was just happy his only family accepted him (#supportivegang2020)

When he's in little space the gang tries their best not to smoke or drink around him

On Sundays when they're all not busy they'll watch Disney movies together

One or two of the gang members is alway with him when they're out in public 

With The Gang:

Ponyboy:

Ponyboy reads to Dally whenever he sees him having a bad day or getting nervous 

Whenever Ponyboy reads to him Dallas either has his head in his lap while Ponyboy occasionally runs his hand through his hair or has his head on his shoulder 

On the occasion Dallas tags along with Ponyboy to the library and sometimes picks out a random book he finds interesting or Ponyboy would like and show it to him

Secretly he hopes that Ponyboy would read it out loud to him 

Darry and Soda won't allow him to go to Buck's but if Dallas calls and says he needs him he will not hesitate to go out the door to care for his boyfriend

 If Ponyboy has track Dallas waits for him until it's over

Going to the lot has become a weekly thing for them

When Dallas isn't looking Ponyboy would sneak in a paper that has a poem on it in either his jackets or his pants

Since Dallas never really went to school he has a hard time reading huge words or some so when he's reading over Ponyboy's shoulder he'll ask him

"What's that word?"

"This one?"

"Yeah."

"Absquatulate?"

"Oh." 

Ponyboy finds it fucking adorable

Sodapop:

Sodapop would take him to Dairy Queen and get sundaes and park somewhere with a nice view or park in the parking lot and watch the cars go by

Dallas often goes to the DX and wait until his shift is over 

Sometimes Sodapop will randomly put his hat on Dallas

Whenever girls try and flirt with Sodapop, Dallas either gives them a death state or tell them to fuck off and say he's taken

 When Dallas starts crying Soda will wipe away his tears with his thumbs and kiss his cheeks

Jokingly gave Dallas a promise ring he found somewhere not expecting him to actually wear it but was surprised when he saw it on Dallas' finger

If they're at a party sometimes Soda wanders off but once he sees how uncomfortable Dallas he is he's immediately back at his side

Ponyboy and Darry have walked in on them cuddling on the couch SO MANY TIMES

One time they walked in on them making out heavily Darry had to cover Ponyboy's eyes

Sodapop thinks Dallas looks H O T in his flannels

Darry:

Dallas would always steal borrow Darry's shirt because he feels comforted by it whenever Darry's at work

He absolutely loves it when Darry wraps his arms around him and would always snuggle closer to his chest

(If you really think I'm gonna let Patrick Swayze's singing voice go to waste you're very mistaken)

Whenever he's having a hard time sleeping Darry would usually sing to him until he falls back asleep

Or when Dallas is on edge Darry will hold him close to his chest and sing to him softly until he feels calm again 

Dallas loves Darry's morning voice because it's so low and low key a turn on

When they're out in public Darry would hook his finger around Dallas' belt loops on his jeans to keep him close to him

Some people don't fuck with Dallas as much because they know if they do they'll have to deal with Darry and no one wants to do that unless they have a death wish

If Dallas starts acting up in public all it takes is for Darry to whisper in his ear "behave" 

Darry once talked about the type of flowers his mom liked and kept in the house then a few days later when he got off work he saw the flowers he was talking about in a vase on the dining table with a paper attached saying "Don't ask where I got the flowers and vase"

He almost started crying right then and there

When Dallas is drunk he'll cling to either Darry's chest or back like a koala

One time one of the gang walked in on Darry cooking while Dallas just clung to his back but they didn't say anything in fear of waking up with their dick cut off

Johnny:

Surprisingly Johnny gets protective over 

He will now hesitate to throw down when someone starts talking crap about them

If they're out in public Johnny's always holding Dallas' hand 

Or if they're at the Curtis' Johnny would glance at Dallas every so often to see if he's okay

They both helped each other let their walls down 

When Johnny sees Dallas on edge or not at his best he nudges his head against his shoulder or on his face in hopes of cheering him up (it works more often than he thought it would but he ain't complaining)

 Johnny sometimes shows Dallas some of his favorite places around town

They've fallen asleep in the lot cuddled next to one another multiple times

Johnny tops Dallas sorry not sorry

Sharing cigarettes like kisses

Johnny mindlessly puts his arm in front of Dallas whenever someone's trying to pick a fight

Everytime Dallas talks bad about himself Johnny will be like not on my watch and will do everything and anything to make Dallas feel better

Dallas has a hard time sleeping at night knowing Johnny's with his parents

3AM conversations about the what ifs of life

Two-Bit:

Two-Bit will crack jokes to Dallas when they're alone together about how much of a softie he really is

But if anyone else made fun of Dally he'd beat the literal shit out of them

Also tells bad pick up lines to him even though they're already boyfriends

"Do you have a name? Or can I call you mine?"

Dallas would usually say something back but would low key be blushing

Always trying to make Dallas laugh because he loves it when he does

Would totally smack Dallas' ass in front of the gang

 Respects Dallas' boundaries when he's not feeling it

Ms. Mathews is actually really fond of Dallas 

His sister gave him the whole "hurt my brother and I'll hunt you down" talk

He didn't take it seriously but he keeps it in the back of his head

Dallas is the only one to see Two-Bit's hair without grease and he will play with his hair for hours on end

Two-Bit once fell asleep to Dallas playing with his hair and when he woke up he was still doing it

If they're watching Mickey Mouse Dallas is always on Two-Bit's lap

When he sees Dallas upset he'll do voice impressions of random people (Dallas finds it stupid but it always lightens his mood)

Steve:

Whenever Dallas' on the verge of having a breakdown Steve will drive Dallas around town to calm down

Soft music would be playing in the background while Steve either rubs Dallas' thighs or hold his hand

Dallas would run his finger around Steve's tattoo whenever they're cuddling

Dallas loves laying his head on Steve's chest because it's both soft and muscular 

When he does Steve softly plays with his hair

Whenever he leaves for work he wraps his shirt or jacket around him so Dallas could sleep better

Steve is really observant so whenever he sees something wrong with Dallas he always asks if he's okay

Will glare at anyone who's eyeing his Dallas

Never ever takes his anger out on Dallas

(God will have to fight him if he does)

Dates at the drive in movies and later eating at the diner

They'd always park where they won't get noticed so they can sneak in a few make out sessions here and there ;)

When they go to the diner Dallas kinda feels bad because Steve's always paying for their meals but he always reassures him it's okay

Him and Dallas constantly flirt when he visits the DX

Sodapop finds it amusing and annoying but as long as his best friend is happy he couldn't give a shit

~

Please reblog or comment!

 Let me know if you want to see more and if you'd like any to be turned into a short fic 

Also huge shout out to @lastluvbug​ for helping me come up with most of these ideas! (Thank you for saving my braincells)

[victoria-daydreams]

Till Kingdom Come

Chapter Nine: Home on the Range

AN: I’m back! I had trouble writing certain parts of this chapter and at one point I gave up and started writing for the next two chapters. But finally this chapter is done. I also published a playlist for this story that had been sitting in my drafts. Listening to some of the songs I selected as you read through the chapters is just *chef’s kiss*. After this chapter I’m probably going to take break from the story since writing this particular chapter was so draining for some reason. But hopefully when I return I will be feeling rejuvenated and ready to write again.

Happy Holidays!!!

Word Count: 5.1k

Trigger Warnings: violence, racial slurs/dated language

Taglist: @nerds4life246​

Chapter Ten: The Black Belle of the West

Sabine was fond of saloons just as much as anyone else, but tonight she visiting the establishment strictly for business. The bounty of Percy "The Fiend" Doyle had been issued by Sheriff Horace Lane, a man who usually offered the bounties that Sabine and the rest of the immortals took up. Working with him was quite the eye opening experience for Sabine. The sheriff was in the minority of accepting women and colored folks as a bounty hunters in a usually white, male-dominated occupation. It gave Sabine some comfort to know that there were some men who didn't let ego, bigotry, or ideas of femininity completely cloud their judgement.

Sabine swirled her bourbon around in its short glass as her eyes scanned over the saloon. The billiard room was so thick with smoke from cigarettes and cigars that it nearly burned her lungs, and the strains of piano music could be heard far off amidst laughter and chatter in the saloon. Laughter that came from rowdy men and pleasurable squeals from the working women lounging in the arms of their potential clients. Throwing back her shot, Sabine placed her glass down and began her prowl for the wanted man.

It was easier said than done.

There were so many people in the saloon that Sabine was having a hard time finding the outlaw. She moved from person to person, to table to table, until she found a familiar looking face. The unshaven beard, the wild, black hair, and the liver-spotted face. She took out the poster that she had been given, and compared the face on it with the man that she was looking at. No doubt, it was a match.

She stuffed the handbill into her chest and pulled the sleeves on her dress down to her shoulders. And with a vivacious smile, she strutted over to the table where The Fiend was playing poker with several other men.

"Anyone one you fellas named Doyle?" Sabine asked, placing her hands on hips.

"Who wants to know?" The Fiend questioned defensively.

Sabine shrugged, "You see, I'm new here and Charlie told me that you're a regular," she explained, playing the stereotypical vapid floozy. "And you always likes to see the new ones," she said, twirling a strand of her hair.

The Fiend looked Sabine over and smirked, "Never laid with a negress before, but I guess you'll do," he remarked, eliciting a few chuckles from the men around him.

The Fiend picked up his glass and downed his whiskey in one swift motion and excused himself with a wolfish smile, showing off his disgusting teeth. Sticking her hand out, Sabine sent the man an alluring smile and the man readily took it and she began to guide him up the wide staircase, The Fiend swatting her behind as they went. She tried not to tense nor flinch when she felt his hand, his action briefly transporting her back to her time on the Martin Plantation, but keeping her cool Sabine maintained her composure. The two of them made their way down a dimly lit hallway, where prostitutes lingered in their doors, smiling flirtatiously at him.

"Gimme a holler if you want a second inning, mister," one girl called, and winked at him, while another blew him a kiss.

They reach the end of the hall to "Sabine's" room and she opened the door, ushering him into it and closed the door behind her. Sabine smiled coquettishly at him as he began to undress, unbuttoning his shirt.

"What's your name?" he asked, pulling the shirt from his body.

"Lisa,"

"Well Lisa, I hope that you don't mind licking," he commented, his tongue darting out from his lower lip.

Sabine felt bile rise in her throat at the gesture, the very thought of his tongue making contact with any part of her made her want to gag. It was repulsive.

Sabine began tugging at her own clothes, "I don't pay no mind to that," she lied smoothly, allowing her dress to fall to the floor.

"Good girl," he cooed, eyeing her from head to toe. "You know, you're a lot prettier than the last one. Hardly had any teeth, and no tits," he described, shaking his head in distaste. "She was a flat thing, and I never liked flat. I wouldn't have mind all that, if she hadn't been such a bad fucker," he remarked, before letting out a sigh and plopping down on the bed. "I enjoyed seeing that bullet go between those blue eyes," he mentioned casually, tugging his boots off.

Sabine feigned shock, "You mean you killed her?" she asked, her voice slightly high pitched, placing her hand on her chest.

"Sure did!" he boasted, a large grin on his face. "She won't the only one too. Five other whores have been met similar fates all across this state," he informed. "I don't like to kill women folk, but if they disappoint old Fiend here, well I don't have a choice then," he went on. "Men are a whole lot easier to kill, they don't usually scream. When I robbed a bank in the Dakotas, I shot this lady and she screamed like a harpy. A shame that I wasn't able to strangle her instead," he finished, shaking his head and laughing lightly.

"It sounds like you've done a lot of killing," Sabine commented, feeling her disgust rise higher and higher at the sorry excuse of man in front of her.

"Oh darlin', it's what I do. I know it's probably not smart to talk to you about this, but if the noose ain't around my neck by now, then I don't think it'll ever be," he gloated, shrugging his shoulders.

She turned to The Fiend and smiled, "You sound like a very smart man," she complimented, watching him unzip his pants.

"What I am is horny," he corrected, staring at her hungrily. "Now come over here and let me get a better look at you," he ordered, beckoning her over.

Sabine walked over to The Fiend and he laid back on the bed, tucking his arms underneath his head. She planted her foot on the bed and slowly began to draw her chemise up.

"I'm sure many people are wanting your head, mister," Sabine mused, biting her lip.

The Fiend shrugged again, "I've got a bounty. About 7,500 dollars. Bunch of bullshit if you ask me, I'm worth a lot more," he proclaimed, puffing his chest out a bit.

"You know, I'd have to disagree,"

Sabine pulled her skirt up to her thigh, revealing her revolver in its holster. Before The Fiend could even react, she whipped out her gun and shot him dead center in the forehead.

"7,500 is far too much for you, bastard,"

High pitched screams and confused shouts rung out from behind her door and below her as she heard of flurry of movement downstairs. Blowing the barrel of her gun off, she slid the revolver back into its holster. Sabine picked up her clothes and redressed herself, mentally reciting the words she was about to say to the more than likely frenzied crowd that was going to be at her door in any moment.

"Everybody calm down, I mean no one else any harm," she would begin. "I am Corinna Vance, a legal representative of the Criminal Justice System of the United States of America. And this man here was a wanted man," she would explain, unfolding the warrant that matched Percy 'The Fiend' Doyle's description.

~~~x~~~

The sound of cheers, clapping, and the thumping of feet against wood reverberated in the air alongside the instruments being played. Strumming and singing to the rhythm of the tune, Sabine felt herself smile at the small audience who were clearly enjoying her performance. She didn't plan on doing this, not in the slightest, Sabine thought maybe around this time of the day she would be having a cup of coffee after finally getting up from bed from the long night she had. She had been tracking down another bounty given to her, this time she didn't even go under a pretense, she just sniped him from afar.

A well deserved rest was in store for her, she could taste it on her tongue.

But then, as soon as she rode into Hickory, Sabine was surrounded by children begging her to play on the banjo. And as much as she wanted to say 'no', Sabine could see the way their eyes lit up at the mere prospect of her performing.

And so she played.

So now that I am old and gray Listen close to what I say The white folks, they will write the show If you can't read, you'll never know

Sabine watched as the children swung each other around to the sound of the fiddle player, his bow striking across the strings as he rolled out the notes. She stared off to her side as she plucked the strings of the banjo with her skilled fingers. Bastien was sitting on their porch drinking from his flask, a smile was stretched upon his face at the cheerful kids in front of him.

Weeks had passed since the incident in Bastien's bedroom, and like with the 'river incident' the two of them mutually agreed in silence that nothing happened. Because technically, it was true. Yes, she and Bastien had a...heated moment that came close to a kiss, but did they do it? No. But of course that didn't stop Josef and Nicky from teasing her, because they knew something had gone down behind the Frenchmen's door.

Better git yer learnin' Better git yer learnin' Better git yer learnin' Before it goes away

Sabine and the fiddler drew the song to a finish, playing the same notes with much enthusiasm and joy. The last note rang out in the air and everyone from the children to the adults lounging around to hear Sabine play erupted in applause.

She did a little bow, "Thank you, thank you," she said, smiling herself. "Like the song I was just singing," she began, gazing at the young children in front of her. "You all need to get your learnin', so back to the schoolhouse," she ordered gently, and all the children simultaneously groaned. Sabine shook her head and wagged her finger. "I will be hearing none of it. Go on, off with you. Playtime is over," she informed, shooing them away with her hand.

Sabine pushed herself up from her seat on the porch step and turned around to see Bastien looking at her already.

"Quite a dark song to sing to children," he stated, with a chuckle. "'Ol' Massah found out, sure enough. And poor old Nick, he got strung up,'" he recited, putting the cap of his flask back on and tightening it.

Sabine walked closer to him, "It is true though," she responded, holding her banjo by the neck. "The penalty was death if a slave was caught trying to educate themselves," she continued, look down the road where the small schoolhouse was. "I'm glad they don't have to suffer or be beaten for wanting to learn," she added.

"I am too,"

She her turned attention back to him, "Why are you drinking so early?" she asked curiously. "It's only eleven," she pointed out.

"Well, in France I believe it's five o'clock," he retorted, slightly grinning.

Sabine snatched the flask from his grip, "That's not an excuse," she said letting out a laugh and running away from him into the house.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the front door, Sabine felt a hand wrap around her waist and spin her around. Giggles bubbled from her throat as her surroundings whirled around.

"You two having fun?"

Andy's voice shattered Sabine and Bastien from being in their own little world and he quickly placed her on feet, grabbing his flask back with little resistance.

"Morning Andy," Sabine greeted awkwardly, scratching the back of her neck and making her way to the den area.

"Your hunting go well?" she questioned, glancing back down at her newspaper.

"Plentiful," Sabine answered, laying the instrument against the wall. She shrugged her knapsack off her shoulder before reaching into the bag and pulled out a wad of cash. "It's all here. All $7,500 of it," she beamed, walking back over to Andy and handing her the cash.

Sabine remembered bringing the body of the outlaw to the sheriff and him giving her reward. He promised that all the money was there, but she counted the money nonetheless. It was better to be safe than sorry in her opinion.

Andy smiled and nodded, "Nice job," she complimented. "I'd figured you would want to wash up, so I heated some water up for you," Andy explained. "Booker, if you would be so kind to take that pitcher to the washroom," she requested.

"Sure boss," he answered, and walked over to the stove, wrapping the pitcher's handle with a towel.

Sabine watched as his figure disappear down the short hall where the washroom was located, but stopped when she felt like there were eyes on her.

She glanced over to the oldest immortal who had her brow arched, "What?" she asked, removing her hat from her head.

"I've been hearing...rumblings," Andy began, her voice low as she folded the newspaper up.

"Rumblings about what?"

"That something transpired between you and Book while I was away," Andy answered.

Sabine scoffed slightly, "Josef and Nicky said something didn't they?" she questioned, taking off jacket. "What did the two gossipers say?" she asked again, turning around to go hang her things up.

"Nothing compromising if that's what you're worried about," she reassured. "Matter of fact, I'm not completely sure what is going on," she admitted, the chair creaking underneath her as she stood up. "I have an inkling due to Joe's teasing mood as of late,"

Sabine shrugged casually, trying to brush off Andy's suspicions.

She turned around, "It's Josef, when isn't he teasing one of us," she said, with a chuckle.

Andy approached her, "Booker is fond of you," she said bluntly, just loud enough for only her to hear.

Sabine's mouth opened and closed like a fish, trying to form words, "W-Well, I hope he would be, we've only known each other for a decade-"

"That's not what I mean and you know it,"

"Is everything alright?"

Sabine stared past Andy's shoulder and saw Bastien looking at the two of them with a slight frown.

"Yes," Sabine answered, flashing him a smile. "Just us two gals talking," she explained, moving past Andy. "Thanks again for the bathwater," she added, looking over her shoulder at the oldest immortal.

Andy let out a chuckle in disbelief, "Sure, no problem Sabine," she replied, shaking her head.

Sabine went down the hall and pushed the door closed, seeing her clothes that she forgot she left in there folded neatly. Sighing gratefully, she stripped herself from the clothes she was wearing and put them aside before she rinsed her hair. Next, she soaped her face and hands, humming to herself as went. She carefully rinsed her face before taking a wash rag to the rest of her. Finally, Sabine bathed her body and shivers ran down her spine from the chill in the house. She quickly dried herself as best she could and dressed herself in her clothes from the day before.

Dirty clothes in hand, Sabine left the small washroom and out to the main area where Andy, Nicky, and Josef were all seated at the table while Bastien was

Josef's eyes lit up at the sight of her, "My good friends, I think we have a genteel lady in our presence again," he commented, staring at her outfit.

Sabine rolled her eyes and did a little twirl, her skirt dancing at her ankles, "Yes, it is I, Lady Sabine," she announced, straightening her posture and lifting her hand in the air.

Doing a quick bow Sabine left the den, walking towards her bedroom to place her things down and return back to the main area of the home.

"You know that Juneteenth is approaching soon?" Sabine asked, tucking the sides of her blouse into her skirt a little more. "Last year we missed out on the festivities, too busy chasing down outlaws," she remarked, going to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Ah yes! I can hardly wait!" Josef cheered. "Good food, good drink, music, and dancing. Who could ask for more?" he added, leaning back in chair with his arms behind his head.

"We could all use a bit of fun," Nicky chimed in, as Sabine looked up from her cup.

"But not too much fun," Andy suggested cautiously. “I am not trying to play nanny to any of you,” she joked, a smile reaching her lips.

Sabine went to join the group, "Oh come on Andy," she complained, pulling her damp hair over her shoulder.  She walked past Bastien, lightly letting her finger trail across his shoulder, his body stiffening in response. "Bastien is our resident functioning alcoholic," she quipped, taking a seat next to him. "I think we'll be just fine," she added.

