#i've been staring at this shit for so long idk what to feel anymore

[stellorc]

I Shall Move Hell

angry self-righteous jedi about to take a trip downhill. In this house we support unhinged women.

process gif under the cut :)

i had to stop this piece for three weeks until i had the courage to stare at armor pics and do studies to make the metal not look like actual shit. Goal accomplishment is questionable but at least is Done.

very proud of the mask tho

[absgay]

“I’ve been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night, and now I see daylight.” (part one)

words count: 2.5k

warnings: 18+ ptsd, friends to lovers, angst, smut, death, owen, violence, fluff, grammar, idk tbh. (she/her pronouns) writing for fun!

summary: friends don’t look at each other this way, do they? You couldn’t stop thinking about her, things will never be the same.

part two,

• “Please— No.” you thought, as someone walked in. You couldn’t fight anymore, couldn’t even move from the ground. You didn’t know what to do or what to say as a stranger approached you, quietly and armed. He looked nothing like them. “Are you okay?” You breathed in and out, trying to remain calm as your hands were still shaking from the attack. You looked at their bodies, just laying there, bloody and almost unrecognisable. “I’m Owen.” he said. “What’s your name? What happened? Are you hurt?” You remained silent as the man kneeled next to you. “They killed them. They’re all dead, they’re gone, and it’s all my fault.” You trembled as the words left your mouth. Owen sighed and touched your shoulder. “Okay…” he hummed. “Hey— Look at me, you’re gonna need medical attention, you’re bleeding. We need to take care of these wounds.”

• “Wait— Who’s that?” Abby asked. “I’ve never seen her before. I thought Isaac didn’t allow any new members at the moment.” She looked at you from across the room as you stood next to others, visibly intimidated by the crowded hall. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Nora said. “Owen and Danny went on patrol last week and found her. Owen’s the one who heard the attack as they were driving near the marina. Apparently, she wasn’t alone, she was travelling with a few other trespassers but they got attacked by Scars.” Abby nodded. “From what I've heard, it was pretty violent. She’s the only one who made it.” The tall woman stared at you, intrigued. “She was in shock when he found her.”

• “Fuck me.” you murmured to yourself, the words directed to your insomnia as you turned around in bed, staring at the ceiling, once again. You walked towards the library, enjoying the calming atmosphere as the stadium didn’t feel as loud and overwhelming as it usually did. During your last conversation with Whitney, she had mentioned the library as you talked about your sleepless nights with her. “It could be nice, it could distract me.” you thought. And as you walked in, you weren’t expecting to see anyone there. You wandered throughout the alleys, looking at the different sections as you searched for the right book. “Who’s there?” someone asked, the unexpected question giving you chills as you turned around and gasped. “Shit, I’m sorry.” Abby chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” The blond woman was laying down on the bench, a book in hand. “I— It’s okay, I was not expecting to see anyone here at night.” you sighed. “I’m Abby.” she said. “I know.” you chuckled, nervously. “I mean— I heard about you, I’ve seen you around and,” Abby smirked as she sat down. “Everyone is always talking about you, somehow. It’s pretty admirable, even intimidating.” Abby scoffed and shook her head. “What are you reading?” you asked. “The Great Gatsby.” Abby answered, glancing at the book resting on her thighs. “Insomnia?” The woman asked. “Yeah…” You turned back to the bookshelves near the blond. Abby didn’t mean to stare at you so intrusively and deeply, but couldn’t help it as she noticed the bruises and wounds on your arms. You glanced at her, the blond looking away as she hummed, embarrassed. “Any recommendations?” you asked. “Well,” she cleared her throat, then closed the book, leaving it on the bench as she stood up. “I don’t know, it depends on your preferences.” You shrugged. “Anything sounds good, as long as it is entertaining and keeps me busy.” you laughed, sarcastically. “I see.” Abby nodded. “Are you—” she sighed. “Are you okay? I mean— Of course not, but— Shit.” For someone who appeared to be extremely tough, she sounded and seemed surprisingly sweet and gentle. “It’s okay, don’t worry.” you said. “I just— I’ve been struggling to fall asleep lately and I think it’s mainly because I’m afraid to.” you shrugged, looking at her. “God, this is ridiculous.” you chuckled as Abby frowned. “I— I don’t even know why I'm telling you this, we don’t know each other, we just met and I’m already complaining about my shit. I’m sorry.” you said. “You can talk to me, I mean— I understand and I don’t know if you have any friends here yet, or if you have anyone to talk to.” you sighed as you suddenly felt the pain in your chest getting too heavy to contain it. And Abby immediately noticed the distress on your face. “Or not, we— Listen, we don’t have to talk about it, unless you want to. We can talk about something else as well.” For the first time in weeks, a little smile appeared on your face as Abby waited patiently for you to say something. “Okay.” you said. “I don’t wanna talk.” Abby nodded, understandingly. “But, I don’t wanna be alone either.” You couldn’t bear the idea of going back to your cold, empty room. It meant nothing but to deal with your own thoughts. “I need to do something.” you thought, walking to the bench and sitting down as you grabbed the book Abby had left there. “Is this one interesting?” you asked, innocently. “It‘s decent.” Abby answered as she watched you open the book. “I’ve never read it. I’ve heard about it, though.” you said. “Sounds like shit to me.” The blond woman laughed and sat down next to you, a little confused and amused as you both seemed so comfortable around each other, two strangers. “I could read it,” your eyes met hers as she talked. “To you.” You nodded in agreement. “I haven’t told you my name.” you said. “It’s Y/N.” Abby didn’t say anything, she took the book and smirked as she opened it. “I know.” she confessed. “Ready?” she asked, glancing at you. You nodded and watched her attentively as she started to read.

• At first, it wasn’t meant to turn into anything regular, it wasn’t meant to become something so important to you or to Abby, but it did. Now, the darkness didn’t seem as threatening as it used to. Now, you’d sit in your room and watch the sun go down with excitement as it meant you’d be reuniting with Abby soon. “Oh— Shut up.” Abby mumbled as you both laughed. It’s funny because you didn’t even know how important it was for her too. You guys never talked about it, for some reason. You didn’t know how much these moments had impacted Abby. “I’m not reading Harry Potter.” she said, as you both sat down on the ground, right against a bookshelf. “It’s all about fantasy, witches and monsters. It doesn't even make sense.” she continued. “Wizards, Abigail.” She frowned as you took the book. “And, there’s absolutely nothing that makes any sense in our own world. A little fantasy can’t hurt.” you said, pouting. “Fine…” Abby sighed, defeated. “You better stay awake this time, I’m doing this for you.” she said. “Come on— It happened once.” Abby scoffed. “Twice.” You didn’t know what to say, or more specifically how to admit it. “When we’re together, the pain doesn’t seem as heavy as it used to.” you thought, as she started to read, softly. “And I feel so guilty, for how good it makes me feel.” Two hours in, Abby looked down at you as you grew silent throughout the reading. “Y/N.” she chuckled, your head resting against her shoulder as you snored peacefully. “Dammit… I knew it.” She closed the book and put it down as she sighed, closing her own eyes.

• “Fuck…” Abby mumbled as she grew impatient. The tall woman walked around the empty library, examining the shelves without much interest as she tried to remain calm. “Come on, where is she…” she wondered as she waited for you. “Dammit— I’m ridiculous.” Abby said to herself as she realised how much this situation affected her: your casual little meetings at the library were always by far, the greatest moments of her week. “Fuck it.” she breathed as she left the library, walking straight towards the dorms. After spending the day out on patrol, Abby wanted nothing more than to see you, to hear you, to have fun with… her friend. The idea of hanging out with you at the library tonight had been the only thing that motivated her during the entire day. And even though she wouldn’t dare to admit it, she truly enjoyed reading the Harry Potter books with you. “What the fuck…” Abby mumbled as she approached your room. She couldn’t get any closer, genuinely shocked at the scene playing in front of her: You were standing by the door with Owen, kissing him passionately. Abby swallowed hard, confused by the sudden sickness overwhelming her. You smiled as the boy walked away, disappearing in the distance. The blond woman nodded as she exhaled, bitter. Abby turned around and left as you locked the door, heading towards the library with excitement. “Abby!” you called happily as you stepped in the quiet room, eyes searching for the blond’s silhouette. “Abs!” But, she wasn’t here. You didn’t find anything, besides the book you guys were supposed to be reading, left on the bench.

• “Something’s wrong.” you thought. Abby would never miss an occasion to see you, to see her friend, right? “Yes, we talked this morning, she’s at the gym.” Whitney said. “But, she seemed a little— Upset.” You sighed. “Okay… Thanks.” You felt anxiety pressed like a blade against your throat as you headed to the gym. “Hey, Abby!” you waved awkwardly at the blond. “What do you want?” she asked, all sweaty and panting as she stood by the machines. “Oh—” you paused, genuinely hurt. “Nothing— I was just wondering how you were doing.” Abby shrugged. “What happened yesterday? Weren’t we supposed to meet at the library?” you asked. “I didn’t know we were supposed to see each other everyday. I had things to do.” you blinked. “You’re right, we don’t have to.” Abby hummed. “Anything else?” You couldn’t save this conversation, it was over as soon as the pain in your chest suddenly came back. “I’ll see you later.” you walked away, humiliated. For the first time in weeks, you stayed away the entire night, the nightmares and voices coming back to get you.

• On Saturday, Owen decided to throw a massive party at the aquarium, which included Abby: the main reason you had agreed to come. God, it was awkward to stand there without talking or even acknowledging her as you both chatted with your friends, pretending not to see each other. “I miss you.” Abby thought as your laugh echoed through the room. “Fuck— Why does she have to looks insanely good tonight.” you thought as you danced with random guys and tried to forget about her. No matter how much you both wanted to talk to each other, you couldn’t find the courage to do it. “She’s really cute.” Jordan said to Owen as they watched you walking around in the tiniest skirt ever. “I need some air.” Abby said, taking a shot. You frowned as she disappeared through the crowd, eyes searching for hers. You waited until your friends seemed busy to leave. “So— You’re just gonna stand there and say nothing?” Abby asked a few seconds later as you both leaned against the wall and stared at the stars. “And, why should I be the one to start the conversation?” Abby sighed, inaudible music playing in the background. “You’re the one who followed me here, Y/N.” you chuckled. “You wanted me to.” Abby’s features softened, delicately illuminated by the moonlight as you both turn to face each other. “Nice skirt...” she complimented, glancing at your legs. “I found it during my last patrol.” you explained, proudly. “Right,” Abby shook her head. “I completely forgot that you started going on patrols with Manny and Owen.” It wasn’t true though. Abby had secretly been listening to Manny and Owen’s conversations for days, trying to get the smallest information about you. She was worried about your safety. Every morning she’d watch Manny leave the apartment, feeling sick at the idea of something happening to you. “You know— I’ve seen so many things out there and I’ve been dying to talk to you about it.” you admitted. “Actually, I have something for you.” Abby frowned as you inspected your small pockets. “One time, we were reading together and you told me about your coin collection.” Abby’s heart melted. “I thought you’d like it.” You dropped the coin in the blond’s hand with a smile. She couldn’t believe it as she stared at you, she had never met someone so sweet and caring before. “I don’t deserve it.” she said, ashamed by how poorly she had treated you lately. “It looks really cute…” she said, glancing at the skirt, again. “Shit— I wanted to look hot, not cute.” you groaned, touching the fabric. Abby’s mind went wild as she stared at your curves more attentively, something switching inside her. “Abby.” you murmured, the blond’s heart becoming too heavy for her own chest as you caught her staring. She couldn’t deny it: you were an attractive woman. And there was nothing wrong with admitting it, but feeling it… It meant something totally different, something inappropriate. “I don’t know what to say…” Abby murmured back, blushing from the alcohol in her veins or the sudden tension rising between you two. “Fashion isn’t really my thing.” you smirked. “What’s your thing, Abigail?” It could’ve been an innocent conversation with someone else, but not with you. Abby sighed as she watched you step closer, eyes filled with lust. “Boob— Books, Books…” she said flustered, you were staring at her lips without even trying to be discreet about it. “Right— You’re an intellectual and beautiful.” Abby chuckled nervously. “I’m not beautiful, not like that, not like you.” you shrugged. “To me, you’re so much more than that.” Abby’s whole body trembled as you leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Dammit— You’re drunk.” Abby said, trying to play it cool. And as she sensed the frustration and desperation in your sigh, she almost gave in. You weren’t thinking rationally, your thoughts wandering around the blond’s body as she held you by the waist and pulled you closer so effortlessly. “There’s so many guys staring at you tonight, Y/N.” she said. “I couldn’t care less about them.” you murmured as Abby smirked.

• Unfortunately, or fortunately; you weren’t sure. Nothing had happened between you two that night. But emotionally, it completely wrecked you both. It’s true, Abby has been trying to convince herself that it meant nothing. “It was the alcohol.” she thought, leaving the aquarium. “What’s happening to me?” you had asked yourself. Abby didn’t know about the rest though, about what happened as soon as she left and how you ended up in Owen’s bed that night. Obviously, it was mainly to forget about what had happened between you two, to deny it. But as the man pounded into you recklessly, your thoughts went back to your friend. And when you clenched around him as you reached heaven the only thing you could think about was Abby Anderson.

[mirahuyooo]

Stranded (I) | jhs

— But, darling, if you hadn’t fallen, you wouldn’t have met him—the one who’ll render you mad and drunk with his love so much that you’ll never want to find sanity again.

word count: 10,458 (PART I) contents: ANGST, fLUff, drAMa, Theseus, stages of grief but its kinda all over the place, rUNAWAY PRINCESS!!! yikes, betrayal yIKES, implied drugging, hEARTBREAK, you have a sucky sucky childhood, daddy issues, a lot of artistic interpretation but I think this is my most favorite one AAAAAA, not necessarily accurate (i mixed up a lot of versions and made up some shit), a bit historical?? idk anymore, Greek Mythology AU pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader Inspired by Dionysus and Ariadne

[masterlist] | check out [Elysian Tales] & [BTS as Greek Myth Icons]!

A/N: HeRE iT ISSS! I HAVE BEEN SO EXCITED TO FINISH THIS LIL SHIT Hobi’s story is an ABSOLUTE favorite 😭💖

P.S. i've divided these into three due to limit issues so stay tune for the next part! ☆⌒(*＾-゜)v

START. | ▷  𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

A heavy feeling rests in the pit of your stomach, as the ship continues to sail away from the land that birthed and raised you. That island was all you had ever known and yet there it was, having gone much smaller as time progressed—even the grand palace is now barely visible from such a distance, much more the people trying to pursue you.

You have committed treason—something you were well aware of. You had betrayed your father as an accomplice to your monster of a half-brother’s murder and had eloped with the very man who took its life.

A large part of you argues that you had done the right thing. Your half-brother was a vicious monster, who had slaughtered innocents in the maze you were forced to represent. He was an accursed reminder of the atrocity your late mother had done. Before his death, you had witnessed first hand the people being fed into the labyrinth as some sickening game guised as a sacrifice.

You, as your father's daughter, had been made mistress of the labyrinth as soon as you came of age—subjected to all sorts of pleas, cursing, and threats that its victims had thrown at you.  Their voices echo hauntingly in your head, as the memory of people walking into that dark pit and never returning constantly mar your mind. It is a nightmare you cannot escape from.

But that, now, has changed.

You, as princess of your people, have done justly to assist a foreigner in ending such pandemonium. The Minotaur is dead and with that, you have greatly helped in ending your father’s cruelty. You are a hero.

So, why does it feel like something’s amiss?

“Princess?”

A voice greets you from behind, startling you into staring away from the kingdom you were leaving behind. Butterflies erupt as you see Theseus before you with the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his striking features. You smile softly as he lightly bows to you. “Theseus,” your voice radiates adoration as you say his name. “What brings you here?”

The chill wind of early autumn tousles his dark brown locks as he stares towards the fading form of Crete with you. “We will be stopping at the island of Naxos in a few hours,” he tells you with a side glance your way. “The captain and I deemed it best to rest there for a while and replenish any supplies we lost.”

“Of course. That seems sound,” you could only nod, not knowing much of maritime welfare after all. What you do know, however, was that the sea was as fickle as the god that reigned over it. You supposed that it was better to prepare for any catastrophe, than to expect everything to be smooth sailing.

Feeling a hand on the small of your back, you come back to your senses, only to see Theseus waiting for you. Only then did you also realize that on your shoulders was his cloak. It envelops you with warmth. “It’s late, princess,” he nods towards the quarters. “It’s been a long day, too. You must sleep.”

Words coming out a stammer, you clutch the cloak in your hands. “Yes,” you shyly blush as your heart hammers in your chest, “You too.”

The hero beside you smiled kindly, gesturing with his hand this time. “Let us go then,” he invites you, warmly—and for someone so used to the dark, cold walls of Crete, you couldn’t help but swoon.

What a blessed woman you are. 

You arrive at Naxos around late in the afternoon, taking a small boat or two with Theseus and a few members of the ship to a secluded part of the island while the rest stay to man the ship at a distance. Docking a great distance away from a small town, the land that greets you and takes you away from the roughhousing of the waves greatly comforts you. There were big rocks surrounding the little beach—something Theseus thought would do well to hide and border the camp.

