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sagasofazeria · 3 years

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Stories of the Past

Song of the Seven Suns, Part 7

Summary: The gang recovers from their battle with Dymea, and head back to Koretion to celebrate their victory. Stories are shared.

Taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @hellishhin @talesfromaurea @thelaughingstag

content warnings: slavery/child slavery, kidnapping, torture, swearing and strong language, alcohol, violence, blood, gore, death, discussion of trauma/childhood trauma, child abandonment

word count: ~6500

The clouds had finally broken, and the newly risen sun was beginning to burn off the mist and rain of the night.

As the warmth of day spilled onto the scorched camp, it found the five companions beaten, battered, exhausted, and covered in mud and blood, yet victorious all the same.

Jetra knelt silently at the top of the hill, staring at the corpse of the woman who’d killed her father. Tears were falling in rivers down her face as she gripped the hilt of her blade and pulled it free from Dymea’s skull.

Dymea’s last words would haunt her, but she’d done it. After 3 years of anguish & anger, it was done. Just like that, she was dead. Jetra had no idea how to feel, her mind was fuzzy and blank. Where did she even go from here?

Before she figured that out, though, she decided it was time to enjoy a well-earned victory, preferably with a lot of wine and a good song.

She stood, flicking the blood and brains off of her sword, and limped her way down the hill to where the rest of the group was waiting.

The others were all gathered around a large rock that jutted out of the hillside, leaning against it and breathing hard. Alejandro was grimacing in pain, holding his arm as Faulkron helped him stand, and Jetra ran to him first.

“What happened?” she asked hurriedly, seeing the wound.

“Oh nothing,” he chuckled. “Just a... agh, a spear through the shoulder. It’s not a big problem,” he said. “I’ll be fine. Heal the others.”

Jetra stared at him, incredulous. “Um, excuse me? You can barely move your arm because there’s a huge godsdamned hole in it. Shut up and let me work.”

Alejandro grunted but did as he was told, and Jetra placed her hand on his shoulder, channeling as much magic as she could. Her magic welled up inside her, waiting to flow out. and as she released it, she hummed the first song that came to mind without thinking.

She found herself humming the song her father would always sing to her mother when he returned home safe from an adventure, when they would all dance on the roof and laugh and sing and smile. She could see it painfully clearly, and her heart ached with loss and joy at once.

As the magic faded, Jetra shook herself out of her memories. She felt tears threaten to fall again, but she sniffled them away before they could, and smiled at Alejandro, hoping he hadn’t noticed. She’d save crying for later.

“Better?” she asked.

“Sí, gracias,” he said, rotating his arm a little bit. He winced slightly, but the only thing remaining was some rough scar tissue, and he assured her he’d be fine.

She moved over to the others, kneeling next to Fuego, who was still grimacing, his normal exuberant energy gone. “Fuego, are you all right?”

“I’m mostly okay, thanks to you. I’m pretty sore though, so I wouldn’t mind a bit of magic,” he smiled weakly.

Jetra looked up at Shakari, who was sprawled against the sun-warmed side of the boulder, holding in one hand a dagger that was jammed between the large scales on their chest.

“Shakari, are you okay? Do you—“

Jetra never finished her sentence, only able to watch with mouth agape as Shakari took a deep breath and pulled the dagger free with a growl.

Shakari turned to Jetra again. “I’ll be fine, spend your magic on him,” she said through gritted teeth as she tossed the blade aside.

Jetra hurriedly closed her mouth and nodded, letting the last of her magical energy flow into Fuego, and he took his first real deep breath since the battle.

“Thanks.”

“Of course, friend.”

Fuego smiled at her before pushing himself to his feet.

“Well, I gotta go find my sword and make sure all these fires are out,” he said as he stood and stretched.

Shakari nodded, standing as well. “I can help.”

They walked off, and the other three turned to each other.

“We need to free the prisoners and bring them back to Koretion as soon as we can,” Alejandro said, quickly walking towards the nearest cage.

While he and Faulkron broke locks, gathering the people near the entrance to the camp, Jetra searched the slavers’ corpses for a key. Finally finding one, she rejoined the other two in freeing the people.

As they scoured the camp, she was mortified to see how many people were imprisoned. She was glad to have gotten rid of the slavers, but she knew this would leave a wound, both with the people who would return and the people who wouldn’t.

Once they’d freed the rest of the exhausted but relieved prisoners, Jetra addressed them all where they had gathered at the bottom of the hill, taking a deep breath and composing herself.

“Good people! There’s no need to worry any longer, we’re here to help you. We’re going to bring you back to Koretion. You can rest soon,” she said, using a bit of magic to make her voice slightly louder over the confused whispers and relieved cries of the freed people.

One older dwarven woman stepped forward from the crowd, and many of the others seemed to pause, looking at her with a flash of respect in their eyes. “We owe you an enormous thanks, heroes. Who... who are you?”

Jetra looked to either side of her. Faulkron and Alejandro stood to her left, still bruised and bloodied themselves. Alejandro had a distant look in his eyes, and Faulkron was breathing deeply with arms crossed, taking in the victory even as he squinted in the sun.

Fuego and Shakari were approaching from her right, giving a signal that all the fires were out. Fuego was smiling, and jogged up to them eagerly. Shakari took their time, looking to the sky with a relieved expression of their own.

Jetra took the necklace with the blue moon symbol from around her neck, and showed it to the woman.

“Just a group of people in the right place at the right time,” she said with a smile.

The woman looked at the pendant, and there was a spark of recognition in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I was hoping,” she said, and pulled back a tattered sleeve to reveal a small blue moon tattoo on her forearm, mostly obscured by thick hair. It was a symbol Jetra knew well.

Jetra smiled back. “Let’s get you all home.”

The woman nodded, and the five companions began to lead the people back through the hills.

•••

When they returned to Koretion, they were greeted with cheers and tears of joy, as families, friends, and lovers were reunited.

They were called heroes many times that morning, and Faulkron didn’t know what to do with it.

Was he a hero? It felt good to be called that, but he wasn’t certain he had really been a hero, whatever that even meant. He’d really only come for the money. Or at least, that’s what it had been at first. Over the last few days, he’d seen so many people full of fear and despair. Now he only saw joy, and he felt a weight lifted off of his own chest as well. A satisfaction he hadn’t felt before.

The whole town was celebrating as they walked up the side of the quarry to the guard post. People were dancing in the streets, music was being played, stories of their victory were already being told and songs were being sung. The mines were empty and the town alive, as the dreary gray of Koretion became a colorful joy, banners put up and braziers lit to welcome the lost home.

Even as they entered the militia building, there were people thanking the newly crowned heroes.

Jetra led them through the curtain to the militia captain’s room. Horakes greeted them eagerly as they entered.

“So you’ve done it? They’re gone?”

Jetra nodded, smiling wide. “They are. Dymea is dead. We did it, Horakes, we fucking did it. We’re gonna need some medical attention, ‘cause magic only does so much, but until then, yes, we did it. I’ve avenged him.”

Horakes nodded and smiled, though Faulkron noticed his eyes did not hold the same joy and relief as Jetra’s. There was something else hidden within them that wasn't quite the elation of victory, though he did not know what.

“I’m proud of you, kid. I assume these are your allies?” he asked, turning to the rest of them.

Faulkron nodded to him. “That would be us.”

“I assume you’re here for your pay?” Horakes asked, reaching onto his belt for a bag of coins.

Faulkron nodded, thanking him as he handed Faulkron the money.

“Of course, whatever it takes to save my city,” he said with a bow.

Jetra nodded back. “Thanks, Horakes,” she said, before turning to the rest of the group. “Now I do believe it’s time to go enjoy this victory, yeah?”

“Oh gods, I’m so hungry you have no idea. Let’s go,” Fuego said earnestly, already starting to head out the door.

He was cut off suddenly by a halfling woman with wild curly hair, dressed in healer’s robes with her hands on her hips.

“Uh-uh, I don’t think so. Each and every one of you is injured, and I’m not lettin’ the heroes of the town celebrate all day just to drop dead because of internal bleeding. Get over here,” she commanded, clearly not taking no for an answer, beginning to prepare bandages and medical supplies.

•••

That afternoon, after they’d been well tended to, they were welcomed with cheers and smiles back to the Bedrock & Breakfast.

They were quickly surrounded by grateful townsfolk and awestruck children, the tavern full to nearly bursting.

As the day wore on, it was easy to see that Jetra was truly in her element now. The children’s mouths hung open in rapt interest as she told them a grand, if simplified, tale of their adventure, Fuego occasionally jumping in with his own inputs.

When the tale was done, the children, as well as many of the adults, eagerly requested another story.

So she told another, a popular folktale to which no one knew the ending. She brought her stories to life in front of her, dancing colors and illusions acting out every word.

For much of the evening, they told stories to the crowd. When Jetra wasn’t weaving her epic tales, Fuego told some stories of his own. Standing on the table, he regaled the bar with sagas of sorcerer-kings and distant islands, even some of which he claimed were his own adventures. While Jetra’s stories were dramatic and evocative, Fuego’s were loud and grandiose, and filled with enough enticing details you might’ve thought he was adding more even as he told the tale. In between stories, Jetra led the celebrating townsfolk in songs and dances. With enough pestering, and a little help from the wine, she even convinced the rest of the group to join her as they danced around the bar.

When asked well into the afternoon if he would tell a story too, Faulkron simply shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t have many grand tales to share. My life until now has been rather boring--”

“Azbolutely not! You’re cool! Tell us! Tell us!” One of the kids demanded, standing to emphasize her point.

The other children began to murmur in agreement, and eventually most of the bar was encouraging him to share a story. Faulkron chuckled, sighing. “Alright, alright. I might have one story.”

“Yay!” cheered the first kid, plopping back down on the rug that had been laid out.

“It’s the story of where I’m from, and how I got there.”

“Oooh, that sounds good! Tell us!”

“Okay, here goes...”

•••

Nearly three and a half decades earlier, and an ocean away, in the middle of the dry plains of the Unterras...

Ardos had been up far too late, far too often these last few cycles. Jamie, his oldest cow, was sick again, and he was starting to worry. It’d only been getting worse despite his efforts, and he wasn’t certain she’d make it to a temple this time if it came down to that.

Just before he could justify closing his eyes and drifting off, he heard a crash and the noises of startled livestock. Ardos jolted out of drowsiness and reached for the nearest thing resembling a weapon. He fumbled around for a second before finally finding purchase on his pitchfork.

Holding it out in front of him like a spear, he searched all through the house, but couldn’t find the source of the sound.

Then, he heard the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn, and battle. He rushed outside to find the door to his stable broken in. He slowly approached, hands shaking and white-knuckled as he gripped the pitchfork, the sounds of swordfighting ringing from inside. When he reached the shattered door, he peered around the corner as far as he dared.

Inside, an elven man in unfamiliar garb was dueling a cloaked figure in equally unfamiliar white robes, their curved blades flashing in the moonlight.

Before Ardos could react, he watched the elf slash the other figure down, blood spattering across the ground as the horses whinnied. Ardos watched in shock as the corpse hit the ground, eyes lifeless.

The elven man’s ears swiveled at the sound of Ardos’ gasp, and he turned to Ardos with a rushed intensity. He began to speak rapidly in an unfamiliar tongue, before clearly realizing that Ardos couldn’t understand a word he was saying.

“I trust we both understand Common?” he quickly asked, grimacing in pain.

Ardos nodded, before finally noticing the wound on his chest.

“Oh my gods. Do you need help? I ca-“

“No. There is no time. You must listen to me,” he said, revealing a small bundle of colorful cloth. Ardos stared at it for a moment, puzzled, before the man turned it to show that within was a baby.

“Please. Raise my son. Keep him safe,” he said, panting and coughing. “I cannot protect him, but you can. I saw you. You care a lot about your animals, and I know you’d protect them,” he said. He gestured to the pitchfork Ardos had dropped. “Please, care for my son. I cannot, but you can.”

Ardos paused, then nodded, and the man handed him the child.

Then, the elf leaned in and whispered something to Ardos. What the father whispered that night, the baby would never hear, as Ardos nodded, staring down at the baby in his hands, and realizing his life just changed forever.

The elf stepped back. “Keep him safe.”

Then, the man ran off into the night, leaving Ardos to raise the child.

•••

The children sat around, mouths agape as Faulkron finished telling the story of his adoption.

“That’s how Ardos always said it happened, anyway. And he never did tell me what the warning was, as much as I annoyed him about it.”

“Hey mister sword man, sir? That wasn’t very boring, you were wrong,” the little girl said.

Faulkron smiled. “Well, it’s about the only story I have that isn’t, so I can’t do any more.”

Some of the other children were whispering, discussing the story in hushed awe. An older kid spoke up, scratching their head.

“Wait a minute, where did the man go?” he asked.

Faulkron waved to the mother as she cringed and attempted to shush her kid. “It’s fine, it’s fine.” Then he turned to the kid. “I don’t know where he is, to be honest. I’m not certain I want to know, though. He’s been gone long enough I don’t think it matters anymore, whatever his reasons were.”

The kid nodded, sitting back, deep in thought.

After Faulkron’s story, the tavern began to clear out, leaving the companions to themselves as the townsfolk began to return to their homes.

A few cups of wine (courtesy of the barkeep’s appreciation of the booming business), and after a while they were all reclining around a table, the day’s wounds and struggle forgotten for the moment.

Fuego grinned at them all, wine in hand. “I have to say, that plan went pretty damn well. We should do that more often.”

“Hey, you know I’m always up for a bit of righteous arson, my friend,” Jetra laughed, taking another drink.

“Agreed, we all made a pretty good team,” Alejandro said, raising his glass.

Fuego’s grin widened. “To ass well kicked, my friends.” He knocked his cup against Alejandro’s as they all joined in, laughter spilling out as if a dam had broken.

As their laughter quieted down, Shakari let out a long sigh. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

The rest of the group all nodded and muttered agreements.