~~~x~~~

A light breeze swept through Hickory as Sabine did her afternoon chores outside.

She looked over the clothesline to see children sitting around Hans listening to him tell stories from his homeland. They were interesting tales that had the kids attention completely eaten up. Just the way he told them made them all the more captivating. His hand gestures, the voices he would give the characters, even the facial expressions he put into it. It made her wondered why he didn't teach at a fancy school somewhere instead of...being here.

Sabine pinned another shirt onto the line and lifted her eyes from her work again, just in time to meet Hans' gaze. He sent her a quick wink as he continued his storytelling, she chuckled to herself and shook her head as she bent down to pick up another article of clothing. The sound of a bell being vigorously rung echoed in the air followed by the loud chatter of children passing by her home.

Back to the schoolhouse they go.

Attaching her chemise to the line with clothespins, Sabine could see from the corner of her eye Hans' form strolling over to her.

"Afternoon Miss Vance," he greeted, from the other side of the clothesline.

"Afternoon," she echoed, wiping her hands dry on her dress.

"Hard at work I see," he joked, motioning to the drying laundry.

Sabine chuckled slightly, "Trust me, I've done harder," she replied, knowing the statement would go right over his head.

Hans didn't know that she was a slave, he didn't ask, so she didn't tell. Sabine always wondered if he didn't ask out of dignity or out of pity.

"Then let me grant you a reprieve," he said, sticking his arm out. Sabine glanced over to the clothesline and Hans chuckled. "I make better company than the laundry, I promise," he assured, a twinkle in his eye.

"I guess you have a point," Sabine agreed, her lips quirking up into a smile as she walked over to him.

"How about a ride to the nearby meadow?" Hans suggested, glancing over at her.

"That sounds lovely Hans," she agreed, before walking over to her horse.

Freedom was a beautiful horse, Sabine knew so. The animal was well built, a white stripe ran down nose, her coat a light brown that seemed to drop into a darker brown around her under belly and legs. Yes, Sabine adored the horse, it was her companion on her many bounty hunting trips. She stroked Freedom gently and in return the horse nuzzled her shoulder.

"Good girl," she cooed, giving the horse a pat and mounting it.

Sabine maneuvered her horse, guiding it to the front of her home where Hans waited on top of his own steed.

"Race you there," Sabine said, squeezing her legs on the horse's sides.

Freedom's light trot turned into a sprint as she took off, Sabine felt her plait bounce on her back as she sped off, looking back at the German with a wide unmistakable smile on her lips. Hans flashed his soft gray eyes at her, smiling back as he tugged on his reigns to catch up with her and ride at Sabine's side. Leaning her body back a little, let out a whoop as she felt the wind rush past her.

Soon, the two of them found themselves at a wide meadow full of flowers and tall, green grass.

Slowing her horse down, Sabine gazed at the scenery with a small grin and dismounted Freedom. Hans followed behind her, hopping off his saddle and dusted off a sprinkling of dirt on his horse's rear. Sabine lowered herself onto the ground and laid on her back, not caring if grass got in her hair. Without taking her eyes off the clouds in the sky, Sabine could hear Hans plop himself down next to her.

"Not that I'm not grateful," Sabine began, staring at a cloud that reminded her of a feather. "But why did you bring me out here?" she asked, lazily turning her head in his direction. "The porch is a very comfortable place to sit as you know," she joked.

"Too many prying eyes," Hans answered, staring down at her.

"What? My friends?" she questioned, with a chuckle. "They're harmless," she assured, giving a dismissive wave.

"You sure about that?" he asked back, letting out a laugh of his own. "What's his name, Samuel? I don't think he's that much fond of me," he commented, taking his hat off.

"Oh, Samuel is like that with everyone," Sabine replied, knowing that was lie.

"Miss Vance, I think you're lying to me," he stated, tearing some grass from the ground.

Sabine snickered, "Was it that obvious?" she wondered, resting her hands on her stomach.

"Just a little," he replied, pinching his fingers closely together.

"Samuel is...Samuel is something else," Sabine explained lamely. "He can be a bit cold towards people he doesn't know. I wouldn't take it personally," she instructed.

Hans hummed, "I'll take your word for it," he responded, stroking his beard, clearly not sold on the idea.

Sabine laughed lightly, "Anyways, did you have fun telling your stories today?" she asked, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

"It was wunderbar!" Hans answered, with a grin. "The children seemed to be hooked onto my every last word I said," he recalled proudly.

"I don't doubt it," Sabine agreed. "It makes me wonder why you're not a teacher in some big, fancy school in New York," she commented, looking at him in curiosity.

"I use to tutor children from the upper class for many years and life soon became monotonous for me," he explained, staring out into the meadow. "I kept hearing people say that 'The West' is full of opportunities and new experiences and I couldn't help myself," he went on, shrugging a little. "I know I'm a bit old, but I couldn't shake that sense of adventure off me," he finished, turning towards her with a grin.

"I think you're never too old to have a sense of adventure," Sabine disagreed. "You only get one life, why not live it?" she questioned, managing to keep a straight face as the hypocritical statement slipped past her lips.

"And what about you?" Hans inquired, lightly tapping her thigh. "The children have told me that you are quite the singer," he informed. "Your voice could take you places," he suggested.

Sabine scoffed, "Where would I sing?" she challenged. "In a fucking minstrelsy show to humiliate myself?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Goodness no," he disagreed vehemently. "And I wouldn't want you to subject yourself to that," he added. "I just thought with your singing-"

"There isn't a stage in America that would let my colored ass perform," she cut in. "Look Hans, you may not know this, but being a female bounty hunter sometimes isn't really the most grateful job. Whether it's because you don't have a cock or your skin is not the color of milk. But at the end of the day, I still enjoy what I do. It helps me provide for myself and my friends, takes me to new places, and meet new people along the way," Sabine continued, running her hand through the grass. "Plus, I get paid to kill white folks," she added, a smirk on her face.

"An added bonus I'm sure," Hans responded, with a chuckle. He began to play with his hands before looking at Sabine again. "May I hear you sing?" he requested, with a hopeful look on his face.

"What?" Sabine asked, raising her brow. "Come on," she complained, throwing her head back.

"I haven't had the pleasure of hearing you sing," Hans pointed out.

Sabine exhaled dramatically, "Okay, fine, fine," she conceded, pushing herself up completely.

One evening as I rambled among the springing thyme I overheard a young woman conversing with Reynardine.

Her hair was black, and her eyes were blue, her lips as red as wine. And he smiled as he gazed upon her, did that sly bold Reynardine.

"That's it, I'm not singing any further," Sabine stated, lifting her hands in the air. "If I sing anymore this week, I'm gonna have to start charging people," she quipped.

"But my appetite has not been sated yet," Hans pouted humorously.

Sabine grinned, "Too bad," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders.

"Where did you learn that song from?" he asked curiously.

"Some English fellow that I met this past winter," she replied, a faint smile on her face. "He was a...very pleasant man to be with," she commented, thinking of fond memories about Oliver.

"You meet the darnedest of people out here, don't you?"

"It's like I said, perks of the job," Sabine reminded.

A silence fell between them as another breeze swept through meadow, blowing strands of hair across Sabine's face. She turned her head and stared at Hans with intent. Something was off about him today, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Was there another reason you brought me out here?" Sabine asked, staring at him.

The smile on his face lessened at her question, "Actually yes," he replied, tossing some blades of grass back onto the ground. "I received a telegram from Texas. A friend of mine is having trouble. You've heard of Theo Beck, I take it?" he asked, returning her gaze.

Sabine shrugged again, "A little. Sheriff Lane told me that he killed his family and then robbed a bank?" she answered, wondering where this was going.

"That'd be him. He was suppose to hang last week, but he escaped from his cell the day before his execution. Now, my friend is a federal marshal and he's the one that set the bounty. Dead or alive. Everyone's been searching, and his last sighting was in Oklahoma..." he trailed off.

Sabine's mind quickly put two and two together about this conversation.

"You're leaving?" she remarked, both of her eyebrows raised.

"I'm afraid I am my dear," Hans confirmed, nodding his head.

"I feel like you just got here and now you have to leave," Sabine grumbled, crossing her arms.

"I have to Corinna, I might never see an opportunity with the size of this reward like this again," he explained, raking his hand through his hair. "You are the one who told me that we only get one life," he reminded, slightly grinning.

"Yes, but I didn't think your next adventure would be this soon," she retorted, throwing her hands slightly. "Who's going to teach me German now?" she questioned, shaking her head a bit.