A group began laying out the tents for the night, many hands trying to make quick work. You did your best to assist them in any way, but you were met either with cold glares or dismissive waves. You then attempted to help a frail boy struggling to carry a crate, but he, too, doesn't seem so fond of you. "I'll be fine in the hands of my people, princess," said the boy, voice calm but eyes failing to hide his contempt, as another fellow came to help him instead.

It was clear to you.

You may have aided their hero in slaying the Minotaur, but your conscience and reputation was still drenched by the blood of their people—the people that you couldn't save any sooner. In their eyes, you were still a princess of Crete—still the mistress of the maze that brought them before the gates of the Underworld.

And so, you endure their unwelcoming gaze, looking for something else to make yourself useful—for something else to prove you worthy of their trust.

While the experienced went to hunt animals for a meal tonight and the journey ahead, there were others that were tasked to retrieve some supplies from the local town. You decide to join them, but, in an instant, you are pulled aside by Theseus, who was already dressed for the hunt. "Where are you going?" he asks, voice hushed but with a little panic.

Furrows form between your brows as his sudden interruption holds you aback. "I want to help," you earnestly declare, but the conviction wasn't quite present, so you clarify yourself further. "I will accompany them to town an—"

"We cannot risk you to be seen in town, (Y/N)," Theseus exasperates, harsh tone taking you aback. "It'll bring us more trouble than we already have."

Your hastening heart seemed to stop altogether. "Ah… right…"

How come you never thought of that, (Y/N)?

He sharply inhales, breathing almost stopping altogether, upon seeing the flash of hurt in your eyes, your determination faltering. Theseus eases a little then, lacing a hand in yours while the other caresses your cheek. "Why don't you…" his mind reels as he thinks of a compromise, "why don't you help gather some wood for the fire later?"

Your eyes lit for a moment, but soon began to contemplate. Wood for the fire—yes. That seems accomplishable.

"Alright," you say, mustering a meek smile as you did.

With that Theseus called forth a young man. Andreas, he addressed him—the same boy that had refused your help with the crate earlier. "Take her with you to fetch some firewood," he tells him, and while the boy nods, you could tell he was hesitant.

Theseus turns back to you with a smile, happy to have settled this. The fabric that embraced your shoulders was moved to shield your face, his careful touch tingling against your skin. "Be careful," Theseus then instructs, urging you to still keep your identity secret, lest your father had sent out soldiers for either of your capture.

"You, too," you attempt to smile, a hand gently squeezing his own before the two of you part, worried but hopeful.

Andreas never spoke a word with you as the both of you gathered what you needed from the forest. In your arms were a bundle of sticks you thought were similar to what you saw him pick up. You couldn't really find it within you to ask, for fear of being seen bothersome by the lad.

"Why help us now?"

You nearly jump at the sudden words that reach you. Looking up, the young boy was standing a few feet ahead of you, his back turned as he did. "I'm sorry?" You stammer, unsure of what he meant. "What do you mean to say?"

You were greeted by a ferocious glare. "You let us suffer for years, but now you helped our people escape," Andreas sneered, "why?"

Tears sting your eyes but you blink them back. "I…" you began, but your mind seemed to run blank. "I needed strength," you say, mustering enough words to express your thoughts, "and a chance to go against my father..."

"Your prince is both," you give the boy a soft smile, hoping it would ease him.

Theseus was your key—not only to freedom, but also for repentance.

Still, the young boy scowls, brows furrowing so deep together that you fear they might never go back to normal. "I know my sins cannot be absolved for doing this," you plead, taking a step forth, "but I swear, I never found any joy in your suffering."

Andreas scoffs, but says nothing. He, instead, goes back to his task of collecting firewood and ignoring your existence. A shaky outbreath escapes you along with a few tears running down your cheeks but you wipe them away and focus on your task, too.

Idly tying the bundle with a rope, you began to think of your future.

Theseus had promised to make you his queen upon returning to Athens, but how easy would that flow, if your history as mistress of the labyrinth remained in their minds? What queen would be welcomed and loved that way?

You sigh and push such thoughts away. You'll deal with it when it comes, you tell yourself. A long journey awaits you, and you haven't even made it to Athens yet. Surely, a time will come for you to show your promising prowess to the people.

With that hope, you were a little more resolved and ready to return to reality, taking more time in indulging yourself with your surroundings.

The island was very much smaller than the kingdom you were accustomed to, but it certainly felt much more welcoming. Nature surrounded you as leaves crunched at each step beneath you. The sky in a blur of warm colors being tainted with the impending night.

It felt oddly serene—more soothing than you have been treated at the camp. A part of you was tempted to stay here instead.

Then, it came to you.

You were alone.

Heart shattering just a little, you stood up from where you were crouching. All around you was darkness. "A-Andreas?" you call out, voice shaking as you look into the expanse of the forest. "Where are you?"

Instead of a response, your ears pick up the sound of music instead—a flute perhaps, being played somewhere, but the direction seemed to lead further into the forest rather than out. Goosebumps littered your skin from the cold and the shiver that ran down your spine. It may be someone from the town, or a group of travellers like your own, you reason, but such news would either be bad for someone in hiding like you.

"Lost, are we?"

There was a sudden voice that filled the air—slurred but mischievous—rendering you to drop a few sticks as you whirl around like a fool looking for the source.

Who was that?

"Up here, dear."

The voice says again, the sound luring your eyes towards a tree nearby. Splayed across a big branch above was a dashing man—ethereal, really—looking down at you through barely opened eyes, as the early autumn wind gently blew on the part of his robe that dangled from the tree. He gives you a lazed grin as he pulls out a small flask from somewhere behind him. "Would you like some?" he then asks as he takes a generous swig of the drink, thin droplets of watery red running down his chin and onto his collarbone.

Is that wine?

Taken aback by his presence, you tear your eyes away from the stranger and gather what had escaped from your grasp moments before. He's inviting—tempting—but you mustn't stray. "No need, sir," you politely tell him, "I'm not thirsty."

No less from a stranger.

The young man nonchalantly shrugs. "Shame," he says, taking another swig as he makes no further comment.

You couldn't bear to dilly dally any further either—no, not with the darkened sky already upon you. Wait… a dark sky?!

With the realization that the night was settling in, panic settled in you. "Oh no," you huff, hurriedly gathering the ends of your dress to ready yourself to bolt back to the camp. "You should get down there before you fall, sir," you give the stranger a hastened smile. "Farewell!"

Not waiting for his response, you ran.

—and run you did.

It was ungraceful—something your late governess would've greatly frowned upon—but you make it back with only a few moments of getting lost. Your chest heaved as sweat ran down your skin, but the proud look you had on your face for coming back soon fell.

There was a bonfire already lit in the center of the camp, bright as could be.

The chatter lessens at your arrival, a few looking at your disheveled state, while Theseus approaches you. "What happened?" he asks, brows furrowed. "Andreas said you walked off on your own."

You glanced at the boy, who immediately avoided your eyes, almost sorry for what he did. Forcing a smile, you turn your attention back to Theseus and give him the bundles you gathered as you went along with the boy’s narrative so he wouldn’t be in trouble. "Yes, well," you cleared your throat, "I thought I saw something, and became distracted. I'm sorry."

Theseus doesn't question you any further, only nodding as he looks at the wood you gave him. "Ah…" he then grins, throwing a stick or two into the already roaring flames. "Thank you for these," he says in an attempt to assure you, "it'll keep the fire alive tonight."

You muster a smile back, nodding as you watch the fire crackle strongly before you. "Ah…" you idly hum, "you're welcome."

A nasty bout of hurt and irk began to bubble within you at how effectively useless your help was. You see the amount of wood Andreas gathered, realizing that, with how many they were, they only made your meager bundle useless. You could've easily not accompanied him and the group would've been fine for the night. Your effort and time was wasted, and yet remembering the weight of the situation is the water that douses your fury.

The people here have been hurt by your kingdom, and Theseus was the one that came to save them from their terrible fate.

Even if you are to have Theseus by your side, it comes to you very well that you are the foreigner amongst them—one against many, with no favors amidst your graces other than Theseus' gratitude and affections. You cannot give them your fury—not fully at the very least.

And so, you sat idly by the fire, listening to their merry chatter in your silence. The fire began to seem like images at some point—people dancing, twinkling stars, a merriment unlike any other—and it coaxes the beginnings of a smile out of you.

"Here."

Knocked out of your stupor, you look up at whoever sat beside you and see Theseus with a bowl of some soup. You gingerly take it from his hands. "Thank you," you meekly say, taking an idle spoonful to your mouth.

All the while, Theseus makes an attempt to salvage the silence between you both. "We caught two boars in the forest," he began, nodding towards the canopy of trees surrounding the camp. "A few of the others took one of the boats back to the ship to give the meat of one boar to the rest there."

You hum, scooping one of the meat chunks in your bowl. "Sounds wonderful," you tell him politely as you chew, "the cook did great work with the soup, as well."

Such words were a bit coated with sugar. No one will like the salt of the thoughts sitting in the back of your mind—not when any of you are in a position to complain when survival is essential. It wasn't the tastiest of meals you've ever had—the flavors clash at some bites—but it should fill the belly just enough.

Next to you, the Athenian hero nods thoughtfully.  “Ah, yes, Leda managed to make a meal out of what little we had,” he hums, “I’ll let her know you liked it.”

With nothing more to say, you only nod, not forcing yourself in engaging idle chatter with him. You didn't have it in you to. You suppose that after the journey you feel… tired? despondent?

Either way, your lack of motivation easily lets silence conquer the air between you and Theseus. He didn't seem to mind, spending time conversing with the captain about the boat and the travel ahead—a talk which easily slips past your head as you lose your train of thought in a daze looking at the racking fire ahead.

Your bowl lasts a little under half-filled in your hands by the time you decide on the last spoonful for your fill of dinner. A light chill of the sea breeze comes and goes, making you take your shawl off your head and wrap it around your shoulders once more.

The stretch of standing up bears a light grunt from your lips, catching Theseus' attention. "I think I'd like to go and rest now," you softly declared with a tired, tight-lipped smile—an excuse really but it wasn't a complete lie.

Theseus looks quite surprised by your announcement. "Already?" he says, almost to himself, "but you haven't finished the bowl…"

You fluster, but hand him the bowl nonetheless. "I apologize for wasting, but I really am full," you say. “The day has been… eventful. I think some shut eye would be good."

A furrow forms between Theseus’ brows, but he questions you no further. "Alright…" he sighs, pointing to a tent ahead. “That tent, over there, is yours,” he tells you, watching as you nod and smooth out your dress.

He, too, soon stands up, but he offers you a smile instead of walking you to your tent. "Sleep well, princess.”

Eyelids already growing heavy, you could only hum as you tread through the sand. "Good night."

The dream that Morpheus brings you that night was bizarre for someone who has lived the way you have. 

You were in a palace of sorts, though you hadn't any idea where and why.

Around you were drunken bodies who surrendered to the feel of the music that clouded the entire room. The melody of a flute lingers in the air and though you can't quite tell where you've heard it from, it’s somewhat familiar.

You, yourself, were feeling light-headed, swaying to the music. Someone brings a chalice to your lips and you let them.

The wine dances along your tongue—so addicting that you couldn't help but gulp more. 

"That’s right, drink," said a soft voice in your head, encouraging you further. "Ease yourself from your worries."

You almost do.

—but someone in the distance catches your eye. Standing in the midst of the sea of people, he stares at you relentlessly, and your heartbeat races and the haze in your head wears itself down. You forget whoever it was that handed you the chalice, forget them as you continue to look in the distance.

He's gone.

Where is he?

The world begins to spin around you—so dizzying that it makes you clutch your head.

Still, you try to reach where your eyes last saw him.

"Theseus?"

Your eyes had trouble fluttering open, but as soon as you did you were stricken with a pounding in your head. Was it possible for a dream to have such an effect? What was the dream even trying to say?

A groan leaves your lips, eyebrows scrunched together at the unpleasant feeling. The pain doesn't ease soon, and you attempt to massage it away, but as you move your hand, you become aware of the emptiness at your side. All of a sudden, it became so easy to forget the dream that you had.

Brows knitting much closer in confusion, you will yourself to get up and look around.

The tent is empty—almost untouched.

Has Theseus and the others gotten up already?

There was an attempt to stand and look around even more, your legs shaking as you do so. The clay pitcher on a nearby crate leads you to become aware of just how much your throat feels parched. Paradoxically, you also have the urge to vomit.

Nonetheless, you made a grab for the pitcher. The water flows down your throat in greedy gulps as you shakily hold it in your hands. Your headache slightly eases, but it's inconvenience is still there to torment you.

What did you eat last night to upset your head and stomach so?

Crawling out of the tent, the striking sun glared down at you so much that another hiss leaves your lips. You were only plunged further into bafflement, shielding your face from the heat. Seeing the sun so high up in the sky could only mean that it's well around noon alre—

Where's everyone?

All too suddenly, you were wide awake. Your hand falls to your side, letting the blistering heat of the sun strike down onto you. The deafening silence around you mirrors your thoughts as you try to take in what was going on.

The fire had long extinguished, leaving only charred wood and ashes.

There were no longer other tents but your own.

Most hauntingly, the ship was no longer at the visible distance as it was before.

At that moment, you couldn't breathe.

It takes everything in you to will yourself to move, carefully walking around what used to be the camp the crew had set up not more than half a day ago. There had been three or four more tents set alongside yours. There had been a large cauldron for the soup over the fire. There had been crates of supplies gathered from their hunt and travel around the nearest town.

All of that, gone.

Your eyes were frantically scanning for answers—anything to make sense of it all. There were marks in the sand—movement, many of them, leading to where the boats used to be. These were the telltale signs that you refused to believe.

Your heart pounded against your chest, and even as the wind blew your hair over your face, you didn't move an inch—couldn't—in your disbelief. "No," the word crawls out of your lips, hoarse from both sleep and hurt. You rub at your teary eyes furiously—even as they hurt.

"Wake up, (Y/N)," you tell yourself, "Wake up."

In the distance, you see the rocks that surround the beach, and an idea immediately comes to you. With barely any hesitation, you run—stumble—towards them, all as pebbles, shells, coarse sand, and force make your feet hurt instantly, but the panic in your veins rendered you reckless and desperate.

The struggle in climbing the harsh terrain was immediate for someone like you, who was taught to never do such rowdy, unladylike activities, but you couldn't bring yourself to give a damn at that moment. It could be the very key to the answer you were looking for.

And, unfortunately, it was.

The sea breeze blew the strands of your (h/c) hair to and fro, as wisps of the sea trickled onto your skin. You looked over towards the horizon, staring at what used to be the ticket to your freedom. The ship has sailed so far away that it was barely the size of the pebbles that stung your feet. It would be a futile attempt to try and swim towards it.

(Gods, with what offense your father had done to Poseidon, you never even learned how to swim.)

You hope it to be a terrible mistake—perhaps, some sorcery from a witch or the exhaustion from yesterday's voyage making their heads weary. You don’t know how any of those could be, but you would take anything other than the dread looming over you.

“Theseus!!!”

You cry out his name, desperate, your hold on the boulder only tightening, hurting your palms and heels. “Theseus!” you sob, your entire body shaking as your head pounds yet again at the volume and force of your yelling. The backlash of your brain sends you faltering—and, eventually, falling off of the rocks.

A voiceless cry and a hiss forces tears to fall from your eyes as you land harshly on your back. It hurts. Everything hurts.

You could feel the sand flitting onto the gashes that undoubtedly would’ve been all over your skin. The sea—that damned sea—nips at your bottom half where it reached you and makes your damned wounds sting even more.

This is just a dream. It can’t possibly be real, can it?

You rack your brain for memories of the warm light that had come in the form of Theseus—he who had come to you for help and promised help in return.

Yes, of course it isn’t. This is just a dream.

Theseus swore he would bring you to Athens with him, where you would be away from the clutches of your father’s wrath. He swore to protect you. He swore to introduce you to Athens as his accomplice and that you would spend a great life together. Together—that’s what he had promised you.

Forcibly, you fluttered your eyes shut.

This is just a dream—a nightmare.

You’ll soon awake to the real world, awake by Theseus' side. You’ll both go on into the ship and the voyage will continue until Athens comes to the horizon. He’ll protect you. He’ll come back. He'll—

You open your eyes again, ribs hurting as you take a greedy intake of air. You weren’t at all back inside the tent next to your hero. No laughter or chatter to be heard around you.

You were still at the shore, helpless and away from a ship that only navigated further from you.

You were alone on an island with a few supplies at your call, but little to no experience of surviving in such a cruel world. 

Theseus was gone. He had deserted you.

Your fists clenched at the blurred image of the ship’s massive white mast engraved in your head. It was taunting you.   

Relentless tears streamed down the curves of your cheeks, and you found it hard to get yourself up from the grainy ground beneath you. The very man you decided to trust with your life had now left you for death. Was this what you get for betraying your father? Had you not done the right thing after all?

“THESEUS!!!”

His name rips through your throat raw, as if he could hear you—as if it would've mattered.

"Theseus!" You scream again into the sky, your entire body aching from the fall and the heartache all the same. Your hands bury themselves in the sand underneath you, crushing whatever sand they could hold in order to try and satiate some of your anger. "How could you do this to me?!" you wail, bringing your good arm over your face to shield yourself from the blinding sunlight—from the world in general.