Faulkron felt that strange feeling bubbling up again. Victory, success... and something else. He looked around at all these people. Not only his companions, but the barkeep, the tavern patrons. He knew he’d outlive most of them, all of them who weren’t elves. Wasn’t what he did inconsequential, then? That would make sense, but it didn’t feel that way. He had changed a part of the world today, and for the better. He had to admit, it did feel good, and he found himself smiling along with the people he had started daring to call friends.

He realized that in the swirl of confusion and new feelings, he'd forgotten about the money they’d earned.

He grabbed the coins, and they split it as they finished their drinks.

After the coin had been shared, Jetra sat back and pulled out her harp again. She had drunk the most wine out of all of them, and her eyes had begun to glass over. After a long beat of silence, she started to play a simple melody, the notes falling like water in a gentle stream, an easiness settling over all of them as Jetra wordlessly played. They sat for a while in silence, just listening to the music.

Not long after the song had finished, as the final straggling townsfolk left the tavern, Shakari stood. “I’m going to go rest. This... was a good day. Sleep in peace, friends.”

As they disappeared into their room, Jetra stood as well, stumbling slightly. “Yeah. Thanks again... means a lot. When I’m not, uh, super fuckin’ drunk, I’ll explain more.. but I’m gonna go pass out.”

They all nodded, and she walked away.

The others sat for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, before Fuego stood too.

“I should head to sleep too, doctor’s orders... we didn’t do half bad.” He clapped Faulkron on the shoulder twice, then hopped off of his chair and took his leave, walking off to his room with a smile.

After a few minutes of content silence, Faulkron suddenly realized he was more or less alone with Alejandro again.

“Thank you for saving my life,’ Alejandro said, breaking the silence.

Faulkron startled, the sudden voice shaking him out of his own slightly panicked thoughts, and preventing him from making a fool of himself in an attempt to prevent that very thing.

“Oh. Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

“I’m serious, I probably wouldn’t have made it without you, so I am deeply grateful.”

Faulkron looked up from his empty cup, meeting Alejandro’s eyes. “You’re welcome, but it was mostly Jetra who healed you.”

Alejandro shook his head. “You give yourself too little credit. You were awesome out there.”

Faulkron felt his face flush a bit, and he hoped Alejandro couldn’t see the embarrassed hint of purple to his cheeks.

Alejandro’s smile faded slightly, and his eyebrows creased in worry. “You are alright, though? I know the healer did her thing and all, but..?”

“Oh, yeah yeah, I’m okay,” Faulkron said. “Real question is, are you okay? I mean, there was a lot happening, but you seemed... very upset? I don’t mean to pry, I’m just worried about- I mean, concerned—“

Alejandro held up a hand. “It’s okay.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize. It’s just... well, it’s complicated.” Alejandro then paused for a while, and Faulkron began to think he’d said something wrong despite Alejandro’s reassurance.

Then he spoke again. “Would you, um... would you like to go up to the roof with me? I’d feel better talking about it there.”

Faulkron was a little confused as to why the roof would be better, but he nodded and followed anyway.

•••

As Alejandro led Faulkron to the roof, he found himself going silent. He’d never shared what he was about to share with anyone besides the people who’d rescued him so long ago, and he’d really only known this man a week. They’d gone out for drinks once. Faulkron was had saved his life, though. He trusted him, and he wanted to keep trusting him, so he was taking a leap.

Alejandro took a long shaky breath as they stepped onto the roof of the inn. He looked up at the sky for a moment, still readying himself. The last two days’ clouds had cleared and the stars were shining. They were scattered like bright paint across a dark canvas, haphazard and chaotic, but beautiful all the same. He sighed, staring for a moment longer, and turned to Faulkron. “It’s... it’s a long story, really.”

“I’ve got time.”

“It’s... not a happy one, either.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m glad to listen, if that’s what you want.”

Alejandro nodded, letting his last sigh of anxiousness leave him. “I think it is. You might want to sit then.”

They both sat down, eyes cast up at the night sky.

Alejandro sighed again, and he gripped the handle of his second sword, feeling the old worn leather there. As he stared at the stars, images and memories began to flash in his mind.

Staring up through a small square window at the same stars, unable to sleep.

The smell of blood and the stench of death, hot sand beneath his feet.

The burning of a brand on his arm.

“It was a very long time ago. It was only my 12th summer...”

•••

15 years earlier, somewhere along the western Leinos coasts...

Alejandro was playing with his siblings, rolling around on the sandy beaches of his home, when the ships came. They came to the beach, and a man with a crown stepped out.

He said he would burn the village to the ground if he did not have what he wanted. When the village people asked, he said that he wanted their children, the youngest and strongest. When the villagers refused, and the militia drew their weapons, the man fulfilled his promise. Fiery arrows and spears descended upon the village, shrouding the beach in a thick black smoke. In the smoke and ashes, they grabbed Alejandro and a handful of others, dragging them onto their ships as they sailed away.

They chained them inside the hull, rough and cruel. The captured children fought of course, they spat and growled and screamed. Then the man cracked a whip, and they all were suddenly very very quiet.

They were told that their old lives were over. The man with the crown said to forget their names, forget their village. Those with defiance in their eyes were whipped. Alejandro’s back took 5 lashes before he couldn’t look up again. The ships sailed for a long time. None of the prisoners spoke.

When they eventually reached land again, they were shuffled onto a beach, surrounded by lush greenery that told lies of beauty. Dominating the center of the island they were on was a gargantuan marble arena, tall, imposing, and oppressively white, almost blinding after the darkness of the slavers’ ships. And that was what they were, the prisoners soon realized. Fifteen frightened children stood there on the beach, the full weight of all that had happened crushing down on them. Alejandro’s own shoulders felt weak and weary, and his manacled wrists only dragged him further down.

Around them, hundreds of small huts and seemingly innumerable cages. They saw hundreds of people around them, and more and more slavers, pushing them along and barking commands. The children were led through the houses and lines of people, who looked at them with flitting eyes, so full of fear and pain they were hollow, ghostly.

Their gazes didn’t linger on them long, but their eyes stayed in Alejandro’s nightmares for years.

Alejandro and the others were pushed further onward, the massive arena approaching ever faster. When they finally reached it, they were led to a series of rooms carved out of the earth beneath the structure.

In the next few months, they were trained relentlessly. How to fight, how to be strong, but most importantly, how to obey. Alejandro quickly learned that the man with the crown who was not king very much liked to act like one. He paraded the children around the arena, boasting them as the newest gladiators for his ring.

And there was the ring. The sand red from battle, the cheers and jeers of a bloodthirsty crowd. Those first few months, Alejandro and the others only watched the fights. Massive beasts, mythical and mundane, squared off in the pit against older gladiators who in turn faced both man and beast on the sands. It was not long before Alejandro had seen enough people die in the ring that he couldn’t keep track anymore.

He had heard of gladiatorial games in the big cities, way to the east. No one ever died there, as far as he knew. But this was different.

When he was 13, after the better part of a year being relentlessly trained & conditioned, he stepped into the ring for the first time. His adversary was an older kid, whose eyes were hollow like the people outside. Acting on instinct, the battle ensued, fear disappearing as it was replaced by careful training. Alejandro found himself falling into a performance, and when the dust cleared, only he was left standing.

To congratulate his first kill, the man with the crown took him to the lowest room beneath the arena, where the earth’s heat powered a burning forge. As much as he struggled, he couldn’t stop them, and heated chains were pressed onto his arms, searing away the flesh, leaving a mark that would weigh on him for the rest of his life.

Alejandro faced death in the arena constantly for the entertainment of the crowds of the cruel, and it left many scars. During the next five years, he would watch as one by one, the others from his village would fall in the arena, each death met by cheers. Not long, and Alejandro was the only one left. In his time there, he also saw more ships come and go, bringing new gladiators, always young adults and teenagers, always broken.

Pasaos told Alejandro that he was one of the youngest he’d ever seen show up there in his time. Pasaos was an older gladiator. He’d seen much, and his eyes held a great suffering, but he cared for Alejandro like a father, or as much as he could. He taught him many things. How to stay alive, how to keep his spirit going, even while broken.

Alejandro never asked how long Pasaos had been there, or how many people he’d killed. They both knew better. Alejandro also never thought twice about the moon tattoo on his arm beneath the brand, not until the day it all came crashing down.

Alejandro was 18 now, and he knew his eyes were losing their fight. He had gone a very long time without becoming a ghost, but now it was a near thing. Though they were treated well enough for slaves, it was only to keep them in fighting shape. The slavers were quick to punish if they stepped out of line, even if it meant they lost a fighter for a bit. But they had never done an execution before.

When he was shoved out onto the sands, he saw Pasaos tied to a pole in the center of the arena, and he could feel the flames closing in around him again, about to lose the one thing he could call a home.

He could do nothing but watch as the man with the crown cut free Pasaos, handing him a blade with the smug confidence of a man holding another’s life in his hand. They fought, but Pasaos had been beaten and tortured before the execution, and he stood no chance. The man with the crown, who Alejandro had come to know was named Atticus, simply knocked aside Pasaos’ blows, and when he finally ran him through, he turned to the gathered gladiators in triumph. Alejandro barely remembered what happened next.

He remembered grabbing the blade from the sands, slashing at Atticus. He remembered fighting him, losing, bleeding, pain, tears. He remembered sudden movements, brown and blue cloaks descending on the arena, shouts, commotion. He stood again before the rest of the gladiators, surrounded by chaos he couldn’t understand, and he called them to arms, screaming all their pain as it echoed throughout the pit. He remembered chasing Atticus down, but being beaten into the dirt, unable to stop him from sailing away.

There on the beach, bloodied and broken, he swore this:

“Atticus the Cruel, man who wears a crown but is no king, I will drive this dishonored blade into your wicked heart if it is the last thing I do. Your obsession with death will serve you well when the day comes that I return this blade to the evil from which it came.”

Then he was found by the cloaked people who had saved him. They called themselves Company of the Blue Moon. They helped him recover, brought him back to land. They told him Pasaos had died a hero, he had gotten them to the island. In a way, young Alejandro realized, Pasaos had sacrificed his life for Alejandro’s future. He promised himself would not let him down. The Company gave him much time to rest, and he took it, but before long he found himself on the road again, always on the lookout for any sign of the man he had sworn to destroy.

•••

“And now... I’m here.” Alejandro let out a long breath.

There were a few beats of silence, his heart loud in his ears. The relief of sharing the pain he hid so often with someone he trusted was quickly being replaced by fear, and he started to wonder if he’d overshared. He didn’t look up at Faulkron, not sure what he’d see.

“I... I’m sorry that happened to you.”

When Alejandro turned to Faulkron, he was staring at him with genuine concern. Alejandro cast his eyes away again, but he felt the fear retreat, and he was once again glad for Faulkron’s presence.

He chuckled a bit, hoping it didn't sound too bitter. “Thanks. It was hell, but I’m here, I guess, and that’s what counts.”

Faulkron nodded, and there was another pause.

“That’s the sword, then?”

“Yes.”

Alejandro unsheathed the sword, looking over the blade. The moonlight glinted eerily off of the edge, as if the night knew they spoke of death. Alejandro put the sword away, and the two fell quiet again.

“You know they taught us how to die?” Alejandro spoke suddenly.

“They what?” Faulkron exclaimed, head snapping back toward him.

“Yeah.” Alejandro sighed. “They taught us how to die for a crowd. I’ve seen it happen so many times, and it’s sad, because... you know that death isn’t that. It’s gray, it’s cold, it’s empty. But we were taught how to make it grand and flashy. I saw my mentor do it when Atticus killed him. Hells, even Dymea, this morning. No one goes out like that without being trained for it.”

“That’s... horrible.”

“It was, but it’s done now. Or at least, I had hoped it was. Knowing there might be still more of these remnant groups out there... It looks like my work is cut out for me. This is the first I’ve seen in a long time.”

Faulkron paused for a moment, deep in thought. “I... I will gladly go with you. You won’t fight Atticus alone this time. And I swear to you, you won’t die like that. Not while there’s still blood in these veins,” he promised, placing a hand over Alejandro’s.

Alejandro stared at him a moment, startled by the sudden sincerity and intensity.

“I... you have no idea how much that means to me.”

Faulkron looked at him for a moment longer, before seemingly coming to a decision. “I’m not big on hugs, but do you want one?” he asked, opening his arms.

Alejandro paused for a moment, but eventually he nodded and pressed himself into Faulkron. He let out a sigh as his arms wrapped around him, their strength anchoring him in the moment.

Alejandro eventually broke away, wiping away the tears that had streaked down his face.

“Thanks, Faulkron. I’m glad I could trust you. And... I don’t know where you’re going, or what you’re after, but I’d like to help you find it too.”

Faulkron nodded, looking back up to the stars. “I’m not sure yet... I think, a purpose, but I don’t know it yet. But I’d enjoy your company on the road either way.”

Alejandro nodded and smiled at him. He offered out a hand.

Faulkron grasped it, and Alejandro pulled him to his feet and bringing them face to face. Alejandro’s eyes twinkled in the moonlight as he laid a brief kiss on Faulkron’s cheek.

“Thank you.”

Faulkron smiled at him, and they headed back down into the inn together.

•••

The next day, the five companions woke to a far more somber Koretion. That morning, the townsfolk grieved those they had lost. The bodies that had been retrieved from the bandit camp of the missing scouts and militia were gathered. Funeral shrouds were burned, and white-crested helmets were placed on the pyres. The deepest grief, though, was of those whose loved ones there was no trace of. A messenger on horseback rode out at midday headed for the bigger cities and eventually the capitol, bearing news of what had happened and the people missing, as well as a request for help in the search. Jetra ensured the messenger, who wore a familiar crescent tattoo, carried a message of her own as well.