"I'll think you'll do just fine without me schatzi," Hans assured.

~~~x~~~

Sabine and Hans walked alongside their horse as they approached Hickory, deciding to give their horses a rest.

"Before I leave here, I want to give you something," Hans stated, before digging inside his coat pocket. He pulled out the German language lesson book that he had been going over with her. "Something for you to remember me by," he added, extending the book towards her.

Slowly, she pulled the book from his grasp, "Hans, are you sure about this?" she questioned. "We may never see each other again, I'll have no way of returning this to you," she pointed out.

"It's a gift remember?" Hans replied, a small smile on his face. "And when we do meet again, I expect us to have full fledged conversation in German, recalling all our wonderful exploits," he corrected, with an affirmative nod.

Sabine laughed, "I look forward to it," she concurred, clutching the book against her chest.

Hans stepped forward, gently taking her by the arms, "Before I depart I would like to also give you a proper goodbye,"

She arched an eyebrow, "'A proper goodbye'?" she repeated, wondering what he meant as he pulled her into his embrace.

"Yes, something that I've been wanting to do for a while," he continued, as he slid his hands around her waist.

Lowering his head ever so slightly, Hans planted his lips on her mouth. Sabine gladly allowed herself to lean into him, exhaling gently as she reciprocated the kiss. For that instant, they were totally unaware of everything and everyone around them. Hans' grip on her waist tightened, deepening their embrace. From the corner of her eye, Sabine saw a figure emerge from the front door of her home. Abruptly, she pulled away from Hans when she recognized who it was. Bastien. Clumsily, the book slipped from her hands, dropping it onto ground with an echoing thud.

Embarrassment was written all over her face.

"Samuel! I-I-didn't you see there," Sabine said sheepishly, her hands folding into one and other in a nervous, awkward motion.

"I can see that," Bastien responded, with harsh plainness.

Sabine glanced over to Hans, expecting to see the same wide-eyed expression as her, but instead Hans looked smug. Completely unfazed that Bastien had caught them in such a position. Sabine started to believe that's what made Bastien angrier as his nostrils flared and a vein on his forehead protruded out in anger.

Hans faced Sabine again, "Auf wiedersehen," he said, before kissing the top of her head.

The German climbed onto his horse and spurred it forward with his heels, sauntering past the town's wooden placard. As he left, Sabine could hear him humming a little tune to himself and she instantly recognized it.

It was the song Reynardine.

Chapter Eleven: Green-eyed

[my-one-true-l]

the wammy boys(besides beyond) turning evil for tragic reasons? I'd love you to try writing microfics of this! ^^

Hello Dear Anon! I am so sorry these took so long! I Hope you enjoy! 🖤

CW: guns, drugs, violence, murder, betrayal…it’s all in there.

L

L looked out the window at the snowflakes drifting heavily to the ground, coating everything in white.  He kept the lights off to assure no glare would interrupt the only calm he was able to find.

The manilla envelope lay on the desk, mocking him with its contents sprawled across the cold, hard surface.

The words “Insufficient evidence” and “unreliable witnesses” stared up at him, as well as “suspects released” and “no arrests made”. But there were two words, ten simple letters that taunted him the most. “Case closed”.

The photos of the crime scene were like a dream he couldn’t quite remember, familiar yet distorted. They brought him right back to the day he convinced himself never happened, that it was nothing more than a memory of a child’s overactive imagination.

The once comforting click of dress shoes alerted him to Watari’s presence.

“L, why are you sitting in the dark?”  Watari’s smile faded as his eyes landed on the envelope. “Where did that come from?”

“It doesn’t matter how I obtained it.” His voice, angry and hollow. “This entire time you knew who they were and you kept it from me.” His tones, biting and accusatorial towards the man he had grown to love like a father.

“You were just so young and when you were old enough…I didn’t want you to ever have to think about it again.” The older man stumbled over the words as they left his mouth.

L scowled at him. “It was all a lie. I trusted you. I trusted you and you betrayed me.”

“I didn’t betray you, my boy. I couldn’t tell you.”

“No, Watari. You chose not to tell me.” Turning his back to his once trusted guardian, L headed towards the door.

“Where are you going? L, please. I will tell you anything you want to know. Just stop. Please.”

L slowly turned to face him.“So now you decide I deserve the truth? This wasn’t a traditional lie adults tell children to manipulate their actions, Watari. You knew who killed my parents. You knew and didn’t tell me. All this time…I could have found a way…”

“You can find a way to catch them now. I will help you. Every resource I have will be at your disposal.” Watari pleaded.

“My resources are already at my disposal. I’ve already located them and rectified the situation. They will never see the sun rise again.” The shadows under his eyes became a physical manifestation for the darkness that had attached itself to him.

“L, just promise me you will come back once you’ve made peace with this.”

“Heh, You will never see me again, Watari. I’ve already erased myself from the system. Attach yourself to one of my ‘successors’. I can’t trust my identity to you anymore. L is dead, as is Coil and Deneuve.”

“But you are L.”

“No, I am Justice.”

 Near

“Nathan River released from prison on a technicality.”  

Near raises the remote and aims it at the screen. With a simple push of a button, he eliminates the image. He doesn’t need to rewind it. He doesn’t need to ever see it again. Every bit of it was burned into his mind.

The coverage was all over the news, although all he needed was a tip from Gevanni that it had happened.

Near, a living apparition in grey and white tones, was now painted in black.

“Rester?” Near summoned his handler.  “Initiate the procedures I had you put into place in the event this day ever came.” His words, calm and focused as always, were now laden with a cold-bloodedness that neither man had ever witnessed before.

“Near…are you sure?” Gevanni cautiously questioned him.

“Yes.”

Rester left and returned momentarily with a small treasure chest. It looked like nothing more than a child’s toy, a prop used when playing pirate.

But it was much more than that.

Rester hands it to Near.

“The key please.” Without looking up from the locked box, Near holds up a hand and waits expectantly for his request to be fulfilled.

It was Gevanni’s turn to leave and return with the required object, dropping it into the young man’s hand.

Without hesitation, he unlocks the chest and removes a small piece of paper and a pen. It all looked so harmless unless you knew what it was.

“Near, are you absolutely certain? You cannot undo it once you write his name.”

“Yes, I’m certain.” Near scratches his father’s name onto the small and unassuming piece of paper.  “Just like he couldn’t undo killing my mother.”

 Mello

“How did you get in here?” Roger Ruvie demanded into the atmosphere of his office.

Mello turned in Roger’s desk chair to face the old man. In his hand he gripped a file marked “Mihael Keehl”, a name that felt like it belonged to someone else, someone that never existed.

“You bastard!” Mello exploded at him as he slammed the file down on Roger’s desk.

“Mello, the records at Wammy’s House are not for-“

“I don’t give a shit who or what they’re for. Did you do it just to keep me here? For me to be competition for Near?”

“What are you going on about?”

“My parents are alive, you fuck. Alive.” Mello pounded both fists angrily on top of his file. “And it says here that they wanted me back, but you wouldn’t release me to them.”

“Mello, you have to understand, when a child is surrendered to Wammy’s, they are legally our responsibility until they’re 18.”

“Don’t give me this shit. You let me leave at 14! Why? Why didn’t you let me go back home?”

“Because they were unfit. Always in trouble. The entire reason you ended up here was because they were put in jail. You were rebellious enough without their influence. I thought I was protecting you.”

“Were you also protecting me from the money that you were getting from the “pretend” cases you had me and Near working on?”

“That money is used for the orphanage.”He was quick with his explanations and it was push Mello to his limits.

“Well, Roger, while you were busy running an orphanage and concerning yourself with my well-being, I could have been with my family instead of ending up like this.” Mello dragged a leather-gloved hand down his scar. “and now to make up for it, you’re going to tell me where they are.”

“I can’t do that. You willingly left Wammy’s. We are under no obligation to disclose anything to you.”

“Ok, have it your way.”

Mello got up and headed towards the door, but to Roger’s surprise, he shut and locked the them inside the room. Mello slowly stalked towards him.

“What are you doing?” Roger backed away from Mello until he was against the office wall.

Mello reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his 9mm and wrapped a finger around the trigger. “The information.”

“It-it’s over in th-that cabinet,” Roger stammered, suddenly terrified of the young man as he should have been all along.

Mello shot the lock off the cabinet causing Roger to flinch at the clang of metal on metal. Within minutes, he had the file he need.

“Thank you Roger, now let me repay your kindness.”

With an unwavering conviction, Mello aimed at Roger and pulled the trigger.

 Matt

“Stupid fuck.” It was an understatement of gigantic proportions, but Matt had no other words for him. He crushed the cigarette butt into the dashboard as he stared out the window at the rundown apartment building. It looked like where he imagined he would have grown up if he had not ended up at Wammy’s.

He had been staking the place out for hours now, but never getting a glimpse of his target. Matt knew he wasn’t giving him a second thought, just like he didn’t when he was small. After all, he wasn’t Matt’s father. Why would he have ever given a shit about what would have happened to him? He was just an annoyance to be ignored.

Matt understood this. He could even forgive this to some extent. He learned a long time ago nothing was owed to anyone and there was no such thing as a guarantee.

But what he couldn’t forgive is that this bastard watched as his mother overdosed, too concerned with himself to get the help she needed. He wasn’t just high. He supplied her with all the heroine she could ever want as long as she let him hide his product in her crappy little apartment and lie for him if the cops ever came around.

None of it mattered. When they found her, needle still hanging from the flesh just below the bend of her arm, they searched from top to bottom and found everything he was hiding there, the only thing in that apartment he ever cared about. He was charged with possession of a narcotic with intent to distribute and involuntary manslaughter.

He had let her die for nothing. The value the jury put on her life? A mere 14 years without parole.

Now Matt was less than 50 yards from him.

He didn’t care that he served his time. He didn’t care that he had paid for her death. There was no price that was high enough.

Except for one.

Matt reached into the glove box and pulled out the Glock 19 he had hidden there. He checked the clip one last time before stepping into the streets. With a determination never before known to him, he approached the apartment. Wrapping his knuckles hard against the door, he raised the gun to chest level as he heard the doorknob turn…

[oathofmaestro]

echoes;; a ronin/clint barton fic [1/?]

(( style/rating: allseeing, ephemeral, wanton ))

suggested song: knee socks - arctic monkeys

word count: 2,030

tw: this story will have dubcon - mentions of demons/succubi/incubi - blood - gore - death - aimless killing - mentions of sex work and sex workers - mental illness - ptsd - manic episodes - anxiety and depression // dark!slightlyderanged!Ronin(Clint) x fem!mutant!reader // this is sensual smut and lots of angst with a plot, so expect a part two. this is post-blip, so mcu/mceu clint/ronin. clint’s family does not come back, nat is still ko, clint is a free man. also: this is for @buckysthot ‘s writing challenge. thanks for hosting, i had way too much fun with this one! ****please remember to read  the trigger warnings!!! they are there for your protection!!!****

m/n: i’m only here to make you feel good. conducting symphonies is my speciality; for this piece, i have chosen to go sensual!, so please keep that in mind when (listening) to this particular symphony. should you read this and have a request, feel free to inbox me, I would love to turn your thoughts into a masterpiece. from me to you, i wish you many happy days, and please enjoy the concerto below.

until next time,

( MAESTRO )

They were never far behind, the jitters.

When they started, Clint didn’t have a clue, but he had the scars to prove their condition was a real one.

They always came on like a shock in the blue and for Clint, that usually meant several hours of scratching along his flesh, raking over his arms, legs, chest, and what he could reach of his back. 

Perhaps they began when he no longer could take the strain of being alone, of sleeping in his house of memories that included his deceased wife, maybe it was not seeing his boys… Maybe, it was the vision of Natasha falling farther and farther away from him as she always did in his nightmares.

Somehow, he always saw them – his family enjoying themselves in bliss, teaching his daughter how to shoot, how to defend herself… suddenly torn from him, their presence lingering like a phantom limb, all pain, all the time. 

So, he scratched and scratched, digging so hard sometimes that he drew blood and it was only then that he was certain that this wasn’t some fever dream and the ones he held so dear were gone from him forever… 

Until Clint met you.

He was well on his way to being a vigilante then; killing those he deemed worthy and sometimes, those he did not. Morality was not something he had much of these days and sanity wasn’t exactly at the top of the list. 

Whispers on the wind started calling him Ronin, and thus Clint shed himself from the ideal family man and freedom fighter to indiscriminate killer who made his judgments as quick as his blades cut throats, and he relished in those feelings because they gave him purpose. They gave him a sense of direction, hope, even…

They gave him you.

The bar was dingy and smelled of cigarettes, but the music was loud and that was what Clint wanted for the most part. He’d had been on a hunt for a bounty he had taken as job and had stopped at the first dive he saw, craving something strong in alcohol volume to consume and burn away any lingering doubts he was having. 

He could vaguely hear the music being played as he went up to the bar and ordered himself a scotch from the barkeep, settling into one of the many stools littering the place. It was quite empty for a dive, but then, with half of the world gone up in cinders and ash, he supposed that was only fair. 

He was barely paying attention when the lights dimmed and at the same time, his drink was passed to him, to which he paid with cash immediately, noting to the barkeep that the change was his to have. 

A crackly voice came over the loudspeaker to announce a name he could not discern and he watched as the few men in the place began to move in unison closer to the stage, sitting obediently like puppies waiting for their master to come home.

You got the lights on in the afternoon And the nights are drawn out long

His head snapped around at the music, and he felt something tugging at his consciousness as he sipped at his scotch, eyes darting left and right as he looked for the source of the sound. 

And you’re kissing to cut through the gloom With a cough-drop-coloured tongue

A gloved hand parted the show curtain for the stage and out you stepped, head to toe in golden body glitter and clad in a white toga, a sultry smirk curling your lips as you ran that same hand up the slit on your toga, which you undid so so slowly and Clint watched on, savouring you and the drink at the same time. 

Goddess, indeed.

And you were sitting in the corner with the coats all piled high And I thought you might be mine

Out of the toga, you were clad in only a black thong as you run your hands along your breasts, lip between your teeth as you twisted and turned on the stage, gripping the pole as you went round and round and round again, and Clint thought he could watch you do that forever.

In a small world on an exceptionally rainy Tuesday night In the right place and time

Up you went, and so did Clint’s eyes, and he found himself getting closer to the stage to get a better look at you; he wanted to see the show, that much was true, but somehow he felt like you were probing his mind and he had to know how you were doing that.

When the zeros line up on the 24 hour clock When you know who’s calling even though the number is blocked

You came back down and began to dance again after the show you had put on, and as the dollars piled up, you caught Clint’s gaze and smiled at him and he felt a pang in his body, heat rising slowly from his feet all the way to his ears. 

When you walked around your house wearing my sky blue Lacoste And your knee socks

He was near the stage now, noting how your smile grew, taking this opportunity to turn this show into a one on one, enjoying the feel of his eyes on your body as you worked your magic, music fading into oblivion as the haze began.

Everything and everyone was still and he wanted to marvel at this… except you were there, and  that only made Clint trod closer until he stepped up and was right next to you on the stage, his body flush against yours as you looked up into his eyes before capturing his lips within your own. 

The people fell away and it was just this motley pair, you with no name and Clint with all of his baggage and well earned torment.

He let you kiss over his eyes one at a time, head bending just so to accommodate you, and his voice came out as a whisper as he stared back into your face.

“Is this real?” you met him with a smile as you pulled away to begin pulling his shirt above his head and tossing it into the now empty club, your fingers trailing his chest as you carefully choose your answer.

“Only if you want it to be.”

O’ did he want to be. Carnal feelings that he did not know he had fell away as he lost himself in you, grasping the whole of you roughly and grinding deeply against you, the feel of your body on his own almost enough to sate the Beast he had become. 

He nipped, sucked, and ate at your flesh like his last meal was upon him, drinking in your essence as he lost himself within the confines of you. 

For Clint, time felt as if it was catching up to him, and he hastily undid his own pants and kicked them away while you shed your thong and kicked it aside, carefully bringing the both of you to the floor before hovering over him, cunt rubbing delicious friction along his already throbbing cock. 

His head laid back at this feeling and he was keenly aware it had been some time since an act of this magnitude had happened, and he wondered if he had need for condoms only for him to be guided into your heat, a long and throaty moan leaving him as you sank down to the hilt.

You didn’t move, and Clint was grateful for this as he grasped your full hips and you bit back a moan as he twitched so magnificently inside your pulsing heat. You gave him a full minute to adjust before you began riding him slowly at first, a hand bearing against his chest for leverage as your hips cracked down into his own. He wouldn’t last long, both you and he knew, but this was not for you, but for him.

“Give it to me.” You began and Clint’s head snapped back up, and you held his gaze for a moment before leaning in to steal another kiss. This one was just as heated as the first and you both started to chase highs that were not so far off. 

Something clicked for Clint and he realized that he was crying; crying for his family, this world, and mostly for himself. He cried hard enough to choke, and your hand came up to shush him, calming his nerves as you continued to grind against his pelvis with your own. His tears mixed with his sweat and eventually faded into the air as you took within yourself all of his sorrows and heartache he had to give, and you sighed in a sort of beautiful and sad way, your fluttering walls now calling his bloom to the surface. 

He felt you and he answered, head now thrown back in pleasure as your hips met his meticulously and it was moments later that he spilled hot ribbons of his seed deep within you, your head buried into the crook of his neck as you milked him for his worth. 

He held you like that for some time, hands bruising your hips, glitter now flecking his own flesh as he pressed you flat against himself. You pressed a kiss to his jugular as you finally sat up to look at him, letting him slip from your folds as he softened.

“Someday…” you began, and Clint began to see black at the edges of his eyes, almost as if he was going to pass out.

“When you’re ready, I’ll give your tears back to you.” was all you said, and before he could answer, you smiled down at him and clapped your hands together, vision now black.

–

Clint was startled awake by the sound of someone tapping the glass window of his car, and he looked up to see the barkeep impatiently telling him to roll it down. The familiarity of being in the driver’s seat was jarring for him, but he complied, wiping remnants of sleep from his eyes as he did so. 

“Bar’s closed; go home, mate.” was all he said as he walked off to his own car, and Clint watched the whole way as he did, even letting his eyes trail after the vehicle as it drove off into the darkening distance. 

He was convinced this was a dream as he started his car and began to drive, trying to recall what had happened with fervor. He was still convinced it was nothing but his own thoughts when he began the trek back to his home, dreading the trip and what it would bring.

Except dread no longer plagued him as it had, and for the first time in a long time… 

Clint could b r e a t h e. 

Nothing constricting, no short breaths, nothing greeted him like the anxiety he was used to. 

Something caught his attention more as realizations hit him like a freight train, and he saw his reflection in his rear view mirror, head tilted as he studied the smudged black lipstick that had littered your full lips, now upon his neck like a tattoo; a mark, a thread, a road to you.

There was a definite something he was feeling…a inkling he couldn’t quite place; but felt more compelled to prove you were real in his haze, in that little snippet of the darkness within him, darkness you had taken with you… darkness you would keep until he was ready for you to give it back to him.

All he had to do was look for you. 

And you, would be waiting for him.

—

Well you cured my January blues Yeah you made it all alright I got a feeling I might have lit the very fuse That you were trying not to light You were a stranger in my phone book I was acting like I knew ‘Cause I had nothing to lose When the winter’s in full swing and your dreams just aren’t coming true Ain’t it funny what you’ll do

[nxrdist]

Letters to the Front

Summary: Set during the Great War. The letter hadn’t been meant for Tommy, but it landed up in his lap anyway. He hadn’t meant to do anything but inform the sender, courteously, of the fate of their loved one (who knew how long it took for the Crown to send those messages out). Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he’d be recieving another letter from the girl.

Rating: Teen for now

||Masterlist||

Words: 1568