You remember seeing his face as that of a stranger—of how you saw him walk in with the new line of sacrifice, of how he told you of your kingdom’s terrifying reputation, of how he emboldened you to join his cause.

I trusted you.

Your heart aches, remembering his smile, his touch, his words—all of which had deceived you in turn. Theseus was the warm light gracing your life—the one that guided you out of that wretched place.

I loved you.

In the end, he was but a flame that scorched you.

You would rather die than bear a torture like this. At the very least with death, the pain ends. Your soul would reach the other side, crossing over to the Underworld where you could drown yourself in the Lethe River and forget. 

Forget the humiliation, the betrayal, and the foolish endeavor your life has become.

Forget the kingdom that made you and the kingdom promised to you.

Forget the man you gave your all to—your honor, your heart, your life.

As it seems to you, the gods plan to do nothing—perhaps, it is a punishment in and of itself to forsake you, to let you rot away. You could hardly lift a finger in your state of mind and body—could barely breathe without a sob slipping past your lips.

Eyes fluttering close, you settle for the next best thing to death—sleep.

Maybe then, you will never awake.

However rare such times would be, he would often go looking for places if he wanted to spend some time alone for himself. Naxos, being a land where he is most welcomed to call his domain, seems to have a lot of such places for him, which is why he wanders off around here as often as he does.

This time, the faint sound of waves began to reach his ears as he treaded the forest. Another beach but he doesn’t at all feel like going for a swim out in the open—not when the sea reminds him of the many times sailors have tried to kidnap him and sell him for a price.

However, Agrios, beside him, seems keen on the idea, halting and staring intently towards the direction of the beach. “Do you want to go on a swim?” he asks, nonetheless following him out of the forest line. “Perhaps I should’ve brought your siblings along…”

The beach was relatively peaceful, beautiful for a little gathering too. It'd do well to tell his people of this, but, as of the moment, it was still too open for his liking. He might be seen by someone he doesn't know or someone he does know and ruin his time alone. 

Perhaps, he'll instead go to that little cavern he found a fortnight ago. It should be around here, somewhere…

"Oh?"

Something catches his eyes, stopping him from his thoughts—a lone tent sits amongst the sand with a bonfire long dead and out. A curious case, he thinks. Many travel through Naxos in their journey, but what's a camp like this doing so far away from any of the towns?

Just as he came to snoop inside the tent, something from the corner of his eyes caught his attention as well. In the distance, he sees something by the rocks, Agrios already ahead of him and inspecting whatever it was. He walks closer, curiosity getting the best of him—as it always does. 

A woman.

As it had turned out, the very same one he faintly recalls meeting in the forest last night. The sunlight grazing the beach certainly makes her beauty much more apparent than the previous night where he had only spared it a glance beneath the darkness of the eve. "Oh my,"  he clicks his tongue, as his eyes flit over her sorry state and a frown unconsciously settles on his lips.

He wasn’t one to be too nosy, but he feels immensely compelled to look her over. Carefully leaning his ear against her chest, a faint heartbeat confirms that she was still alive. At a closer glance, he sees the tear stains that mar her cheeks and also takes note of how the pesky sun had left her skin a bit dry and sunburnt. Down the line, inspecting the wounds that ran down her arm, the frown upon his lips running deeper. So much pain, he thinks, shaking his head.

Above all, she shouldn't be left out in the open like this. "This is no place to sleep in," he tuts, looking expectantly at Agrios. “Don’t you think?”

The animal merely blinks back, eventually forcing a sigh from his lips. “Fine,” he grumbles, gathering her in his arms as he lifts and heaves with a grunt. He hasn't been doing much else other than drink, dance, and sleep, so this may indeed be an unfortunate downside of his reckless living. (Still, it somehow feels nice to carry her like this.)

Assuming that the tent nearby was hers for the taking, he carries her towards it, and places her onto the haphazardly assembled sheets and pillows. Her hair splays out and over her face and neck, but he soon makes sure she is in a comfortable position. Sleep, after all, is a great pleasure to have just as any.

As he dries the sea-soaken parts of her, the woman still shows no signs of regaining consciousness, her chest softly heaving in a slow and steady pace, and leaving him in silence. He doesn't worry himself just yet, however—after all, why would he?—knowing well he could call upon a certain someone for a little favor if he really needed to.

And so, he looks around the small tent, taking note of the sparse decor and the mere two piles of crates that Agrios has decided to sniff and inspect. Curious, he gets up and opens the top crate, seeing some clothes, blankets, and other trinkets along with a piece of paper.

Take care of yourself.

Another piece of the puzzle lays itself before him, and he doesn't like it one bit. He places it back in and sets the first crate down to gain access to the second one. Were these all that was left for her?

The next crate, as it turns out, were some rations good enough for a week or so. This makes an idea pop in his head, realizing that the young woman will most likely wake up hungry. He smiles softly at Agrios who has taken place near the makeshift bed. “Come on," he ushers the large cat to leave the unconscious woman alone. "Why don't we play chef, hm?”

The moment you came to, you were made aware of the ache in your head, along with the way your eyes could barely open when you will yourself to. All too suddenly, the lack of warmth by your side gives you flashes of what took place, but, for a moment, you think it to be a dream.

Some sort of commotion reaches you as you gain more hold of your consciousness. Incomprehensible mumbling turned into faint bits of a conversation.

"—ow could you be so cruel to me? I raised you!"

You could see a faint form of two shapes outside your tent, and yet the ruckus only seems to come from one voice.

"Don't you dare use that attitude on me, you little brat."

Getting up was a feat in and of itself, your muscles ached as you put all of your strength into just sitting up alone. Biting back a grunt, you do your best to crawl toward the opening—

"AHHHH!"

The scream that ripples from your mouth hurt your throat, but you could hardly think. In fact, you could hardly move.

A beast peers it's spotted head through the opening of the tent, large golden eyes boring a hole through you in alarm as if you, too, had shocked him. You could only stare back, paralyzed in fear with tears stinging your eyes.

"What happened?!"

All of a sudden, the tent opens further, moved by a man who reveals himself to you, not at all alarmed by the beast, but alarmed by you.

A moment of silence passes and it soon comes to you that this man seems to be the same stranger dangling from the tree last night. You crawl away from the tent opening—away from them. "Who are you?" you sneer, "and what is that?"

The man, himself, seems to snap out of his own stupor at the realization that you were talking to him. He scoots himself inside a little, not too close to you, but within the tent nonetheless. "I'm…" he pauses, "Hoseok, and he is my companion, Agrios."

Companion? That beast is his companion?

Another thing from his response soon also confuses you. Oddly enough, he didn’t answer your question readily—as if he had to think of it. "You don't seem certain of your name, sir," you raised your brow at him, defenses still up against the stranger and his companion.

Not at all bothered by the harsh edge of your words, however, he chuckles at the slip up you had pointed out to him. "I'm Hoseok," he repeats with more conviction, but the seriousness your glare bore didn’t impede his lollygagging. "Now," he instead pipes, turning around for a moment—only to reveal a bowl of fruits. "Are you hungry?"

You may have had no intention answering his invitation, but your stomach answers for you—a shamelessly loud grumble that renders your cheeks ablaze in embarrassment. The stranger laughs, but doesn’t tease further, only taking your hand to place the bowl in its care. “Feel free to nibble,” he urges you, “if you want more, you need only to ask. I caught some fish and roasted them outside.”

His excitement and openness truly takes you aback. Does this Hoseok not have suspicions against a stranger like yourself?

You raise the bowl back to him. “No ne—”

Your words fall short, slain by a gasp at the sight of your hands and arms—clean and free of the gashes you could've sworn marred your skin just hours ago. What’s left of them were faint red lines that tingled if you look or think about them too much. "My wounds…" you stammer, as you gawk at them in disbelief. "H-how?"

Hoseok doesn’t at all bother to take the bowl of fruits from you. "I know of a good healer," he simply tells you, getting up but sweeping the tent entrance open and tying them to the side so that your eyes could catch a glimpse of the little bonfire he had brought back to life from the previous night. Fortunately, his companion also follows him outside.

Though hesitant, you shakily push yourself up, cautiously crawling over to stop by the entrance. "Wounds don't heal in an instant," you call out to him, "for how long have I been unconscious?"

The stranger crouches by the bonfire, eyeing the fishes he had over the fire. "For about an hour or so now, and, as I have said," he turns to flash you a grin and a wink. "I know a really good healer."

In spite of your doubt, something else pulls you away from the situation as your stomach begins to churn at the sight of the fish cooking and make you salivate. Tempted, you were, you relent to a grape from the bowl he had given you. Some juice dribbles down your lips, but it quenches some of your hunger and thirst.

Looking back up, you see him and the spotted beast patiently waiting for you by the fire. Hoseok grabs one of the cooked fish skewered with a stick, offering it to you in case you prefer the distance from them.

Eyes flitting from the smoking fish and him, you hold yourself back for yet another question. "What exactly are your intentions with me?"

“None,” he assures you with a shrug, looking around the beach. “I was simply strolling through and saw you,” he then says, “thought you might need the help.”

I didn't need help. Stubborn, you were, but still, you eye the fish that was roasting over the fire.

The stranger seems to take note of this. “There’s nothing funny with it,” he then assures you, chuckling a little as he nods to his companion, who was now chewing on something. “You can eat over there, if you’d like.”

Finally, you idly take hold of the stick—you swear, your stomach let out a cry of relief. “Thank you,” your manners compel you to timidly tell him this as you take a bite out of the fish’s flesh.

Hoseok smiles warmly, the sight and feeling of it making your heart clench. “You’re welcome.”

For the hour that followed, Hoseok and Agrios stayed with you as they ate, and as some subtle form of gratitude, you let them. You kept your distance, stayed by that little tent of yours as Hoseok tells you of the towns he knew around the island and the general path towards them.

Whether he knew your tragic case of abandonment or not, he makes no mention nor pry of it, and you don't tell him of your wanted status either. It would be best to stay away from strangers.

And so, well into the afternoon, you usher them away after falsely promising to remember his guidance, the man and the beast disappearing into the forest with no more than themselves with them. (The fishes he caught but didn't cook, he gave to you for dinner, and this notion guilts you inside for being so cold to them all along.)

Here you were, once again left alone by the sea.

By this point, you have gained some strength—enough to leave the shell that is your tent to finally gaze at the waves you've been hearing ever since you woke. The golden sun sits amidst a sky of oranges and pinks, its light sending the sea glittering as it's readying to leave its throne for the nightfall.

It was a taunting sight—beautiful, but taunting.

Yet, a voice in your head murmurs a treacherous thought to soil the fragile peace you were in.

Have they reached Athens by now?

Your lip trembles but you trample it beneath your teeth, hoping to kill the incoming tears. It's successful—to some degree. Though the pain in your heart hasn't at all gone away, the streams that ran down your cheeks were not as fierce as before.

In the silence, you were left to wonder what had transpired in the hours you were unconscious. You have reason in you to believe the key that had led Theseus to leave you were his people—they were, after all, the very reason he had snuck into Crete in the first place.

Had they convinced Theseus to leave you?

Had he been tricked by them in some way?

Or, had he no problem agreeing with them at all?

Your heart shatters at the thought of the latter, but your mind soon drifts to what Andreas had said in the woods.

You let us suffer for years…

There’s reason and right in his anger—in their anger—this you knew well. They do not owe you forgiveness nor forgetfulness for the cowardice you’ve done to them in the years before.

If you had been a braver person against your father’s harsh reign, would they have found you befitting to take the place next to their hero?

If you had tried a little harder to be of help during the travel, would they have had a change of heart and taken you with them?

If you had—

Nonsense, there’s nothing you can do about the could-have-beens. You've already betrayed your people. You've already left. You've already messed up.

At the end of the day, the bitter truth now is that you’ve been stranded here—already alone and away from Crete and Athens all the same. Mayhaps, that is why you’ve been left like this—your salvation and your price to pay, your escape from Crete and banishment from Athens altogether.

You will belong nowhere else.

With not much left to do nor care for the view, you crawl your way back into the tent where it's a little more quiet. The immediate thought of sleep comes to you as your eyes land on the makeshift cushions, and the same thought as before crosses your mind.

Sleep. Let’s sleep.

It was then your train of thought stops. An animal pelt cloak—one from a dark grey wolf, you think—had been near the bedding, something you vaguely remember taking off of you when you woke earlier. Theseus doesn't have one—you would know—which can only mean that it was another token left by that stranger earlier.

A part of you is irked to be left with this, as it's a reminder of yet another man who entered your life unannounced. Such things aside, you were reasonably grateful too, as it's something you can make use of.

Enough thinking, another part of you insists, reminding you of what you had thought to do in the first place. Sleep.

A sigh leaves you as you lay yourself down, and with no other warmth to encase you, you relent in reaching for the cloak, curling within its hold and fluttering your eyes closed.

A sense of unease blossoms within you, forcing you away from the realm of Morpheus. It's dark, even after you awoke from the abyss of your slumber. It must be nighttime already then. Have you slept for that long?

Another thing registers in your head as you regain more of your consciousness. You become aware of the damp walls of the tent and bedding, of the chill in the air, of the sound of rain.

What on Earth—

The row rumble from the sky sounds like that of a beast, freezing you in an instant with the wolf pelt tightly clutched in your hold. A bright strike of lightning across the sky faintly illuminates the tent, squeezing a screech from your lips at the deafening thunder that follows it.

You could tell that the rain has no plans of surrendering any time soon. The waves themselves are getting angrier by the minute, crashing against the shore and rocks as if to give them a beating.

Zeus and Poseidon must be furious.

A curse leaves your lips as you see more of the rain soaking the tent, droplets already forming to come down at you. The howling winds aren't showing much kindness either. You don't know for much longer your tent can hold. At this rate, you'll be drenched, too.

Gathering your bearings, you sit up and push aside the discomfort of being in slightly damp clothes, and heave the cloak over your head. You give yourself a moment to think of where to get yourself a better shelter from the storm.

The forest might do well to aid you, but it'll also house other creatures—some of which may have the capabilities to kill someone as defenseless as you. Perhaps, you can find a large, pointed stick to us—

"Hey!"

You jolt as you hear a voice outside. Is that…?

The tent flaps pry open under someone's urgent grip, and you see the person you had suspected it to be. As he tries to catch his breath, Hoseok looks you over with a dismayed shake of his head. "I knew you'd still be here."

You look at him with your mouth agape. “What brings you here?” you question over the downpour, brows furrowing together.

The man adjusts an umbrella over his head, promptly leaving your query unanswered. “Come along,” he instead tuts as he urges you out of the tent. "This is no place to be in the middle of a storm."

The tent shakes as yet another thunder booms across the sky, causing the two of you to flinch. “Now,” he says, “will you be stubborn or will you let me help you?"

The umbrella he's carrying struggles against the wind, what with it being made from only wood and leaves. The gentle curls of his black hair cling onto his forehead, forcing him to swipe them back. "I think it’s a great time to accept, hm?” he says, an uneasy chuckle forced past his lips as he tries to secure a better grip on the umbrella.

With a deep intake of air, you push yourself up and come out of the tent. This brings a smile to his face, one that you choose to ignore. “Fantastic,” he muses, as you duck beneath the struggling shade of his umbrella. "Nothing else?"

"None," you curtly tell him. I have nothing left.

The stranger was caught off guard for a moment, but he soon nods and gestures to the dark forest ahead. "Come," he says, "I know a place."

Although the trees keep most of the howling winds at bay, the mud cakes the ends of the worn dress you were wearing, turning the faint pink an ugly brown. The rough ground makes you walk carefully too, lest you step on anything that can make your bare feet hurt any more than it already is. The darkness of the forest terrifies you, and a part of you urges you to cling onto the stranger lest you get lost in the midst of the storm on your own.

Doubt, however, gnaws away at you at the same time, making you keep a little of your distance. You steal glances in between calculating your steps and following his lead. Can I truly trust this man?

The possibility of his betrayal makes you spiral into multiple other possibilities. If he dares to do anything, then I can shove him or hit him with something, and make a run for it.

As this plan for a what-if forms in your head, Hoseok takes note of your wariness—of how you cocooned yourself within his old wolf cloak, of how you gingerly inched away from him, and of how guarded your face is even as you were occupied with your thoughts. Understandable, he thinks, but it won't do her well to be sick because of the rain.

Leaning the umbrella over to your side, he once again thinks of the quickest path to a shelter he knows of. It’s around here somewhere.

Still, that won't seem to make the journey any less difficult. The rain was stubborn—as stubborn and proud as a man he knows—the thunder bellowing every once in a while to scare the daylights out of you. Though the forest was easier to navigate for the likes of him, it definitely doesn’t make it any less pleasant to tread through. He, himself, feels unpleasant walking through the forest in a state like this.

A surprise, however, soon comes to the young man. It appears that, at some point, you have noticed the position of the umbrella, and your conscience couldn't seem to take the unfairness for his side, because you had let your bodies huddle a little closer. Your hand even lightly holds onto his tunic as you look elsewhere.

Hoseok hides a smile at all of this. How sweet of her to care.