While the most part of the day held a stark grief and sadness, it was not all-consuming. In the face of that loss, there was still joy in knowing it wouldn’t happen again, and the people began to gather once more that evening. They celebrated the happiness in the lives of those they had lost, honoring their memory with joy rather than anguish. And so the town returned to celebration, even bittersweet as it was. Jetra played ballads of memory in death and the joys of life, songs the citizens of Koretion already knew well. Alejandro was playing games with some of the kids, the occasional toddler hanging off of his bicep as he practically juggled children, smiling and laughing all the same. Fuego was dancing around the central pavilion, putting on a beautiful display as multicolored flame swirled around him in time with the music, the people watching in awe and wonder.

Faulkron watched it all from the sidelines, mostly Alejandro if he was being honest. As he watched Alejandro smile and pick up a leather ball, and toss it back to a child, he couldn't help but feel at least a little overwhelmed, in a good way. He certainly looked very very cute right now, for one. But the way the sunlight was shining on his grinning face almost made him look comfortable, at ease. And Faulkron hadn’t seen Alejandro at ease since they’d first discussed the slavers back in Corias.

Alejandro had shared so much with him last night, and it was showing him a new light. He knew now why he’d joined them on the journey, why he’d been so tense during that first ambush. Faulkron felt a new bond of trust between them, far closer than he would have expected in just a week. Alejandro had clearly been through hell, so Faulkron really wasn't sure why he’d trust him with something like this already. He wasn’t even sure he’d earned that trust, though he would admit he wanted to, badly. He had no idea what they even were yet. Given how much Alejandro had been through, and how stressful the last few days had to have been for him, Faulkron was more than willing to let him decide where this went, and he’d go along for the ride. His life had made a turn for the better and the interesting, that was for sure.

“You look like you’re deep in thought.”

Faulkron shook himself out of his reverie and turned towards the voice.

Shakari had sat down next to him at some point, and she was watching the celebration as well.

“I was, yeah.”

“I understand. Much has happened in the last week, for all of us,” Shakari said, eyes still watching the pavilion.

“You’re not wrong. I don’t even really know how I ended up here, but it seems... good,” he mused.

“It is. We did something good. All of us.”

“It’s weird to hear that, you know. I’ve never been called a hero before, and I’m still not sure what to do about it,” Faulkron said with a small sigh.

Shakari raised an eyebrow, turning to him. “I understand that, it’s a first for me too. Yet there is no denying we are heroes to these people, and we made the world better for it.”

Faulkron nodded, unsure what to say.

Shakarin placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think you are someone who follows the path before them when it is presented, even if it is yet untraveled. You have a wanderer’s eyes.”

Faulkron creased his brow. “What makes you think all that?”

“I am the same.”

Faulkron turned back to her, and saw a deep sincerity in her eyes.

“I am going to follow this path wherever it may take me,” she said, turning back to the celebration.

Faulkron thought for a moment, staring into the crowd again. He smiled quietly to himself. He wasn’t sure what direction he’d found himself stumbling in, but it felt good, and he liked these people, and he liked being called a hero. So he supposed it wouldn’t be so bad to keep going down this road.

“I think I am too.”

Part 6 | Part 8

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youngblizzardglitter · 3 years

Text

Outed

The sun was bright so bright it woke up Terry in a few moments. He hated it with passion and turned over only for it to still be in his eyes.

Terry sighed getting up from his bed his back ached and his head pounded. He had spent the night packing their stuff to move back to their home town. And like usual his younger brother forgot to pack and he had to do it.

He's gonna miss me when am dead. He thinks moving past his boxes to close his window. His boxes wide open go see his stuff he had stopped halfway too tired to continue.

"Your up?" He asks seeing the younger boy putting on his shoes. He was never up this early and usually woke up at ten or eleven.

"Your not." He laughs mentioning his hair wrapped and tired face. Terry rolled his eyes. "I am meeting with Valerie remember?"

"Your girlfriend?" Terry jokes leaning on the stairwell smirking at his pink face.

"No!" He says looking back at his shoes. "She invited me to a party and her friends couldn't come. And I want to be ready."

"What kind of party is so early?" He looks over to the clock that read 7:50.

"It's a long drive from here. The family is rich or something." He shrugs that's what Valerie had told him he didn't know the family either.

"What me to make you something?" He says walking down stretching. "Or do you want to wait for the drive?"

"I don't know may-Hey!" He says as Terry ruined his hair. "I worked hard on this!"

"Okay." He pulls out some milk and cereal. "You want some eggs or?"

"Naw I'll take a sandwich." He says looking for his coat. "Where's my-"

"Upstairs to the left of your bed." He finished knowing he never remembered where it was.

"Thanks." He said running up the stairs to get them.

"Where's my-"

"Up." He says remembering he put his sunglasses there. He really is going to miss me when I die.

"Thanks." He said looking out the window. "There he is!"

"You forgot something!" He says taking his headwrap out. He promptly came back and kissed Terry's cheek.

"Your sandwich you idiotic freckle!" He says as the girl in the car laughed at the nickname Ace stuck his tongue out embarrassed and the older Tornado happily returned the gesture.

But he did take his sandwich ad he would consider it a win.

He quickly needed to get a shower and put on some old clothes he needs to pack he couldn't believe how long this summer had felt.

The death of their uncle had taken a bit of a toll on the both of them he was always busy but he did make efforts whether or not they were needed. He left Terry everything in his estate. So he decided maybe a change of paste and place would help him.

He didn't have such luck. He had to be ready for a call every day about something. He had to do a funeral, a will reading, getting custody of Ace and on top take care of him.

It wasn't like he didn't already he practically raised Ace after their mom died. He still missed her despite not knowing her much.

And hate the bastard that killed her. He thinks closing a box angrily. He had his face burned in memory.

And if I ever have to-

The doorbell rang knocking him out of his daze he didn't even shower yet and someone was at the door. Geez, why is the world so up?

"Terrac-" a big man started. He wore a black suit and had glasses like any businessman. This should have been sign one it was bad along with his government name.

"Terry." He corrects instantly leaning by the door. Everyone always knew after a bit not to call him that.

"I have a letter for you and it's urgent matters we need to discuss." He started to be cut off.

"You have a warrant?" He asks quickly he was smarter than that.

"Am not coming in I just need to make sure this was delivered."

"And read." He hands him a card. "Call me when you do it seems like you have a lot to do." He was judging the state of the house.

Bitch. Terry slammed the door close.

Is it a government letter? No, it's never this serious. Is it the court telling me that I can't adopt Ace? No am almost 18 it's cool.

Then who the fuck was that? Is this blackmail?! What the fuck have I done now?!

Terry breathe and open the letter it can't be that bad, can it?

"Where the fuck is he?!" A voice screamed through the house. Everyone paused hearing it they knew who that was they didn't know why he was here.

Steve's head snapped away from Cree towards an angry Terrence Tornado who had papers in his head. His eyes were dangerous as they glowed purple and that was a bad sign. It meant he was pissed.

"Where the fuck is your father?!" He screams marching towards him.

"Outback why do you-" He couldn't even finish his sentence when the hardest slap he ever got in his life it threw him into the wall. "Ow!" He screams dropping his punch to hold his face as it burned as Tifa asked him if he was okay. His teens and their parents stood in shock knowing the uninvited teen came to start something.

But what?

"Terry what the-" He looked around not finding him.

"Fernando you little bitch!" He screams walking down the staircase that lead to the party for said, man. "What the fuck?!"

Steve quickly went to the balcony to watch as did his teens. His father stood shocked holding his mother's hand who eyes broadened at the sight of purple eyes. So did a few others knowing what they meant.

"Terrance?" He asks as his guests looked at the scene playing before them. Their eyes fixated on how angry Terry was. The way his eyes light up and his face of pure rage.

"What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" He pulls the letter open and unfolds it."What the fuck is this?!"

"Paper?" A glass got thrown at his head for that perfect aim. A few gasped when Terry threw it as it nearly hit Rose.

"No a court order for custody of your son." He says looking back on it. "You never claimed him when he was born what's your motive now?!"

"What-"

"How are you pull up to me?!? Tell me " Oh I wanna see my kid so bad am taking you to court for it" like you dont owe him fucking thousands of dollars of child support?!"

He screams walking close to them as they walked back people wondering if they should call the cops.

"I swear on your life if you don't get your head out of your ass and cancel this court date I'll sue you right for negligence and abandonment!"

The air got silent quickly at that. Terry's face didn't look like he was messing around. Mr.Fizz took a sip of the champagne they were serving at his party.

"Terrance-"

"Don't you fucking dare." He snaps knowing he was egging him on. He of all people should know he hated that name.

"Fine Terry. How about we go inside and-"

"And what? Lie to me? Blackmail me? Like you did my mom?" He says not letting him finish people began to whisper.

"I never-"

"Yeah, you did you piece of shit." He says nonchalantly. He wasn't even mad very at that just disappointed.

"Why I never!" Mrs.Dickson announced holding Rose's hand. "What a rude ill-mannered boy. Whatever this is is being blown out of proportion. Did you really need to come today and ruin it?"

Macy Dickson always was a hard-spoken woman she always said what was on her mind. She wouldn't allow her best friends twenty-five marriage be tainted.

Terry looked back at her ready to curse her out and then saw a banner reading: "Happy Anniversary Fernando and Rosetta Fizz."

He didn't have the reaction you'd expect he didn't become sheepish or have a moment of realization he smirked with malice intent.

"Oh, so you didn't tell Rose this party is basically a lie?" He laughs like he was told a joke.

"Terrance-"

"Because you fucked my mom a decade ago? And hid your affair child?" He laughs shaking his head. "She could do better."

"Wait what?!" Steve said from the balcony everyone glanced to see his shocked face as if he been slapped. As his cheek was redder than his shirt. "Dad what's he's talking about?!" The realization of something hitting him hard.

"You a bastard! Your so lucky people are here so I can't kill you!" He stepped forward. "Kinda the way you killed my mom!"

"I-"

"Yeah, you fucking did! I heard that phone call!" He stepped closer again as his wife removed herself from this display completely distraught.

"Was she not enough?! You wanna take Ace from me too?!"

"I swear to God every time our families meet someone from mines dies! What do you want this time?!"

"I don't want-"

"Speak for fucks sake-!"

"Then let me!" He screamed back. He coughs quickly realizing he too now was causing a scene.

"I don't know much about this just yet this was sprung on me a few days ago. Whatever this is can be over promptly."

They stood there looking at each other unfazed waiting for the other to make their move everyone knew the air was tense and that they shouldn't butt in. Two minutes passed before Terrence moved.

"Dear Terrace Max Tornado, We hope that this letter finds you in good health as we recently became aware of you taking custody of your younger brother Alejandro Ace Tornado after the recent death of your uncle Ice Tornado."

Mr.Fizz gapped knowing he was backed into a corner everyone became speechless as they heard intensely Steve leaned in hearing from far.

"But we the court of Virginia state are sorry to inform you that you cannot as his biological father Fernando Burno Fizz wishes to also get that right and demand custody of Alejandro the least fifty percent."

Terry looked back at him testing him.

Say something I dare you. His eyes yelled smirking.

"Your court date is the first Tuesday of next month. Please being a lawyer and any paperwork that helps with your case as we cannot continue with your demand for custody of your younger brother. While it is unusual to allow it to you at the recent age of sixteen."

"Please contact us or your lawyer for any questions."

He stopped reading looking back on him testing him. His eyes no longer glowing but we're deep purple signaling he was still angry. Mr.Fizz looked down at his glass knowing he was deep in a hole now.

"I haven't even opened the second one you bitch." He snaps putting the letter back. Everyone mouth was open even Macy's

"Terence is it?" His wife asks getting close to him. "Terry." He corrected taking his eyes off him he could sense she wasn't mad.

"What don't you go inside? I want to have a few words with you about your brother." She asked placing her empty wine glass and coming towards.

"Rose this isn't -" Her husband tried he was then giving a hard slap to the face knocking him in the pool people gasping when she poured her champagne on him. Terry put a hand over his mouth as she screamed obscenities in Spanish his way.

"Come on honey." She says quickly shooing him into her kitchen away from the eyes and talk. "You don't have to worry about him anymore."

"Now can you tell me about Ace?" She asks closing the windows

"Don't you want to deal with that?" He asks hearing commotion and Mr.Fizz's voice.

"He made his bed." She says taking off her fancy clothes and heels. Terry looked away for a moment and she looked completely different when out of fancy clothes she still had her makeup.

"Am beautiful I know." She makes a gesture and smirks as Terry softly laughs. They stared at the table not knowing where to start.

"Can I see the letter?" She asks reaching for it."If you will let me?"

"Go for it. I haven't read the other one." He says handing both over. He had been so pissed he flew over with his powers knocking over some cars and mailboxes he hoped no one saw it.

He looked intensely at her as her face went through so much yet not one tear. She then looked back at him and the letter he suddenly felt awkward.

Did she not know? Did I miss read her? Oh God, she didn't know any of this, did she?

Mrs. Dickson was right I just ruined her whole marriage. But I am right she could do way better.

Maybe I shouldn't have barged in and embarrassed her.

"Here." She says dropping a glass of juice. "It's early and you looked like you haven't eaten yet."

"Am good." He says not wanting to overstay his welcome she nods and drinks it.

"So want to discuss?"

"Sure."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve winced again when a new layer of ice was put on his face. Chad raised an eyebrow at him annoyed.

"Sorry but this hurts." He says remembering how he got the wound. Terry was stronger than he remembered.

"I still say you fight him or something," Cree said disapproving of him. "He just slapped you like it's nothing important he can't get away from that he assaulted you!"

"I'll talk to my mom about it." He said remembering his mom taking the angry teen to her personal kitchen even he wasn't in. They had been there for hours.

"Is what he saying about your dad true?" Jushtin asked confused. "Or is not?"

Steve thought back to something that happened a few months ago.

"I'll do my best Estaban." Those words echoed in his head as he thought for a second.

"Hold the fuck up." He says getting up and running the stairs. "Hold the fuck up?"

"What's this about?"

"Does mom know?"

"Who is that?"

"Terry?!"

"Dad!" He says coming into the room only to see his dad on the phone.

"Remember a few months ago?"