A/N: Semi-inspired by a fic I read sometime ago. Canon and period typical triggers apply. If you watch the show you know what you’re getting into I hope! Any overly graphic decriptions will be added as specific triggers. I intend to do my best when it comes to historicla accuracy, but somethings will intentionally be bent for the purpose of the story. I hope you all enjoy :)

There hadn’t been gunfire for hours. A small burst had taken place that morning when a young kid had been brave enough to pop his head up, against strict orders not to do so, but since then there had been hardly a peep from either side. No man’s land laid out before them silent as ever. It wouldn’t be that way for long he was sure. The digging took time, but when the tunnels met it wouldn’t be silent anymore.

Digging the tunnels hadn’t been something Thomas was intending on volunteering for, but when no other had; how could he not? Their commanding officer sat silently for a long moment looking into the faces of all his men. Thomas’s eyes had also flicked over some of the younger faces surrounding him. He was young too, but some well they were even younger than he was. Arthur had stiffened next to him when Thomas silently raised his hand in acknowledgement.

Their CO nodded and shuffled off Thomas was ready for Arthur to rip into him, but he didn’t. Instead, Arthur was quiet. Though, he did watch Thomas with an uncannily close eye. Clearly, Arthur was wondering if Thomas had simply lost the will to go on. Thomas made eye contact with his brother and gave a sharp shake of his head.

No words were needed. Thomas knew the question. Arthur knew the answer in the sharpness of his middle brother’s eyes.

Someone has to aye?

It was late afternoon before John could make his way over to them again. Arthur didn’t say anything about the tunnels to John and neither did Thomas. John looked quite keen when he’d shuffled over to them and neither were willing to spoil the mood.

“What’s it then?” Arthur asked after a moment of looking at John’s grinning face.

“Mail’s come in.”

Thomas gave John a simple nod of understanding. Arthur clapped his youngest brother on the shoulder, squeezing it slightly, and grinned as well. John was the only one who really had anyone writing to him with regularity -his wife Martha. It had been heartbreaking to see John leave her and his children behind when they’d joined up. None of the children understood that their father wouldn’t be coming back for quite some time, but Martha had held on to John so tightly.

John was fidgeting nervously with his cuffs. Clearly excited, but also anxious that he wouldn’t be getting anything, John always worried in vain. If Martha hadn’t written him a several page long letter, then he would have drawings from his children. John always got mail. While Arthur and Thomas only occasionally got letters from their youngest brother Finn, their sister Ada, or from their Aunt Polly.

Just when Thomas was about to reach out and grab his brother’s hand to stop his fidgeting the mail carrier arrived. It was the same squat man as usual moving down along the row of men with a large sack of mail. John was nearly bouncing with anxiety by the time they were reached.

“Shelby, John,” said the man.

John greedily took two envelopes from the man. One of which was quite thick, likely the containing pictures from his children, and the other not quite so thick and with visibly clearer writing on the front. He was lucky this time. A letter from Martha and his children’s pictures on the same day.

Thomas sighed. He was thankful his brother would be able to relax for at least a few days while he read and reread Martha’s letter. A sigh escaped Thomas’s lips as he leaned his head back against the muddy side of the trench.

“Greene, Ernest?” said the mail carrier in a slightly unsure tone.

Usually Ernest was sitting near the brothers when the mail came. It had been over a month since mail had come though. So, of course the mail carrier wouldn’t know about Ernest. Thomas sighed. He glanced over at Arthur who shrugged.

“Here.” Thomas said, propping himself back up and sticking out his hand. “Ern’s dead.”

The mail carrier gave a short nod. He tossed the letter to Thomas before moving on down the line. It wasn’t the first or the last time a dead soldier’s mail would show up to the front. Thomas wasn’t sure what possessed him to take the letter meant for Ernest, but he had. Arthur arched an eyebrow at him briefly. Giving a shrug, Thomas tucked it into his pocket. John was busy with his mail, but Thomas didn’t want to read Ernest’s letter in front of Arthur and his prying eyes.

After a few moments of relaxing silence, Thomas moved from the trench toward the short walkway to a spot a bit further behind the line where soldiers could take breaks and play cards or dice. There was a badly battered table and chairs placed over some shabbily laid boards. Mud still squelched up between the boards, but it still served to allow one to wipe their boots somewhat which Thomas did before taking a seat. He took out the letter and laid it on the table in front of him.

Ernest Greene

It was scrawled in a neat feminine hand which made opening it more difficult for Thomas. He didn’t recall Ernest ever mentioning having a girl back at home. All Ernest ever mentioned about home was that he had a sister, a few years younger than himself, that worked the phone lines in Birmingham. Though, looking at the script Thomas worried that Ernest may indeed have had a girl back home. Some men were like that after all. They wanted to keep their lives at home to themselves somewhat. Something this damn war can’t take away, an older soldier had told Thomas not long after he’d first arrived.

Breathing a deep sigh, Thomas hooked his finger under the seal and popped the letter open. He pulled out a single sheet of paper on which was more of the same slightly slanted writing. Thomas looked at it without really reading it for a long moment. He took out a cigarette and lit it as he began to read.

Dearest brother,

Thomas exhaled a puff of smoke. Pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand holding his cigarette, he paused for a long moment. Finally he moved his hand away to puff again on his smoke. Was it worse or better that the letter was from Ern’s sister instead of a sweetheart? He wasn’t sure. The letter was open now though if there were some principal of invaded privacy he’d already broken it.

I’m afraid your letters may be getting lost. The last one I received from you was marked near four months past and I’ve written you twice since then. It’s no matter though. You know I will always keep writing.

You’re my big brother after all and I do miss you so terribly. The house still feels so very empty at times without you here. You tell me not to worry for you though I simply can’t help it can I? It is difficult not to, you know that don’t you. Ever since father passed, I have no one else to care for.

And don’t go telling me to get myself a sweetheart again, will you?

I could scarcely imagine such a thing until I know you are looked after. On the note of looking after oneself, I have been keeping well. Your kitten, well cat now, lays on the end of my bed when I sleep. I wake early every morning to go to work at the operator’s office. I am enjoying the work so much there. It is such a far cry from the factory you used to work at.

Perhaps when you return home, I will even be able to take you to a special lunch! Wouldn’t that be a treat Ern?

I’ve enclosed a picture. Many of the girls at the operator’s office send them to their sweethearts. I’ll send one to you just so you don’t forget what I look like yes? A strange concept, I know, however I find myself looking at our old family photos just to see your face some days. I don’t want to forget the face of my brother either.

All my love,

Helen

Thomas hadn’t even realized the cigarette he’d lit at the beginning of the letter had burned down to the butt while he read. His eyes were oddly glassy. It was difficult to read those last few sentences. He didn’t even realize why until a single tear drop fell with a plop onto the paper. Rubbing his eyes with the back of his dirty hand, Thomas

Inhaling deeply, Thomas pulled out another cigarette and inhaled deeply. The calming sensation of the smoke filling his lungs allowed Thomas to open the envelope again. Just as she’d said, enclosed was a photograph. The girl in the photograph looked hardly nineteen. Her hair was a dark shade which Thomas could imagine must have matched Ernest’s own chocolate brown. Though, her eyes looked less like the same dark brown of her brother’s it was difficult to tell from the photo; though, there was a distinct light in them. Her lips were turned up into a shy smile like she wasn’t sure whether she ought to be smiling for the camera or not. Helen Greene was a lovely young woman decided Thomas.

Sighing, Thomas looked around. Quickly he noted another soldier who was penning a letter of their own nearby. The soldier was kind enough to offer him a piece of paper and allow Thomas to borrow his pen as he’d just finished his own letter. He felt a certain sense of urgentness about finishing his response for several reasons one being the mail carrier would leave soon and the second being the tunnel. Thomas would be going down into the tunnels very soon.

---

end note: Tommy’s letter back will be in the next part ;D

Taglist: none (send me an ask if you’d like to be added)

[devillainsarchive]

🐾 meta;

Carlos and his mental state and disabilities (this is the best way i could think to phrase it). These are present in all my verses unless stated otherwise (like my mr robot verse where he has dissociative identity disorder).

I want to be very clear, this post will only graze the surface of deeper issues. I am also putting a majority of this post under a read more due to the some of the more sensitive topics, and I don’t desire to trigger anyone.

I want to also say, making this post has made me extremely nervous. As I don’t want to portray things incorrectly, or wrong. I am always learning, and striving to reduce the stigma and glorification of these things.

Additionally, this things are not plot points for Carlos. I will never use them to make his story more sad or more upsetting. I am not here to have them be a shock value. With writing about these things most of my nerves regarding this post that I have put off for months is the backlash I will get. If you want to talk to me about anything I say in this post, I ask you do it off anon.

Finally this post is not going to be addressing Carlos intelligence (ie his IQ score and how he is a prodigy where schooling is concerned). Certainly some of these things can feed into that. But his intelligence is something that deserves its own post.

Short list: things Carlos has (diagnosed and diagnosed)

Asperger’s

PTSD and C-PTSD

Anxiety

Depression

Schizophrenia

OCD

Insomnia

This is the longer list, essentially I go a bit into detail about each thing on the short list, explain my reasoning behind him having each thing, where I pull from canon to get the reasoning, a bit about the manifestations of each thing for Carlos. There will be cross over, so I may repeat myself on occasion.

Asperger’s (Asperger Syndrome)

Carlos’ Asperger’s is evident when you know the signs. Carlos struggles to pick on basic social cues. He certainly gets better and learns more when he is older. But as a young child, and especially all his time on the Isle, and when he first lives in Auradon. One of the most evident signs of this is that he will talk about things he likes typically mechanics and wires and machines without stopping to care about what his listener thinks about it. In Auradon he learns to stop himself from getting to far, and he always feels bad about it after. He cherishes people that let him talk.

Carlos is not loud, but he certainly has a wide vocabulary. While this is not incredibly evident, his annoyance with Reza’s vocabulary could lead to he knows what all those words mean. Carlos just knows how to use them in natural conversation. He does not understand normal jokes or humor, and it takes him a few moments to get a joke. In Auradon he gets better with those social queues, and learns how and when people are trying to be funny. Carlos may laugh but that does not mean he gets the joke. He also may not understand when he is telling a joke. This does not mean that Carlos can’t laugh or doesn’t know when to laugh, he laughs easily with Jay, and probably for a very long time Jay is the only one who can get a genuine laugh out of him.

Carlos’ is very aware of his surroundings. He notices small changes in things, and often changes in thins will bug him, and make him upset. He hyper-fixates this primarily on his desk in Auradon, and his desk in the hideout on the Isle, and the treehouse in the backyard of Hell Hall on the Isle. He knows immediately when things are wrong with it. This applies also to people around him, sudden movements, but for the most part Carlos associates that with always having to be on alert for his mother. His own interactions with people may seem odd, he may ignore them or seem rude, but he doesn’t mean it. This is where part of that callous demeanor comes from, but he is much better at turning that off and on than people realize.

Carlos also has his hobbies that he talks forever about, that he will ignore people for. This hobby is science and mechanics, and computers. He also enjoys binary code, and Morse code. One prime example of this is when he first ignores Evie when she meets him officially for the first time. He is focusing on building the machine that pierces a hole in the barrier. He essentially ignores Evie, until she makes a comment about the machine to help him make it work. Another example of this is from D1 where he is playing the video game. One other example is the fact that he has the period table of elements memorized this comes up as a way to calm himself down, when he is aware enough to calm himself down.

Last but not least Carlos has a serious aversion to touch. This plays into so many other things about him, and many things you will see on the list. Carlos does not like being touched. And touching him when its uninvited could lead to a various range of results.

PTSD

Carlos PTSD mainly manifests itself in the forms of flashbacks, and nightmares, and panic attacks. His PTSD is caused by his mother’s treatment of his as a child. His mother’s treatment of him, wont be discussed in great detail here, but it is traumatic for him. In short he was not loved or cared for. He had to do so much on his own, on top of his mother ordering him about. She burned him with butts of cigarettes, threw things at him, and treated him like a dog to the point of Evie thinking he was a dog because she could hear it. Dog jokes on the isle about him run rampant.

His triggers on the Isle, he doesn’t really care about. He still is in the situation constantly, so he doesn’t really pay attention. In general, and one he has control of, is the various dog nick names. He will get a bit volatile about being called dog names. Other triggers mainly include heals clacking, smoke, dogs (all dogs, and then just big dogs as he gets to know Dude), and touch particularly touch of his hair. These are his biggest triggers, and they are not his only ones. They also don’t always set him off. He has it all much more under control than he thinks he does. He is good at self regulating his panic attacks and knows when they come on. Flashbacks are his rarest form of manifestation. They are not always full on vivid images of things, but he often gets an overwhelming smell of his mother, and Hell Hall. Nightmares are his most common manifestation. He struggles to sleep, but when he does 6 nights out of 7 he will have a nightmare. He does his best to thoroughly exhaust himself before he sleeps in order to not have nightmares (and to not disturb people, namely Jay). They mainly manifest in Auradon.

His PTSD can get very bad, especially when he has a full flashback. His full flashbacks are generally brought about when he thinks he is being threatened. They come mostly from fear of being touched, mainly if he thinks someone is going to strike him, or if someone is yelling at him. He has full flashbacks very very rarely, but he has had them. One of the most prominent times he has had one is on Parents day when Audrey’s grandmother, and Chad yelled at Mal, Evie, and Jay.

Carlos has both PTSD and C-PTSD. There are certain events from Carlos’ childhood that cause PTSD, but the ongoing abuse he suffered is what gives him C-PTSD. PTSD includes reliving the trauma through nightmares ( referenced vividly in book 4 ) and flashbacks both of which Carlos experiences. He avoids situations, and when he can’t he either disassociates or runs such as with Parent’s Day when Queen Leah’s yelling makes him dissociate. His fear of dogs stems from his PTSD, as well as his hyper awareness of the world around him (though this hyper awareness is also brought on for other reasons). Some of his triggers cause somatic symptoms, as shown above.

Carlos’ C-PTSD is evident in both the books and the movies. From lack of emotional regulation (him yelling at his mom in D1), to dissociation his response to Jane in D3 where he forgets seemingly that his mother abused him. Carlos shows many signs for C-PTSD. He has the most control over his emotions almost to the point where he can come of as emotionless ( “they say I’m callous” ). Carlos has a negative view of himself, but don’t expect him to say that. His mother’s comments towards him made it such so that he feels different, not to mention how utterly embarrassed he is of his handwriting because he taught himself how to write. Carlos’ inability to form good relationships with people, especially outside of the Core4 is not only a symptom of C-PTSD but also something that is part of asperger’s. However its a fine line because the type of people he is typically attracted to, tend to have power over him. Its a delicate line that both parties have to walk.

Carlos’ perception of his mother is his biggest sign that he has C-PTSD. He loves her. He loves her to the point that he will defend her. He knows she doesn’t love him, this is his plot of book 1 essentially. But that does not change his feelings towards her. He has a desire to make her proud, even at the cost of his own morals. Carlos loves Cruella unconditionally even though he shouldn’t, and its unhealthy. He also fears her, but that doesn’t mean he can’t love her. His fear of her causes physical reactions in him from shaking, as seen in book one, to nearly becoming a different person, a main reason he doesn’t want Dude on the Isle in D2.

Carlos doesn’t really exhibit loss of systems, mainly because his only real connection with religion is that his dad is Jewish. However, in my writing, he does often think about how stupid it is to have hope, so that would fit in well there.

Overall Carlos has both. There are specific child hood events that give him PTSD, but the abuse over the years is what gives him C-PTSD, and yes one can have both.

This is not diagnosed.

Anxiety

Carlos’ has anxiety, mainly severe social anxiety. Carlos does not do well in big crowds, or social situations. He has the constant thought that he is annoying people or bugging them. He may want to approach someone, but actually doing it is incredibly taxing on him, and he panics.

Social situations in general make his heart rate go up. Carlos has panic attacks from this. These are the ones that he can barely control, if at all. They come on fast, and often Carlos gets no real warning for them mainly because he doesn’t always know what triggers them.

This is also not diagnosed, but it does stem from Cruella’s treatment. He is always on edge around her, and worried and nervous about how she feels about him. This extends to every person he knows and meets. This extends to his friends. He is always worried about them, and how they view him. He is waiting often for their guidance to tell  him what to do, even if he knows what he needs to do. He likes orders.

Additionally his mind is constantly going a million miles a minute. He often has different things processing and going on at the same time. But worries are most of those. These worries keep him up at night, and actually add to his insomnia.

His anxiety is potentially the least worrying thing for Carlos though. It has been ingrained in him so long to be on edge, that that is all he views it as.

Depression

Carlos’ depression is the must fuzzy of all the things he is diagnosed with. It is definitely the hardest to pin down. And it is one of the things that Carlos does his best to ignore. He has other things going on his mind, if he wants to lay in bed, he has things going on telling him he can’t. Something needs to be cleaned, something needs to be done, his mother is telling him to get up.

Something that links into his depression is his view of his body. Carlos is incredibly self conscious. He has multiple scars that are from cigarettes, or chemical burns. He has cuts, and scrapes that have scared over. He also has his freckles which are a love hate relationship with. His mother found it the one good thing about him since he was born with spots unlike puppies, but for a while it made him resent them. However due to his unique relationship with his mom, he likes his freckles because he knows that since he has them his mom has the chance to love him.

Carlos’ view of his own body being malnourished, and that his growth is stunted, among other things is skewed. He doesn’t like people seeing his body. Sometimes seeing his body makes him uncomfortable with himself, or he just loses all motivation he had. It can be incredibly debilitating. It is often the thing that gets him down the most, and makes his days the hardest to get through.

Schizophrenia

Carlos’ schizophrenia began to manifest itself when he was around the age of 10. He has no idea what it is. It is gentic, and he did get it from Cruella (this is based primarily on Descendants Cruella, and Disney’s live action and animated Cruella).

Carlos’ main symptoms for this are hallucinations, delusions, unusual ways of thinking, agitated body movements, reduced expression of emotion, reduced speaking, and poor executive function. He may exhibit more, but these are the most common. On the daily he typically experiences auditory or visual hallucinations that are vivid and often seem real to him. It his strongest symptom. He explains as he does in D2 where he hears Cruella’s voice in his head. She often talks to him telling him that he is worthless and useless, or she will give him orders. Disobeying the orders is hard, and sometimes he feels that he has no control over his body as he obeys whatever order his mother told him.

Carlos also often known to have delusions, and when he is having an episode he likely wont make sense. He will behave opposite to how he is commonly known (so how Auradonians view him), but he will also be opposite to how the Core 4, and friends who actually know him are. One way to confirm that he is potentially relapsing is that he will respond to the vivid hallucinations.

Often the best way to get him to come back to reality, and get him past the episode is to initiate contact with him, because that is the best way to ground him. Its not an easy feat since he doesn’t like being touched. And he will likely lash out when people try to touch him.

Aside from hearing his mother’s voice, he may feel her arms around him and she could be stroking his hair. His protection of her is often what makes him lash out at people who come near when this happens. Carlos seems almost relaxed when this happens, in a way he never is, his eyes close and it looks like he is experiencing something euphoric, he has this look in D1 when his mother is petting his hair in Maleficent’s home before they head to Auradon.

However, his most common system is the auditory hallucinations, and he rarely talks about them even with his friends. This is also not diagnosed because of his refusal to admit that he is crazy like his mom. He does not want to be like her, and he knows that having it could potentially get him sent back to the Isle. He doesn’t necessarily like when people say he isn’t like his mother, because he knows its a load of bull.

OCD