It was fortunate for the both of you that it didn't take too long for you to have reached your destination—just as the umbrella was about to give up, too. He steps under the stone roofing, arm gesturing with a welcome. "Here we are," he sings, tossing the umbrella aside and wringing out the rainwater from his clothes.

You gawk at the structure of the building as you step under its shade, the frown and furrow between your brows deepening. It was dark—especially with much of the moon obscured by heavy rain clouds—but you could make some sense of your surroundings. “This is a shrine,” you tell him, matter-of-factly, staying put where you were.

Hoseok stifles a chuckle. “And?”

A frantic trace of panic besets your face at his lack of concern. “We may offend the deity that reigns over this place,” you scold him, crossing your arms across your chest.

This refusal comes across as puzzling for him. He supposed all mortals are devoted in some sense of respect and fear for the gods, but you were walking too carefully on eggshells—driven mostly in fear. Have you or your family offended a god before?

Hoseok doesn't linger on the thought any longer, giving you an assuring smile instead. “It’ll be alright,” he tells you, “Trust me.”

It’s my shrine after all.

Still, doubt mars your expression, your mind being too stubborn to give in to his assurances. "We mean no disrespect here, after all," he attempts to reason, "just shelter from the storm, yes?"

You give it a few seconds, eventually nodding timidly. "Right," you say, almost as if you were still trying to convince yourself that this won't incur divine wrath. You shed the cloak from your shoulders as you take your first steps to follow him into the shrine.

Inside, a few torches persevered, showing a myriad of offerings laid out on an altar. Something else, however, draws Hoseok's attention elsewhere. Prayers and offerings to gods in a shrine were obvious, of course, but one of those in the altar held a prayer stronger than the others.

The young god turned his focus into hearing whatever words were left by whoever made them. Multiple voices echo through his head…

Lord Dionysus, we thank you and this island for becoming a brief respite for our weary travels. As told, to you, we leave a maiden of fair beauty and heart. May she make wonderful company.

His eyes widened, coming to a stop. A maiden? Who—

“Are you a follower?” you ask him out of the blue, having noted his ease in navigating through the premises. “Whose shrine is this?”

Hoseok, knocked out of his stupor, was startled for a moment, looking back at you as you continued to take in your environment. Nonetheless, once he gets a hold of himself, he doesn't answer the first of your questions, simply the "who" of it. “Dionysus,” he tells you, watching as a hint of recognition sparks in your eyes.

“The wine god?”

Hearing this, something warm flutters within his chest. Recognition feels quite nice, he thinks, as he doesn't hold back the grin that comes to his lips. “You know of him,” he muses, quite pleased. “Not many do.”

Hoseok hasn't been here in a while, as he isn't one to be too zealous in his duties in the first place, but this shrine is one of the first ever built for him by his followers—proof that he's made some sort of path to the pantheon. Even then, he has a long way to go. He's a wandering new god, not at all embraced by many, when they view wine, frenzy, and pleasure as things that get in the way of the philosophy and intellect that many Greeks praised.

As he takes off his own rain-sodden cloak, you tuck the fur cloak onto your arm and idly look around. “I’ve heard tales from my brothers’ teachers in passing,” you tell him, gazing at the art carved into the wall of a merry feast. “He brought wine to the world, yes?”

A part of him is tempted to swipe the wine from the offerings and chug it, but decides against it, lest it sends you in a panic over discourtesy to the gods and whatnot. “Mhm,” he instead happily hums, “a marvellous invention, isn’t it?”

My magnum opus.

Fiddling with the fabric of your dress, you purse your lips together at the thought of the wine this stranger seems to be so proud of. You’re not quite sure of how to respond to him. On one hand, you have lived to understand the perils of losing oneself to wine—how they can turn the angry, angrier and the sensible, nonsensical. On the contraire, the notion of losing yourself to wine and forgetting all else tempts you. “I haven’t tasted much of it,” you simply go on to say, “but I suppose it is.”

At this, Hoseok whips his head towards you. “You suppose?” he repeats, eyes starting to glint at the prospect of challenge. “Please do remind me to bring you all the wine in the world to taste.”

You lightly scoff at his musings. “Well it’s certainly not appropriate to do so now,” you gesture to the rain outside and the state of you both. “We’ll wake up with a fever otherwise.”

Those words take a few seconds to register in the man’s head. “Oh, right,” Hoseok quips, fiddling with his ear as he thinks to himself. I forgot about that. Humans and their fickle bodies.

Looking around his shrine for something that could be a change of clothes for you, he soon returns to you with a colorful fabric. “It's not the most fashionable," he chuckles, "but it’s the best I could find."

The gesture seems to have taken you aback. "Oh—You didn't have t—" the words were a scrambled mess on your lips, but ultimately ended with, "Thank you."

Hoseok gingerly places the fabric into your hands, his own brushing against your skin. Her hands are cold. "Most welcome," he hums thoughtfully, “I will leave you to change then, yes?”

With the chill in the air, Hoseok had deemed it good to light a small fire to bring some warmth inside for you as you change. Though raised by satyrs in the wilderness, foraging, unfortunately, truly wasn't his strongest suit—this he knew well as he had struggled to find some decent kindling for the both of you.

Eventually, he had managed to come back to the shrine with the wood, and some fruits for the two of you to nibble on. The fire was born from one of the torches still lit. It crackles before you both, very much alive since he had imbued it with his power to not perish so easily.

Between the both of you was silence, a little bit more comfortable than before—one you, surprisingly, break.

“Why did you come back for me?”

Hoseok stops chewing on a wild berry midway, brows rising for a moment when the sound of your soft voice takes him aback. “Come again?”

Deep in thought, it takes you a while to turn to him, brows furrowed with genuine confusion. “We’re strangers to one another,” you tell him, “and yet you would come for me in the midst of a storm and help me find shelter…”

You ask him the summary of all the inquiries in your head. “Why help me?”

Truthfully, Hoseok doesn’t have an answer to that himself. It had been a spontaneous feat, taking you back to your tent, but something in him told him to take it a step further—to tuck you in with his fur cloak, to fetch you something to eat, and to call upon his half-brother for a favor to tend to your wounds.

When the rain began, he had pushed back the thought of coming to check on you, telling himself that you could’ve found yourself shelter already—that you’d be fine on your own—and yet, here he was.

A shrug of his shoulders was all he could do. “I suppose…” he murmurs, mulling over his words. “You reminded me of myself, in some way or another…”

When Hoseok was born yet another bastard of Zeus, he lived most of his life in the wilderness, constantly having to flee from the wrath of Hera and other such threats to his life. Even before he had discovered his divine potential, he wasn’t quite welcomed in either Earth nor Olympus.

Lost and helpless—that’s what you two are.

“Why not help?” he simply muses in some sense of kindred.

It felt foreign for him to participate in such soft conversation. He had been so used to nonsensical, slurred discussions that lead to nowhere, or recklessly screaming to song and dance alike.

The silence that follows makes him—a god—squirm as you stare into the fire, lost somewhere in your head. You made no rebuttal against his statement, which only makes him even more antsy.

In spite of his impatience, however, he could tell you were hesitating to speak of something, and so, he lets you simmer in your thoughts just a bit more. It takes another moment of silence before you break it yet again. “I committed treason by helping someone escape with their people. I fled with them,” you confess, voice shaking, “but they all left me while I was sleeping.” 

His brows knit together, envisioning the gist of the events that had taken place. Though he had spent most of yesterday in a drunken haze, he had heard the nymphs talk of a group of travellers in passing through the—

Wait a minute.

The prayer earlier rings in his head, and he soon gawks at you, who continues to gaze into the fire in solitude. You can't possibly be the maiden, right?

Well, you are of fair beauty, but no, no, no. If you were, surely you would've been left in better conditions.

Either way, Hoseok thinks betrayal is such an ugly thing that neither god nor mortal likes the notion of. He knows not what led you to commit treason, but to have forsaken your people to join others, only to have them forsake you is a terrible thing. “What a load of bastards,” he abhors, before partly jesting. “Shall we ask the gods that their ship sinks?” 

A light scoff leaves your lips as you shake your head at him. Hoseok watches as you say nothing more of the tale, and he knew it well not to pry any longer.

The wine god finds it astonishing how similar yet different the two of you are. Both cast aside in some way or another, and yet the two of you walk different paths. While he ventures recklessly, you tread the same, paved path you’ve ever known, too scared to break away lest you get your heart broken again.

You should learn to let go every once in a while.

“My name is (Y/N)...” you tell him, knocking him out of his little reverie. Your voice was quiet and hesitant, but you still willed yourself to look at him properly, eyes carrying sheepish guilt. “I apologize if I was rude to you.”

Hoseok couldn’t help the smile on his face as he realized that he had earned enough of your trust to know your name. “Glad to finally put a name to a face,” he muses, “and, rest assured, I hadn’t taken any offense, at all.”

A soft, grateful smile blooms on your lips, illuminated beautifully by the golden glow of the fire. This hint of happiness instantly makes Hoseok wonder what pure bliss would look like for you. He hardly holds back his mischief, as he tilts his head with a teasing grin.

“Does this mean to say we’ve become friends?”

At this, you roll your eyes. (But you smile all the same.)

START. | ▷  𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽: @dreamamubarak @unknownwalkingobject @park-jimin-isnt-real

[scornedserendipity]

7: The Wendigo and The Box; Winchesters x Younger Sibling (OC)

quick authors note: hi, been a minute. i started thingking this fic was shit but then i was like "i've read worse and if I know it's not as bad as those fics, then im golden. but enjoy chapter 7. idk what im doing here lol

After Jamie left the Euporium, she got everything she needed, she even managed to find a decent laptop bag. She continued to explore, getting a bit hungry after all the news. She found a local diner and took a seat. Her head was spinning, all the information she just got, out of one person. Lady Luck really must have a crush on her. She looked out thewindow as she waited. 

“Evening. What can I get for you?” A woman asked. 

Jamie turned and flash a smile. 

“Can I get a cream soda and one piece of that pie to go.” She asked with a smile.

“Sure thing boss, do you want your drink with ice cream?” The waitress asked.

“I can have ice cream with creame soda ?” Jamie asked, her eyes getting wide.

“Well yeah. We have vanilla or sherbert.”

“Vanilla to go then, please.” Jamie said pulling a twenty out of her pocket. “Charge me and keep the change.” 

“Are you sure? That’s a ten dollar tip?” The waitress asked. Jamie winked and nodded before turning back to the window. 

She couldn’t help but continue to think about Histor. Besides her Dad that was the closest she had ever been to her mother and she was getting closer by the second. Jamie was no fool though. 

She already anticipated how much research she would be doing so she picked up a journal and some hard drives when she found her laptop bag. 

If someone was looking for her, she should tell her family. Someone, in case something happens. 

She pulled out her phone and passed by Dean and Sam’s contacts till she reached Uncle Bobby. The phone rang two times before her uncle picked up.

“Hello?”

“Bobby, we need to talk.”

Jamie explained everything by that had happened in the last week, she explained what Histor told her and how she felt about it. Bobby listened. He was staring wide eyed at his notes as he listened to what Jamie said, taking sips from his cup as she continued.

“Wait, so why even break the spell if it’s protecting you from someone?” Bobby asked. he was never so surprised about anything anymore, more shocked when it didn’t end up being something weird.

“Remember a couple of months ago when you found me by the Corvette in the junkyard and I didn’t know how I got there? He said that keep happening and will get worse. The spell is stopping whatever is inside of me from ‘awakening’ and it could kill me if something isn’t done and I don’t want to die Bobby.” She said. 

“You seem pretty adjusted to this news.” Bobby said sarcastically. “but we don’t want you dying. Have you been losing more time?” 

“I’ve had some time but No, that was the only time as far as I know but I don’t know, even since we got on the road I’ve felt different. I’m getting worked up easier and it’s getting harder to stay civil with Sam and Dean. I just feel like I’m losing control sometimes.” She admitted. “When I touched Dad’s notes, I had a vision. I can feel it, Bobby, whatever Frida had, I have.”

“Well, you call me if you start going dark. I still haven’t told your Dad or Dean about the sleepwalking.”

“Yeah, I haven’t told them anything yet. I’m scared they are going to do something drastic, especially if they find out I could drop dead because of some unknown spell. We’ve never dealt with anything this big before and Dad thinks something even bigger is happening, could they be related?” 

“I have no clue hon, we just have to take it one step at a time,” Bobby said. He was never super emotional or anything, but he was more of a father to the siblings than their own Dad. in the year Jamie had been there, they had gotten closer. They had agreed that she could look for her Mom so long as she told Bobby everything and he promised to keep it between them until they couldn’t.

“So, what do you know about witnesses?” Jamie asked. 

“Gee kid, let me just pull out my notes on biblical bloodlines,” Bobby said sarcastically. “Are you sure you should even mess with this? How can you even trust this guy?”

“I don’t know. It’s all I got right now.” Jamie said. Her order was brought to her table and she immediately dug into the soda float but she still thought about what Bobby said.

“Well if you do trust him maybe you shouldn’t do anything. He did say that the spell is protecting you from someone, you most likely don’t wanna meet them.”

“I know Bobby but you know when you wake up after not eating dinner. How the hunger stays through the day. That’s how I’ve felt since I was a kid. I just need closure.” Jamie said. She heard him sigh heavily on the other side of the line.

“Alright but, if I help you, you have to tell the boys. We can’t do this without them.” Bobby said. Jamie sighed. “And if we do break that spell, you are sticking it out in a safe house till we figure something out.”

Of course, she knew why these conditions existed. Even more so now that she knew there could be someone after her head. She debated for a moment. Was telling Bobby the best thing? It was the safest bet.

“I know, and I will tell them. If they find out from you I will never have freedom again but even though I just got all this information, I don’t think they will believe me until I either have evidence or they witness it. I want to avoid telling them about it if I can. When I first touched Dad’s notes, I saw a vision of him. It felt like someone threw gravity at me.” Bobby couldn’t help but chuckle. Just as he was about to say something, Jamie saw the familiar shape of the Impala pull up on the street. “I gotta go, Bobby, thanks.” She hung up quickly and grabbed her stuff. Sam and Dean were leaning on the car waiting for her.

“Here.” She passed the to-go to Dean, handing Sam the bags of supplies. 

“Is this pie?” Dean asked untying the bag.

“No, it’s a bag of cat poop.” Jamie joked as she sipped on her soda. Dean cringed but peaked inside anyway.

“It is pie!” Dean said showing off the dessert to his brother as if to brag.

“Sam, why didn’t you tell me I could put ice cream in my soda?” Jamie asked innocently.

“Because it’s bad for you.” He said rolling his eyes. Dean put his hand out for the cup, wanting to try it. Jamie stared at him. Sam had been watching her since they pulled up, ever since the hospital she seemed off.

“I got you pie and now you want my soda shake?” She asked, offended. Dean nodded with a smirk.

“Gotta make sure it’s not poison.” He said sarcastically. Jamie handed the drink over to her brother and moved to the back door. 

“Common, we have places to be boys.” She said, opening the door and hopping in. Her brothers followed.

“So. Who were you talking to?” Sam asked as they got ready to take off.

“Bobby. I forgot to call him last time so I filled him in.” Jamie answered. She was just staring out the window, sipping on her shake.

“Okay, what did you do?” Sam asked again.

“Went to a couple of shops, walked around. That’s it.” Which wasn’t at all a lie, it just wasn’t the full truth.

“Okay?” Sam said. he looked at his brother, who was more focused on picking a less-played cassette than anything else going on in the car. In Sam’s mind, something was wrong. Jamie was always excited to tell him about her day, whenever she did something new. He huffed to himself and looked back at the map. Glancing at the side mirror to see Jamie’s face in the window. 

Her eyes were a little puffy. Was she crying?

“How much did you spend?” He asked in a joking manner. California was not cheap, never was and probably never will be. 

“uh, maybe like two or three hundred, I’m not sure,” Jamie answered, not taking her gaze off the window.

“Where the hell did you spend three hundred dollars? You got maybe 50 bucks worth of supplies, that bag was probably another thirty, and food was twenty. Where did the other two hundred go?” He asked. “I’m not trying to tell you how to spend your money but why start spending it now?”

Dean had turned down the music. Hardly ever was Sam taking on the role of impromptu parent, but he was also curious and sam was hardly ever wrong about math. Dean listened silently, ever since he got back she had been acting weird, even before she was attacked. He couldn’t put his finger on it, Jamie had very few tells and they were always easy to miss.

Jamie still didn’t take her gaze off the window. 

“Dude, you’re paranoid.” She said calmly. 

“Then let me see your receipts.” 

“Tossed em. Why would I carry around trash?” Jamie said. Sam was about to keep going back and forth with her when Dean joined in.

“Jamie.”

“Yes, Dean?” She said, she didn’t want to panic but she felt like the questioning wasn’t going to end well for her.

“Are you telling us the truth about what you did today?” He asked. He wasn’t even taking his eyes off the road, but his tone of voice told her he was serious. If she lied she would probably never go on a hunt again, or leave Bobby’s house. She had the receipts, but there was too much evidence about her excursion on them since she wrote down the spell on one of them. She debated for a while and remembered what Bobby said about telling them the truth. Maybe they would help her?

“Fine. You can’t be mad though.” She said scooting to the middle seat.

“Well, that depends. You already lied.” Sam said. He was usually more patient with her, the roles being reversed were weird.