#knd #Steve #Ace #terrance #Rose #Mr.Fizz.#Family drama

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mashounen2003 · 3 years

Video

youtube

Here is the text of the video, translated into English. Seriously, check out this video, this guy is awesome.

"Conspiracy Theories" by Guille Aquino.

Posted on June 27, 2019.

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Warning: if you're influenceable, you need to watch this.

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Alright, before we start, I want us to welcome and applaud our new friends from the CIA, the FBI, NASA, the former SIDE -today, the AFI-, the KGB, Interpol, and the lazy virgins at the troll centre on Miserere Park, who are surely already watching this video because today we're gonna talk about...

Conspiracy Theories.

We all know some: the humans didn't go to the Moon, the 9/11 was a self-attack by the USA's government, Bin Laden never existed, Walt Disney is frozen, Elvis Presley is alive, the Simpsons predict the future, Marcelo Tinelli went to a famous hospital with a famous object inserted in a famous place on his body, and Dengue and Zika fever were created by Bill Gates who genetically modified mosquitoes to depopulate the Earth because it most likely was easier than making work that "Internet Explorer" bulls*** he sold us. But let's get to the news: in early 2019, YouTube modified its recommendation algorithm to avoid promoting conspiracy theories and false information. And let's stop here because I want us to become aware of the magnitude this matter took on and how this little joke of the conspiracy theories videos completely went to Hell.

Think of it this way: YouTube, the second most trafficked website in the world after Google, with over 30 million visitors per day and over 1.3 billion users -almost a third of all people connected to the Internet in the world-, where 300 hours of videos are uploaded per minute and almost 500 trillion videos are viewed per day, had to change its own recommendation system because all of us were watching too many videos denouncing that Lali Espósito is an Illuminati:

Video excerpt: [with obvious robotic voice] "Also, at the second Number Ten, she covers one of her eyes again, obviously symbolizing the All-Seeing Eye."

And I'm very sorry to tell you that, in today's world, if YouTube has a problem, we all have a problem.

Conspiracy theories are the Internet's new porn. In fact, if you filter the words "conspiracy" and "theories" by the number of views, the most viewed video has 36 million views. THIRTY-SIX! MILLION! VIEWS! That's like putting together the total populations of Belgium, Greece, Cuba and Jamaica, and then lighting a giant reefer to everyone and making them watch this video of people saying the Earth is flat:

Another video excerpt: [Channel 13 interview with Flat-Earthers, recorded in a park in Buenos Aires] "I pour water into this dish... Look, I pour water, and it stays, you see? But we pour water into the globe... and it goes down, people."

Okay, now we're gonna go over some of the most popular conspiracy theories of recent times, and we're gonna try to deconstruct the psychological profile of the average consumer of the conspiranoid world.

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

We'll start with everyone's favourite...

The Flat-Earthers.

Excerpt of the second video: "This first meeting began to be announced in the groups I followed on YouTube. (And the tattoo you have there, what is it?) This is the flat Earth, the Sun and the Moon."

The Flat-Earthers basically hold the theory that the Earth is not actually spherical, and they claim Galileo Galilei was an old smoke-seller blabbermouth who often played into the Far-Right's hands, cut his hair in an old-fashioned barbershop and used the 1610 telescope mainly to bed with chicks. And I have nothing personal against the Flat-Earthers but I find it difficult to take them seriously, mostly because much of their scientific hypothesis can be explained with this blooper.

Excerpt of another, different video: "There's an inflatable pool filled with water and with two people in it, a third person suddenly jumps into the water, and the pool deforms and overflows on the other side, as one of the two previously present people also falls over the edge."

(Images from the film "Armageddon".)

The truth is that the "flat Earth" theory has one fundamental premise, and it's the same one that supports 100% of conspiracy theories:

There's a power above us that manages everything.

Governments, lobbies and other de facto powers are capable of lying on a massive scale, just as intelligence services, the New World Order and FlyBondi hostesses do.

Excerpt of the second video: "(And you can't see the curvature of the Earth from the plane.) Uh... I travelled by plane to Bariloche, and no, I didn't see it. There's some aircraft glass with a small magnification or something that changes your perspective, due to the thickness of the window, and because aircraft glass also has something."

Alright, stop, let's not turn this into "Point at the crazy assholes and laugh" either, right? Well, yes, a little- But we go beyond that! We're better than that!

Why do so many people choose to believe we're puppets of an evil system? One might say that, in the absence of a sense of real control over our own lives and in the face of the desolation of living in a seemingly random, chaotic world, believing there's an external force exerting control is, to some extent, comforting. Yes, phone the Vatican.

And according to a certain old white upper-middle-class snob who teaches at Harvard University, conspiracy theorists share several or at least one of the following features: they're paranoid, radical, extremist in their opinions; they aspire to a feeling of superiority, and basically, they feel special for possessing information that exceeds the common citizen. Yeah, it's like the row for an indie film festival.

Umberto Eco even said:

"The control syndrome invades us. When someone claims to have a secret, their strength is not in hiding something but in making people think there's even a secret in the first place."

And I didn't understand a f*** because I've never read a book in my life, but it sounds ultra-mega-hyper cool. I dare you to deny it!

So who would be the most likely to believe in these kinds of theories? People who had bad experiences in life, people in search of an answer that would rescue them from a deep existential crisis, and the most important: people in search of a place of belonging.

Excerpt of the second video: "Well, no, this opened a door for me to start thinking more, to question things, about a supposed alien invasion."

Wait, stop right there. Excuse me, but if I'm an alien and I have the power to cross the universe in a spaceship, with my own army and the ability to colonize a celestial body, I don't even waste my time invading a paper-thin planet. Give me a round planet or give me death!

And that's when the contradiction comes into play. Because if you believe in one conspiracy theory, you immediately start to believe in all of them. It's like the weed. Even the refutation of a plot fits within the plot itself: for example, if you believe Lady Diana was killed by the British Crown, you're also prone to believe Lady Diana is actually still alive.

(Woah, Mind Blown... She was totally killed anyway, sorry.)

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

Good, let's move on to the next one:

The Anti-Vaccination movement.

Okay, here we come to a key point, since clearly there are the "harmless" conspiracy theories and the... rather dangerous ones. We've all heard someone say vaccines may cause autism in kids. Now, I'm clearly a specialist in absolutely nothing, and I ain't gonna explain why you guys have to vaccinate your children, so I better recommend to you the websites of any Ministry of Health or Wikipedia, so that you later visit them and find out how very important it is to inject legal drugs to your sweet little angels. And it's not to detract from any position or to err on the side of bigotry, but if you're an anti-vax and your baby coughs next to me, I swear I'll kick their head off.

(Tack! That bag of germs...)

And after all, that's why we invented Democracy!

(Ha, of course not, but...)

In fact, I dunno who gives a f*** about this but maybe someone will find it useful: I follow a pretty simple method when it comes to ideologically locating myself regarding any issue. And this is:

Always do the opposite of whatever Gisela Barreto says.

Gisela Barreto: [speaks with a flag in the background] "Vaccines show up, and they show them to us as something that heals us. Actually, they're part of our death."

(Seriously, she came this close to being in the Avengers.)

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

Okay, and now let's move on to one that touches us all closely (at least here, in my country):

Hitler in Argentina.

It's the conspiracy theory ensuring that, after losing World War II, the Nazi leader, the most disgusting dictator and genocide in Human History, came to live incognito in our country. And I ask myself: what the heck did we need to shelter Hitler for? The birth of Alejandro Biondini, who's pretty much our local version of Nazism, was imminent:

Interview with Biondini in 1991 by Mariano Grondona in his program "Key Time":

Grondona: "Would you condemn Adolf Hitler?"

Biondini: "No, we vindicate Adolf Hitler."

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Okay, question: is it possible to keep a secret on such a large scale for so many years? Well, the Math says no. Seriously! I've read that a physicist at the Oxford University (Where else?) took the "humans didn't go to the Moon" theory, and then this guy created a mathematical calculation based on the number of conspirators involved, the time elapsed since the conspiracy, and the inherent possibility that a plot would fail.

For example, in the case of Apollo 11, 411 thousand NASA employees were involved, and according to the variables this physicist analyzed, the lie should have been known in less than four years; half a century passed, and no employee denied the mission. What does this tell us? Well... they were threatened and killed off, of course! It's obvious! [imitating Mirtha Legrand] Stanley Kubrick was not in the coffin! Nobody saw him. Nobody saw him!

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Gimme more!

Famous people who are actually dead.

For example, Paul McCartney. On the cover of the album "Abbey Road", he's barefoot; a clear subliminal message that the real one died and was replaced with a stand-in. (Why?!) It sounds silly, but the rumour got so big that McCartney himself had to go out and publicly deny it... Although come to think of it, he also came out to congratulate the butchers who named their butcher shop "Paul Mac Carne" ["Paul McMeat"], so maybe he's truly a stand-in and, to top it off, looks like a raisin.

Excerpt of another video: "Well, thinking of different names, someone said "Paul Mac Carne". And well, he, being a vegetarian, says the idea was very good, started laughing and sent us a greeting."

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

I love this one:

The Reptilians.

It's basically the theory that there's a race of amphibian aliens [Wait for a second: aren't they called "reptilians"?] living among us for centuries and hiding their reptilian features behind human faces.

(Oh, you were telling me they're not actually aliens because they were born here?)

Excerpt of the 1996 movie "Mars Attacks!".

And who discovered this? David Icke! Or "Ique". An unsuccessful former soccer player and sportscaster. (How can you be unsuccessful as a soccer sportscaster?! All you need is a suit!) It's like believing in a religion where your Pope is Diego Latorre.

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

Now, I know what you're thinking: after all, how dangerous can all this get? I mean, no conspiracy theory has someone popular to represent it, no spokesperson of ridiculous and implausible plots has reached a truly important position in today's world.

Bah... There's actually only one.

The President of the United States of America.

That's right! Donald Trump, once the leader of the most powerful country in the world, had come to power mostly by throwing out fake news and conspiracy theories. And here are some:

Barack Obama is an immigrant.

Trump: "And I just say: why doesn't he show his birth certificate?"

Global warming is a myth.

Trump: "Obama is saying all of this has to do with global warming and I say all that is a hoax..."

Gisela Barreto was right.

Trump: "At two and a half years old, the baby, the beautiful baby, went to get the vaccine. Now he's autistic."

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

Okay, then... Conspiracy theories. For what? Well, in the case of Trump: influence on public opinion and accumulation of power. In the case of people who upload videos to YouTube... What do you think? A profitable, monetizable business! In fact, there's the conspiracy theory that we're actually making this video about conspiracy theories in order to have lots of views and earn buttloads of cash. (We'd never do that!)

And finally, a much deeper, inherent aspect of the human condition:

The need to believe in something.

The world is divided into two types of people: some think everything happens for a reason, everything is a sign, and perhaps there's also a magical entity organizing things for us; the other half of the people think we live in a desolate world without meaning or messages, there are only atoms randomly colliding with each other, and the Universe gives no f***s about us. Which of these two groups seems happier to you? Which one do you belong to? Which one would you like to belong to? I choose to join the conspiranoids! And listen to this, I know exactly what's going on:

The New World Order organized the Lollapalooza at the request of the Illuminati, who wanted to marketingly manage Lali Espósito, who actually wears a mask and underneath is "La Mona" Giménez, who's not actually a monkey but a reptile and has drank all the wine to get immunized against the vaccines at the request of Gisela Barreto, who was born in Corrientes just like Barack Obama, who claimed to have killed Bin Laden, who's actually alive and was driving the car that crashed that night and carried Chano Charpentier, who taught driving to Lady Diana, who was actually Mexican and was assassinated by Donald Trump, who was matched on Tinder with Hitler, who lives in a nursing home in Recoleta and has glaucoma, so he's hitting the reefers with Biondini, who is actually a hippie and a fan of León Gieco, invented global warming and, when being in a bad mood, takes a bus and goes to dinner at "Paul Mac Carne", where they invented the extra-thin Provoleta cheese, which coincidentally has the same shape as the Earth, which is actually flat!

*sigh* Knowledge is power. Quiero creer.

Soundtrack: State Anthem of the Soviet Union.

#conspirative theories #Analysis

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asoftervirge · 3 years

Text

Of “Love” & Murder - (11/13)

CHAPTER TITLE: The (Black) Cat’s Out of the (Body) Bag

RATING: PG PAIRINGS: P. Sanders/V. Sanders (main/one-sided); R. Sanders/V. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/L. Sanders (former); V. Sanders/D. Sanders (former); Remy/E. Picani (side); T. Sanders/OMC (mentioned)

CHAPTER WARNINGS/KINKS: mentions of Murder, Vengeance, hint at Virgil’s Tarantula, slight Manipulation, Alcohol, Moral Talks, mentions of various murder methods (arsenic and shooting someone), allusions to Suicide, Lord of the Rings references, mentions of Remus Sanders CHAPTER SUMMARY: Patton finally comes to a decision.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: After all the death and killings and murders, we’re back to having PG chapters! :D Now we come to the final 3 chapters of the story and we get to see what Patton will do (if he does anything) to Virgil. ;) Plus we get a small little introduction to a new character! Oh, and we get some returning characters too. lol Have fun reading everyone! xx Virge

INSPIRATION: This post by @phantomofthesanderssides

AO3 || Buy Me A Ko-Fi!

Once Dorian faded away, everything began to hit the confectioner all at once. He tried to comprehend all he was told, but it just proved to be too overwhelming.

Virgil really wasn’t what he seemed.

The paintings in the hallway were destroyed because he wanted to erase their identities.

And the doors are bolted because they were where they were murdered.

Patton felt like crumbling to the floor, yet his legs wouldn’t buckle. So he slumped back against the leather chair he was still in, resting his head against his hands. His baby blue eyes were a whirlpool of emotions.

He was wounded, betrayed, hurt, and every negative emotion he could possibly think of. He fell for the widower’s flattering compliments, his imposing stature, his captivating gaze. He was the fly who unknowingly walked into the spider’s parlor.