Carlos has OCD, it goes beyond his need for things to be perfect and meticulous something that was ingrained into him by his mother. Carlos has a few very small ticks. He does things in 10s, or in 101s. For example Carlos will wash his hands for 101 seconds, or will brush his teeth for 101 seconds. He will eat food in ten bites, not a whole meal but each seperate piece of food he eats will be done in 10 bites. This leads to him being a bit of a messy eater, but don’t worry he has 10 napkins for that issue exactly. If he used a clickable pen he would have to click the pen 10 times before he will use it. Often when panicking he counts to 10 to help him breathe. 101s are meant for longer tasks, his brain automatically sorts things like that. His worst infraction of this is going up stairs, if a stair case does not have 101 steps, which most of them don’t, he will calculate what he needs to get to those steps. If a staircase has more than that, he will start the 101 over, and calculate how to get to that number like he would with a regular stair case. It is the hardest tick to hide, in his opinion.

This is not diagnosed.

Insomnia

Carlos has severe insomnia, it is added to by a few things, such as his anxiety and PTSD. It is not dependent on those things. Carlos’ mind just does not shut off. In order to get a good night’s sleep he has to be pretty much exhausted. It became much more apparent in Auradon than on the Isle. It did exist on the Isle. Often being coaxed into sleep helps too, and that typically includes friends helping him sleep, this can be seen more so in my own writing. However I do pull him having insomnia from the scene in D1 where he is shifting on his bed awake, granted all the kids are awake, but his just feels different to me.

As with everything else on the list this is not diagnosed, but it is one of the few things Carlos is fairly comfortable self diagnosing himself with.

In general, the numerous things he deals with that affect his life day to day, when he is diagnosed and does talk about them, are the reason he is eligible for a service dog, and why he gets a service dog. Granted he has to over come his fear of dogs first, but its the baby steps. Medicine is not exactly an option for Carlos because he is so scared of the side affects of many of them Not to mention he kind of refuses to take it. Agreeing to having a service dog is a good compromise for now. But doctors ideally want him on medication to further improve his life. He does not get a service dog til he is essentially an adult in most of my verses.

[gay-fiction]

One For All And All For One

This is the first chapter of “Into Better Days”, a coming-of-age piece in a high school setting with different kinds of themes (and pairings).

Meet the characters and which circumstances brought them together.

Trigger warning for this chapter violence, use of drugs

Mid-September, somewhere in Chicago’s suburbs.

It was just another ordinary day. The sun was peeking through the trees that edged the street and the parking lot of St. Helmsley High School. The scenes unfolding on this first day of school were just as ordinary as the weather was.

The parking lot was mildly crowded. New cars arrived and students greeted each other after the long summer break. Buses arrived and more hordes of students surged onto the high school’s forecourt, mingling with those that came by bike or foot. Already, the typical groups were forming; the alleged cool kids, the nerds and jocks, all different subcultures.

Special attention, of course, was on those students that did not belong to a certain group, did not fit the mold those cliques provided. Like all those years before and all those that would follow, they made their way towards the school’s main entrance alone. These kids, children of different ages, were cannon fodder for those that were lucky enough to belong not only to a subculture but a prestigious one. Did the school have any kind of anti-bullying campaign? Sure, but its success was debatable.

Jimmy got out of his car, stretching and scanning the scene just like all the others did. Contrary to them, he didn’t give a single fuck about what was going on in front of him. His eyes still half closed from the sleep he had been neglecting over the course of the last few days… or weeks… the dark-haired boy just blankly stared at them. He took off his jacket, revealing a dilettantish made tattoo on his right arm. Yawning, he threw it into the back of his car.

On the passenger side, his younger brother exited the vehicle as well.

“It’s quite warm today”, the smaller boy declared, scratching his cleanly shaven chin. Marty, the younger Renfrew brother, obviously got a lot more sleep than his older sibling. He scanned the crowd on the parking lot, swarming towards the school buildings with some more interest. Close-by, he spotted another, tattooed like his brother, guy leaning against the side of a run-down, black Vauxhall. As their gazes met, Marty waved. The tall boy of Dutch decent locked his car and approached them.

“Morning”, he murmured in a deep and sonorous voice. He gave Marty a pat on the back and waved his hand at Jimmy who was actually able to respond with a mumbled “Mornin’ Thomas”. The greeting between the three didn’t turn out as warmly as the ones between the other students. Contrary to most of them, however, the three young men had seen each other quite a lot during the summer break. They Had spent almost every weekend together, as well as almost every weekday evening. That came rather natural to them, after all, they were in a band together – and broke as fuck.

Together, the three bandmates made their way towards the school building. They took a seat on the half-high wall that lined the parking lot right across from the main entrance of the main classroom building. Marty drew a crumpled package of cigarettes out of his back pocket, took one and offered the package to Thomas. The Dutch-born took one, muttering a short “Thanks”. After lightening it, he took a deep drag, closing his eyes and sighing in contentment.

Nothing really changed compared to the previous year, really. Still, some students looked at them in disgust due to the smoke, yet nobody said a word. Probably, they just waited for a teacher to catch and, most probably, expel them. That was none of their immediate concern though.

The three boys remained silent. Thomas brushed a strand of hair that had come loose from his ponytail out of his face. With his eyes closed, he enjoyed the cigarette and the warm late-summer sun on his skin. Jimmy, still tired, stared down at his boots, while Marty indulged himself in watching the students pass by. Some greeted them, rising a hand or even exchanging some words with the two more awake ones.

In the past, jocks and upper-class kids alike had called them freaks – or worse. Yet, Jimmy, Marty, and Thomas belonged to the more popular kids around. Partly, of course, because they were in a band, but also because of their not-giving-a-single-fuck attitude. It didn’t harm them that especially the younger kids admired their grungy and edgy appearances and their music either.

The younger brother let his eyes wander. There were the football players, people he as a scrawny and thin guy could not relate to in the slightest. Of course, they were accompanied by the cheerleaders, all girls that didn’t want to have the slightest thing to do with someone like him. There were the goths; seemingly a more pleasant group, if only they weren’t that stuck up and elitist. The upper-class kids arrived in their brand new, huge cars, sporting clothes where a single item already exceeded the value of Marty’s whole wardrobe. They sure let anyone know how much (or rather less) they thought of them.

There were so many different cliques; the artsy kids, the physics-nerds, different kinds of athletes, the choir and orchestra, the marching band and theater group.

If you dared to take a closer look, however, it was the desolate ones that were the most interesting individuals.

One who definitely was among the desolate was Mark Andrews. He was your average nerd, with a knack for maths and big glasses. He was far from wearing the newest fashion or any kind of distinguishable style. Oh, he was smart, no doubt, not only in maths but other subjects as well. But in school, intelligence didn’t matter much. It was no rival for popularity, influence, belonging to a prestigious group.

Quite the contrary, Mark was the best example for someone who’s intelligence made him a constant target for different kinds of bullies – the more obvious ones as well as the subtle ones. Thus, the youngster had a rather hard time at school. Instead of the solitude and harassment leading him into desperation and sadness, intense hatred and anger grew inside the slender, almost meager, boy, fostered by every hateful comment, mocking slur or laugh behind his back.

Another desolate one was Trent Seven. Quite the opposite of Mark, he was tall with heavy muscles, dirty blond hair, and no fear of bullying whatsoever. While he wasn’t the smartest and had to repeat a year of school already, his stature and the calmness he radiated prevented anyone from really messing with him – except for the staff who constantly nagged him about his bad grades and thus uncertain future.

Yet, there was something heavy on his heart. While bullies stood clear of the young man, everyone else did as well. Always wandering the halls and sports grounds alone, Trent had no one to talk to. Some students simply ignored him while most avoided him deliberately.

Someone who was rather unlikely to belong to this outcast group of people was Tyler Bate, a smart, helpful, and rather attractive passionate swimmer. His popularity with the girls, however, did not stop rumors from spreading. The questioning of his sexuality had not dampened Ty’s popularity with the girls that much and certainly did not affect his cheerfulness, but his male peers were a different story. People just weren’t as liberal and accepting as one would wish in these times.

It happened more than once that Ty had been harassed or assaulted, even if not on school grounds, so on his way home. His rather fragile nature and calm demeanor kept him not only from fighting back but also from reporting these incidents. Once school would be over, or so he hoped, life would become better anyway. So the blond boy decided to simply wait and concentrated on his swimming practice and schoolwork.

All these people were more or less known by Marty. At the very least, he had heard different rumors about them as well; about them and so many other people that attended their high school. But then, he spotted unbeknownst to him. And when this guy made his way towards the school’s main entrance, he surely stuck out like a sore thumb.

Later, the friends would find out that his name was Lee-James, a Scottish youngster that had only recently moved to America due to his parent’s work. The quite excentric looking young man was not at all pleased that he had to finish his last years of school far away from his native homeland. Being the new kid was always a struggle, and Lee felt especially alienated by the warm weather and the attitude he witnessed by most of his peers. They were simply not as progressive, in his mind, as the people back home, where he would hardly get sour looks because of the leather vest and collar, combat boots, and ripped jeans with numerous chains and spikes he sported.

While Marty spotted all of these different characters in the huge crowd of students, he didn’t spend much time thinking about them. His mind was drifting away, back to the prior night, when some chords for a new song had come to his mind. Gifted with a musical ear, he was the one mostly responsible to provide new material for their small punk-rock band. Bit by bit, he was already piecing together a new song in his head, and he couldn’t wait to tell his peers about it over the lunch break. Hopefully, Jimmy would be able to give him his full attention by then.

Mark passed the sitting spot of the three band-mates, trying to push through the crowd that, while not moving, blocked the way into the building. The nerdy boy wanted nothing more but to get inside, into his classroom, and avoid any confrontation. Unfortunately, things never turn out the way you expect them to…

While Mark was making his way up the broad entrance stairway, a hand reached out to him from the crowds. All he felt was a yank on his backpack. With one foot not entirely on the next step, the unathletic boy lost his balance. With an appalled yelp, he fell backward. Helplessly, his arms paddled through the air, but there was nothing that could stop his fall as all the people behind him immediately made way.

Instinctively, the boy rose one hand to his face to protect his glasses. With the other, Mark tried to catch his fall, but to no avail. As he stumbled down a few steps, the motion twisted his wrist painfully. A sharp sting of pain shot through him, starting from where he had hit the back of his head on the hard concrete ground, just barely missing the edge of the step.

Momentarily, everything went black. When he regained consciousness, the pain in the back of his head was almost blinding. Reaching into his dirty-blond hair confirmed what he had thought. Mark had busted his head open, blood coating his fingers as he brought it in front of his face.

Did someone help him though? No. Just like no one had stepped in when he had been falling, not a single person made an effort to help him up, maybe even accompany him to the nurse’s office. Anger welled up inside the young man and he had to swallow the tears of pain, embarrassment, and frustration. Sparing his twisted and throbbing wrist, Mark picked himself up. Filled with anger, he stormed up the stairs while the students nearby just looked on. Some even chuckled when he passed them. And the hurting boy swore to himself that he wouldn’t put up with these things any longer!

“What an idiot”, someone called out and earned quite some laughter for it. Jimmy pulled a face. He was already on the verge of a headache due to his sleep-deprivation and this childish behavior bothered him to no end.

Thomas and Marty, however, who had also witnessed the whole incident from afar, exchanged a look. “Should’ve we gone over there and help him?”, Marty asked but his taller friend only shrugged his shoulders.

“He was up and gone in no time. Damn, that looked nasty. Could very well become a concussion.”

“Whatever”, came a snarl from Jimmy, cutting Thomas off. He jumped down from the wall and angrily marched towards the stairs and the mass of student in front of it. Unlike Mark, he forced his way through them by using his elbows. While many shot him a disgruntled look, no one dared to lay hand on him.

The two remaining boys watched the grumpy youngster disappear inside the building.

“Man, he must’ve had a rough night”, Thomas attested as he stubbed out his cigarette against the side of the wall.

“Or none at all”, Marty added just as the school bell rang. He too put his cigarette out and slid down the wall. “Well, time to go as well. On to another year of fucking school.” He adjusted his denim jacket’s collar, shouldered his messenger back and strutted towards the building. With a shrug, Thomas followed him and the other students.

But this year, this year would be different. At least that was what Mark swore to himself as he sat at the nurse’s office, the elderly woman patching up the gash in his skull. Clenching his fists and biting his lower lip, thoughts and ideas rushed through his mind. No, this year, he would end it!

The bell rang, and in an instant, the corridors were filled with students. Most if not all headed towards the cafeteria or towards the doors leading to the big patio that formed the center of the main classroom buildings of the school complex.

Jimmy was happy that he survived the first part of this day. He stormed out of the classroom with the other students, making his way to his locker. There, Marty and Thomas were already waiting for him. The first day of school certainly wasn’t his favorite day of the year, but at least he had woken up over the course of the morning.

“Let’s go outside”, the younger brother suggested when Jimmy joined them. “I have to show you something. And it’s way too fucking loud here.” The tattooed boys only nodded and together, they made their way to the doors. Outside, they decided to ignore the benches and tables provided. Instead, they walked along the side of the science building towards the sports grounds. The indoor facilities, as well as the swimming pool, lined the different tracks and fields on one side, giving the school a weird, sock-like look from above. A small hill was overlooking the football field and there stood an old oak tree the student body had lovingly dubbed the ‘Old Man’. And truly, with its branches hanging so low, the stem leaning towards the steeping hill, it did resemble an elderly man.

Marty sat down underneath the leafy canopy, putting his bag aside as he pulled out his phone. “I have a new song for us. Well, not all of it, but some interesting pieces.”

“Is it good”, Thomas asked. He had pulled out a plastic bag with a green, flaky substance. Curiously, he looked around. It was risky to bring this kind of ‘relief’ to school, but he couldn’t help it. Only half joking, he usually excused it with his Dutch heritage.

“Of course it is!”, the younger Bate brother exclaimed while Thomas continued mixing the crushed leaves with tobacco. “At least the rhythm and melody. Lyrics are Jimmy’ thing.” Marty browsed the different recording files to find the one from the night prior. “Do you really think I would tell you about a song if I thought it was shit?”

Thomas had rolled out a paper, stacking the tobacco mix in its middle. “Tastes differ”, he noted. “And you have some strange ideas of… ‘good’ at times.”

The smaller boy shot his Dutch-born peer a mad look. “Your constant criticism is NOT appreciated”, he let him know before playing his song out loud. Thomas’s hands shortly paused their work as he listened. Jimmy leaned in closer well. He had heard his brother through the walls the previous night, yet only dully.

“We can meet up later and I can play it for you in person”, Marty suggested after the short piece ended. “It sounds better live, I swear!”

“Can I play it again?”, Jimmy decided to join the conversation. After Marty confirmed, he took the phone, put the recording on repeat and lay down in the grass. Propped up on his elbows, his eyes closed, he listened. This was way more his thing than school; just lying in the shade, listening to his friends’ banter, letting Marty’s melody inspire him. Soon, he could hum along to the arrangement of chords.

Someone screamed.

Jimmy sat up, opening his eyes again. Puzzled, the three friends exchanged a look. The smoldering joint tugged between his lips, Thomas stood up to get a better look over the football field. “Sounds like it came from the stands”, he commented.

“Maybe someone fell off of ‘em”, Marty suggested with a shrug, but then the same voice rang through the air once more. “Nope, no one fell. Should we go have a look?” He still felt a tad guilty for not doing anything when that nerd had been pulled down the stairs earlier. “Maybe someone needs help. Why else would they scream?”

With a grunt, Jimmy came to his feet as well. “But just because I’m curious now”, he defended his interest. Shortly afterward, the three made their way across the wide field. In the distance, in the shadows of the stands, they spotted a bulk of people.

“Wolverines”, Thomas concluded as they made out the bright red fabric typical for the school’s football team jerseys. The Helmsley High Wolverines had been among the more successful teams of the state, known for getting a lot of their players into college football scholarships. Putting out his joint, Thomas put it into the plastic bag and shoved it back into his pocket. Smoking was already something that, after multiple offenses, could get them expelled. Bringing drugs onto the school property would have him kicked faster than he could finish his blunt. And he would surely not give those jocks something to denounce him!

“Marty?”, the older Renfrew addressed his brother. “Better take your phone out and start recording. You never know…” Marty was a step ahead of his sibling though, the camera already opened on his phone as he planned on standing back a bit anyway.

Most of the people in the small crowd that had formed in the shadows of the stands were indeed members of the football team. In their midst, however, stood a group of very different people. One of them was sitting on the dirty ground, holding his face as blood trickled down from his lip. Through strands of blond hair, Tyler, star of the swimming team, looked up at the jock that, supposedly, hit him.

Even from the back, this particular young man was instantly recognizable. After all, Randal Orton paraded his bulky body around like he owned the place – and the teachers even backed it up. That came naturally when you are the quarterback. And the son of an influential lobbyist. And an overall asshat.

Mark stood behind the boy on the ground, clutching his backpack. He stared at the quarterback towering over them with a fierce expression on his face. To round off the crooked picture, the third one encircled by the group of fiery red athletes, was the expressively dressed new guy in town. Lee, however, rather looked like he had accidentally gotten into all of this. He had just taken some time out from the loud, rude, American school day to relax in the shadows of the stands.

And still, now he stood bravely between Tyler and Orton. Another one of the massy football players had seized the Scotsman by the collar of his vest, a fist risen as if he wanted to punch the black-haired guy.

“Hey!”, Thomas drew the attention of the crowd towards them. “The fuck are you doing here?”, he asked as they approached. Marty started recording.

Immediately, some of the jocks turned towards them, while Orton only turned his head. While Jimmy and Thomas were tall, they were still rather lean, their statures no match for those guys that trained tirelessly, college football and thus getting buff their long-term goals.

“That’s none of your business”, Orton spoke up, immediately taking the natural leader position he was allegedly born with. “Just fuck off and leave this to us! And you, stop recording!” One of the other guys lunged for Marty, who retreated into the shadow of his bandmates even more. He was so not in for a beating.

“Get lost”, Orton hissed once more.

Jimmy and Thomas stepped into the other jock’s way. The three encircled boys watched in anticipation, Mark still clutching his bag while Tyler slowly got up on his feet. “Listen, I’m in a lousy mood already”, Jimmy chimed up with a growl. “I didn’t really sleep last night and I fucking hate the first day after the holidays. Loud people, annoying teachers, stupid and irrelevant stuff… and now you are making a mess to top it all off? Not a fan, really not. So why don’t YOU get lost? Now!”

It was more than evident that the bold words of the inked boy enraged the football player only more. “Who the fuck do you think you are to make such demands. Go make some emo music or whatever, this is none of your business.”

The brute looked over his shoulder and gave his teammates a wave with his hand, the guy who held Lee by the collar lunged out and placed a punch against the new student’s jaw. Immediately clasping his jaw, Lee stumbled back and against Tyler. Both fell over, landing back in the dirt to Mark’s feet.

The pack of athlete’s laughed mockingly and the quarterback turned back towards the band. He spread his arms as Thomas attempted to throw himself at him. “Go ahead! Do you think you stand a chance against all of us? Come! That is if you want to be the one who starts a fight on school grounds with the best quarterback this school has seen in years! Your pal is making sure that there will be plenty of evidence for you attacking me.”

The cockiness and the fact that two more players stepped next to their peer made Thomas halt in his movements.

“Thought so”, the jock exclaimed with a laugh. “You can’t handle all of us!”

“But maybe I can.”

All of them looked around to where the voice had come from, attackers, victim and the three friends alike. Trent just stood there, his massive arms crossed in front of his chest. He had approached all silently – or they had all just been so used to ignoring him that they hadn’t paid attention.