“Right well, you shouldn’t dwell on the past Sam. I found someone who knew my mom and I asked for a favor.” Jamie said quickly. 

Now it was Dean’s turn to be mad. The car jutted to a stop. Gravel kicked under Baby’s wheels as they pulled off the road.

“You what!?”

“Hey chill out, he didn’t know anything useful,” Jamie said, putting her hands up. She blinked. Dean hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. His brow was furrowed and his lips did not have the usual smirk. He looked torn like he was mad but didn’t want to be. 

“Why do you always get mad when I talk about my mom? I know what you guys went through but that is no reason to punish me.” Jamie said, staring her brother in the eyes; if she looked away now it would be suspicious. 

Sam blew air and leaned his head back. That’s what was off. She was still hiding the fact she was searching for her Mom. It was only weird because Jamie’s a chatterbox most of the time. She would talk about any and everything. Sam gulped and weighed his options. 

Better late than never he thought to himself. Worse case Demario she does find her mom, she did kill those people and she kills Jamie. If they don’t know where she is they may never find her body.

“You’re right, but you don’t know the full story, Jamie,” Sam said. He wasn’t looking at his siblings. He couldn’t. He felt like his life was some huge fucking joke in that moment. Not because of what his siblings were saying, not because his Dad was M.I.A., it just felt like a joke. How he would never have a normal life how he could never really escape hunting or his dead mom, he was just done with it all.

“What do you mean, I don’t know the whole story? She called, she was gone I was there? Right?” Sam cringed when he heard the pitch in his sister’s voice change. She was always level-headed and headstrong. She never cared about anything but being okay but he knew that when she found out, it wouldn’t be pretty.

“Sam!” Dean scolded. He was glaring daggers at his brother. “Why the fuck would you say that?” He asked.

“Dean, she isn’t going to stop looking! When have we ever been able to give her a good reason not too? I’d rather she find her mom and we know than find her and something happens and we don’t know.”

“Yes, she is if she knows what’s good for her. She could get herself killed!”

“Dean, she needs to know the truth. We can’t keep treating her like she is some toddler! Jamie, when we picked you up that night you weren’t the only person in the house. Upstairs there were six men, dead. Dad never wanted you to know that your Mom was probably the one to kill them.” Sam said. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “There ya go. that’s the big secret. That is why they don’t want you to find your mom.”

Dean scoffed and threw his hands up. He was turning away from his sister and facing forward. Dean wanted to say something but what could he say? Over a decade of lies had just been unraveled by his brother and his sister had yet to speak.

“Okay. Fine. Let’s just go.” Jamie relented.

“Wait that’s it?” Sam asked, putting his hands up.

“What do you want me to say, Sam? That I’m angry? Do you want me to start crying like a child? There is nothing to change it. Thank you for telling me.” 

The brothers said nothing. Dean turned the engine over and pulled onto the road. Jamie went back to her spot staring out the window. 

The drive was silent except for the pur of the Impala and the wind that flew past it.

She wasn’t going to cry, she was far too old to start crying, but she felt it like a frog in her throat was trying to come up and choke her but she had to get over it. It was already done, it wouldn’t have changed anything, now she just knew.

Now that she knew the truth, however, all it did was confirm what Histor had told her, but the fact that six men were dead the night they got her, wasn’t in the story Histor told her.

She couldn’t prove Frida didn’t do it, but they can’t prove she did. Nothing Histor said about her would give the impression that she would kill six men, but you don’t know somebody till you do. Maybe Histor was biased. What if she died because she didn’t do anything about it? Would it just go away? Symptoms don’t usually just go away without getting rid of something.

“Dean, Sam?” Jamie broke the silence after the first sixty miles.

“Yeah?” They responded in unison.

“You guys would never leave me, right? No matter what?” Jamie asked. Her thoughts were racing with hypotheticals and possible bad endings for her story. “You wouldn’t let me die right? You’d move heaven and earth for me?”

“Of course, you are our sister, what makes you ask that?” Sam scoffed. He tossed a confused look at his brother.

“No reason, I just…you guys are all I have and if finding my Mom means losing you then I won’t do it…”

“Is that you’ve been thinking about for the past hour?” Sam asked, turning to look at his sister. She had turned on her side and was using Sam’s jacket as a blanket. He couldn’t see much of her face due to the lack of light but she looked half asleep.

“Jamie, even if you did find your Mom, we would never, ever leave you to die. We are family.” Dean said, Sam nodded in agreement, looking back at his baby sister.

“Jamie…what’s wrong? You’ve been off since the hospital.” Sam asked.

“I’m just tired. I guess I’m still getting better.” Jamie muttered. 

Sam and Dean shared a look. Sam shrugged but Dean was starting to get worried. He kept quiet though, if anything they could talk when they were sure Jamie was asleep, but he knew something was going on with his little sister.

Jamie woke up to the loudest volume setting on the Impala, blaring Back in Black. She shot up and looked around. Her brother Dean couldn’t stop laughing as she looked around in a panic.

“What the fuck guys!?” She groaned. Sam leaned into the car and turned the music down, still chuckling. “I’m so getting you back for that.” She muttered. Jamie tossed Sam’s jacket by the cooler. She was rubbing her eyes and yawning. They were parked somewhere with a nice view.

“Hurry up, we have to take you to a motel before we check out the crime scene,” Dean said, tossing the tube of toothpaste onto her lap. Jamie sighed and drank some water to clear the dryness in her mouth. She grabbed her bag and dug through it, searching for the plastic baggie she kept. 

Sam opened her door and handed her his cup. The one plastic cup they kept for rinsing.

“I almost forgot how shitty life on the road was.” She muttered as she put toothpaste on her brush and looked around. “Where even are we, how long did I sleep?” She asked. “Can’t I just stay in the car? Ya know, get away style?”

“We are about three miles out from the coordinates. You slept the whole time.” Sam answered.

“Right,” Jamie said. Still groggy and leaning on the Impala. Sam scoffed and got into the passenger seat. He looked at his brother who shrugged, switching out the cassette tapes.

Jamie slumped against the Impala as she brushed her teeth. She tiredly stared into the distance as she brushed. She wasn’t focused on anything in particular, just the dirt road she assumed they came from. 

“Can I camp instead?” Jamie asked as she brushed. 

“No, if there is a case out here the woods is the last place you want to be. There was a body found out here.” Sam answered. “Unless of course, you want to be eaten.” He shrugged. 

“Haha, very funny,” Jamie said. 

She was tired, which was weird because she slept for longer than usual, no weird nightmares making her wake up in a pool of her sweat, and no itchiness inside her ear. It was weird to wake up feeling normal. 

“Besides, Sam and I were talking. Since you decided to lie, you get to stay in a motel.” Dean said, popping out on the other side of the car. Jamie turned around to face her brother. She wanted to scowel but she could barely keep her eyes open. She finished brushing and spit, making sure to turn away from the car. She rinsed and spit again. 

“I don’t care, so long as I can sleep and order pizza.” She muttered. She took a look around and found a decently sized tree. “I’m gonna take a wizz.” Jamie turned and walked away, her hands in her pockets.

“That went smoother than I thought it would,” Dean said, shrugging at his brother. Sam watched while Jamie disappeared into the tree line.

“Do we have to make her sit this one out?” Sam asked.

“Yes! How will she learn if she doesn’t have consequences?” Dean asked. 

“Well yeah, she is tired anyway. She slept the whole time.” Sam said. “What are we going to do if she does manage to find her mom?” 

“Easy, we won’t let it happen,” Dean said. 

“Dean, she is already looking on her own, who knows how much she knows,” Sam said. He didn’t want to throw his sister under the bus but there was no ignoring the obvious. “She is going to be 18 soon. We won’t be able to stop her then. I’m honestly surprised she isn’t putting up more of a fight about it.”

“Yeah, it’s suspicious but we got bigger problems right now.” He muttered, getting into the car. Sam followed.

“Ever since the hospital, she’s been weird,” Sam said. “I can’t put my finger on it, but she has been weird. Tell me I’m not the only one.”

“I know,” Dean muttered before sitting down in Baby.

Jamie returned shortly after, hands in her pockets and hair tied back. It always looked like some kind of puffy cloud when she put it up.

“Let’s go. I want a motel with wifi.” She told Sam not to bother to look at him before getting in the car. “When are we going to Bobby’s to fix the car?” She asked Dean. 

“After this. I can’t bear to see my baby hurtin’.” He said, running his hands on the steering wheel.

“Kay.” That was all she replied with. Sam got in the car and they were off. While they drove they reviewed the newspaper article Dean had found but it wasn’t long till the car came to a slow stop.

Jamie had her backpack, her duffle, and her laptop bag. She stared up at her weirdly tall brothers, normally she would be extremely irritated that she was being left out. She would be fighting to go and help them.

“You guys are gonna wish I was there. You won’t have cell service.”

“We will be fine.” Sam chuckled.

“No leaving, no panhandling, don’t open the door for anyone, and no research,” Dean said with a shrewd face.

“Sure thing, Mom.” Jamie rolled her eyes and turned away. Heading towards the checkout room. She didn’t bother looking back. 

Sam gave Dean a concerned look. 

“We can talk on the road,” he muttered, getting back in the car and driving away.

Jamie let her shoulders drop when she stepped into the lobby of the motel. Why it had to be so far out of town, she had no idea. It felt planned. Like they didn’t want her to have anything to do. She sighed and examined the room. It was very brown but everything looked relatively new.

“Welcome, how can I help you, little lady.” 

“Hey, I need a room for the night. Two beds please.” She said she made sure to grab her fake ID. The photo was of her, but the name and information were just short of the truth. Easy to remember. Dean had made it the one time it was just the two on a case and they needed to see the body. 

The clerk took her ID and examined it carefully. 

“You don’t look 23, you look younger.” He said with a raised brow. He was bending the ID and scratching at it. 

Jamie rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the compliment. Can I get my key now? My brothers will be here sometime in the night as well. Let them up. One will be freakishly tall and the other one will look a douchebag.” She said, handing him a hundred bill. “and I need the wifi password.” She added. the clerk counted the money and shrugged. Lying about your age was the easiest thing, it was as easy as just having confidence.

“Password is, Hitchcross. Capital H.” He said handing her a key to room 12. She nodded and thanked the man before heading towards the room.

It was cleaner than she expected for a motel damn near in the middle of nowhere. The beds had blue quits and a lot of pillows. There was a mini fridge and a distinct smell of pine and something floral.

“At least I get it to myself for a while.” She sighed. Jamie dropped her bags and went to inspect the bathroom and the towels. 

It was a simple bathroom with a tub and shower, nothing fancy but not dingy like she was worried about using it, so that was a plus.

It felt like when she was a kid and it was just her in the motel. For a while, it was her and Sammy, sometimes Dean. More often than not it’s just her now.

“Nothing a hot bath can’t fix.” She muttered to herself while she tested the water temperature. She couldn’t remember the last time she took a bath just to relax. The burns were mostly just scabs now, they couldn’t have been as bad as the hospital was telling her. She was just sore now. 

Jamie sighed as she lowered herself into the bath. Hardly ever did she get a full bath to herself, usually one of her brothers had to use the bathroom before she got to relax. 

It was all crazy to think about. Her Dad is missing, who killed her brother’s Mom, killed Sam’s girlfriend, and tried to attack her. She is some kind of witness, her powers might kill her, and she is fighting monsters rather than working at the grocery store. 

That one wasn’t really out of the norm though. 

“So many questions. I wish I had someone to talk about it with. Would God answer my prayers? Is that how it would work?”

Jamie stared at the bubbles that floated in her lap. The steam that rose from the water and how the smell of her soap. How all of it felt so visceral, how it didn’t feel any different than any other day in her life. Her sad, dirty little life. 

Almost everything was silent. The only sound being made was the sound of the bubbles. Popping away as they reached their limit. 

“Crazy, how a mind could compare something as short-lived as a bubble, to that of a human life, to an impact of change,” Jamie muttered to herself. She felt in a daze, like when the buzz starts to wear off on the walk home and everything starts coming back to you, all your inhibitions coming back to the forefront of the mind.

“Should I follow this path? What else would I do? Become a therapist? That sounds too depressing.”

“You will never be able to stray from your destiny. Jamie.”

“I don’t believe in destin-” Jamie looked up, panicked. It was her, in the tub…with her. She looked around again, she wasn’t in the motel anymore.

“What the fuck?” She asked, putting her arms up to get out of the tub.

“I wouldn’t try that. It’s easy to get lost in there.” Other Jamie said.

“Where am I? Who are you?” Jamie asked. She checked her senses again. She was definitely in the water still, she could still smell the soap.

“In your mind. You wanted someone to talk to. Here we are.” The Other Jamie lifted her hands as if to showcase the expanse of emptiness that currently surrounded them. 

“Okay, I must have fallen asleep. I need to wake up,” Jamie said, splashing her face with the water and slapping her cheeks as if it were a lucid dream.

“This isn’t a lucid dream Jamie. You are here, in your mind. Well, a version of it. You are still in the real world, I can assure you. If you get out of this tub here, your body will do the same thing but you wanted to talk, so let’s talk.” 

The Other Jamie smiled. 

“So are you my subconscious or something?” Jamie asked. 

“You could say that. I already know everything you are thinking, I look just like you. You can call me whatever you want.” Other Jamie shrugged.

“Okay, well what am I supposed to talk about now if you-I already know everything I’m thinking,” Jamie asked.

“Well, you don’t know everything you are thinking.” 

“How so?” 

“Awareness is the greatest part of free will. We have a gift for it. The more aware of the seal and our abilities you become, the more they will present themselves. Whether we can control it or not. Self-”

“Self-actualization is the gateway drug,” Jamie said. She was finishing her sentence. Other Jamie nodded with a smile.

“Your question was what to do next. right? Where to go from here after talking to Histor? How to tell Sam and Dean the truth?”

“I guess. I mean, how would I even tell them? Dad is missing, Sam's girlfriend just died. That should be my biggest priority, but I don’t feel like it is.”

“Ah, the heart…the soul. At the end of the day, we have to do what is best for us. Sam and Dean will always have a life outside of us. We should tell them because they are family, but do we have to? Do we want to?” Other Jamie asked. 

“Well, I do. I want my brothers by my side. They are all I’ve ever known. Finding Frida only means finding answers and there will probably be more questions. They said I would still be their sister even if I found her.”

“That was one thing about Dad and the boys we never understood. Believing that the next step was the answer. Look how that turned out and they will. You could kill a man and they would help you hide the body, but what if it ends up just like Dad and Sam?” Other Jamie snickered.

“Right, Dean isn’t Dad though. These are all irrational thoughts. I suppose the only real question I have is where to go next?”

“You already know where to go next.” 

“The Box.”

Jamie was back in the motel. Still in the bathtub. Any normal person would have questions as to what the fuck just happened. Jamie already knew it had something to do with her powers.

She looked around and stood up. Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around herself. She headed towards her bag. She had dropped them onto the beds before she ran the bath. 

She tore into the bag, grabbing the box Histor had given her. She set it in front of her. Weighing her options. There is a chance something else could happen if the same rules apply and she is sent somewhere by the book, she will be naked. 

Jamie got up and grabbed her clothes bag, taking out some jeans, underclothes, and one of Dean’s old hand-me-down band-tees she kept.

“I guess I shouldn’t feel weird about talking to myself now,” Jamie muttered to herself, she looked around just in case she manifested another hallucination. “Whatever that was had to be a side effect.” 

Jamie gulped and sat back down in front of the box. She wondered what would happen. Maybe it would kill her. 

Slowly, Jamie undid the latches on the box and opened it. There was no bright light or horrid smell like she expected. It was a book—a spiral-bound book with a bright green leather cover. 

“That was anti-climactic.” She said to herself. She grabbed the book and opened it. It was some kind of journal, not a published book, it would have been typed if it was. There was no title or author. Jamie flipped through the pages, barely able to tell what the words were supposed to be. It looks written in multiple languages. 

“What the heck?” She said to herself. “All that and it’s just a boo-”

Early Morning

“What do you think Jamie has been doing?” Sam asked as they drove back.

“No clue, she better not have checked herself out though,” Dean said, taking a drink from his beer. Sam wanted to say more but he didn’t even know where to start.

“I’m worried about her, Dean. She isn’t acting like herself, ever since the fire.”

“Well, something like that changes you, but I see where you are coming from.” 

“It’s not just that. It’s something else.” Sam said, taking a drink of his beer.

“She is a teenage girl, Sam. Something is off about all of them.”

“When has Jamie ever been a normal teenage girl? Person in general who also happens to be a girl?” 

“Why don’t you ask her? You two were buddy-buddy all last year.” Dean said as he put the car in park.

Sam remained silent but got out of the car with his brother. They grabbed their stuff and headed into the Lobby.

“Hi, we’re looking for our sister. Debbie Derst.” 

“She was right, you are freakishly tall.” The clerk was staring at Sam with a mix of disgust and amazement. Dean laughed and took the key. Sam glared and gave a nod to the clerk.

“Thanks,” Sam muttered as he followed his brother.

“hang on.” The clerk spoke up. The brothers took a few steps back and listened. The clerk looked around and leaned over to peek down the hall before making eye contact with the brothers again. “ I don’t want to speak ill of your sister but some loud noises were coming from up there a couple of hours ago. I went to check on her but I couldn’t open the door, even my master key didn’t work.”