When his mind was calm enough to truly process everything, his heart ached for the victims who came before him. Virgil’s husbands.

Roman Scarlet. A beautiful thespian who dazzled audiences every night with his brilliant acting and singing, until her career was tragically cut short by a single red ribbon around his throat.

Logan Oxford. A clever novelist who wished to spread xyr love and passion for knowledge around the world, but xe were silenced by ingesting arsenic from a book and a cup of tea.

Dorian Cain. A silver-tongued lawyer who’s cunning and sliminess made him be seen as Virgil’s equal, only to be outsmarted by the widower in the end via a lone bullet to the forehead.

And he, Patton Hart? A golden-hearted chocolatier who makes sugary goodies for those who walk into his shop, and if he wasn’t careful, he would soon be meeting the same fate as them.

Slowly, he felt something almost akin to rage slowly seep into his being. It was unfair. Unfair that three remarkable people had to meet their deaths as a result of succumbing to the dark, ill-intended temptations of Virgil.

…Virgil Nyx. A former bookstore clerk who may seem anxious and unassuming, yet he used savvy and manipulation to climb the social ladder; and he continued these methods to lure people into his home, marry them, and then murderer them.

One part of the confectioner wanted to run away. Run away so he and his friends could find away to put the three-time widower in jail and be able to live another day.

However, another part of him wanted to avenge them. Avenge the three— or maybe more— who couldn’t escape before it was too late. He doesn’t want any more horrible injustices to occur under Virgil’s thumb (he could almost hear Dorian chuckling in his ear at that).

“Patton?” a distant-sounding voice called out.

The confectioner froze. It was Virgil. He didn’t want the widower to discover where he’s been this entire time. Making sure he wasn’t going to get caught, he quickly left the deceased lawyer’s former office and rushed back to the foyer.

Just as he did so, Virgil exits the tea room.

“Ah, there you are Patton. I was wondering where you went,” he says upon seeing him. He raises an eyebrow upon seeing the slightly disheveled appearance of the confectioner. “Is everything alright? Did something happen while I was gone?”

How could you ask me that when I know you don’t really care at all? Patton thought as he watched Virgil feign concern for him. “I’m fine.” he reassures him, fixing himself up as best he could. “I just—” He needed to come up with a lie, and fast.

“You didn’t go anywhere I told you not to, did you?” Virgil’s eyes sharpened, his tone accusatory.

“N-No, no!” Patton exclaimed, hoping the widower would buy the lie. “I-I just…thought I saw a spider on my way back from the bathroom and it freaked me out…that’s all.”

Virgil blinked, expression unchanging. Then, he chuckled, perhaps a little sheepishly. “Sorry about that,” he tells him as he walks up to him, placing his hands on his arms. The confectioner wanted to flinch and pull away but he didn’t want to raise suspicions. “Sometimes Jezebel likes to get out of her terrarium. Sneaky girl.”

Patton’s eyes widened a little. Well that lie could have been true!

“But I promise she’s pretty harmless,” the widower reassures. “I know you’re an arachnophobe, so just tell me if you see her and I’ll put her back where she won’t hurt you.” He presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. Patton made a face. “You wanna head back to the tea room now? There’re some chocolates left over.”

“Actually, I think I’m gonna head home,” Patton tells him, moving to grab his coat and umbrella hanging from the coat hanger near the door. “I’m starting to not feel very well, so I’m gonna call it a night.”

“You sure?” the widower asked, following close behind. “I’d really like it if you stayed longer. We can continue chatting over those chocolates, I’ll even make you some more hot chocolate. Or I could give you something…a little bit sweeter. I have a rare bottle of Madeira wine that will pair quite nicely with any dessert you make me.”

The confectioner almost shivered at his insistent persuasion. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t going to fall for it. He faces the widower once more, an innocent expression now on his face.

“I’m positive, Virgil.” he tells him. “But I promise I’ll see you again soon.”

Virgil opened his mouth, wanting to try and encourage him to not leave, but seeing that puppy-dog eyes and cutely pouting lip made him relent. “Oh…very well.” He says, not sounding all too pleased. “Have a good night, Patton.”

“Goodnight.”

With that, he all but rushed out the door. Upon closing the door, Patton took a deep breath and collected himself before he opened his umbrella.

He was going to need his friends’ advice with this one; because, whether it be morally sound or not, the confectioner was going to do everything he could to make sure Roman, Logan, and Dorian were finally able to rest in peace (and that he wouldn’t be joining them).

…

Driving to Storytime felt different the second time around.

The first time he did so, Patton was feeling excited; excited about his potential relationship with Virgil, not really wondering if it was anything to be concerned about. But after talking to his friends and cousin, hearing how he started as a bookstore clerk then became one of the wealthiest men in the city, only started to increase his subdued suspicions.

And now? Patton was confused, but determined to do something; knowing the truth about Virgil and all that he’s done in an ex-number of years has changed things. Listening to Roman, Logan, and Dorian talk about their stories brought light to a man that he deemed to be a little untrustworthy in the beginning.

Now he just had to reveal the truth to his friends and hope they would believe him, and give him any advice on what to do next.

Seeing the familiar neon pink sign of the lounge brought a bout of nervousness to the confectioner’s being. He hoped that tonight would go well, because he needed them to understand what had been hidden from them in regards to Roman’s death.

But it wasn’t just for Roman. It was for Logan and Dorian as well, along with any other victims that he wasn’t warned about. Everyone who Virgil scammed, seduced, and destroyed just so he could maintain a squeaky-clean image, everyone who believed in his lies and suffered for it.

Lastly, it was for himself too.

Entering the lounge, it was the exact same as last time: people of all ages, genders, sexualities, and ethnicities coming together to be enthralled with a show. Cigarette smoke thickened the air and the sound of alcohol being poured not only hit the glasses, but his ears as well.

As he made his way over to the bar, his gaze lingered on the photo of Alejandro and Roman, eyes primarily focusing on the late starlet.

Thomas saw him out of the corner of his eye. “It’s good to see you again, Pat— Patton?” he asks, seeing him staring at the photo of his late husband and best friend. “You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I did. Three of them, Patton thinks as he slowly turned away from the photograph. He sees his cousin Emile, Remy, and Toby all sitting together, chatting and drinking.

Emile was the next one to notice him. “Hi, Pat— Patty? Why do you look so blue?”

Remy and Toby also looked in his direction.

“I’m fine, really.” he nods. After sitting down, he takes a moment. “…although, I have something to tell you guys, but I don’t know how you’ll react to it.”

“Ooh~! More gossip!” He leaned a little closer to Emile and Patton, ignoring the ‘hey!’ he received from his cousin. “Well go on, Patty-cakes! Give us the details!”

“Please don’t worry, Patton.” Thomas reassures. “Whatever it is you have to tell us, we’ll all be supportive and take it well…at least, I hope we do.”

All of them nod, looking at him expectantly.

“…well, okay…” Patton takes a deep breath. “I-It’s…It’s about Virgil…”

The air suddenly grew thick around them.

“Is it now?” Toby asked.

“What did he do?” Rey grits out. “I swear to fuck if he did anything to you I’ll—”

“No.” Patton states immediately. “It was anything he dd to me…at least…not yet, I hope…”

“Patty? What do you mean by that?” Emile asks worriedly. “You’re kinda scaring me.”

At first, silence. Then, “Virgil did it…he killed Roman. It wasn’t suicide.”

Suddenly, time and everything around them seemed to have stopped.

The confectioner didn’t have the heart to gauge their reactions, keeping his head down.

Emile’s eyes were widened in shock, hands pressed against his mouth.

Remy slammed his shot down hard, eyes glowering with rage under his sunglasses.

Toby stopped drinking faer whisky, hand clutching the glass almost to where it would break.

And Thomas? Poor Thomas, his fist kept clenching and unclenching the rage he held in his hand.

“What?” Toby finally growled.

“Oh that motherfucker!” Remy screamed. Thomas quickly shushed him so he wouldn’t cause a scene. He didn’t give a damn though. “Are you fucking shitting me?!”

“How do you know this, Patton?” Thomas asked, trying to maintain a neutral expression.

Patton didn’t know how to explain it. How was he supposed to say that he encountered the ghosts of Virgil’s dead spouses and they explicitly told him all about their deaths? Plus, they all warned him that he could be the next victim if he wasn’t careful!

So, like with Virgil before, he had to lied even if it made him feel gross. “I-I saw things in Virgil’s house that look like they belonged to Roman,” he says. “One of them was a photograph…of all of you in front of Storytime. From Valentine’s Day about 7 years ago.” Okay, that was half-truth so he doesn’t feel as gross.

Realization slowly dawned on Toby, Remy, and Thomas.

“Their wedding photo…”

“But that isn’t all,” Patton continues. “I found things that belonged to Virgil’s other spouses.”

None of them could comprehend what the confectioner just told them.

“Wait, other spouses?!”

“Virgil had more than just Roman?”

Patton nodded. “There was Logan Oxford—”

“—The famous novelist?!” Emile exclaimed in shock. “I have some of xyr novels at my house! I’ve told you about xem before, Patty! They said xe killed xemself by drinking laced tea!”

Laced with arsenic. “And there was also Dorian Cain—”

“—Prosecutor Dorian Cain?” Toby’s eyes widened. “The infamous Courtroom Serpent? Shit, I remember Roman’s brother going to him to try and prosecute Virgil but he declined to do so. He shot himself in the head about a couple months after.”

He was shot in the head, but Virgil pulled the trigger. “From what I saw, Virgil married Logan sometime after Roman died, then he moved on to Dorian after Logan’s death.”

“So, Virgil goes after a celebrity and then marries them; and after a while, he kills them and moves on to another target?” Emile says aloud, trying to piece together everything his cousin had just told to them.

Remy (lightly) slammed a fist down against the bar top. Resting his head against his arm, he mumbled out, “Are you fucking serious right now…?” It was like he couldn’t believe it, and he couldn’t! All of this was too much for him.

Beside him, Toby rubbed his back while Thomas placed a hand on his shoulder. They all were grieving the same way; they grieved before when Roman first passed away, this time, they did so with the truth in their minds. It was like losing their best friend all over again.

Patton sighed. “I just don’t know what to do,” he runs a hand through his curls. “I mean…I want justice to be brought to the victims and have Virgil get the punishment he deserves…but he’s gotten away with so much. And to make matters worse, he’ll deny having any evidence in his possession.”

“Turning him in is the responsible thing to do, Patty.” Emile tells him.

“Uhm, fuck that!” Remy exclaims. “If the fucking police ain’t gonna do shit, you may as well take matters into your own hands!”

Emile looks at his boyfriend in shock. “Are you…” he leans closer to him. “Are you actually suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?!”

“Yep!” Remy downs another shot. “And damn proud of it!”

“Patton,” Emile looks back at his cousin. “You’re not actually contemplating murder, are you?”

“W-Well…”

“Good!” Remy grinned. Toby hummed in agreement. “Give that bastard what he deserves!”

“No! Patton! This is wrong!” Emile exclaims in shock. “This— This isn’t like you! You’re so much better than this, I know you are!”

“I know it too, Emmy!” Patton says. “But I just— I want to be able to avenge them.”

“And you can—”

“By murdering him!”

“—By not murdering him.” Emile insists, glaring sharply at Remy. “Bring him to the police.”

“Nope.” Toby shakes faer head, going back to faer whisky. “Ain’t gonna work.”

“Why not?” the therapist glares at his boyfriend’s cousin.

“Emmy,” Remy looks at him, lowering his sunglasses. “If that bastard’s gotten away with three murders— maybe even more— the hell makes you think the police will get his ass, and with almost no evidence to boot?! Who knows, they’re probably working with him or some shit!”

Glaring, Emile turns back to his cousin. “Patty. Let me give you some advice I learned from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.”

“Ain’t that a fantasy book, Em?” Toby raised a brow at him. “Don’t you like Disney and cartoons and stuff?”

“I do. But Ralph Bakshi made an animated movie about it in 1978, so it counts.” he explains. “Now, Patton, there’s a moment in The Fellowship of the Ring where Gandalf the Grey and Frodo Baggins talk about Gollum. And Frodo says that it was a pity that his Uncle Bilbo didn’t kill the creature. However, the wizard tells him that it was pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand.”

“So you want Patton to pity him?!”

“He says: ‘Pity and mercy: not to strike without need.’ However, Frodo says that he feels no pity for Gollum and that he deserves death—”

“Just like Virgil does!”

“— And Gandalf says: ‘Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life…Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. For even the vey wise cannot see all ends.’ Just like with Bilbo’s pity on Gollum, your own pity, will rule the fate of many.”

Remy pinches the bridge of his nose. “Emile, I get what you’re saying, I do! But Virgil doesn’t deserve pity, I don’t fucking care what you say. He’s a serial killer, someone who deserves to die! If Patton does what you say and pities him, who knows if he’s gonna be next, or there will be other victims!”

And that’s why I’m tempted to do it, Patton thinks. Because I don’t wanna die, and I don’t want there to be other potential victims.

The confectioner interrupts the arguing with a sigh, running a hand through his curls again. “I appreciate your help everyone…but I’m still not sure of what to do.”

Emile and Remy stop and look at him, expecting him to tell them but he doesn’t.

One sighs in defeat while the other huffs in annoyance.

“Y’know,” Toby pulls out a marker from faer pocket. “If you ever come to decision, I know a contact you can possibly use.” He writes on a napkin and hands it to Patton. “I’d highly advice you to be careful though, he’s a…bit of a wildcard. But I have no doubts that he’d help you if you asked him to.”

Patton wanted to ask how he knows this specific contact, but it’s better not to comment on it.

“Thank you, Toby.”

As he gets up to leave, a hand gently grabs his wrist. He discovers that it was Thomas, who looked conflicted yet he tried not to show it on the surface.

“No matter what you end up doing, Patton, we’ll still be here to support you.” he tells him.