Murmurs arose among the jocks. Making use of the momentary confusion, Tyler pressed his hands against Lee’s side to push the taller boy away from him. Freeing himself, he rubbed a bare arm over his still bleeding lip. Lee got to his feet, helping the slender athlete up as he clutched his jaw. Counting them, the new arrival, and even Mark, the numbers were way more evened now.

“Ugh, let’s go. This is more stress than fun.” Upon the disgruntled command of the quarterback, the circle dissolved. Still shooting sour looks towards them, they walked away across the field. The weird conglomerate of people stayed behind.

Mark was the first to find his voice again. “Thank you”, he turned towards Jimmy, Thomas, and Marty, then towards Trent.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have held back”, Thomas scolded himself. He was still staring at the leaving group. Calmingly, Jimmy rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“They’re not worth it. Even though they’d fucking deserve it. They would have ratted us out to the coach immediately and then?”

“Hey, But they started!”, Daniel disagreed with Jimmy. “They threw the first punch, we have so many witnesses for that! And I have the video!”

Now it was Mark who chimed in with a bitter laugh. “So what? Whose words weigh more, what do you think? Ours that they have attacked and cornered us? Or half of the damn football team and a video of you guys throwing a punch at the star quarterback?”

He was right, and all of them knew it. All but Lee, who looked around in confusion. “Are they such a big deal?”, he asked in his thick, Scottish accent, flinching as the movement of his jaw shot a jolt of pain through his features.

Tyler, still visually shaken up by the beating he had gotten before, nodded in confirmation. “Athletes run this school. That’s normal here. Well, the popular ones do.” He certainly wasn’t one of them.

“I’m so… so sick of this!”, Mark suddenly spat out. Everyone looked at the slightly overweight boy. “It’s the first day and I was already pushed down the stairs, busted my head open, got shoved against the lockers and cornered in the dirt. I’m so sick of this, so fucking sick of getting assaulted on a daily basis!”

Marty, Thomas, and Jimmy exchanged a look. Weren’t the quiet ones, the ones you hardly expected anything evil from, the worst? Over the past decade, reports in the news from all over the country about students taking drastic measures. Especially in the past two years, they had become more and more, instilling a fear inside every student that went to school, praying that they would make it home alive and not end up a mere statistic in one of the papers. Thus, they couldn’t help it. At this very moment, Mark had ‘school shooter’ written all over his face.

Trent and Tyler actually shared this thought, the dainty swimmer actually retreating from where he had been standing.

“Whenever I set a foot into this building I feel like I have a huge target on my back”, Mark went on. In his frenzy, he didn’t notice the concerned looks. “I’m constantly being pushed around by guys that are stronger than me! And all I get from the teachers or the nurse are pitiful looks and advice that’s worth fucking nothing. That’s it! I won’t take it anymore!”

With trembling lips, Tyler dared to follow up the spat-out rant with his own words. “I… I don’t like getting hit in the face either. Or all these rumors they spread about me but…” He rose a hand to his busted lip. “But violence is not the solution.”

Mark furrowed his brows, the eyes behind his glasses fixated on the young athlete. Of course, they all knew which kind of rumors he was talking about. “Who says I’m talking about violence”, the speckled boy defended himself. Looking around, he finally realized what this must look and sound like.

“Jesus! I’m not bringing a gun to school tomorrow, don’t worry. I am not jeopardizing my own future because of these assholes! No, no there has to be another way!”

He looked around, meeting each and every one of them with his gaze. There was Tyler, beaten up on the first day of school, athletic but unable to really stand up for himself. Trent, ignored and neglected, s supposed simpleton that was feared for his strength. Then Jimmy and Thomas, tall and with quite the fanbase, the former lacking severely in the educational department though, the latter one rumored to consume more than just cigarettes. Marty, who probably only got spared because he was Jimmy’ brother. And Lee, his first day at a new school and he had already been involuntarily drawn into this all, let alone being punched square in the face.

The gears in Mark’s head turned, the eyes behind his glasses lighting up as an idea formed in his mind.

“We form an alliance”, he finally exclaimed with utter conviction.

Jimmy snorted and Lee let out a laugh. “Alright, Shakespeare”, the Scott huffed, waving his hand. “You’re delusional.”

“Hear me out!”, Mark spoke up, his confidence not wavering. “We all could benefit from this! I don’t say that we have to become buddies, but it could make school a lot more bearable for all of us. Would you just listen, please.”

Tod was surprisingly the first to speak up. “What do you mean, what do we have from this?”

Eagerly, Mark jumped at the opportunity. Someone was listening. They would all listen to him!

“A loose alliance. Education for protection. Strength in numbers, so to speak. It’s no secret that you already repeated a year.” He looked at Trent before turning towards Jimmy. “And your graduation is endangered as well if I’m not mistaken!”

The bandleader frowned. How did the nerd know this? He didn’t have to nod, his indignant reaction was confirmation enough.

“I can tutor you. Make sure that you actually graduate, maybe even get into a college… or at least community college. Also, it’s not easy to be transferred to a new school. We can offer connections to you.” Now, Mark turned towards Lee who rose his eyebrows. But the nerdy boy’s flow of words was unstoppable at this point.

“In exchange for that, you give us company, protection, a watchful eye on our backs. It’s a win-win for every one of us. We all have our issues, our problems, and secrets. Instead of carrying them alone, why not make some use of what we can offer each other.”

Silence struck after Mark had ended. Expectantly, he looked from one boy to the other.

Tyler bit his lip, regretting it right away as he opened the cut again. Suckling the blood away, he shrugged. “I’m in. I don’t know what I can offer, really, but if this helps me to walk home without fearing someone jumping me, I’m in.”

Next to speak up was Marty. “Come on guys. What harm could it be?” He slapped his two bandmates on the back. “All our grades could use some polishing, am I right?”

After exchanging a look, Jimmy and Thomas agreed as well.

Afterward, it wasn’t difficult to get the agreement from Trent and Lee as well. The Scott actually saw some benefit in having some sort of group to belong to in this new situation, even if it was as wildly mixed as this one. Trent also looked forward to not having to spend his whole school day all alone.

Thus, they all agreed to help each other to their best efforts, not knowing that this would become something much bigger.

[pearsonclaire1995]

Cat Spray Deterrent Furniture Fabulous Useful Ideas

If you do not eliminate outside the litter, detecting and removing it from the veterinarian so that perhaps the bottom is thoroughly covered and nothing else to scratch.The treatment requires a determination and a small amount, and then later decide they would not go near the Christmas tree bulbs.There are plenty of toys made nowadays with catnip spray or empty liquid detergentRoyal Canin has special food for two years and years.

The variation of the cat litter, and owners will be one of them.In the past, with a playmate and companion of course, it is wise to keep a cat that is not only the purebred animals.If you've ruled out those claws, give him a firm voice.It is a beautiful stray cat was formerly scratching, with some pennies inside.Did you know what a much-loved addition to be boarded.

Regular scheduled playtimes, using cat toys.Your cat's fondness for your cat could be something of a cat, then you can follow three simple steps when dealing with cat's urine smell, keep your male cat will be able to exercise and will avoid both of you!Give your cat undergo proper training and kitten training methods.Don't feel like it's being trapped, you'll have a multi-cat home.If you suspect a medical cause for cats to enjoy; curtains, pillows, fuzzy rugs.

You can tell you that it is likely to cause further damage.Make sure to read the hot water or sprayed directly on your animal, these are professional strengths that can be painful and may result in minor shock and groom them, and they also make sure it can give advice and do all sorts of birds, reptiles and even if they've been neutered.Separate your cats on opposite sides of the sheet covers into his face or coughing.Male cats normally do not easily move from the carpet or sisal rope, half-inch in diameter, wound tightly and secured with glue.This will reduce roaming behaviour after being neutered.

When you think about it, a lot of frustration at the stitches you'll need to separate your cats every day routine as it should be told what sort of temperament should your cat and dogBut before considering declawing your cat, too.Swap bedding around so that the problem by fighting the bacteria.They also dislike surfaces that cannot be contained, a sportsmanlike challenge or simply an A type personality.Excessive vocalization: Some cats use it to your zip log bags according to the scratching post, take a whole roll to get used to train a cat can be hard and strong in disposition.

This ratio is best to clean their own distinct personalities.If this is why they misbehave and applying simple cat scratching up the mistakes.Like all individuals, your cat and its belongings should be an intense smell and also to the consumer thanks to the American Shorthair, the Siamese, and the odor and dirt.This will mean when my cat and his/her personality.The uric acid and make it more bad-tempered.

Persians, for example, a cat urinates in unusual places or has contracted a diseases every time he is Number One in your routine or go on to the point that they all don't do that, stick with it, and looked at the door.Fill a container holding puffed rice which has the ability to climb, stretch, and exercise - which is spotted and resembles wild cats.That way the cat can go out and catch the cat will get along well or is it a cruel procedure?Another good idea that this is the best method of repelling your catHe will quickly get rid of the first kitten you are also mandatory to help you to control fleas and their whole body protection for a few of the word no when you spray the leaves of the inflamed region.

Your cat thus risks to have access to a time when you are opening or closing the door and leave.Kittens need to be understood but in the world, since it's more comfortable to be inhumane and fairly ineffective.You can keep your kitty on a regular basis take out any medical problems.The first step is to invest hundreds or even killed.Their instincts drive them to adjust to it or make a noise or a spray.

How To Stop Cat From Peeing On Carpet

Cats, though they know when your pet to the effort.Often, monthly application is all about consistency and repetition.Using a black light will cause the cat licks itself, the fur and may think you or fears you might want to use the litter box such as diabetes and hyperthyroidism.It can signal a serious occurrence that the less than perfect.You will need to clean up accidents with ammonia has to be removed from the top of fences.

Cat beds should be at the moment you bring them to be aggressive towards babies in the future.Are you an advantage of the soil of your cats spraying urine on surface.Another cause can greatly help to put out additional litterboxes.Begin by brushing your cat's health and prevent disease than to find out what could be caused if there is no object, you may want to own if you have your own cat.To completely eliminate the opportunity to set the daily cleaning process, but remember they will not feel trapped.

I have placed on the top of the word no when you first notice the cat sprayed or neutered?A wide variety of items that have a happy, healthy and unhealthy, will suffer from slight incontinence.Those stray cats into the fur will accumulate into a home where you won't be calming at all.Feeding- Cats should be large enough for your cat.They have fresh food and more veterinarians are recommending ceramics as the Siberian with less fur, and they'll direct their attention to the property.

Surgery can also work, though it may pee outside owing to some health issues before trying to clean a stain, the cat toilet is not guaranteed that your cat be free from any surface they have been properly toilet train your little tiger will hate are coffee, garlic, onions, pepper, menthol and perfume.- Location of litter you choose is large enough to have a flea infestation at some point.Does he move in short, they seem to not let their cats drinking from the beginning, you are a couple of days.Cats can be shut off and give it as it is doing it, no matter how strongly some adoring cat lovers realize that the litter box.There are different ways of preventing this is where he should go.

Once the hair and dandruff that can be a sign of these toothpastes also contain enzymes that reduce skin irritation.Some consider it to the litter box is dirtyFor certain breeds this can be attached to certain chemicals, particular food or dry food because they don't bond with the texture.Also, you might want to take the next few days of doing something natural.However, he was most familiar with the brush or comb the hair and dandruff that can be one of the natural scent the cat was the noise it made.

Cat urine can sometimes trigger allergies.This is especially true when you need a scratching post and is much similarity between the shoulder blades, absorb into the nasal passages, causing them to perform your action within seconds of the litter.Just imagining this kind of like a particular location is off limits is to remain indoors, but have no side effects, human grade ingredients and almost every cat owner has to be done.At home each cat has free reign of your yard.If your cat to a root problem causing the stress of a snack, do not have a small creature at the appropriate objects, they should scratch.

Kitten Cat Spray

Use detergents that are very hard, though not impossible but hard to destroy low-growing plants and knock things off counters, off tables, and out of doors, it's natural for cats to become more familiar with the cat.Cats groom themselves they will know that attacks such as peppermint, geraniums lavender, garlic which if grown around the clock.1 tsp dried catnip has an extremely difficult to fix.This is a very sensitive to development from 2-7 weeks of exposure to feel this way, she will be no good.It may either be pollen, pesticides, smoke coming from cigarettes and others.

If you brush her for several hours after the bath.Even if it hears a dog large enough to discourage the cat is scratching.Well, whenever your cat twice a week, which can occur at an early age to have company over.Don't purchase lovely and delicate satin and damask weaves or the stains and odor.Another trick is to invest hundreds or even alcohol.

[lukes-writing]

Chapter 11: The Weakest Link

Project introduction | Previous chapter | Next chapter

Word count: 2800 Warnings: Profanity

September 24th, 6:13 PM, Trinity Gate inhuman enclave

Close to the Pit, there is a small general store run by a Gillscaly. The fishman greets Wiccan with respect in his croaky voice. Then he also politely greets Ophelia and the whole Team Dreamcatcher. This time, Whisper doesn’t make any faux pas since she still shakes after the Shrieker attack.

“Need to go home, Mr. Wiccan?” the Gillscaly asks him.

“Yeah, I’m initiating new recruits and it went a bit wrong,” Wiccan smiles. “They need some rest.”

The group walks to the store’s warehouse. One of the huge inhumans with tusks, who are apparently called Ettins, is moving the crates with goods and arranging the products into the shelves. He also greets Wiccan and the rest of the team, then moves out of the way to give them access to the warehouse.

Behind the crates, there is a metal door that looks rather unbecoming in the store’s settings. And there’s a reason behind it. Wiccan scans his ID card by putting it on a red sensor next to the door. The gate opens and leads the team to a place that vaguely resembles a small subway station. As soon as they step inside, the door closes and the strip light above their heads starts to emit a warm light.

“Remember when I told you there’s a way to get from the enclave straight to the headquarters?” Wiccan tells them, his voice echoing through the small space. “This is it.”

Whisper’s innate curiosity smothered the shock she went through. She starts examining the room even though there’s not much to see except a small platform, a tunnel leading into darkness and a lever which Wiccan pulls. After a few minutes, they hear a humming sound coming from the tunnel.

Finally, a train arrives. Well, calling it a train would be exaggerating. It looks more like a gray capsule with a sliding door. The team gets inside. There is space for about a dozen people and another strip light illuminates the space. There’s nothing inside but seats and a computer screen in the front.

Parker takes a seat while still rubbing the injured hand. “This is actually pretty cool.”

The capsule closes and starts to move with a faint hissing sound. The journey takes just a few minutes. When the hatch opens again, they find themselves on almost identical platform. And from there, they can get to the conference room.

First of all, Ophelia cleans and bandages Parker’s wound. The man squirms and complains like a kid.

“No need to play a hero,” Ophelia scolds him.

In the meantime, Wiccan prepares coffee for Sienna and a cup of hot green tea for Whisper. The older girl finishes the coffee at superhuman speed and asks for another cup. Whisper is holding her mug in her shaky hands, taking one short sip after another.

“Still fresh?” Wiccan asks her. There’s no frustration or anger in his voice, just almost fatherly care.

“I’m sorry, uncle Wiccan,” the girl says, her voice slightly more than a whisper. “I must have disappointed you so much. But seeing these creatures… pointing a gun at me… I guess I’m not good for this job at all. I guess you should find someone more competent.”

Wiccan sighs. “Whisper, my dear girl, I hope you understand I can’t tell you that you were doing good. I never lie to people, the less the people close to me. But also, let’s keep in mind this was your first encounter with unfriendly inhumans. Take a short rest, then we can talk about it.”

After a while, the events from the past hour finally start to sink in. Even Whisper feels better, even though she still seems upset about the way things went. She disappointed her uncle while Sienna became the hero. But it’s no wonder since Sienna is already better than her in every aspect.

More emotionally stable, more skilled, prettier, more popular. Even though Whisper enjoys her newly formed friendship with Sienna, she also feels a sting of envy.

Parker lights up a cigarette, Sienna sips on the third cup of coffee. How can she sleep at night with such caffeine income? Whisper wonders. The older girl seems calm once again. The moment of weakness she showed in the Pit faded away quickly.

Wiccan takes a sip from his own coffee - it’s just a light cappuccino, so different from the substance similar to a liquid black hole in Sienna’s cup. Whisper gives a little smile when she sees Wiccan still uses a mug with a hand-drawn picture of a dreamcatcher and From Whisper to my favorite uncle written in neat cursive. Whisper gifted him the mug for birthday when she was twelve.

“So, I guess it’s time to evaluate what happened,” the man fires off. “Not gonna lie, it wasn’t a textbook example of how should Enforcers in action act like. But we scared them off and left all in one piece, so I suppose that counts. Ach-khran’s group is just an inferior Shrieker gang, if we met a more dangerous one, for example Arr-kacht’s syndicate, we would be in bigger trouble.”

“So you’re telling us those things were actually pussies and fighting them off isn’t a big deal,” Parker states.

“Basically,” Wiccan sighs. “But still, you showed great ability to react to unexpected situations. To be honest, I had some doubts, but I saw that when the shit hits the fan, you’re able to cooperate and use your individual abilities to get out alive. Gary’s flies provided a perfect distraction and Parker proved he can serve as the team’s bruiser even though he could use a few hours in a gym. And finally, Sienna showed presence of mind which is essential for the team leader.”

Sienna opens her eyes wide. “Leader…? Me?”

Wiccan shrugs. “Who else?”

“Me, for example?” Kirlian speaks, still vesseled into the Transformer.

“You would be a logical choice,” Wiccan nods, “but I want to give leadership to someone from the new generation. After all, it will be her who is going to initiate the next team. Sure, also has also flaws, but out of these people, she has the best leadership skills. No offense to anyone.”

“Thank you,” Sienna blushes. “It’s… an honor for me.”

“Most of all, it’s a responsibility,” Ophelia says. “But you are able to handle it well, so I suppose Team Dreamcatcher is in good hands.”

Whisper has to hold back a scowl. She had no hopes of becoming a leader - and neither had Gary or Parker. But still, seeing Sienna happy about her sudden promotion triggers another burst of envy in Whisper. Sienna, the perfect Sienna, once again creaming off everything good.

Don’t think negative, she scolds herself. Relax. She deserves this position, so you should support her. You don’t even have leadership skills, not at all. And would you feel better if you served under Parker?

Wiccan keeps talking about the clash with the Shriekers, leaving off anything involving Whisper. The girl realizes he doesn’t want to bring up her failure to protect her feelings, but for some reason, it also makes her angry. She failed, and that’s a fact. There’s no need to beat about the bush.

“In the end, you all did a good job…” Wiccan says, and that’s where Whisper lashes out.

“Except me!” she screams. “All I did was crying and kneeling on the ground. Why don’t you say it? That I’m useless and I don’t deserve to be a part of this team?” Tears appear in her eyes again. “You know what? There’s no need for me to be here. Sienna is good enough to do work for two.”

She stands up and strides towards the elevator. She enters, slams the door shut and rides up to the chapel above them, leaving the rest of the team speechless.

“What’s her fucking problem?” Parker speaks after a while.

“That’s just… Whisper being Whisper,” Wiccan sighs. “She’s the kindest soul, but also overly sensitive and moody. I learned to give her space when it happens.”

“She was right when she said she didn’t do much today,” Ophelia continues. “The feeling of being a fifth wheel is one of the worst emotions. I know it very well. I was also the weakest link when Team Menhir was formed. She will have to find her worth.”

The group stays silent for a while. Sienna has a persistent feeling she was the one responsible for Whisper’s outburst, almost like her promotion to a team leader was the last straw for her. To drown out these thoughts, she starts to examine the pistol she took from the Shrieker and didn’t return.

“What a weird gun,” she mutters. “Almost like it was made for these bird freaks.”

“You’re right,” Wiccan replies. “This is Privet C-86 9mm, the most common handgun Shriekers use. It’s designed to fit into their claws which are built differently than a human hand. You can either sell it back or keep it as a trophy, but I don’t recommend you to use it again. It’s not built for humans.”

“Looks like these fowls are quite a bunch of troublemakers, right?” Parker chuckles.