The clerk said, getting up from his seat and following the men. They stopped and turned. 

“What do you mean, loud noises?” Sam asked. He searched the man for a name tag but didn’t see one.

“Oh, call me Earl.”

“You’ve been here all night, Earl?” Dean asked, looking down the hallway. Room twelve was in the creepiest spot—the very end of the hallway.

“Yes, I have. Around six or so, the lights started flickering and then there was all the noise. It’s been silent ever since.” 

“Did you call the police?” Sam asked, glancing at his brother.

“Do I look like a snitch to you mister?” Earl asked. He put a hand on his hip and gave Sam an ‘are-you as stupid-as-you-are-tall? look. 

Sam and Dean gave each other a concerned look. 

“uhm, our sister sleepwalks. She probably just knocked something over,” Dean said, giving a curt nod and a smile. “Sam, let’s go,” He whispered. 

Sam and Dean approached the door apprehensively. Dean watched as the fluorescent light slightly dimmed. 

“Will this key work?” Sam asked as he watched his brother. 

“It better work or I’m dropping lead,” Dean said as he pushed the key in. He tried to turn it but it wouldn’t budge. Dean turned and looked the other way down the hall. Earl was back at his desk.

“Why would Jamie lock herself inside?” Sam asked. 

“I don’t think she did,” Dean muttered as he crouched to be eye level with the lock. He grabbed his lock-picking kit and got to work. 

The door flung open.

“What the fuck?” Jamie said. She was only halfway showing her face. When she saw her brothers she sighed in relief. “Oh, it’s just you two. I could have killed you ya know?” She said, opening the door fully. She had one of their guns in her hand.

Dean stood up and nodded. “Why wasn’t the key working?” he asked. 

“What do you mean? Mine works.” She said as the boys entered the room.

“Jamie, Earl said he heard loud noises coming from here, the lights started flickering and the key didn’t work,” Sam said as he dropped his bag down.

“Well, Earl is an idiot because it’s been quiet as a mouse here. I’ve been asleep, woke up like an hour ago.” She answered, going back to her spot on the farthest bed. “How was the hunt? You guys look like shit.” She said.

“It was a wendigo,” Dean answered. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed with a beer.

“Ouch. Those things aren’t usually out this far.” She replied calmly.

“Tell me about it,” Sam said. He grabbed the remote and clicked through the channels.

The siblings fell into silence. Jamie could feel the pit in her stomach grow. She stared at the back of her brother’s head.

Twelve hours ago, when she interacted with people she could just barely sense what they were feeling unless it was a prominent emotion when they were strong, like fear or happiness. Now she felt like she could sense everything.

“You guys hungry?” Jamie asked, standing up. 

“We ate on the road. You?” Dean said, looking back at her. 

“Uh, no. I ate some sleep and then had some sleep for dessert.” She joked.

“We’ll get something on the way out of town,” Dean said, leaning back and looking up at the ceiling.

Jamie nodded and looked down at the floor where she had stashed the box, it was just barely peaking out from under the bed.

The truth is she didn’t know what she was doing for the last hour. She woke up to the sound of the lock being picked and jumped up. She had no memory of the last twelve hours she had been in the room.

[bygetoacademia]

100 days of productivity update

Well...

I didn't manage to get through even half of the challenge, but it's not the first thing I've failed at this year so it's fine. Maybe I'll try again next semester.

Gloomy yap sesh

Truth is I'm tired mentally. And I've been like this for a really long time, it has just amped up to great heights recently

It sucks watching myself lose interest in absolutely everything. I don't have the energy to talk to my favorite people. I haven't touched a book in ages. Anime is starting to be a lil boring. I don't react to any Suguru content. I scroll past satosugu videos on TikTok like they're ads... It really breaks my heart because I want to be interested in all of these but I'm not and that's that.

To make things a little bit worse, I caught a cold so I feel extra crappy and I can't smell anything, which means bath time therapy won't work. And it's that time of the month so the hormones are doing their thing and I'm at my absolute lowest rn.

It's times like these I wish I had somewhere to escape to. If I had enough balls I'd ask my cousin or one of my aunts to let me visit them just for a week to get some air. But I have negative balls so here I am yapping on Tumblr while eating the most tasteless rice of my life.

When I made the decision to move back home I asked myself one simple question: Money or Mental Health. After a few weeks of pondering I decided to go the money route because I thought I was a strong little girl but boy was I wrong!

Did I save some money? Yes! absolutely but I'm in shambles right now even the voices are concerned

Every time I try to bounce back with The Power of Positivity™ I get knocked down within an hour. I don't even want to bother anymore

"Why don't you talk to somebody" Idk, everybody has their own thing going on, big things as a matter of fact and me coming with my little issues might seem a little insulting to them.

Besides if I try talking to somebody around me they might:

Blank stare + I can't help you with this one

Say "that's bitch shit"

You're being dumb on purpose bc you know exactly what to do which is true but not necessarily simple

Do I feel better after this rant... Not necessarily

[zirielladior]

WHY HAVE I BEEN GONE SO LONG SJKJS

ella's diary ୨୧

saturday || 12.2.2023

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

hi guys, i'm back (after a century) and i'm gonna tell you why i was gone along with another update 😭

it's an extremely chaotic fall break & 'while-i-was-gone' summary, my apologies if you find it difficult to read.

so as of recently, i have a crush on a boy at school 😭 and i haven't liked a boy at school since i was nearly ten years old. it's been a few years.

it's been so chaotic, and i've been trying to journal about my school time and my thoughts at home and it takes up so much time along with me trying to manifest because apparently "it works!" so why not give it a shot.

well i did, and it works. only a bit though, along with the fact that every time i braid my hair in pigtails something happens between me and (we'll call him macaroni.)

we had fall break, and usually i love it, even though i can't stand my family for more than five waking hours, but this year, i couldn't wait to get back to see my friends, finish up school work, and get away from my family, (and maybe 1% cz i missed seeing macaroni at schl..?)

i've been so obvious lately, going to games he has and stuff and i'm pretty sure his friends know even if he doesn't i've seen him follow me into the library and walk by some of my classes so idk what to think (i need help 💀)

my friends keep telling me, not to stop every time i see him and when i see him (during lunch) i literally pause in my tracks and stare before i realize i'm probably being weird asf and then i turn around and my friends start getting excited with their usual dose of shits and giggles trying to see where i saw him (its like i have an entire process when i see him it's so pathetic 😭)

i'm terrifed and have to be sure that he knows, i probably like him. i mean we don't talk at all except for a few comments he made on my computer and me talking about his water bottle (it's stupid) and when he had detention i was getting grades for my test from my teacher and i should've picked a different time to ask but my teacher had told me to come in during break. (SO I DID 💀)

not only this, but me and my friends go to his games because on my friends likes someone on the team, and the other goes anyway for fun. so i started going with them, except my father grounded me because i took my computer to school and i'm not able to go anymore.

i feel kind of saved, because now i don't have to face the fear of being around him. and my friends they're constantly feeding me these delusions and what-if's which only excite me until i realize perhaps it isn't true. because nobody except for maybe 5 people i know have ever had a crush on me, not absolute strangers who i like and might like me back nobody as EVER "liked me back."

then again, i'm pretty sure his friends know bcz me and my 2 friends were walking out of the library and his friends left him where we were and started laughing when he found out we were right there and he ran back to his friends like he was embarrassed or something.

my friends ofc, keep telling me stuff like "oh after the game him and his mom both looked at you, so its possible he likes you and totally told his mom." but it's kinda believable because during the game his mom looked at me like twice and smiled at me. and he looks at me at school literally whenever we pass him when we're walking or something.

anyway, enough about my absolute panicking SCHOOOOOOLLL

i finally have straight a's guys !!

and i'm going to a melmar trilogy tour concert in may next yr, with my friends <3

also, i've been gone because my parents have been seriously wonky with their "after 9" or "after 10" rules on my devices and during the day i'm either reading or studying, but my winter break is in two weeks, and i WILL NOT DISAPPOINT my little lovelies reading this 💗 ty guys sm if you made it this far you guys are my real ones and you know it (🎄 if you made it to the end)

ALSO PLS WATCH DASH & LILY I WATCH IT EVERY YEAR SINCE 2020 WHEN IT CAME OUT AND YOU NEED TO WATCH IT - THERE AREN'T ENOUGHT PEOPLE IN THE FANDOM ITS AN AMAZING XMAS SHOW PLSSS

anyway

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

love always, ella ୨୧

[hazeday]

Logging in to Tumblr simply to vent sorry I don't really want to talk about this anywhere else also sorry for not being online ever anymore my only online presence atm is solely on xiv 🫡 god bless.

It's been like. Three months? I think? Since starting hormones and idk I'm like. Going into the depressed phase about it which I think is normal around this stage. I think. Maybe. I was really excited still up until a week or two ago and it's just been a downhill sinking feeling of like. Yaaay nothing. Has changed. Like. There are very slight changes noticable in hair distribution on my body and I think the shape of my neck is slightly different but other than that. Idk it's starting to kinda get to me. I know like logically in my brain that it's a waiting game like I have know that as long as I have been aware of hormone replacement being an option. But idk I remember seeing a little comic the other day someone made about like, dressing "androgenous" for the first time in public and getting immediately gendered differently by a stranger and yeah I know it's a bad mentality to take shit like that personal of other people celebrating gender wins. But it really just reminded me that despite every effort I've ever made to change my appearance, all of the different styles of clothes and hair and makeup I've done in my life, and now even having some hormone therapy that this has still. Just never happened to me. And this ofc started a whole mental spiral of having realized in not too recent history but still grappling with the fact that a LOT of my dysphoria or rather specifically desire to be perceived as something different gender wise by the public is trauma based for me. It just makes me idk think about how much more comfortable I'd feel leaving my house. I dunno I know it's also just winter and whatnot but every year I come to terms more and more with the fact that my agoraphobia is 1. Getting worse 2. Based almost entirely in different forms of trauma, mostly the yk ab/se kind and abl/ism specifically. And it makes me feel! So bad! Because I feel like I'm missing out constantly on things. I want to get excited to go out and do things and generally just be outside of my house but I the fear associated with how people perceive my gender and the legitimate PTSD panic I have every time a curb isn't cut or my wheelchair doesn't fit in a door or strangers stare is like. So hard to communicate. Sorry I dont wanna go out guys I'm just acutely aware of everyone in the world wondering what's wrong with me and also feel like I'm not welcomed in the majority of spaces bc they are inaccessible. Also I'm constantly afraid of being assaulted by every stranger I encounter. 🤪 Which ofc just feed into each other of feeling physically helpless and vulnerable bc of my disability and then the moment a stranger misgenders me I'm like "oh yeah I'm like the easiest target on earth." Anyway this is incoherent as fuck once I figure out how to make strangers perceive my gender different and also how to walk it's over for all of you.

[whoreishghost]

i really am despairing and just hopeless in a way that i genuinely dont think ive been before and its rlly fucking with me. like, by all acounts, i am More supported than i have been before, and thats almost part of the problem? i feel ungrateful for feeling So Bad. i don't do Anything, i dont attend uni, i dont write my essays, i dont have a job, i dont clean my flat, i dont rlly cook a lot. of the things that Have to happen so we can continue to live in this flat, or i can continue to access medical services so my life doesnt get worse: those things are often put off way past the last minute and i need a lot of support to do at all. also, rn my life is mostly just calling A Service TM, getting a bullshit response, complaining, calling again, finally getting through to someone who knows whats going on, complaining, rinse repeat. ITS EXHAUSTING! not only that but sitting every day in bed or at my desk refreshing tumblr or staring at my screen saver thinking to myself 'what am i going to do?' and coming to the conclusion of nothing because i have nothing to do, i enjoy nothing, i want nothing, i cant concentrate long enough on anything or process information well enough to do things Anyway. ykw its not even true i dont Want to do anything. i do. i Want to write my essays, on some level i am genuinely interested in the topics. i just Cant. i want to read. i've been pretty keen on reading complaint by sarah ahmed for a while now or maybe rereading whipping girl or even giving notes on suicide another go? but i cant make myself start because i Know that i wont get far and its so fucking depressing. im getting so high, the come down is genuinely distressing because of how scrambled and disorganised my brain becomes and i become so afraid i will be like that forever. and yet i do it EVERY DAY! im struggling extremely badly with some interpersonal shit that has completely destroyed any self esteem or confidence i had in my appearance and my worth. add onto that that i am a massive Massive financial drain and even if i wasnt our finances are just.. Bad? so i was like, ok, fssw time again, that wont be too bad, i can do that. and then i fucking set up by whore phone and downloaded the grindr apk (and it was fucking horrible and evil to do and i hate that evil horrible useless phone) (also did u know u need to send in id for age verification on google now? 101 internet safety says to not do that are u crazy?) and started getting dms and i wanted to cry i got so overwhelmed. like idk if i can do it, but like.. i kinda gotta? idk man. im trying to see things positively? like, i got the form for the work capability assessment and spent all of yesterday photocopying medical letters which detail diagnoses and assessments and reference hospitilisations, etc but also the dwp are evil so who knows if its enough? im trying to get my pip reevaluated but they havent even sent me the Form for that yet? so again! who! knows! i feel like im in beurocracy hell and i cant leave? my uni are trying to work with me, but multuple medical professionals have told me to interrupt or drop out and like if people who are meant to be like have something in your life to keep you going dont think i can do it, what chance do i have of Actually doing it? i dont know what to do anymore.

[ronin-deactivated19851026]

so i've been extremely overwhelmed by....... i guess everything online lmao, it's really hard to focus on things when you're constantly bombarded with things you don't really need at the moment

i'm trying to get back into journaling but damn it's so hard. i know my head isn't empty, i spawn walls of texts almost daily, but my mind goes blank when i'm in front of an open notebook because i don't know what's truly worthy of writing down? it's kind of like with drawing at this point. i'm stuck with the art block because i don't know what's worthy of drawing. and guess what made me feel this way? the social media lmfao. i hate that literally every idea i consider cool i never depict because my brain immediately goes like, "who cares about this?", "this won't get noticed and also you're too late, so don't be cringe", etc

i hate this so much idk. anyway, i think i'm going to make a list of things to focus on, both personal projects/artistic inspirations and fandom related ones. i do have things i overfixate on for years, so why am i letting myself be distracted by some random content ideas that only matter to me for like a day or two...?

i should also start limiting inspirations in general, looking at my folder rn and realizing that there are just WAY TOO MANY things i want to incorporate into my work and it really overwhelms me. reminds me of various artists saying that "less is more" and holy crap i should start limiting myself. this is something i slowly started to realize on my own when i did some pixel art, which is limited already due to its nature, with some color palettes instead of randomly staring at a color wheel for half an hour, not being able to decide which one to use.

also i found out about artfol, social media for artists, and so far it seems promising? haven't tried it yet, maybe i will upload some stuff there later. also maybe i'll finally sort everything here on tunglr dot com and make a separate art blog and will use this one as my "main"-diary-esque blog where i won't post much. it's not like i'm on here anyway, my dash feels overwhelming so i don't even scroll past 3-4 posts a day anymore on here. i'm tired of social media. it doesn't feel personal anymore, it's not fun, not interesting...

fomo effect used to fuck me up before something clicked and i stopped scrolling things. because due to nature of the modern internet, i have more chances of stumbling across useful/interesting information if i just keep scrolling through junk. since as you know, google is dead anyway, shit is hard to find these days, and indeed, every cool thing i managed to find was through random braindead scrolling (post 2016 i mean, i miss mid 2000s era when stuff was actually GOOGLEABLE and you didn't need to scroll long ass feed to stumble across cool things, you could get there at your own pace while just surfing the web). so the habit was made worse by "damn what if i miss some obscure post that features obscure cool thing that will matter to me once i get to know it??" but i'm just so fucking exhausted... everything i love about the internet because so dormant, niche even. the internet, as i define it, is dead to me. it's really heartbreaking

[unhingedcoreimages]

wow!!!!!! aromantic.

vent underneath, really long, if you know me, please read it

lemme talk more about this since I haven't done one of these in a while. I always will (especially when I was in middle school) have a friend for at the very least 3 weeks, I will tell them I have a crush on them, they get creeped out and leave. I never "solved" this. However, I did just stop telling people I liked them romantically. well guess what. I see no difference in romance and friendship if it's close enough. Found this out because of my best friend. I want to be honest with them about it all and how they were the one who made me do the research but I don't want to lose them too. It really doesn't help that there is no way in hell they would like me romantically (preference reasons and such, very obvious). But I just feel like I need to be honest. I don't know. I should have figured this out before from already having a somewhat mixed relationship with another friend. I mean, with both these two people in my life I don't really want anything to change. Other than maybe us both being more open to eachother, not feeling a need to be funny all the time, and hugging? or like, not apologizing for accidentally brushing hands or something. It's so stupid. I see friends who hug and cuddle in class and stuff and like. I like that. And I just hope this person knows that I am not averse to it but if they are then thats fine and things can stay how they are. I dunno. Other than my parents and my two very touchy friends (other friends not as close as the two I'm talking about), I haven't really had human contact in forever. I don't know, I feel jealous when I see other friends do that. I just want to become closer to them. This specific person. I want to know their life story. I want them to open up more. I would do the same more than I already have. don't know, I'm just so emotional about them. Multiple times I have just hoped they stumble upon something I wrote about them so I don't have to talk about it. I've hinted at things and stuff but they don't have a chance to read any of it when I'm not there. And they're too good of a person to snoop through my things. I just hope sometimes they'd look through my journal or something. I hate confrontation I guess. At first I thought if I just tried to push away the thoughts it would go away. Since I hadn't tried that before. But it just got worse and I kept crying and shit. I don't know what's going on. I look at them and I feel so happy even if I just see them move their arm or write or something. I tried looking at my less close friends to see if I felt the same, even looked at some enemies and strangers, none of it was the same. I wish I could just feel normal about them. I don't want to be creepy. They've already had experiences with creepy people I don't want to make them scared of me or anything. I don't want to be creepy anymore. I know its weird and I wish I could not be this way.