Patton nods, smiling gently. “Thank you, Thomas.”

…

After talking to his cousin, Toby, Remy, and Thomas about his moral conundrum, Patton felt a little bit better but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t expressing some ickiness about it. What managed to keep making it seem alright, was the fact that he was doing it for justice. That was what mattered to him the most.

He sat on his couch in his apartment, looking blankly at the coffee table. On its surface were books about desserts and baking in the upper right corner, a ‘Thinking of You’ card from Emile sat nearby— a picture of Funshine and Love-A-Lot Bear sticking out of it, the latest positive review of Patty’s Sweet Confectionaries that he had yet to frame, and a child’s note drawn in big bubbly and colorful lettering.

Staring right back at him though, were the items that belonged to, or mentioned, Virgil’s husbands.

The newspaper headline stating Dorian’s “suicide.”

Logan’s posthumously released novel.

A programme of Roman’s last performance at the lounge.

Carefully, with gentle fingers, he traced over certain parts of each, gaze slowly morphing into one of sadness and heartbreak.

Emboldened words of “DORIAN CAIN,” “FOUND IN OFFICE,” and “GUN IN HAND.”

Dedicated words written for Virgil.

Roman’s beautifully illustrated face.

Patton did his best to shove away the stab in his gut. Even though they all had their faults— deceitful, abrasive, and promiscuous— none of them deserved to die they way they did.

It only added fuel to the already burning ember inside of him. He wanted to avenge them in the best way he can; a way that will allow them all to be redeemed for the price they had to pay.

A sudden bark pulled him from his thoughts.

He looked down and saw his puppy, a chocolate labrador, pawing at his legs, almost like he was trying to comfort his master. Patton smiled— small and shaky— as he ran his hand across their dark brown fur. The scratches brought comfort and satisfaction to them both, Patton the former and the puppy the latter.

“Oh…sorry, Chocolate,” he says softly. “You’re probably hungry, aren’t you? I know I’d go barking if I didn’t have food in my belly too.” Oddly, the pun felt weird on his tongue, and that was definitely a first for him.

He got up, almost sluggishly, taking the assorted items with him, and walked into the kitchen. He stood on his tippy-toes and reached in the cupboard, pulling out some homemade dog treats for his puppy. He loved making them for the dogs he occasionally walks and pet sits.

With Chocolate munching away on a couple treats, his attention turned back to the newspaper, novel, and programme. He would be taking a serious risk if he decided to go along his path, but he would have to fight fire with fire.

Suddenly, he remembered the contact that Toby gave him.

Making his way to the phone, he pulled the napkin out of his pocket, the phone number given to him shined in dark green ink. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, he picked up the phone and dialed it.

“Hello…?” he says as soon as it stops ringing on the other side. “Is this Remus Verde?…Oh, you go by Remus Duke now, I’m sorry! Hmm?…Uhm…M-My name is Patton Hart, I got your number from Toby Hallows. I run a shop called Patty’s Sweet Confectionaries, but that isn’t the reason why I called you.”

Patton took another deep inhale, follow by a deep exhale.

Then, he said, “How would you feel about helping me avenge your brother’s murder?”

#Sanders Sides #Patton Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Thomas Sanders #Dr Emile Picani #Emile Picani #Remy Sanders #Toby Sanders #Remus Sanders #Moxiety #Of Love & Murder

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twohearts-hs · 5 years

Text

‘You’re A Monster’ - Shawn Mendes Gang AU

Words: 5k

Pairing: Gang Leader!Shawn Mendes & Surgeon!(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Warnings: Swearing and Death

|| Masterlist in bio ||

“So you’re a surgeon?” The man in front of her asked, a smirk on his face. This wasn’t what she intended to happen, sitting in front of a quite large man in a dimly lit room in the basement of a warehouse. The email led her here for the job offer, therefore she shouldn’t complain.

“Was.” She replied, trying to keep a strong front. He nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair and giving her a look that sent shivers up her spine. He quickly leaned forward, inches away from her, creating a reflex of moving back for her.

“What’d you do to have your license removed?” He grinned mischievously. This definitely was not her scene.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She replied. He shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“This is not how it goes, honey. What did you do?” She refused to speak, “Do you want the job or not?” He reasoned.

“Of course I want the bloody job.” Y/N replied all too quickly, while he merely shrugged his shoulders. She took a breath, “I saved a woman who was pregnant, but I didn’t follow protocol, so they stripped me of my license. I didn’t kill someone, I saved someone; that’s a surgeon’s job.”

It was all true. Y/N did indeed need a job as she was fired from the last one over trying to save a woman. But, she constantly reminded herself it was for the best because it would’ve been selfish to let the woman die in order to keep her license. But, she didn’t expect herself to be using her medical knowledge in potentially getting a job at a well-known gang. She was desperate, the med school loans were getting higher, and her bills were due or late; she had to figure something out, and this was her only option.

“Let’s get you to talk to the boss and see if you’re hired.” He told her, getting up and motioning her to follow. Y/N accepted, taking a deep breath and calming her nerves; after all, it was a gang; she was allowed to be nervous.

She grabbed her bag and followed the unknown man down a few hallways. He turned around, looking at her, “He can be a little too much sometimes.” Y/N didn’t know how to respond, so she kept walking. She really didn’t know what to expect, possibly some old man or maybe a middle age man that had way too many girls in his life or a wife that is more plastic than alive. But, she remembered the fact that she didn’t even know his name.

“Boss?” She bumped into the man interrogating her and looked up, seeing a tall man’s back ahead of her.

“What?” The man spun around and glared at the man calling him.

“Dr Y/L/N is here to meet you.” The so-called ‘boss’ raised his eyebrows.

Y/N looked at the man and had to admit that he was definitely not what she was expecting. Young, early twenties, curly brown hair, and chestnut eyes; he was attractive, yet her eyes wandered down and saw a pistol. This is definitely a gang.

“Who?” He growled. She was shocked by his tone; it was harsh, controlling.

“The new surgeon.” He nodded, walking up to her.

“You’re a surgeon?” He asked. She nodded and smiled.

“Uhh, yes, sir.” She managed to say. He nodded and walked away. Y/N raised her eyebrows and scoffed, “Am I hired?” she blurted, causing Shawn to stop in his step.

“Can you take care of a gunshot wound?” He asked, back to her.

“Of course I can,” she scoffed, “simple medicine.” Shawn turned around and stood in the same spot, a smirk on his face.

“Then you’re hired.” He told her, “Are we done?” She rolled her eyes.

A burst of confidence came to her, and she walked towards him, “I think we should talk terms in your office. I don’t work for whatever.” He smirked at her and shook his head.

“Princess, this is life or death right now. Work with me, you live, and if you don’t I’ll kill you on the spot because you know where we are stationed. There are no terms in this business, you work for me in order to keep your life.” He replied sternly.

“If I don’t accept, your men, doing illegal things, may I add, would die—” She began but was interrupted.

“I can call any surgeon to replace you. But, you can’t get another job, princess, your license has been stripped. Yes, I’ve read your file, Y/N.” He added, she stood still.

“Then call any other surgeon, I am not working to keep my life.” Shawn groaned, throwing his head back.

“You bloody doctors think you own the place with all your medical knowledge...thirty grand.” He tried to settle.

“A month?” He scoffed and shook his head.

“A year.”

“I am a surgeon. I make five times that.”

“You’re not a surgeon, not anymore.” He really had to rub it in.

“One fifty.”

He was so close to being done, but honestly, he was starting to dig her persistent personality, “One hundred, beautiful.”

She nodded, placing her hand out to him. “Deal.” He shook it, “So what do I call you, boss?” Y/N asked.

“Shawn, princess.”

Y/N hasn’t seen Shawn since and she had been there for a week. It was a job, she went there to help people because that was what she was destined to do. She went there to save people from bloody (excuse the pun) gunshot wounds, and repeat.

It was boring if she was, to be honest. Y/N missed the OR and holding a beating heart in her hands, having to figure out whether they live or die, but at least she still had a scalpel in her reach. The most interesting thing that had happened was a knife in the eye, where she had to give that man a pat on the back and an eye patch, nothing else to do.

Yet, it was a job. She could pay her bills, but it wasn’t the best paycheck to pay off med school. It angered her, how stubborn and unfair that her boss was. But, she was paying the price of her mistake; though she didn’t regret saving that woman.

Y/N closed the door to her car and locked it, shoving her handbag on her shoulder and taking steps to her townhouse. Another interesting day of gang members with awful tattoos hitting on her.

“Princess,” she jumped looking to her left and seeing Shawn leaning against a fence. Y/N placed her hand over her heart and let out a breath.

“Fuck, Shawn,” she mumbled, looking at him, “next time warn me.”

He laughed, pushing himself off the fence and walking to her. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

She didn’t know how to reply, therefore she walked up to her door. “Think I have too.” She told him, opening her door and walking in, the handsome fella following her.

She set her bag on the kitchen counter and watched Shawn look around her living area, particularly eyeing her degrees.

“I’ve read your work. You’re an amazing surgeon. The boys and I are blessed to have you.” She scoffed, opening a bottle of wine and pouring herself a hefty glass.

“Your boys. Fuck, they have no respect for women.” Shawn raised his eyebrows and gave her a worrying look. Y/N passed him also a glass of wine, which he declined, making her pour his portion into her glass.

“What do you mean?” Shawn sounded worried.

She shook her head and brought the glass to her lips. “They are your typical ‘bad boys’. Catcalling, touching, etc. But, don’t worry, it’s my job to help them, live or die, ey?”

Shawn just looked blankly at her. “It doesn’t matter. They need to respect you. You’re a part of the group, princess. Fuck, you’re more valuable to me than them.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t care who and what is valuable, I’m not an object. I’m just there to do my job. Now, why are you here?”

He raised his brows and smirked. “A few reasons. For one, I want to tell you that I am your boss and you have to talk to me with respect. And, if anything happens to you regarding those shits or anything, you bloody tell me, ok?” She nodded, “Now, you’re well known for your surgical skills, so I need you to fake your death.” That came out of nowhere.

Y/N choked on her wine and stared, “what?”

He groaned; no patience in within him. “You are known to the medical community. If word got out that you were working with a gang and that leads them to me, that’ll be a problem. So, I have to do something. I’m going to arrange for you to die, so you can’t be traced, and then we go from there.”

She stared at him with shock. “What?” She sneered, “I’m not going to die, I have family and friends. I am not part of your gang.”

Shawn stood blank-faced and just stared at her. “Life or death, honey. Chose wisely.”

Y/N had no idea what she got herself into. She had no idea what this meant, “You keep saying that and I really don’t know what you mean.” She yelled at him, grabbing her hair in frustration, “I signed up to save your people, and I am pretty god damn good at my job.”

Shawn was mesmerized by her attitude. She wasn’t scared of him, even though he had killed more men than he could count on his fingers and toes. He had scars across his body, people quivered from his stare, and he was more than just deadly. Y/N didn’t give a fuck about all that, and it was mesmerizing to him.

“You’re not scared of me, eh?” He placed an arm against the wall and leaned in.

She scoffed, “Some people may be scared of you, boss, but I see the real you. I see the soft Shawn inside. I read people, and that is why I am so good at what I do. I know when people are in pain without them telling me.” She replied with no emotion. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t.

“Really? Tell me what you get from me then.” He whispered playfully.

“You are lonely, and you fill your days by being rude, nasty, mean, and murderous to try and make yourself feel better. But, it doesn’t work. At the end of the day, you just want someone to hold you.”

Shawn stayed still, not knowing what to say. “You don’t know shit about me.” He mumbled, smirk long gone.

“I know you don’t like people knowing your secrets.”

“I think you should be careful who you open your mouth too, princess.” He cocked, putting his hands on his hips and revealing a hidden gun. He looked at her once more and walked out the door. She knew that she couldn’t get out of this any more.

“Alejandro!” She exclaimed as she walked into the room, grabbing rubber gloves and placing them on.

“Mi amor!” She welcomed him with a big smile. She pulled the stool out and sat down, gathering her utensils to check out his wound.

“How are the grandkids?” She asked, beginning to remove the bandage from his arm.

The older man chuckled, “Fine, fine, mi querido. How are you, beautiful?” She smiled, as she began stitching his wound up.

“Quite dandy. So, tell me about your day?”

Alejandro was her favourite patient, always able to make her laugh and forget her worries. He was the kind of guy you’d never expect to be in the drug business. He was so kind and wore his heart on his sleeve. He was the only piece of sunshine in her life at the moment.

“Any cute boys in your life, amigo?”

She laughed. “I’ll tell you once you stop injuring yourself. Every week I see you in here. Your poor wife.”

He laughed, shaking his finger. “That bitch doesn’t care, amor. But if I don’t get hurt, I can’t see you. Boss doesn’t like when we hang around the medical bay.”

She laughed and nodded.

They talked for a few more minutes until they got interrupted. In a second, Shawn appeared with a gun to her friend’s head.

“Five million. Where is my five million dollars?” He spat out, not even looking at Y/N. It hurt him seeing her expression in the side of his eye. She stood there, shocked while clenching her forceps.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, boss,” Alejandro muttered, quivering by the tip of the gun hitting his forehead. Y/N stared at the man that she deeply believed had a little bit of remorse or nobility. She wouldn’t accept that she was scared, in fact, she truly believed that he was a good person.

“You stole five million from me.” Alejandro looked at him with a blank expression, and instantly he was shot.

Y/N screamed. Shawn looked at her, sadness in his eyes for her, but no pity for the dead man.

“Get him out of here.” He muttered to his two guys next to him, “And grab her.”

She was grabbed by the arm by some guy, yet she didn’t object as she was simply in shock. She was in shock because she just saw her only friend at the moment getting shot. Not just shot, but dead in front of her eyes.

Y/N had seen death many times in her life before. She had battled it for her patients every day, but seeing someone kill another was totally different. Death was nasty to her, constantly trying to steal people away from her. But, Death didn’t play the role today; Shawn did. Shawn took away someone.