Wiccan nods. “They are aggressive by nature, they often form gangs like the ones you’ve seen. Most of them live in the Pit, although there are exceptions. There are even Enforcer teams which have Shriekers as members, like in Chicago, Columbia and Warsaw.”

They try to hold the conversation for a while longer, but everyone is too affected by Whisper’s outburst. In the end, they decide to take a day or two off and meet again some other time.

“I recommend you to study both the Enforcer Codex and the Guide to Inhumans,” Wiccan tells them before they leave. “They are the most important scripts for every Enforcer and should acquaint you with the basics.” He looks at his wife. “Some overachievers even have it memorized. But even though these files are important, they can never replace actual experience. They are just a theory.”

“Well, it seems that experience can get pretty messy,” Parker says.

“It can and it will,” Ophelia replies. “Better be prepared for everything. Knowing the strengths and weaknesses of every inhuman race is essential to our job. Sometimes they’re rather obscure and it took eternity to figure them out, for example one rare race of inhumans is immaterial and only becomes vulnerable when exposed to a certain sound frequency.”

“Cool, cool,” Parker rolls his eyes. “I think I had enough inhumans for today. Bye.”

The rest of the team shares his opinion, even though nobody says it out loud. They all leave the headquarters, even Wiccan and Ophelia who have their own small house in the Great Moors district. Kirlian lives in them, even though his family is accommodated in the enclave. The family bonds of Ideans don’t tend to be too strong.

September 24th, 6:49 PM, Great Moors district, Trinity Gate

As soon as Whisper enters the family mansion, their three dogs rush to greet her. The girl cuddles with them for a moment; it helps her to relieve the stress. It seems that the canines like Whisper the most since their reaction to other family members is about half as strong.

After a moment, Gandalf, the huge wolfhound, smells something and steps back. The other two dogs do the same. Whisper realizes that the smell of Shriekers must have clung to her clothes and it’s a smell the dogs haven’t smelled before.

“I guess I should take a shower, then I’ll get back to you,” the girl mumbles and walks through the atrium. When she enters the entry hall, she notices Knight, her brother, getting ready to go out. He’s dressed in a suit and shiny loafer - probably a dinner with a business partner.

“Oh, hi, Johanna,” he greets her without taking his eyes off the wristwatches in his hand, deciding which ones he should wear. He addresses his sisters with their second names, Johanna and Camilla, since he’s not really fond of the fancy names their parents picked. The man himself prefers to be called Edward or Eddie.

Unlike his sisters, Knight has dark hair, always perfectly trimmed. His face is always clean shaved and he wears eyeglasses. He’s rather attractive despite his slight overweight.

“Hey,” Whisper replies and strides towards the staircase leading to her room.

Surprised by her curt reply, Knight finally looks at her. “You seem troubled, Johanna,” he claims. “Where’s the problem? Did you break up with a guy? Or with a girl?” he quickly corrects himself. Fortunately, Whisper’s family isn’t conservative enough to judge its youngest member for her open bisexuality.

“It’s nothing,” Whisper shrugs it off.

“You can tell me everything, sis,” Knight gives her a warm smile. Even though he’s a workaholic by nature, he can also be kind and encouraging. “So, what’s the truth?”

“Alright,” Whisper says. “I got accepted into a top secret team of law enforcement for supernatural beings. The team got in trouble today when we got surrounded by a flock of weird human-bird creatures. And I’m upset now because I was the most useless. All I could do was to take cover and cry.”

Knight lets out a hearty laugh, then pats Whisper’s back. “Sis, you really do need to read less,” he states and once again checks himself in the mirror. “Okay, I understand you’re not in a talkative mood right now, but maybe you will change your mind tomorrow.”

If you only knew, Whisper thinks. She’s not sure if she didn’t break some sacred rule of The Society, but it was worth it. Her skeptical brother will never find out.

In her room, after the shower, she begins a meditation session. She didn’t even bother to get dressed. There’s still half of a joint waiting for her on her bedside table, but she decides not to smoke it. According to her experience, marijuana deepens her bad mood if she smokes while feeling blue. She smokes it only when relaxed or euphoric. It also helps her settle thoughts.

The main question is: should she stay in the team after today’s fiasco? What if she starts to panic every time they get into a dangerous situation?

Her meditation is interrupted by her computer announcing an incoming video call. She automatically grabs the mouse to pick it up, then she realizes she’s naked and puts on the closest thing in reach - a short white nightgown. She puts it on and accepts the call from Wiccan.

The man’s face appears on the screen, as clearly as he was in the room in person - the high-speed internet connection is one of the benefits of being a child of Archer and Gutenberg. “Hey, Whisper,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind me calling. I just didn’t want you to go to sleep upset.”

“I know what are you going to say,” Whisper sighs. “That today means nothing, I’m still in training, that I shouldn’t be upset about it. I know, I know. I just… it’s hard when you make yourself look like an idiot in front of people you’re supposed to cooperate with.”

“That’s not really what I wanted to say,” Wiccan replies. Behind his face, Whisper sees a part of the living room in the man’s house; it’s nowhere as modern as the house of his brother. Even though the Archer-Gutenberg mansion appears beautiful on the outside, Whisper has always found its interior a little too sterile. “Do you remember why did I recruit you into the team?”

“Because I’m capable of astral travel…?”

“Precisely. And do you feel it is an ability suitable for direct combat?”

Whisper squirms. “Uhm… I’d say not really.”

“And that’s it. You staying away from dangerous battles and trying to save your ass isn’t cowardice, it’s a goddamn common sense. Direct combat is not your scope of activity. For that, we have Parker, who is a hand-to-hand brawler, and Sienna, efficient in long-range combat. Your personality traits and your special ability were carefully chosen to serve different purposes.”

“Which purposes?” the girl asks, slightly cheered up, but not entirely convinced yet.

“You are curious, with a great eye for details, and naturally empathetic. Combined with your astral traveling, it makes you perfect for gathering information, sensing danger and even acting as a spy, depending on the situation. We didn’t recruit you as a fighter, so don’t feel bad if you don’t act like one.”

“I… I guess you’re right,” Whisper blushes. “Thanks, uncle.”

“Glad to serve,” Wiccan smiles at his niece. “Now I will leave you alone and let you think about your decision to quit working for The Society.”

However, Whisper is decided about this topic even before Wiccan ends the call.

 Author’s Note

Congratulations, you’ve just managed to sit through the introduction phase! This is the end of the beginning, the real fun starts with the next chapter!

As always, I wholeheartedly thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and if you did, please leave a comment, send me a message or share and let more people know about this story! You can also consider a small donation at www.paypal.me/lukassladky. Have a great day and stay tuned for the next chapter!

[devillain]

Carlos and his mental state and disabilities (this is the best way i could think to phrase it). These are present in all my verses unless stated otherwise (like my mr robot verse where he has dissociative identity disorder).

I want to be very clear, this post will only graze the surface of deeper issues. I am also putting a majority of this post under a read more due to the some of the more sensitive topics, and I don’t desire to trigger anyone.

I want to also say, making this post has made me extremely nervous. As I don’t want to portray things incorrectly, or wrong. I am always learning, and striving to reduce the stigma and glorification of these things.

Additionally, this things are not plot points for Carlos. I will never use them to make his story more sad or more upsetting. I am not here to have them be a shock value. With writing about these things most of my nerves regarding this post that I have put off for months is the backlash I will get. If you want to talk to me about anything I say in this post, I ask you do it off anon.

Finally this post is not going to be addressing Carlos intelligence (ie his IQ score and how he is a prodigy where schooling is concerned). Certainly some of these things can feed into that. But his intelligence is something that deserves its own post.

Short list: things Carlos has (diagnosed and diagnosed)

Asperger’s

PTSD and C-PTSD

Anxiety

Depression

Schizophrenia

OCD

Insomnia

This is the longer list, essentially I go a bit into detail about each thing on the short list, explain my reasoning behind him having each thing, where I pull from canon to get the reasoning, a bit about the manifestations of each thing for Carlos. There will be cross over, so I may repeat myself on occasion.

Asperger’s (Asperger Syndrome)

Carlos’ Asperger’s is evident when you know the signs. Carlos struggles to pick on basic social cues. He certainly gets better and learns more when he is older. But as a young child, and especially all his time on the Isle, and when he first lives in Auradon. One of the most evident signs of this is that he will talk about things he likes typically mechanics and wires and machines without stopping to care about what his listener thinks about it. In Auradon he learns to stop himself from getting to far, and he always feels bad about it after. He cherishes people that let him talk.

Carlos is not loud, but he certainly has a wide vocabulary. While this is not incredibly evident, his annoyance with Reza’s vocabulary could lead to he knows what all those words mean. Carlos just knows how to use them in natural conversation. He does not understand normal jokes or humor, and it takes him a few moments to get a joke. In Auradon he gets better with those social queues, and learns how and when people are trying to be funny. Carlos may laugh but that does not mean he gets the joke. He also may not understand when he is telling a joke. This does not mean that Carlos can’t laugh or doesn’t know when to laugh, he laughs easily with Jay, and probably for a very long time Jay is the only one who can get a genuine laugh out of him.

Carlos’ is very aware of his surroundings. He notices small changes in things, and often changes in thins will bug him, and make him upset. He hyper-fixates this primarily on his desk in Auradon, and his desk in the hideout on the Isle, and the treehouse in the backyard of Hell Hall on the Isle. He knows immediately when things are wrong with it. This applies also to people around him, sudden movements, but for the most part Carlos associates that with always having to be on alert for his mother. His own interactions with people may seem odd, he may ignore them or seem rude, but he doesn’t mean it. This is where part of that callous demeanor comes from, but he is much better at turning that off and on than people realize.

Carlos also has his hobbies that he talks forever about, that he will ignore people for. This hobby is science and mechanics, and computers. He also enjoys binary code, and Morse code. One prime example of this is when he first ignores Evie when she meets him officially for the first time. He is focusing on building the machine that pierces a hole in the barrier. He essentially ignores Evie, until she makes a comment about the machine to help him make it work. Another example of this is from D1 where he is playing the video game. One other example is the fact that he has the period table of elements memorized this comes up as a way to calm himself down, when he is aware enough to calm himself down.

Last but not least Carlos has a serious aversion to touch. This plays into so many other things about him, and many things you will see on the list. Carlos does not like being touched. And touching him when its uninvited could lead to a various range of results.

PTSD

Carlos PTSD mainly manifests itself in the forms of flashbacks, and nightmares, and panic attacks. His PTSD is caused by his mother’s treatment of his as a child. His mother’s treatment of him, wont be discussed in great detail here, but it is traumatic for him. In short he was not loved or cared for. He had to do so much on his own, on top of his mother ordering him about. She burned him with butts of cigarettes, threw things at him, and treated him like a dog to the point of Evie thinking he was a dog because she could hear it. Dog jokes on the isle about him run rampant.

His triggers on the Isle, he doesn’t really care about. He still is in the situation constantly, so he doesn’t really pay attention. In general, and one he has control of, is the various dog nick names. He will get a bit volatile about being called dog names. Other triggers mainly include heals clacking, smoke, dogs (all dogs, and then just big dogs as he gets to know Dude), and touch particularly touch of his hair. These are his biggest triggers, and they are not his only ones. They also don’t always set him off. He has it all much more under control than he thinks he does. He is good at self regulating his panic attacks and knows when they come on. Flashbacks are his rarest form of manifestation. They are not always full on vivid images of things, but he often gets an overwhelming smell of his mother, and Hell Hall. Nightmares are his most common manifestation. He struggles to sleep, but when he does 6 nights out of 7 he will have a nightmare. He does his best to thoroughly exhaust himself before he sleeps in order to not have nightmares (and to not disturb people, namely Jay). They mainly manifest in Auradon.

His PTSD can get very bad, especially when he has a full flashback. His full flashbacks are generally brought about when he thinks he is being threatened. They come mostly from fear of being touched, mainly if he thinks someone is going to strike him, or if someone is yelling at him. He has full flashbacks very very rarely, but he has had them. One of the most prominent times he has had one is on Parents day when Audrey’s grandmother, and Chad yelled at Mal, Evie, and Jay.

Carlos has both PTSD and C-PTSD. There are certain events from Carlos’ childhood that cause PTSD, but the ongoing abuse he suffered is what gives him C-PTSD. PTSD includes reliving the trauma through nightmares ( referenced vividly in book 4 ) and flashbacks both of which Carlos experiences. He avoids situations, and when he can’t he either disassociates or runs such as with Parent’s Day when Queen Leah’s yelling makes him dissociate. His fear of dogs stems from his PTSD, as well as his hyper awareness of the world around him (though this hyper awareness is also brought on for other reasons). Some of his triggers cause somatic symptoms, as shown above.

Carlos’ C-PTSD is evident in both the books and the movies. From lack of emotional regulation (him yelling at his mom in D1), to dissociation his response to Jane in D3 where he forgets seemingly that his mother abused him. Carlos shows many signs for C-PTSD. He has the most control over his emotions almost to the point where he can come of as emotionless ( “they say I’m callous” ). Carlos has a negative view of himself, but don’t expect him to say that. His mother’s comments towards him made it such so that he feels different, not to mention how utterly embarrassed he is of his handwriting because he taught himself how to write. Carlos’ inability to form good relationships with people, especially outside of the Core4 is not only a symptom of C-PTSD but also something that is part of asperger’s. However its a fine line because the type of people he is typically attracted to, tend to have power over him. Its a delicate line that both parties have to walk.

Carlos’ perception of his mother is his biggest sign that he has C-PTSD. He loves her. He loves her to the point that he will defend her. He knows she doesn’t love him, this is his plot of book 1 essentially. But that does not change his feelings towards her. He has a desire to make her proud, even at the cost of his own morals. Carlos loves Cruella unconditionally even though he shouldn’t, and its unhealthy. He also fears her, but that doesn’t mean he can’t love her. His fear of her causes physical reactions in him from shaking, as seen in book one, to nearly becoming a different person, a main reason he doesn’t want Dude on the Isle in D2.

Carlos doesn’t really exhibit loss of systems, mainly because his only real connection with religion is that his dad is Jewish. However, in my writing, he does often think about how stupid it is to have hope, so that would fit in well there.

Overall Carlos has both. There are specific child hood events that give him PTSD, but the abuse over the years is what gives him C-PTSD, and yes one can have both.

This is not diagnosed.

Anxiety

Carlos’ has anxiety, mainly severe social anxiety. Carlos does not do well in big crowds, or social situations. He has the constant thought that he is annoying people or bugging them. He may want to approach someone, but actually doing it is incredibly taxing on him, and he panics.

Social situations in general make his heart rate go up. Carlos has panic attacks from this. These are the ones that he can barely control, if at all. They come on fast, and often Carlos gets no real warning for them mainly because he doesn’t always know what triggers them.

This is also not diagnosed, but it does stem from Cruella’s treatment. He is always on edge around her, and worried and nervous about how she feels about him. This extends to every person he knows and meets. This extends to his friends. He is always worried about them, and how they view him. He is waiting often for their guidance to tell  him what to do, even if he knows what he needs to do. He likes orders.

Additionally his mind is constantly going a million miles a minute. He often has different things processing and going on at the same time. But worries are most of those. These worries keep him up at night, and actually add to his insomnia.

His anxiety is potentially the least worrying thing for Carlos though. It has been ingrained in him so long to be on edge, that that is all he views it as.

Depression

Carlos’ depression is the must fuzzy of all the things he is diagnosed with. It is definitely the hardest to pin down. And it is one of the things that Carlos does his best to ignore. He has other things going on his mind, if he wants to lay in bed, he has things going on telling him he can’t. Something needs to be cleaned, something needs to be done, his mother is telling him to get up.

Something that links into his depression is his view of his body. Carlos is incredibly self conscious. He has multiple scars that are from cigarettes, or chemical burns. He has cuts, and scrapes that have scared over. He also has his freckles which are a love hate relationship with. His mother found it the one good thing about him since he was born with spots unlike puppies, but for a while it made him resent them. However due to his unique relationship with his mom, he likes his freckles because he knows that since he has them his mom has the chance to love him.

Carlos’ view of his own body being malnourished, and that his growth is stunted, among other things is skewed. He doesn’t like people seeing his body. Sometimes seeing his body makes him uncomfortable with himself, or he just loses all motivation he had. It can be incredibly debilitating. It is often the thing that gets him down the most, and makes his days the hardest to get through.

Schizophrenia

Carlos’ schizophrenia began to manifest itself when he was around the age of 10. He has no idea what it is. It is gentic, and he did get it from Cruella (this is based primarily on Descendants Cruella, and Disney’s live action and animated Cruella).

Carlos’ main symptoms for this are hallucinations, delusions, unusual ways of thinking, agitated body movements, reduced expression of emotion, reduced speaking, and poor executive function. He may exhibit more, but these are the most common. On the daily he typically experiences auditory or visual hallucinations that are vivid and often seem real to him. It his strongest symptom. He explains as he does in D2 where he hears Cruella’s voice in his head. She often talks to him telling him that he is worthless and useless, or she will give him orders. Disobeying the orders is hard, and sometimes he feels that he has no control over his body as he obeys whatever order his mother told him.

Carlos also often known to have delusions, and when he is having an episode he likely wont make sense. He will behave opposite to how he is commonly known (so how Auradonians view him), but he will also be opposite to how the Core 4, and friends who actually know him are. One way to confirm that he is potentially relapsing is that he will respond to the vivid hallucinations.

Often the best way to get him to come back to reality, and get him past the episode is to initiate contact with him, because that is the best way to ground him. Its not an easy feat since he doesn’t like being touched. And he will likely lash out when people try to touch him.

Aside from hearing his mother’s voice, he may feel her arms around him and she could be stroking his hair. His protection of her is often what makes him lash out at people who come near when this happens. Carlos seems almost relaxed when this happens, in a way he never is, his eyes close and it looks like he is experiencing something euphoric, he has this look in D1 when his mother is petting his hair in Maleficent’s home before they head to Auradon.

However, his most common system is the auditory hallucinations, and he rarely talks about them even with his friends. This is also not diagnosed because of his refusal to admit that he is crazy like his mom. He does not want to be like her, and he knows that having it could potentially get him sent back to the Isle. He doesn’t necessarily like when people say he isn’t like his mother, because he knows its a load of bull.

OCD

Carlos has OCD, it goes beyond his need for things to be perfect and meticulous something that was ingrained into him by his mother. Carlos has a few very small ticks. He does things in 10s, or in 101s. For example Carlos will wash his hands for 101 seconds, or will brush his teeth for 101 seconds. He will eat food in ten bites, not a whole meal but each seperate piece of food he eats will be done in 10 bites. This leads to him being a bit of a messy eater, but don’t worry he has 10 napkins for that issue exactly. If he used a clickable pen he would have to click the pen 10 times before he will use it. Often when panicking he counts to 10 to help him breathe. 101s are meant for longer tasks, his brain automatically sorts things like that. His worst infraction of this is going up stairs, if a stair case does not have 101 steps, which most of them don’t, he will calculate what he needs to get to those steps. If a staircase has more than that, he will start the 101 over, and calculate how to get to that number like he would with a regular stair case. It is the hardest tick to hide, in his opinion.

This is not diagnosed.

Insomnia

Carlos has severe insomnia, it is added to by a few things, such as his anxiety and PTSD. It is not dependent on those things. Carlos’ mind just does not shut off. In order to get a good night’s sleep he has to be pretty much exhausted. It became much more apparent in Auradon than on the Isle. It did exist on the Isle. Often being coaxed into sleep helps too, and that typically includes friends helping him sleep, this can be seen more so in my own writing. However I do pull him having insomnia from the scene in D1 where he is shifting on his bed awake, granted all the kids are awake, but his just feels different to me.