I'm also just generally sensitive to it since I've always ruined all my past friendships and been called creepy pretty much. Even just for looking at a whiteboard behind someone. They thought I was staring at them. People would treat me like I had the plague. They would pretend like if they were anywhere near me I would try to kiss them or something. All because I can't tell if I like someone as a friend or whatever.

I guess I'm pissed off now that I have some sort of validation that this will stay with me forever and isn't just a teen hormone thing.

anyways yeah I guess if I know you irl and you know me irl and you are reading this, y'know, like, snoop through my shit, you know my password. Idk, it's pathetic, I'm pathetic.

[menlove]

.

i know it's to do w trauma but i really truly hate how little i remember of my life... like. even other ppl i've met with trauma will tell me so many stories about their childhood or teenage years and have so many details to it. meanwhile i literally don't remember... much of anything. i remember very vague things and most of it is because i've talked about it with other people so many times that it's Become a pseudo memory, but anything i didn't talk about i don't really remember.

like i was going through my old blog yesterday, the one i had from 2014-2015 and it's actually genuinely distressing how much i do not remember. like just a small example but my boyfriend's parents bought us a blu-ray player and we've been watching first class bc i only have it on blu-ray and i told my boyfriend like haha this is the first time i'm actually watching it on blu-ray bc we never had one before so i kind of just owned it to have it and it came with a digital copy....... only to find a post on my old blog where i mentioned that i was pirating first class because i "didn't have a blu-ray player anymore" and had watched it 1000 times on the blu-ray. i literally do not remember ever owning a blu-ray, let alone watching first class on anything but pirating/streaming. and that was just smth small! i'm going through my personal posts and i remember literally fucking none of it. i would talk about girls i was crushing on and i don't remember who they are or what their names were, i would talk about shows i was watching that i'm now sitting here like i've never even fucking heard of that show. i would talk about my best friend on here, this girl named reny, and i hadn't even fucking remembered that her name was reny until now even though we were best friends for like 3 years. but i didn't remember how we met (which was apparently through roleplaying charles & erik, which i didn't even remember i had done with anyone other than my ex), i didn't remember any of our conversations, i don't even remember where she lived. i don't remember any of the classes i was talking about taking, i have misremembered so much that is clearly documented differently on that blog... i don't know anything about my own life

and it's genuinely really terrifying. like i know i Know it is a dissociative disorder of some kind to do with trauma but what bugs me is i don't know what kind and i honestly do not really Want to know.

idk. earlier i tagged a post abt younger me like she just wasn't the one that could make it to adulthood and earlier i was talking about teenage me and was like i may have been going by she/her at the time but that one has a distinctly they/them vibe and anything else feels weird. and i'm not looking into it or staring directly at it bc this is smth to discuss with a therapist (or better yet, not with anyone ever at all bc i don't want to think about it) but i genuinely do not feel like i was the one driving that body for that long. it feels like there was a young girl that died when she was 9, then there was a really depressed tween/teen that made it to 16, and after that there's been me. i have memories now, after 16, with actual substance to them. but before that? nothing. and the me that was there from 9-16 felt the same way about the kid that was 0-9 and i only know that because they talked about it. and it is! terrifying! i hate it! i don't like to think about it! i don't want to know what it means and i don't want to know how much traumatic shit i have simply just literally forgotten bc it doesn't feel like it happened to me at all.

i don't remember my life. at all. everyone else seems to. even the most traumatized of my peers will tell me stories with so much clarity and detail and they know all the names of their friends and exes and all these places they went and things they did... all i remember is where i lived and what i looked like bc i have pictures. that's it. even things like interests are all jumbled and mixed up and i thought i could at least categorize those with some accuracy, but looking at this blog... i can't. i've forgotten (like completely forgotten to the point that i do not recognize the media name) major interests. i've lost so much. i don't know how to take that.

[coffee-at-annies]

I do think the VGK game will be the final straw for the Pens. Sid and Geno won't let the Pens freefall anymore in the standings, and I think this may prompt Hextall to make a coaching change and a shakeup for the bottom 6 / defense injuries. We haven't seen any midseason coaching changes this season yet but *knock on wood* the Pens could be the first to pull it off. Trying to be optimistic here but this streak looks bad when: we have a lot of injuries, this roster will not be the same roster come March 3, and we may still see a lot of personnel changes around the league. Yes the other Metro teams look so great compared to our struggling Pens but their schedules are far easier right now while we had to play all but 1 playoff team the last 2 weeks with a depleted lineup. What's the point of comparing our lows to their highs - ignoring the fact that we might have not even seen our final team, we have 49 games left; and the All Star break hasn't even happened yet?

Tanger will come back soon, Jarry too, even Petry. The bottom 6 will have a lot of changes. It's easy to point out how we are struggling when it seems everyone around you is doing well - like what I've been saying several times - and thinking whether the hockey gods are deliberating making us suffer by giving all the bad things that could happen to a hockey team at once.

But no, I look at the calendar and wonder, maybe this is a blessing it's happening now because we still have time to turn things around rather than a late season collapse? It's hard to stay positive when the teams around you are peaking together this early, but again the season isn't over yet. Sid and Geno and Jake will break their slumps as the perfect time - and months later when we look back, if the changes do happen, I feel like we can say to ourselves that these struggles came at the right time because had they not happened the Pens wouldn't have fared better anyway.

Idk what to tell you anon I stared our schedule in the face after the red wings game and accidentally predicted a w*nless streak that’s not gonna end until we get home to play the Jets. Thought we were gonna hit OT more though. We’re gonna get goalied by Veggie and they’ve got some hot kids who I think will embarrass DS and Dumo in front of the net.

As for everything you’ve said in the first paragraph, I’m having trouble parsing what you want me to say? You seem to ask and answer your own questions as you’re typing them out.

Do I think Sully’s job is in jeopardy? Ehhhhh. I’m not sure who we’d hire instead. Do I think he’s safe? No. Do I think we’ll make a trade? We’re certainly going to try but the problem is who do we give up. We can’t just trade away bad players for someone good, even to teams trying to tank. Is it fair to compare us to everyone else? That’s how the world works but if it’s getting you down try not to listen to those things. In the grand scheme of things it’s a long season and we’ve got time to course correct and figure it out.

I’m doing my best to not be worried about the current streak, either we figure our shit out or we don’t. I asked myself last night what the worse case scenario for this season is (barring retirement or player injuries *knock on wood*) and the best case scenario. The worst thing I could think of was we miss the playoffs.

Is that bad? Is it the end of the world? Steelers (my football team) are currently trying to figure out how to backdoor their way into the playoffs and before that people were doomposting about how it would be the first time Mike Tomlin (the coach) would miss the playoffs and I’m like I’d rather the Steelers be functional and good heading into next season than to watch them play a single playoffs game this season.

For the pens, I’d be disappointed if we br*ke the current streak but we kinda did in 2020 and it wasn’t the end of the world. The best case scenario is, of course, always the Cup. If those are best and worst, I’m fine with both options. I know what I’d prefer, but I’m sitting here trying my best to enjoy watching my favorite flightless birds zoom around the ice and trying to remember how lucky we are to still have this core and this team.

[snugglebuddyhan]

The reason people hold things in for as long as possible is bc as soon as they let themselves fold the depressive thoughts and rage immediately kick in. I've bottled up everything thrown at me for almost a year now and my cats knocking over and almost breaking a speaker I can't afford to replace was my final straw. I was so enraged if I had it in me to chase them down and discipline them I'd probably end up accidently severely harming them and in that moment I probably wouldn't have cared. Idk where they got it from, but they found and opened a plastic spork and when I picked it up I wanted so badly to stab myself in the leg with it. I instead went outside to the garage and beat the living crap out of the punching bag my mom has been trying to get me to use when I'm mad until I sprained my wrist. I then broke down and fell to the ground and silently yelled for 2 minutes, bc my neighbor was right outside the garage and would have heard me if I screamed

I was apparently hitting the bag so hard, fast and loud I woke my stepfather up and that didn't do anything but piss me off even more, bc despite probably looking like an absolute whack job the punching bag helped calm me down a bit. It was a distraction I needed and now I can't do it anymore, bc it causes too much of a disturbance. So, what am I supposed to do then? Go back to self harming? Breaking things? Punching holes in walls?

Now, I'm sitting here on the couch thinking about how sick I am of living like this to the point I want to kill myself and that pisses me off too, bc there's no easy way to do it. I hate wondering if this is what what I'm going to be putting up with for the rest of my life? What kind of life is that? I'm only human. I'm not built for any of this. That whole "just keep pushing through it" bullshit is shit people who don't deal with anything say. Push through it? All the way up until I'm on my death bed? No. The answer is simply no. I feel nothing but numbness right now. Like, if no one stops me I can and will stare at the wall all day, bc I'm so pissed and over everything I can't move. I wanted to cry until I passed out, but I couldn't. I was making all the noises a person would if they were crying and I was even gasping for breath, but no tears were coming out. I felt empty inside. Like, I had no more tears to cry

And what actually makes me even madder is when he woke up he asked me what that noise was and when I told him what I was doing and that I was pissed he just walked away and went back to bed. He just left me there in a mental state I shouldn't have been alone with. Who does that? I could have really used his help. He may not be able to solve my problems, but just him listening would have helped. That's the problem with this family. No one cares. I can't remember a time they've seen me openly display my emotions as if it were a cry for help and stop and ask me if I wanted to talk about it. The most they'll do sometimes is ask me what's wrong, but with an attitude as if I've done something to wrong them. That doesn't help in the least bit

[not-a-space-alien]

Savage Sunset Chapter 7S

Story masterpost

I'm actually going to post just 7S before 7M because, idk, i'm impatient or something, I've just been writing when the inspiration strikes at whatever angle it strikes, cuz that's really all I have time for rn with school and all.

UPDATE: Here's chapter 7M :)

On this episode of the story "Valen's big fuckin bad no good predicament": Lex and Ari come back after avoiding him for a while. What will happen?! 🤔🤔

Content/Content warnings for this chapter: Nonconsensual bondage/restraint/being trapped, gag/muzzle, aftermath of torture, cuts, burns, nonsexual nudity, heavy emotional distress, suicidal ideation/euthanasia discussion

“Oh, Lex, Ari, while you’re here, I was wondering.  I don’t suppose you’d be able to bring me back another live catch sometime?  I’m not sure how much more use I’ll be able to get out of this one.”

Lex turned back from where she’d tried to hurry past the basement to get out the front door.  She looked at Nick, at the top of the stairs, the open door letting out the deranged wailing from downstairs.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” said Ari.

Nick wrung his hands.  “Well, it’s in a state of starvation, which means it takes much, much longer for its injuries to heal.  It’s not really a pace I can work with to do experiments anymore.  And I’m positive the director won’t consent to us feeding it.”

They’d had plenty of opportunities to repeat their feat in the intervening months.  They’d nabbed about one kill per week, but they’d never even discussed trying to take another vampire alive.  Not after they’d seen what happened to the first one.

Ari sneered at him.  “It’s not our fault if you broke your toy.  You’re not getting another one.  Come on, Lex, we’ve got shit to do.”

“Wait!” said Nick.  “Hold on, please.”  He clasped his hands together.  “Please will you help me today, just this once, I know you said you wouldn’t, but nobody has been around all week to open the coffin with me.  I need to clean him off.”

Lex wavered.  Clean him off?  That…sounded okay, actually.  If he was dirty enough that Nick agreed he needed to be cleaned, it probably felt horrible and washing him would be doing him a favor.

Ari clucked her tongue, clearly thinking the same thing.  “Well…all right, fine.  I’ll do it.  Lex, you don’t have to if you don’t wanna.”

“I’ll help.”

They followed Nick downstairs.  The pathetic, warbling sounds got louder as they descended.

God, the creature in the coffin was almost unrecognizable.  He was rail fucking thin and covered in a layer of grime…it looked to be mostly blood, based on where it was, streaks of it below still open wounds.  It looked like his pants had been lost in the intervening months, dressed in only the now equally grimy boxer briefs, and a heavy metal collar around the neck had been added. It was padlocked shut, but there was a handle at the front–an easy way to lift him up out of the coffin, perhaps?

He was…starting to smell.  Lex nearly gagged.

“Thank you so much,” said Nick with relief.  “I really cannot continue anything until he’s been cleaned up.  It’s interfering with measurements.  Here, if you would be so kind as to unlock the cage and bring him over here.”

He handed the key to Ari, then came over to the basin sink and unrolled a hose from underneath of it.  “There,” he said, and pointed to the drain in the floor.  “Just position him right on there, if you please, this won’t take very long at all.”

Lex’s heart sank, guilt coming back.  She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but of course Nick would just hose him off.  Surely it wouldn’t be comfortable.  The water would probably be cold.  Well…he would probably feel better once it was over, right?

Ari stared at Nick, the hose in his hand dripping.  “All right,” she said, and she knelt, unlocking the coffin and creaking the lid open.

Valen’s eyes were unfocused and lifeless.  He was already shaking and whimpering.  Ari reached down and grabbed the handle on the collar around his neck, lifting him out with ease–it was unsettling how little he appeared to weigh.  It didn’t seem to hurt at all, but Valen brought his hands, which were shackled in the front of his body, up in front of him, curling his head away, as though to shield himself from a blow.

Ari clicked her tongue, looking down at the pathetic, trembling, grimy stick of a man in her hand.  “All right,” she said, and she knelt down, pressing her shoulder into his midsection, draping him over her shoulder.  She stood, carrying him like a sack of potatoes and starting to go up the stairs.

“Um,” said Nick.  “Ari, where are you–”

“I’m taking him to the bathroom,” Ari snapped.  “Because I can tell it would upset Lex if you did it like that.”

Lex nearly bounced in excitement, following Ari.  Nick quickly moved to intercept them.  “Hold on,” he said, blocking the door.  “I insist we do it in the basement.”

“Nick.”

“Y-yes?”

Ari lifted one foot up slightly.  “Do you see this foot?”

“Y…yes?”

“I just got it out of a boot not that long ago.  But I will break it off in your ass if I have to.  Get out of the way.”

Wringing his hands, Nick stepped to the side.

Lex’s face was about even with Valen’s, in the small of Ari’s back.  His hair drooped over his face to cover most of it, bobbing silently with each step Ari took, but she could see his desperate, tired eyes looking at her.

This time, she suppressed the instinct to tell him everything was going to be okay.

As they came up onto the first floor, a sudden realization struck Lex, and she dashed over and closed the blinds.  The hunters who’d been talking in the living room fell silent with a questioning look.

“Don’t worry about it,” huffed Ari, pivoting and going up the second set of stairs to the second floor.

Valen started whining again, eyes wheeling around, as though the mere stimulation of being in a different environment were overwhelming.

“Sh,” said Lex, and then bit her tongue.  Don’t.  Don’t tell him it’s okay.  He probably hates you.

The bathroom door was closed, the sound of water in the sink behind it.  Ari pounded on the door.  “Yo!”

“Geez, what?” said Bailey’s voice from inside it.

“Get out.  We need to use the bathroom.”

The faucet squeaked off, the sound of towels ruffling.  The door opened, showing Bailey’s disgruntled face.  “Geez, fine.”  His face twisted when he saw the vampire, and he skittered out of the way.

Lex filed into the bathroom after Ari.  She turned around to see Nick following them.  “Now–Now listen, we should make this quick, because–”

Lex shut the door in his face, then locked it.

Ari had sat Valen down on the toilet and started running the water in the shower.  “Go ahead, Lex.  Since I can tell you want to.”

Lex approached Valen like he was a wary cat.  He shrank back.  “Sh,” she said.  “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you.  Do you want to take a shower?”

He looked at her foggily.

She took his elbow.  “Can you stand up for me?”

He didn’t start to move until a second hand on his back gave him a gentle push.  His knees trembled as he stood.  He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink and startled violently, falling over.

“All right, you’re okay,” said Lex soothingly, helping him lean on the counter.  “Just relax.”

“You don’t have to talk to him like he’s a puppy, Lex.  He’s still a serial killer, he doesn’t really deserve what we’re doing, so–”

“Wh–” Lex sputtered.  “You’re the one who brought him upstairs!”

“Only because you made me!”

“Wh-uh–No I didn’t!  You did that all on your own.”

“The look on your face was enough.”

Lex rolled her eyes.  “Sure, okay, Ari.  You don’t care at all.  Got it.”