Shawn closed the door behind him, telling his guys to leave them alone. She was left in a darkened room with a desk and computer. She sat, looking blankly at him.

“Are you scared of me?” He asked, closing the door, but still back towards her.

It took a while for her to find her voice, but eventually, she did, “No.” She muttered. He sighed, turning around and looking at her with the most loving eyes she had ever seen in her life.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Y/N.” He mumbled, walking towards her and pulling a chair out, sitting and grabbing her hands.

He looked at her, wanting sympathy, yet she didn’t know where she was lying at the moment. He’d just killed someone. He was a murderer.

“You killed someone,” she choked out, letting a tear roll down her cheek. He nodded, gripping her hands so tightly, as if he wanted human connection more than oxygen. He wanted to be real for a moment, to expose himself to her.

“I had too.” She shook her head rapidly, as she looked up to his chestnut eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything, Shawn. You killed a man who meant so much to me. He was the only person in my life that cared for me at the moment. You took that away.”

She was shocked not only by his actions minutes ago, but the way he was opening up to her was even more shocking, yet he still killed someone.

“I care for you, Y/N. I care so fucking much about you, you don’t understand. I can’t sleep because all I can think of is you putting your hair into a ponytail or the laughter you share with the guys or the smile you have whenever you look at me. I care way too much for you and it hurts that I can’t be the person you want me to be.” He told her, holding onto her hands hard as they faced each other.

“Don’t use that as an excuse for what you did,” she spat. Shawn understood where she laid. He shouldn’t have brought up his feelings for her. But, he did, and that was what made him an awful person in his eyes.

“He stole five million dollars, princess.” She shook her head, pulling her hands away from his. His heart sank from the lack of heat from her small hands.

“I knew he stole five million dollars from you, Shawn, he told me when he did. He was so afraid of you. Yet, he stole it to save his village back at home. He stole it to send his granddaughter to university; she wants to be a doctor. You have so much money, Shawn. He wanted to be a good person, someone you could never be.” She told him, getting up and heading to the door.

“You said you’re not scared of me.” He said right as she was about to grab the doorknob.

“I’m not scared of you, Shawn. But, I do think that you’re a monster.” She told him, turning around and looking at the man she had caught feelings for the last few weeks.

She walked out. Shawn closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, anger and misery beginning to consume his bloodstream. She told him that he was a monster, and she walked out. And in theory, he did believe he was a monster.

Shawn didn’t sleep that night. He constantly rolled around his king bed, trying to find comfort, but her words lingered in his brain. “You're a monster.” To him, Y/N was perfection in his dark world of corruption. Shawn opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He needed to clear things with her, but at the moment it was so raw. He was falling for her, and he was falling for her hard.

He got up, walking through his apartment and grabbing a glass of water. It was a little past three. He opened the fridge, looking for something, but there wasn’t much; leftovers mostly. He groaned the only light in the room was the fridge light and the moonlight coming from the big window behind him.

The brunette was up all night, therefore he had time to think. He was a monster; he had come to terms with it. But, he got into this business, so he had to be. But, he wasn’t a monster to her. He was trying so hard to be perfect to her. But, Shawn was quiet and rude around her. That, or flirtatious and mysterious. He was a player, but for her, he’d go down on his knees and beg for mercy.

A knock was what brought him out of his daze. He walked towards his door, loose sweatpants hung to his figure, messy hair and tired bags complimented him. Yet, he wondered who would come at this time. He hadn’t gotten a call telling of an emergency, but he had an urge to open it.

“Y/N?” He opened, staring at the girl’s worried expression. She stood in front of him, with pyjama pants and a coat. She looked at him, and he questioned everything about why she was there.

“You sell drugs, right?” She asked out of nowhere. He was still trying to place puzzle pieces together; how she knew he lived here, why she was here, was she ok.

“Yes.” He answered. She looked cold and he just wanted to grab her and hold her forever.

“Do you have enemies?” Y/N was so emotionless with her questions, and it drove him to pain; he needed to figure out what was wrong.

“Of course.” She nodded, noticing now that he was shirtless, scars littering his body.

Yet, she didn’t know how to put this next statement to him, “I feel unsafe,” she muttered, “I went to the warehouse to find you, but you weren’t there. Matt told me your address.”

Shawn instantly got worried and opened the door to let her in. He closed it and turned to her.

“I was about to go home, but there was a guy hanging by my door. I stayed put in my car for an hour and he didn’t move. I can’t call the police, so I came to you.” Shawn nodded, looking at her as she stood in the moonlight, and all he could do was be in awe.

“What did he look like?” He watched as she dropped her coat and grabbed the blanket that was thrown across his couch. “Here, let me get you a hoodie.” He mumbled, walking back to his room and retrieving one and handing it to her.

Y/N reluctantly put it on, and she was so cute in it, so perfect. “I couldn’t see his face, but he had this tattoo on his arm. It was like a skull and a triangle and-”

“Fucking Isaac.” He muttered, running his hands through his hair and looking at her. “You aren’t going back to your house until this is sorted. I’ll get one of the guys to grab you some stuff, but otherwise, you’re staying with me.” He told her.

“Shawn, is that really necessary?” He looked at her and placed his hands on her cheeks.

“I care about you a lot, Y/N. Isaac is from our rival gang. He must’ve heard how important you are to me. So, yes, it is necessary. You aren’t to leave without me, you go with me to work, you are to never be alone. Because this could go either two ways: he kills you, or he kidnaps you, and that’s worse than being killed.” She nodded. He let out a shaky breath and grabbed her shoulders, bringing her into a hug.

Y/N was surprised for a second, yet later wrapped her hands around the gentle giant. Shawn nuzzled his face into her hair and placed a delicate kiss on her head. He pulled away and tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled. She had to admit, he may be a horrible person in his work environment, but he was the softest person to her.

“Thank you.” She muttered, looking up at his eyes and he smiled, grabbing her hands and bringing it to his lips.

“Bedtime for you.” She nodded, as she followed him to the guest room.

“But Y/N, thank you for being in my life.” She smiled, getting into the duvet as Shawn closed the lights and headed to his room.

The minute his head hit the pillow, sleep drowned him. He was finally able to sleep at this late hour, but it didn’t take long till he heard small paddling of feet in his hallway. As a person who is constantly in danger, the smallest sounds wake him. His eyes shot open and he heard his door open and instantly - forgetting that he had Y/N staying over - he leaned to his left and grabbed his gun on his bedside table and pointed it at the unknown figure.

“Shawn?” Her small delicate nectar voice was heard and he relaxed, placing the gun down.

“Hi, honey,” she leaned against the door, “can’t sleep?” She nodded. Shawn bit his lip and placed the gun back to where it was. He pulled the duvet up to signal her to come in; which she complied.

Y/N sat on the mattress and swung her legs over, watching as Shawn placed the blankets on her small body compared to his.

“Thank you.” He smiled, watching as she turned away, therefore he followed.

Moments later, he heard the ruffle of blankets and a body moving. He was welcomed to an arm swung across his frame and a face nuzzling into his neck. He smiled, feeling so happy at the moment. Y/N was cuddling him. His future love was touching him in a matter that wasn’t forced. She was asleep in his bed and she was holding him, so he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

His first feeling was heat. He felt sweat and heat between two bodies and he instantly remembered the beautiful lady in his bed. A humble smile came to him as he opened his eyes to morning dawn and the chirping of little birds outside his window.

Shawn looked around and saw that her face was laid on his chest and his arms were wrapped around her. It was perfect. It was the most beautiful way to be woken up. He just pitied himself for not having this happiness sooner.

He placed a kiss on her forehead and she began to move gently. “Morning,” he mumbled as her pearl eyes opened. She wasn’t afraid, far from it.

“I have to get to work.” Is all she mumbled. Shawn let out a little laugh and she smiled.

“Let’s get something to eat first.” He mumbled, playing with her hair as he stared into her eyes. She gave him a smile.

“Shawn?” He cocked his eyebrow. “Kiss me.” He laughed awkwardly, but she was so much in a daze to realise.

“Y/N-” She shook her head.

“You care about me, I care about you. We have major tension between us. We have feelings for each other, so just kiss me.” He nodded, leaning down and grabbing her cheeks gently as their lips met.

It was so clichè, but it was perfect for them. He was gentle, not dominating, as they kissed each other with perfect rhythm. Her fingers were in his hair as his hands wandered to her hips. He tugged on them, making her move to be on top of him as they continued to make out. But, it was pure bliss and way too overwhelming to worry about anything.

“You’re so cute,” she mumbled, pulling away and looking at him like a lovesick puppy.

“I prefer the word sexy or hot, honey, but that’ll do.” He told her, kissing her lips again.

They left each other at the warehouse with the linger of a hand touching and a kiss to the cheek. It was cute, honeymoon-like. And every one of Shawn’s mates would agree that he deserved this, he deserved to be happy.

Little did she know what the problems were with being with a gang leader. He was constantly in danger.

Y/N hadn’t heard from Shawn all day. Honestly, she wasn’t worried about it. She sat, hanging around, checking up on her patients, going out for lunch with Geoff and grabbing a coffee for herself, and doing a little shopping. She honestly thought that being out in broad daylight wouldn’t cause problems, and Geoff was with her. So, that night she filled it with drinking wine and watching reruns of a sitcom.

But, she went back, hearing from Geoff that there was a heist that night and had to return back to the warehouse. Yet, he let out all the details as to just how bad this fight was.

“What do we got?” She asked, grabbing gloves and walking to Geoff. He gave her a look and pointed to one of the medical beds that a curtain covered.

She went to it, opening it and stared. Shawn. Shawn was in her medical bay and he was hurt...really bad.

“Don’t touch me. Get my girlfriend.” He muttered to one of the guys who was trying to apply pressure to the gashing wound on his stomach.

“Get, Y/N. She’s the best, don’t bloody touch me!” He kept going on and on and Y/N took a breather.

“Shawn.” His eyes shot up to her and he smiled, yet recognised her worried face.

“Baby. I got a little roughed up, that’s all, I promise you.” She nodded, walking towards his wound and pulling open the bandage. She closed her eyes and looked at him.

“What happened?”

He smiled, trying to lighten up the mood. “Just got in a fight, that’s all.”

She laughed. “A fight? You’ve got a cut in your abdomen, so close to muscle. And your shoulder is dislocated.” He smiled an awkward smile and she groaned. “Everyone get out!” She turned away from him, gathering supplies to disinfect the wound and to create stitches. “You’re gonna be out of the ballgame for a little while.” She muttered, turning around as he looked at her with puppy eyes.

“Baby…” She raised her eyebrows and walked towards his dislocated shoulder.

“This is gonna hurt… a lot. Scream as loud as you want.” She told him grabbing his arm and placing it to the side, hearing a groan. Then, slowly she moved his arm so that his hand was behind her head. Finally, she began reaching for the other shoulder and his shoulder popped right in.

“Fuck!” He yelled, making her giggle.

“Stop being a pussy.” She mumbled, grabbing the needle and forceps and getting down to business.

“So, keep that patch on for a few days. I live with you, so I’ll change it soon.” She told him, still not making eye contact with her boyfriend.

He sensed her anger and worry. Yet, he knew she shouldn’t let personal feelings break through. Shawn was hurt, yes. Shawn got himself in trouble, yes. So she shouldn’t be such a bitch.

“Y/N,” she turned around and stared at him, all bandaged up, “come here.” She obliged and walked towards him.

Shawn grabbed her hand with the hand that wasn’t strapped within the brace and looked at her.

“Thank you,” She smiled as he gave her the kissy lips, which she leant down to, connecting the two together.

“I love you,” he muttered, pulling away. She looked at him, as he realised what he said.

“Y/N, princess, I-”

She smiled, placing her finger against his lips, “I love you too, doofus.”

Tag list - comment, dm, or inbox me to be added.

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#shawn mendes #shawn #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes preferences #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fanfic #gang leader shawn mendes #gang!shawn

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ghoulishboyhummel · 5 years

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worth a shot || self para

WHO: Aaron Hummel talking to Elizabeth Hummel’s tombstone. Mentions of Burt Hummel, Kurt Hummel ( @gleedalekurt ), Marley Rose ( @marleyrosens ), Blaine Anderson ( @northsideblaine ), and Sebastian Smythe ( @northsidesmythe ). Minor mentions of Charlotte Rose ( @serpentchar ), Alejandro Hart ( @hartdalemd ), Benji Karofsky ( @benjikarofsky ), and Franco Del Rio ( @southsidefranco )

WHEN: Tuesday, May 28

WHERE: Riverdale Cemetery

TRIGGERS: None, I think.

WARNINGS: Guys, Aaron cries and only swears once. It’s a big deal.

Aaron needed someone to talk to about...everything, but he needed someone completely detached from all of this and won’t get hung up on his feelings or anything.

So he drove to the cemetery and walked to his mother’s grave.

He hadn’t visited since the funeral, always too worried about what would happen in his head if he saw the tombstone with her name on it. But there were no other options and as they say, no time like the present. When he came upon the grave, he sat down in front of it, knowing he was probably going to be here for a bit.

“Hey, mom. It’s Aaron.” He started, laughing to himself when he thought about how ridiculous this whole idea was, but he stayed. “I don’t believe in any religious shi-stuff,” he doesn’t know why he corrected his language, Elizabeth can’t care how he speaks, but he did “But I can kind of get behind ghosts so I guess that’ll be my excuse for talking here.”

This was weird, but also strangely right, to do. Talk to his mom like she was really here and standing in front of him instead of six feet under.

“I’m 21, turning 22 this year. That’s cool, right? You haven’t seen me since I was 8...I’m sorry I never visited after the funeral. Even after I ran away and had full choice of my life, I chose to stay away from your grave.”