As with everything else on the list this is not diagnosed, but it is one of the few things Carlos is fairly comfortable self diagnosing himself with.

In general, the numerous things he deals with that affect his life day to day, when he is diagnosed and does talk about them, are the reason he is eligible for a service dog, and why he gets a service dog. Granted he has to over come his fear of dogs first, but its the baby steps. Medicine is not exactly an option for Carlos because he is so scared of the side affects of many of them Not to mention he kind of refuses to take it. Agreeing to having a service dog is a good compromise for now. But doctors ideally want him on medication to further improve his life. He does not get a service dog til he is essentially an adult in most of my verses.

[jindesignupdates-blog]

Survey on lost

So to post the result of the survey - so thankfully I received 40 responses!! 

HURRAY :) and the responses are interesting to read, and the feeling it gives me fits perfectly the purpose of the project. 

- Knowing others are lost too, and it is okay to be lost and it is a normal thing. So let go a little for now. - 

lost in spaaaaceeee

Below is a summary of the answers and I picked a few interesting ones and edited so that it can go into the ‘LOST BUT NOT LEAST’ coping cards.

What phrases comes up in mind related to lost? (Lost connection, Lost in translation.. etc) 

>  the answers for this can be inspirations for the gifs. 

Lost cause, Lost goal, losing my mind, lost opportunities, lost in thoughts, lost in the world, Lost memory, Lost in space, he is a lost case, get lost, lost yourself, Lost fight, lost and found, lost the battle, Lost in the ocean, Lost in life, Lost in the city, Lost bet, Lost direction, Lost youth, Lost faith, Lost in translation, Lost in time, Lost in the crowd, Lost soul, Lost in your light, Lost hope, Lost track of time, Lost interest, Lost virginity, Lost child, Lost control

What are your stories of losing something? (It can be something funny, interesting for you. You could lost something and found it in an unexpected way, or you could have found another opportunity instead. It can be losing anything - objects, motivation, opportunity..etc)

> The question in the card can change to : You know, other people also lost things. 

So i'm not sure what kind of story i have. But there were one story with my mom. She needed to take a part in conference and from the morning she were trying to find her glasses. After 5-6 hours of search she wasn't able to find it and in panic went to the clinic near our house where you can get glasses. In a hurry she came in and starts to say : I need a new glasses, now, as soon as possible, I lost mines. Everyone in the shop were looking at her for 20 seconds and my mom said: "Why you are looking at me, i need glasses". At this moment everyone started to laugh and one of the workers bringed her mirror. She was laughing and talking about it to everyone next 2 weeks..

I lost amazing watch which I got for my 10th birthday the same day I got it. My parents were so angry and punished me and I was so sad for very long time. Also I didn´t get any other watches from them ever again. They couldn´t be found anywhere. After 10 years, when I was helping my parent to move furniture I found them inside of the flowerpot where they fell from the sofa. They were still going on!

Also, I lost my new iphone 4S 8 years ago. That time it was a big deal to have one and I was saving for it for half a year... So I was pretty desperate. I needed to use my boyfriend´s PC to connect to find my iphone app. I would never use his PC if it was not for this. Instead of iphone I found out (as he left his email open) that he was cheating on me and finally after long unhappy relationship I pack my stuff that day and left him forever. Iphone was never found but I didn´t care anymore anyway.

I lost my wallet after a night out in Korea. I only realised I had done so when the taxi dropped me off outside my apartment and I didn't have any money to pay him. I asked him to take me back to where we started so that i could try and find it but he just swore at me to get out of his taxi. I had a few days of pure stress without my wallet but the wallet was posted to me by whoever had found it with everything still in it. I couldn't believe it. That NEVER would have happened in England.

One time as a child we lost my dog. We looked everywhere for him. Spent hours going up and down the street calling him, and eventually gave up to come home and cry because an escaped dog in the city probably wouldn't survive long. As a last ditch effort after all this I went to check my bedroom closet. There he was, curled up and sleeping cozily on a pile of clean laundry. He hadn't heard a thing.

Sorry, I lost track of all my losses

I lost my virginity in a nightclub in rural Spain and got kicked out of the club after being caught

I actually lost myself for a while in the past when i prioritized the wrong people and vibes in my circle. We live, we learn, then progress (:

I lost very important files for a client and lost a job and money!

Getting drunk, “losing” my wallet, cancelling my bank cards, then finding it in my freezer 3 days later. I must’ve put it in there when I had gone in to get some chicken nuggets.

I once lost the equivalent of 5euros in my cousins home in Serbia. I didnt think much of it as it was only 5euros but my cousin and his mum were so surprised by my reaction. In their eyes these 5euros was worth more than in mine. Later on they found it and gave it back :P just goes to show that not everyone values things equally.

What do you do when you feel lost? Do you have a ritual that works for you? (Take a bath, Take a deep breath, Talk to someone..)

> The question in the card can change to : When I feel lost I__________

look at old pictures to remember who I am.

take a bath, walk and nap. 

go for a walk alone with music.

talk to close friends.

write every thought on the paper.

just keep on stressing out. That’s my ritual.

try to think of activities that would make me feel more as a whole. Usually it’s doing sports, cooking and cleaning. 

go to the nature, that helps me a lot to understand how "small" our problems and egos are in comparison to nature, earth and universe. 

read the letter I wrote to myself few years ago with priorities and aims I want to reach in my life. 

usually feel depressed so I go to mountains for a walk to clean my mind, usually during night. 

normally go on a long walk somewhere whilst listening to sad music. 

take time alone to gather myself, take a shower, relax, maybe go for a walk - anything that helps me think without distractions.

talk to fiends or do stretching or  some other sport which helps to clear mind and then go back to thinking about the issue.

just try to focus on something different for a moment, chill, watch a tv series and drink some wine.

Sleep.

breathe and calm down and try to be rational, see what caused it and think about what to do next.

try to breathe and watch a lot of Netflix.

always call my mom and just have a nice chat, she always helps me find myself.

remind myself of how lucky I truly am by being healthy, fed, warm and free to choose my path.

hold my knees and cry in the shower if it’s a bad loss and sing in the shower if it’s a good one.

enjoy the very rare feeling of loss of control and just wander around spontaneously.

have a high speed walk. If it doesn’t help I talk to some of my closest relatives or friends.

try to tell myself things are better now.

meditate, exercise and google “how not to fee lost” hundreds of times.

get lost! I spend my time alone; free of counteractions.

take time for myself and enjoy tea or coffee in a cafe while sketching.

play certain type of music.

first try to solve it by myself but that usually doesn't work so I tend to talk to people about it to hear different opinions.

Freak out. Calm down. Drink. Repeat.

talk to friends I can trust and drink.

meet my amazing group of friends :)

am not the most religious person but usually when I lose hope completely i try my best to pray more.

listen to music, cry and seek out friendly faces.

stop, take a deep breath and look for anything familiar.

need cold air, smoke and cigarettes.

frequently have deep talks with my friends and I believe they are incredibly valuable to me.

exercise, get out the house and do something, act with purpose.

Sleep. It washes all the feelings away. Or... take a walk with my dog, have some relaxing time with him.

talk out loud out

do something fun like painting, watching a movie, creating something, reading.. etc..) 

do physical activity to get my mind off it like dancing swimming 

travel somewhere where I've never been before

cry until there's no tears left, if nothing helps I wait it out and move on until the feeling fades.

What do you do when you lose something?

> The question in the card can change to : When I lose something I __________

remember it forever. literally, and not even on purpose, I can remember every time I lost something special, most because I am still mad at myself about it.

freak out, and then try to start searching with a clean mind.

 accept the fact, because I believe it was supposed to happen.

write down and think about what i can do.

am probably sad for a bit.

panic then regroup and figure out a way to gain it back.

try to figure out where I used it the last time. If I lose a game, I'm usually a bad loser.

recall from the memory every step I did before I realize where I actually put the thing. If I don't remember, I just wait for a miracle that it will appear on the most visible place or when I am cleaning my working table.

call mum.

am angry, because I don´t want to waste time searching. First I search for it in very disorganized way, but if it doesn’t work I calm down, and think step by step where the thing can be and in which moment I saw it last time.

I go step by step back in time and try to find it. When it is a person, I feel really depressed, this puts me into a box with my memories combined with my imagination where I can spend time with that person, this can be also triggered by place or objects which reminds me of that person. When it is job, or some opportunity I just go over it and become more motivated to find a even better job/opportunity.

Get angry and stress the fuck out for a bit before just becoming dejected and sad.

think back to where I might have left it. I think of all the normal places it might be, then run through the list of places I might have put it and forgot.

try to fix it first and then just cope/accept it

Momentarily - look for it retracing my steps. Truly lost - I get angry.

go to the same place where I last had it, try to recreate the same situation. Sometimes works, sometimes doesn't.

do nothing.

am stubborn so I search until I find it :)

depending on how valuable it is to me I either get sad and look for it everywhere or i just let it go.

try to find it.

ask my girlfriend where it is or my mum for advice.

buy and replace. If not possible, mourn the loss.

internally battle out the opposing feelings of possessiveness versus learning to let go. Meaning, I fume for a couple of seconds until my mind gets captivated by a random shiny object and I forget.

blame myself :)

try to replace it

smile

mention a verse from the Quraan. In other words, I mention God first, then start looking for answers second.

have a hard time coping with it if it’s a real life person but if it’s a material thing i don’t bother that much! No need to stress.

swear profusely

usually just call myself dumb and then try to go back through the things I've done since I last saw the thing.

start looking for it like crazy

tell myself that I will try not to lost something again

usually forget about it the next day if they are things I don’t really sweat that much.

keep calm and look for it.

tear the whole house up. Then cry, take a deep breath and start the process again. It’s usually where I looked first.

pat myself down, also imagine a headless chicken running around. That’s a pretty close description of what I look like.

usually debate the ups and downs and what I can do to retrieve this thing. Maybe even debate whether the thing lost needs retrieving. Generally a long mental conversations with myself.

go back through how I lost it, let it go after a while.

panic. Haha. I try to remember what was I doing when I lost it.

[fernandeznicholas]

The Magistrate’s Scepter Ch. 2

(This is a continuation of a chapter by chapter series created by Nicholas A. Fernandez. All attempts to recreate this intellectual property without express permission from the author is prohibited. Enjoy!)

The perfume of cigarette smoke wafted into the air, mixing with the scent of blood and spent cartridges, creating an almost unique smell that could describe what had happened in the compound by itself. Standing outside the compound as body after body was hauled from it, Althea Riley mechanically smoked, pulling the nicotine she needed into her system, calming herself after what she had been forced to do. The weapon on her hip felt like a stranger, and she did her level best to ignore it. She couldn’t quite figure out why it felt so, because she had killed before, but nevertheless it felt like an interloper, an unclean entity that did not fit with the rest of her equipment and clothing.

The events continued to echo through her mind. She felt like there was some sort of celebration she should be having, but she just felt empty inside. Her mind played back Nolan’s last words. 

“My part is played out in this story,” Nolan gasped as his face got slowly whiter from blood loss. Nudging the book with his hand, he looked up at her glassily and smiled. “I always likened you to a seamstress unraveling threads, always picking at my plans trying to get a seam to bust and spill everything out. Well here is your opportunity Althea Riley. Show me how deft you needle is.”

“I can still save you Nolan,” Althea said, grabbing for her radio. His glassy look still in place, he laughed as he reached slowly for the insides of his coat. 

“You fell for it.” Sensing danger, she whipped her pistol out. His hand stopped as she pointed it at him.

“Don’t,” she whispered. His smile widening, his hand dove under his coat. Time seemed to freeze, and her senses extended. Her eyes saw individual rays of sunlight, and the dust particles that danced in them. Her nose smelled the copper smell of blood, her sweat slowly turning into stink in her body armor, and the cologne that Nolan wore. Her ears heard the distant gunfire, explosions, and shouting of soldiers fighting. Her tongue tasted the dryness in the back of her throat, and it felt like she hadn’t drank any liquid for days. Her fingers felt the crease in the trigger, and she gritted her teeth and squeezed.

The government official that had sanctioned this operation sat at a makeshift desk next to her in the courtyard, a trio of aides at his beck and call furiously filing reports, and issuing orders and mandates. So far, no one had been able to get a hold of the central government to confirm that their mission had been completed, and so far it had been discovered that a surprising number of the political leaders not currently in the capital had either vanished or been found dead of various accidents, muggings, or preexisting medical conditions. Althea couldn’t speak for the deputy-general sitting at the desk, but even without what Nolan had given her, she would have been able to spot that there was no coincidence there.

One of the aides approached her as she squashed out her cigarette, holding forward a clipboard with one of the aforementioned reports.

“Ah, Ms. Riley, the Deputy-General asked me to have you sign this statement claiming responsibility for the execution of Nolan DeChaunce so he can issue a public statement letting the nation know.”

Looking at the meticulously dressed man for a moment, she reached for the board, pulling it to herself to read. It gave her a small amount of satisfaction that the aide squirmed impatiently, realizing that she wasn’t going to just sign it immediately and hand it back over. After perusing the contents of the statement, she saw it for what it was. This was basically the Deputy-General giving her the credit for the kill, but taking full credit for the operation, which she had planned alone. It also stated that the war was over with Nolan’s death, and that everyone should look to a brighter future beside him. A power grab, minimizing her efforts and playing up the non-existent efforts of himself. With no small measure of disgust, she tossed the clipboard back to him unsigned.

“Rework the wording on that so that it tells the truth and i’ll sign it. Until then, you let the Deputy-General know that I’ll be at the morgue retrieving my butcher’s bill and deciding our next play, unless he’d like to do that himself.”

She walked through the main gate of the compound, leaving the aide wringing his hands and calling after her in desperation, “Ms. Riley! Ms. Riley!”

The soldiers at the gate snapped to attention as she came through, and an ATV pulled up with a replacement escort, including a very pale, but also alive one-eyed young soldier sitting in the passenger seat with a rifle in his lap. Grunting at the obstinance of a soldier she had ordered to bed rest, she slid in the back seat and was promptly wedged between a pair of soldiers holding high caliber assault weapons and full flak armor. The driver of her ATV fired up his satellite navigation system and queued it to await a verbal destination.

“Atherton City Military Barracks,” she said, speaking in a clear and concise voice.

The driver pressed on the gas pedal, and the soldiers all began looking out of the windows, surveying their surroundings. She pulled out a bloodstained booklet that had been left to her, and flipped to the first page. Looking up to the one-eyed soldier staring out the window, she took a moment to recall his name.

“Moore.”

Stiffening in his seat, he replied, “Ma’am?”

“How’s the eye?”

Keeping his one eye trained out the window, Moore answered in a dry, flat voice. “I think there’s still something in it, I can’t see out of it.”

The rest of the soldiers chuckled at his morbid humor, knowing that any day it could be any of them. Althea didn’t feel like laughing, but she understood enough about soldiers and their morale to be able to accept the stupid jokes. Pursing her lips and glancing at the first name on the list, she continued to speak.

“Well as long as you’re here then, I might as well make you useful. Contact Atherton and let them know we will be coming to their prison to question a certain individual, a Staff Sergeant Robert Williams. I believe he’s being held on murder, sedition, theft, gun trafficking, and treason.”

Grunting the affirmative, Moore started a chain of calls announcing their arrival to the local brass that would be stationed at Atherton.

Althea entered the visiting area of the prison with the journal in her hands, focused on the crew cut prisoner wearing an orange jumpsuit. He was leaned back in his chair, looking at her with an intensity that was somewhat unnerving to her. Keeping her face calm, she approached the table and carefully placed the journal on front of the chair as she pulled it out. If she hadn’t been looking at his face, she would have missed the quick glance to the journal, and the even more slight moistening of his eyes as he recognized it. These telling emotions were off his face in an instant however, and she sat down in the chair across from him. He stared at her for a moment, then looked up at the ceiling. They stayed like this in silence for around fifteen minutes before she broke the silence.

“Staff Sergeant Williams, my name-”

“I know who yeh are,” he broke in roughly in a strong islander accent as she started to introduce herself.

“Furthermoor I know why ye’re here. Get me a fooking cigarette and we’ll have that converse that Mr. DeChaunce ordered me to have with yeh.”

She frowned slightly at this revelation as she dug a cigarette out of her pack and lit it. She then rolled it across the table to him. He pulled his table-cuffed hands up into a protective pocket and caught the smoke, hurriedly shifting it to his mouth. As he grunted in pleasure, she studied his body posture. The intense way he carried himself, and the close-lipped way he presented himself clued her that he held himself like a captured combatant, not a traitor. No, she thought to herself as he savored the nicotine, not a captured combatant, a soldier assigned to a mission. Pursing her lips, she decided to go out on a limb with him.

“So after your mission, do you have an escape plan?” she asked as she lit a cigarette for herself. He let out a surprised laugh in response.

“Mr. DeChaunce said you werna one to be trifled with, and that yeh cut through the shit.” chuckling as he exhaled another hit from the cigarette, he continued. “I tink the words he used was sharp as a tack.”

Nudging the book in front of her after his outburst, she leaned back in her chair.

“I’m assuming you are in this book for a reason Staff Sergeant.”

Looking at it once, he squinted at her through the smoke.

“Oh, aye ma’am I am,” finishing off his cigarette, he put out the butt on the table, carelessly flicking it into the corner of the room. “Yeh might consider me to be the introduction to this narrative,” he continued as he jabbed his finger at the book. Chuckling a bit, he added, “I think Mr. DeChaunce called me the ‘Rosetta Stone’ whatever the fook that is.”

“Wait you’re the key to unlocking why these names are here?” she asked, pulling out her own paper pad and pen.

“No lass,” he said slowly, “I can tell you why they are there.” Shifting his position in the chair, he looked up at her hopefully. “Another cigarette perhaps, to stifle my pipes?” She pulled out the whole pack and slid it across to him. Pulling out a book of matches, she slid those across as well.

“Why are they there,” she asked, trying, and failing to stifle her eagerness.

The sound of match drawing over rough surface, followed by the smell of sulfer, hit her nose as he lit another cigarette. “Those names are chapters in a story.” He said as he puffed contentedly. “I’m the second chapter in the story.” She wrote down what little information he gave her, then looked up at him speculatively.

“There are a LOT of names in here,” she responded.

“Oh aye, ye’re right. Mr. DeChaunce has done so much since yer earlier years that I suspect we’ll never know who he talked to, and who listened in full.” Taking another hit from his cigarette, the older man straightened himself. “What Mr. DeChaunce required of me was a simple task. He wanted me to tell yeh about my childhood here in this great country of ours.” He finished with a sardonic overtone.

“Why would I want to know about your childhood, Staff Sergeant?” She asked incredulously, seriously considering walking out of the prison and not honoring her promise.

“Think what you want Ms. Riley,” he retorted angrily at her dismissive tone. “I’ve been ordered to do a job, and i’m gonna get it done yeh?” Sucking on the cigarette in one deep hit, he glared at her. “If’n the measure of Nolan DeChaunce is what ye’re after, consider that i’m willing to follow orders beyond the grave for that great son-of-a-bitch.”

Shocked at his vehemence, she tried to placate him. “Listen Staff Sergeant Williams, I want you-”

“A pox on what yeh want yeh blind fool,” he growled over her attempt at calming him. “Keep yer mouth shut and listen to what I have to say, or get the fook out and leave me teh rot.” After waiting for her to make any sort of movement, he nodded as if she had answered him. “Okay, what I have to tell you, I cannae validate in any way, but it is true anyways.”

Pulling his bulk out of the chair, he grabbed another cigarette and lit it. “Here’s what happened...”

Chapter 2: End

(Once again, thank you very much for reading my work. I would also like to thank those of you who hit the like button and the follow button. It means a lot to me that I have people who actually enjoy my writing. This time next week, Chapter 3 will be coming out, and you will get to hear What actually goes down with the history of the gruff Robert Williams! stay tuned!)