Aaron tapped his finger against his leg, “A lot has happened, mom. I know you only knew me for a year, but you were the best mother I could ask for and then you were just gone. I couldn’t get your pancakes on Saturdays anymore, I couldn’t make you sit through my dumb little videos anymore, everything changed with us when you died.” He took a steady breath while his mind drifted to the arguments he had with Burt, to running away, to everything that could have been avoided if she didn’t die. “Dad and I don’t get along, really at all now. He tried to pin attempted murder on me, can you believe that?” He paused to laugh, albeit, a little reluctantly, “But now he’s been arrested for being the town serial killer so, I guess that’s karma.”

“Kurt and I are working on it. After I ran away, I tried to pretend like I hated him. I joined the Ghoulies, you know, like the Serpents but with a cooler logo and a little more dangerous.” That time, Aaron actually did laugh, “But after some crazy fu-after some crazy stuff happened, we decided to give the brothers thing a shot again. We even live together. At least, we’ll go back to living together once I’m fully sober and done with withdrawal. I won’t lie, mom, I’ve had some pretty bad alcohol problems in the recent past. But I’m getting better now, Marley’s been a big help.”

His hands started doing their own thing to distract himself. “You remember the Rose’s, right? Charlie and Marley, twins a year older than me. Charlie and I are friends, she even joined one of the gangs after a whole bunch of things happened. Not the Ghoulies, unfortunately, but I guess the Serpents are okay to join for her. But Marley...I really like her. And she likes me too, I know because she told me ages ago. I’ve only known about my feelings for a couple of weeks. But I haven’t told her.” Even though he knew it was ridiculous, saying it out loud was worse.

“I’m sure it sounds dumb, but there are so many complications so I have a very good reason for not telling her. You know Blaine? He told her he loves her, like actually loves her, and kissed her. Then he kissed me a bit ago. And I don’t even know how to be a good person, let alone a good boyfriend. So, maybe I should just wait and let Marley fall for Blaine instead, or just let her feelings for me die out entirely.” That also sounded dumb, because there was no telling when his own feelings would die out. It took a long time for his crush on Jackson to go away.

“If you really can watch over me or whatever, then you probably already knew some of that. And I’m sorry for everything you’ve seen me do; running away, calling the cops on myself, being an alcoholic, breaking into the Hayward’s office, though I had legitimate reasons for that, and for being a dealer and gang leader.” Aaron felt some tears roll down his cheeks and he quickly wiped them away. “I’m sure I haven’t turned out the way you thought I would when you adopted me. But I’m not awful, right? I’m not a sociopath like that Benji kid thinks I am? I’m pretty sure I’m not, sociopaths don’t feel remorse or guilt for the things they do, and I do feel bad for everything I did to him and Franco. Having sex with Franco while they’re together was wrong, taking so long to apologize probably wasn’t the best move either. That means something, doesn’t it?”

He was silent for a bit, almost like he was waiting for a response, some assurance that he wasn’t a bad person. But obviously no response came.

“I miss you. I really miss you, mom. It’s not fair that I only got a year with you, I can’t help but think I wouldn’t be so...messed up, if you were still here. I’d probably be a lot nicer, I probably wouldn’t get into fights, definitely wouldn’t be a drug dealer, who knows? I might have even left town by now to take my filming elsewhere. But none of that happened. You died, and dad and I kept arguing, and I ran away.” This time, Aaron didn’t bother trying to wipe away the tears that were falling. “Sebastian, I’m kind of friends with him now, can you believe that?” He shook his head and continued, “Anyways, Sebastian told me that he always kind of wondered what it was like to have a mom that cared for her kids. Obviously being my sad orphan self, I could definitely relate. I guess I still do relate. Considering I don’t still have a mom that cared for her kids, I don’t...I don’t have a mom at all now.” He breathed, trying to keep his voice steady, though it was really hard to do so.

“I don’t blame you, obviously. Not your fault you died. I don’t even blame dad, though looking back, I’m sure I may have made it seem like that. I don’t think I can blame anyone. Death happens, that’s life. It sucks, you get over it, you move on. But I don’t think I’ve ever really “moved on” from anything.” He leaned back a bit in his criss-cross positioning, “I’m still really pissed at my birth parents for just leaving me. I’m pissed at this screwed up world for taking you away from us, I’m pissed at dad for...everything he’s done since becoming Sheriff. But most of all, I think I’m pissed at myself. I keep letting things affect me, I keep lying, I definitely have issues. What’s the line between outside circumstance and just me not trying hard enough to be a better person? Have I crossed it? Is it too late for me to try to be a better person?”

Now, he was kind of regretting doing this. The silence after his last couple of questions was deafening. “I suggested that Kurt should come here and talk to you, so if he hasn’t yet, I’m not trying to take away his big news when I mention that I don’t know how I feel about him being engaged.” Aaron let out a sigh, “I’m happy for him, obviously. He’s my older brother and I’m glad that Ale makes him happy. But I just wish he’d tell me for sure what his plans were. If he doesn’t want to live with me anymore and would rather live with Ale, I’m fine with that. Really. It’d be better for him to stay on the Northside with his great fiancé and do what he needs to do instead of kicking it back on the Southside with me. But it seems like everyone’s been so worried about if I’m going to have a breakdown or something if he leaves and I think that’s why he hasn’t told me for sure yet. If he wants to live with me still, awesome, if he doesn’t, that’s great too. I just want him to be happy.”

Aaron tilted his head to the side a little, “I don’t want people worrying about me. I get it, I went back to drinking and clearly I’m more upset about dad being arrested than I tell people but I’m fine now. Marley isn’t talking to me because I got mad and punched her dad, but I’m fine. It sucks that despite leading an entire gang now and having all these people who say they care about me, this is the loneliest I’ve felt in a while, but I’m fucking fine.” He knew that it was a lie, especially since it’s like a swearing filter had been turned on while here and he just said ‘fucking’, and after sighing again, he decided to tell the truth. Not like it matters here, right? “I’m not fine. This is all so messed up and I should be glad that I even have people that care about me despite the awful things I’ve done. I’m lucky Kurt’s given me so many chances, I’m lucky Marley isn’t going to be upset with me forever, I’m lucky I have so many amazing people in my life. I just don’t know why that isn’t enough for me yet, why I feel lonely and so self deprecating that it actually hurts sometimes when I have people telling me that I’m a good person.”

Checking the time, he sees that he’s been here for a little over an hour. Just crying and talking to his mother’s grave.

“I should go. Don’t want people worrying about where I am and all, they might think I’ve gone to a bar or something.” He moved to stand up and wiped away his tears. “I love you, mom. I don’t think that’s ever going to stop. And as much as I hate crying and talking about how I feel, this was nice. Maybe I’ll come visit more. And bring flowers, people do that, right?” Aaron pushed some of his hair back, “Okay, I’m gonna go. Bye, mom. Hope you’re having more fun than I am.”

#para #para: aaron hummel #para: worth a shot

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heartsoulrocknroll · 5 years

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American Idol Season 17 - Top 40 Review

Alyssa Raghu - Dear Future Husband - Alyssa's performance was a lot of fun. This was the first time I've ever seen her look natural and comfortable on the stage. And this was a very good vocal infused with more personality than I've ever heard from her. I liked it. Result: Advanced

Madison VanDenburg - Who's Loving You - Madison knocked it right out of the park again with another perfect vocal. This girl is ridiculous. That slow vibrato is one of the most gorgeous things I've ever heard. And those runs at the beginning? And that glory note at the end? Come on, girl. Come on. Result: Advanced

Myra Tran - How Far I'll Go - Myra's nerves did her in on this one. She started off out of time with the band, never really found the pitch, and finished the performance a lot of out of tune screeching. I hate that she flopped here, because she is still very obviously better than several of the people that the judges put through. Result: Eliminated

Logan Johnson - Sorry - Logan nearly put me to sleep, as usual. Who cares about his terrible Spanish? I'm so bored. Result: Advanced

Nate Walker - Still - What they showed of Nate's performance was not good. That big note in the middle? I have no idea where he was going with that, but it certainly didn't go anywhere that made a bit of sense. This is another situation that sucks, because he is also better than several of the people they put through, but he surely didn't prove that here. Result: Eliminated

Dimitrius Graham - Latch - I don't know where this voice of Dimitrius' came from, because Idol surely has never shown us anything like this from him in the past. The only thing I remember him doing is completely butchering Wind Beneath My Wings in the first round of Hollywood. But anyway, I actually liked this performance, from the subtle beginning to the big notes at the end. It was a little dramatic though. Result: Advanced

Ashley Hess - Gone Away - Ashley delivered a pretty nice vocal here. I didn't like the song choice at all and her vocal didn't excite me in any way. I actually don't have any feelings about it at all. Result: Advanced

Drake McCain - Girls Like You - Drake's vocal here was really, really rough. Definite proof that he doesn't belong in this competition and shouldn't have even made it this far. Result: Eliminated

Kai the Singer - Where the Wild Things Are - This was an absolutely terrible vocal. There is no reason whatsoever that the judges should have even said yes to her in her initial audition, and this was proof of that fact. Result: Eliminated

Laci Kaye Booth - Georgia on My Mind - This vocal was absolutely gorgeous. This song has been done to death on this show, and she still managed to bring something fresh to it. However, I do really wish that somebody would tell her to stop doing that little hiccup thing and just sing the whole word, because her tendency to do that is ruining something that could otherwise be fantastic. Result: Advanced

Nick Townsend - Hold Back the River - Nick delivered another of several terrible vocal performances tonight. The whole thing was out of tune and the chorus was basically just shouting. Result: Eliminated

Walker Burroughs - Youngblood - Walker is such a breath of fresh air. It is so nice every once in a while to see someone just sit at the piano and sing a song with perfect pitch, tone, dynamics -- no theatrics, no dancing, no vocal acrobatics even. Just a timeless voice that doesn't need any gimmicks whatsoever. On top of all that, his self-awareness is admirable. For him to say that this was his weakest performance -- when there was virtually nothing wrong with it that would be apparent to anyone else -- shows great self-awareness. Result: Advanced

Ryan Hammond - A Song For You - I think Ryan may have won me over with this vocal. This was gorgeous and showed off the full, rich quality of his tone without any of that annoying, swallowed sound that has been bothering me in the past. Very dynamic performance -- beautiful in both the soft, subtle moments and the big power moments. Result: Advanced

Kate Barnette - Royals - I feel like I probably would have enjoyed Kate's funky take on this song had they showed enough of it for me to make a judgement. All I know is I like what I heard. Result: Advanced

Evelyn Cormier - No Roots - My problem with Evelyn up to this point has been the fact that she obviously has a voice in there somewhere, but she has been covering it up with some fake nonsense. This could have been the first time I ever got Evelyn. But again, they didn't really show enough for me to say. From what I heard, this is the kind of vibe that actually works and makes sense for her. Blues, funky stuff. The moaning on the ballads is gonna have to stop. Result: Advanced

Emma Kleinberg - Is This Love - What they showed of Emma's performance wasn't anything worth talking about. However, based on her audition and what little she did here, I feel like she's better than several people the judges put in the top 20. But I haven't seen enough of her to really know, so I can't really care about her getting cut. Result: Eliminated

Uche - Play that Funky Music - Oh. My. God. I was freaking out for the entirety of Uche's performance. A+++ song choice for him. The opening scream!! And the run that followed!! Those low notes!!! What on Earth!!! How he managed all that dancing and running around while still delivering those insane vocals is far beyond my comprehension. This was the wildest thing I've ever seen on Idol. Dude is a born performer. Result: Advanced

Alejandro Aranda - Yellow - I've had enough of Alejandro putting me to sleep. They need to take that guitar away from him and make him just stand there and sing. See how impressed people are when they have nothing to distract them from his vocal mediocrity. Geez. Result: Advanced

Jeremiah Lloyd Harmon - Landslide - Jeremiah is a special, special talent. I expected him to be on piano for this song, but no. He just stood there and sang with that gorgeous tone of his, delivered a perfect vocal, and brought tears to my eyes. He's another one who is proof that if you have a truly great voice, you don't need any sort of crutch or gimmick. Every performance of his is so genuine. He pours his soul into every song he sings and you can literally feel his pain. I don't know that I've ever experienced anything like that with any other singer. And what a sweet guy. Result: Advanced

Shayy - All I Ask - Shayy's entire vocal was a shaky, out of tune, screechy mess. She's very clearly not ready for a competition like this and needs lessons to learn to better control her voice. Result: Eliminated

Riley Thompson - Mama's Broken Heart - Welcome to Karaoke Night with Riley. This performance elicits nothing but a lot of eye rolling from me. Average to poor vocals, no originality whatsoever, annoying tone, too young. Ridiculous that they put her through. Truly ridiculous. Result: Advanced

Wade Cota - Work Song - Is this a joke? Seriously guys. He's been bad before, but this was another level of bad. His enunciation and growly tone were exaggerated to the point of complete absurdity. No one should ever take him seriously if he can't take himself seriously. "Why" was precisely the response he should have had to the judges' telling him he made the top 20. Nonsense. Result: Advanced

Margie Mays - All About that Bass - A really bad vocal and a really stupid song choice. She definitely did herself in with that. Result: Eliminated

Eddie Island - Don't You Worry Child - Eddie's trying real hard to make me dislike him with his obnoxious goofiness. I like his voice when he stays in his lower range, but when he reaches for higher notes like he did on this song, he gets real shouty and annoying. Result: Advanced

Tyler Mitchell - Suitcase - I swear, I've never seen a person with less of a personality than Tyler. The guy has a nice voice, but this wasn't great. Just mediocre and very boring. Result: Eliminated

Laine Hardy - Come Together - Listen. When that boy came out on the stage with his new, polished look and asked the crowd, "Y'all ready to party with the Hardy?" I yelled at my TV. YES SIR. YOU GO RIGHT AHEAD. I really enjoyed this performance and I wish they had shown us more of it. I wasn't sure about the song choice at first, but I loved the grit his voice brought to it. I'm so glad Laine knows who he is now, and I'm so glad he's showing the world that he's not a country singer. He is a blues rock star, y'all, and I'm loving it. Result: Advanced

#american idol #idol season 17 #idol reviews #idol abc

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