“Hmmph.”  Ari stuck her hand in the stream of water, testing the temperature, then wiped her hand on her shirt.  “All right, that should be good.”

Lex turned back to Valen.  “Do you want to take your underwear off?” she said gently.

His chest heaved in and out with panicked breaths.

“You don’t have to.  But I’ll clean them for you if you want.”

With shaking hands, Valen brought both cuffed hands to his left hip, sliding his underwear down, then repeating it on the right hip until they could drop to his ankles, on top of the ankle cuffs.

“All right, you're doing great,” said Lex, and she knelt.  “Ari, do you have a handcuff key?"

Ari took out a keyring and handed it to her.  She unlocked the manacles around his ankles, then stood, supporting him by the elbow again.  “All right.”

She helped him step out of the ankle cuffs and underwear, leaving him completely nude except for handcuffs and the muzzle.  God, this was horrific, the sheer number of injuries on his body. The newest ones appeared to be the series of cuts at regular intervals going up his arms and legs, along with some fresh burns, but there were a lot of older burns underneath of those.  Nick hadn’t been exaggerating about his rate of healing slowing down.  No wonder Nick wanted another one.  His body looked a little bit like he’d been put through a woodchipper. 

Ari put a hand on Lex’s shoulder and whispered into her ear.  “Should we just kill him?”

Valen’s breath hitched, and he flinched repeatedly, leaning away from both of them.

“No!” said Lex.

“Are you saying that because you’re thinking of his best interests, or your own?”

She looked at Valen.  The pitiful creature just braced himself on the sink, head drooping.

“Well…” said Lex.  “I mean, we could ask him.”

He raised his head at this, a look of panic on his face as they both looked at him expectantly.

“Do you want us to kill you?” Lex said softly.  “We’ll make it painless.  If you want it…to just end.”

Valen’s body hitched in a rapid-fire series of gasping breaths, and then he steeled himself and slowly nodded.

Ari put her hand to her mouth.  “Shit.  Okay.  All right.”

Lex grimly took his elbow and turned him around to face Ari.  Ari reached into her belt pouch and took out a wooden stake.

“It’ll be fast,” said Lex.  “Then the pain will be all over.”

Tears spilled over in Valen’s eyes as Ari steadied the stake over his chest, resting the point over his heart.  He suddenly flinched away, raising his hands, shaking his head, letting out muffled whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut.

Lex put her other arm around his back to steady him.  His skin was cold and she could feel his bones.  “Did you…change your mind?”

He nodded vigorously, quivering.

Ari sighed, slipping the stake back into her belt.  “Okay, then.  Let’s just forget that and wash you off.”

As Lex guided him towards the shower, he kept his hands folded up in front of his chest, looking at the water as though it might bite him.  Lex wrapped a hand around his wrist and extended his hand into the stream of water.  “How’s that?”

He didn’t respond.

“Too hot?  Too cold?”

He shook his head.

“Up you get, then.”

Even with Lex helping him keep his balance, he didn’t lift his foot high enough to clear the rim of the tub and tripped, falling head-first into the shower.  Lex redoubled her grip, pulling him right-side up as the shower waterfalled over his soggy form.

“How about a bath, then,” said Ari behind her.

Lex sighed and pulled the valve to change the flow of water to the bottom faucet, then plugged the tub.  “Jesus Christ, Ari, he can barely stand.”  This skeletal creature that couldn’t look at them without flinching was a far cry from the dangerous predator they had subdued and gotten their bones broken by.

Nick’s voice was at the door.  “Is everything quite all right in there?”

“Yeah,” said Ari.

“How much longer are you going to be?  I have timepoints that, ideally–”

“Don’t come in, we’re having gay sex.”

Lex helped Valen sit back in the tub as the water rose up around his thighs.  “There we go,” she cooed.  “Does that feel good?”

He silently brought his cuffed hands to rest on the bathtub rim.

“Here,” said Lex, laying the bar of soap next to them.  “You can do it yourself, if you want.”

He looked at the bar of soap like he couldn’t remember what it was.  His hands weakly fumbled with it, and it slipped down into the tub.

“Okay, that’s okay,” said Lex, noting that it looked like he was about to start crying again.  “You’re doing great.”  She retrieved the keyring again and brought his wrists forward.

“Be careful,” said Ari in a warning tone as Lex unlocked his wrists.

“Come on,” said Lex, “he’s clearly not in any state to do much of anything.”

She set the handcuffs on the sink, then twisted back towards Valen.  He was bringing his hands shakily up towards the muzzle.

“No,” said Lex softly.  “I’m sorry, that has to stay on.”

He let out a pitiful whine like a dog, face scrunching up.

Lex gently grabbed his wrists and lowered his hands down into the soap and water.  “I’m sorry.  That has to stay on.  I’m sorry.”  She twisted to look at Ari, voice tinged with desperation.  “Are you sure we can't take the muzzle off?”

Ari sighed and sat on the toilet.  “Lex, you know he could just open his mouth and tell us to kill each other, and we’d have to do it.”

“He…He might not.  He might not want to do that.”

“If he didn’t before, he certainly does now.”

Lex looked at his hopeless expression, staring down into the bathwater, which had already turned reddish brown.

“Okay,” said Lex, getting up.  “All right, let’s clean you up, then.”

There was a detachable shower head, so Lex removed it and snaked it down over his head, unplugging the drain and letting the water wash over him for a few minutes, the murky residue swirling down the drain.  He made vague motions to rub the bar of soap over himself like he wasn’t sure he was supposed to be doing it.

“There you go,” said Lex.  She plugged the tub again, now that most of the gunk was gone and the water wouldn’t instantly get completely saturated.  “You’re already looking a little bit better.”

She let the tub fill up and walked over to the sink, picking his underwear up off the floor.  She tried not to look too hard at what exactly it was soiled with as she set it in the sink and let the water run over it, adding some soap.  Not the best way to wash clothes, but it would do.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Valen’s hands move towards his face again.

“No,” said Ari flatly.  “Don’t try it.”

The hands slowly lowered back into the water.

Ari reached over and turned the water off once the tub was full, plunging them into the warm, comfortable silence of a steamy bathroom.  Lex let him soak in there for a while and wrung out his underwear, which was much cleaner despite the lackluster wash.  She got a damp cloth and wiped the manacles too, which were crusty with dried blood and some sort of grimy ash and who knows what else.

She came back over to the bathtub and knelt.  “Do you want me to help rub the soap on your back and stuff?”

He nodded slowly.

She lathered some suds onto her hands.  Despite the gentleness in her touch, he flinched when her palms landed on the bony vertebrae sticking out from under the skin.

“There we go,” she cooed.  “It feels nice, right?”

He didn’t respond.

She lifted the metal collar on his neck to wipe underneath it, running a finger around.  His skin was warmer now, after soaking for a bit.

She got the shampoo off the floor.  “Close your eyes for me.”

He did so, shaking with anticipation now that he could not see.  She squeezed some shampoo out onto the top of his head, which startled him.  His white hair was stained nearly pink from the blood at some points.  She worked it into a lather on his scalp.  He went limp, face melting into relaxation.  A clump of hair came out in her hand, and she grimaced and wiped it on the wall.  He didn’t seem to notice.

“All right, I’m going to touch your face, don’t be surprised by it.  Just keep your hands down there.”  She rubbed some soap on her hands and slid a finger around the muzzle.  The metal parts of the device were padded with leather where it touched him, so it wouldn’t burn him, but there were still inflamed, angry patches of skin where it’d been chafing from months of continuous wear.

Lex loosened the strap on the muzzle.  Just one notch.  It was barely enough to make a difference, but he sighed with relief.

She got one finger down between the muzzle and the skin, rubbing the irritated flesh.  She could feel his jaw working at the bit under her hands.  “Sorry,” she said.  “I’m sorry we can’t take it off.  You know you have to keep it on.”

He sagged.

“All right, let’s rinse you off.”  Lex stood and retrieved the shower head again, setting it to a gentle stream.  He closed his eyes and leaned into it, water streaming down his back.

The faucet squeaked as she turned it off.  She looked down at him.  He still looked pretty fucking gnarly with all his injuries, open cuts layered over old bruises and half-healed wounds, not to mention him being very visibly in a state of starvation that humans couldn’t even reach and still be alive and moving around.  But he was clean, and no matter how miniscule the comfort had been, it must have been the first he’d received in months, and he clearly appreciated it.

“Okay,” said Lex.  “You did so good.  Now let’s just get you dried off, and then we’ll go back downstairs, okay?”

He burst into sobs instantly, leaning into Lex’s knees, wet hands twisting in the fabric of her pants as he desperately clung to her.

“Oh,” said Lex.  “Oh, shhh, shhh, it’s okay, it’ll be okay…”

“Alex,” Ari snapped, and both Valen and Lex looked at her sharply.  “Don’t.”

“What?”

Ari sighed in irritation and came over, squatting next to Valen.  He still pressed into Lex, loathe to let go of her.

She locked eyes with him.  He let out a tiny whimper of fear.

“Hey,” said Ari.  “It’s not okay.  I know it’s not okay.  I know it’s not all right for you right now.  It’s actually pretty fucked up right now.  But me and Lex are going to see if we can make things a little better, okay?”

His grip on Lex tightened.

“All you have to do is hang in there just a bit longer.  Can you do that for me?”

He nodded morosely, even as he continued to white-knuckle Lex’s thighs.

Ari smiled.  “Great.”  She tossed a towel on top of his head.  “Dry yourself off then.”

Lex helped him to sit up on the lip of the tub and lent a hand to towel him off.  Ari found a blow dryer under the sink, and Lex used it to dry off his hair and the skin under the muzzle and the collar.

“All right,” said Ari, holding both pairs of cuffs.  “Sorry, but it’s time these go back on.  We can’t hide in the bathroom forever.”

Face drooping sadly, Valen held his wrists out.  Ari fastened them, then knelt and did the same for his ankles.

“Do you want me to carry you back down, or walk yourself?”

He didn’t move, didn’t meet her gaze.

“I’ll take that as a vote for carrying.”  She leaned him onto her shoulder again, picking him up and steadying him with a hand across the back of the legs.

Nick wasn’t there when they came out, surprisingly.  That gave them a moment of reprieve as they walked back down the stairs.

“Everything all right?” Bailey said warily as they emerged onto the first floor.

“Just peachy,” said Ari, knocking the basement door open with her foot.  “Just right as rain.”

Nick was downstairs at the furnace, handling something with gloves and tongs.  “Ah, there you are, thank you so much, just what I needed…While you’re here, while we have him out, I could, perhaps, just very quickly get data from this timepoint–”

He pulled a stone cup of glowing hot molten silver out of the furnace, holding it at a distance.  “I’m testing the effects of silver on wound healing, you see–”

The cuts up his arms and legs, the fact that some of them had burn marks and some didn’t–to compare them.  Nick wanted to fucking pour molten silver into the open wounds.

Lex looked over at Ari, who was standing there with a horrified expression on her face, to see that Valen was squirming on her shoulder, twisting and writhing as though he could run away.

The coffin lid was still open behind Ari, and she turned around and dumped him inside of it, not even fastening the restraints to keep him secured to the sides before closing it and locking it.

“Ariana, I need–I need him outside of it to–”

“Sure thing.”  Ari held the key to the coffin out like she was going to hand it to him, then yanked her hand back and put it in her own pocket.  “But you know I just remembered there’s somewhere I gotta be real fast, so maybe I’ll come back later and help you with that.”

Ari pushed Lex up the stairs, then when they were at the top, she turned and made eye contact with Nick before shutting the basement door.

“Sick fuck,” she muttered.

Lex followed her as she stomped into the kitchen.  “Ari–what are you–what were you thinking we would do to help him?”

Ari ran a hand through her hair, letting out a breath.  “Ummm…Well, okay, I know a good place to start.”

She walked over to the corded phone hanging from the wall and picked it up.

"And for the record," she insisted, holding one finger up. "I'm only doing this because you're clearly upset by it. I don't care at all."

Lex suppressed a smile.

Ari turned and ran her finger over the important phone numbers posted next to the phone, then dialed, waiting.  Then:  “Yeah, Jenny?  Hey what’s up.  Is Director Griswald in his office today?”

***

Tag list <3

@annablogsposts

@darlingwhump

@oddsconvert

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@soursagas

@thecyrulik

@whumpsday

[the-west-meadow]

sorry idk if you’re requests are still open. if so, #6 from dialogue prompts for tom x reader please?

man, I just really love writing for Tom. thanks for your request, hope you enjoy!

Tom Wambsgans x Reader

prompt: You have to leave right now.

Sometime in the middle of the day, you received a text from Tom.

Come to my office after work, it said. You glanced toward his office, but his blinds were shut.

What's up? you texted back.

But he wouldn't respond. For the rest of the day you didn't see him. He remained shut up in his office. It was impossible for you to focus on anything else. But you kept working until it grew dark.

Everyone had left for the day when you finally stood up from your desk and stretched. The surrounding cubicles were empty, and most of the lights had gone off automatically. Yet across the room you could see the glow of Tom’s office.

You found him sitting alone, gazing out the window with a glass of liquor in his hand. He turned when he heard you.

“Jesus, have you been working this whole time?”

“I had a lot of shit to do.”

“Well, I've got news for you. None of that matters anymore.”

He walked over to his desk, picked up a bottle of tequila, poured a glass, and brought it over to you. You looked up at him as he handed it over.

“Welcome to my farewell party.”

You caught a whiff of alcohol on him. On closer inspection, his tie was loose, the top button of his shirt undone. His eyes looked slightly red.

“What are you talking about?” you asked.

“Don’t act like you haven’t heard the gossip. They’re going to arrest me tomorrow.”

You stared as he walked back over to his desk, poured himself a shot, and quickly gulped it down.

“This is the last time I’ll be drunk for a very long time. I wanted you to have the honor of witnessing it.”

Finally he took a seat by the window and you collapsed into the nearby chair.

"This can't be real," you said blankly.

He nodded towards the glass in your hand. “You better drink that.”

You swallowed a mouthful, feeling its smooth burn inside of you. Tom watched your every move, taking it all in. Your lips on the glass. The way your fingers held it. It all caused a stabbing pain in his heart.

“Drink up, baby. This is it. This is the end.”

“You’re fucking with me,” you decided.

When he looked at you, he was suddenly serious. There was no trace of humor in his face.

“Sadly, no. This is very real.”

You sat back in your chair, staring at him in disbelief.

“Where the fuck is Siobhan during all this?”

“Oh, she still doesn’t believe it’s going to happen. Even when it does, I doubt she will care much. It’s not really an inconvenience to her. In fact, it benefits her greatly.”

“Well, I care,” you said. “Who am I going to talk to? Who am I going to day drink with at work?”

“I’m sure there are plenty of candidates,” he said, avoiding your gaze.

“But there aren’t, Tom. It’s only you.”

“Maybe we can start a prison correspondence. You can send me dirty pictures or smuggle small knives in pastries.”

He managed a smile. You drained the rest of your glass and set it down too hard.

“Fuck.”

Tom nodded. “You said it.”

He gazed out the window, eyes soft and distant. You wanted to grab him, to take him away, to give him a new life. But it seemed that his life would end here.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered.

He looked away, running a hand over his eyes with a shaky sigh.

“You have to leave right now,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss you and I don’t want this to be the last time.”

You gazed at him with a lump in your throat. When he met your eyes, they were shining with tears.

“Do it anyway," you said.

Tom grabbed both your wrists and pulled you to him. You collapsed onto his lap, hands in his hair as he gripped your waist, pressing your body hard against him. His face was damp with tears, and you kissed him even harder. You could taste the alcohol on his lips, the salt on his cheeks.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, kissing his lips, his cheek, his jaw. “Don’t fucking leave.”

He picked you up all at once. With your legs wrapped around him, he carried you to the sofa, let you down, and stood over you as he tore off his jacket and tie. He began to unbutton his shirt while gazing down at you.

“This isn’t the last time,” he murmured, hovering over you as he kissed your neck, your collarbone. You breathed in his familiar scent, closing your eyes to his gentle touch.

“Don’t worry,” he went on, as his kisses descended your body. You moved against him, forgetting everything, taking in the feel of his broad palms against your bare skin.

Then you felt all of him, warm and hard and familiar. You gasped and arched your body towards his. He gave a soft moan, then whispered with his lips against your ear.

“This isn’t the last time, baby. But pretend it is.”

[happysoldlady]

Coney Island - Nestor Oceteva

a/n: this is a lot longer than the others because I got a little carried away. also this song is top 5 from evermore, argue with the wall. I couldn't decide which lyrics to use, they're all too good. I might do a part two to this? idk I kinda like the storyline. y'all can shit all over my dreams if you wish lol.

part 2 link

warnings: idk everything? heavy, problematic drinking, violence, suggestive conversation, angst!!!!

-----

"Break my soul in two looking for you But you're right here If I can't relate to you anymore Then who am I related to?"

The longer you stare into the abyss of a lonely house, you can't help but wonder how you got here. Consumed by what? Love? Lust? Greed? You met Nestor at a time in your life where you needed someone to take care of you, and now, sitting alone in the house the two of you put so much of yourselves into, you can't figure out who that person was.

It's only midnight and you've been doing this long enough to know that Nestor won't be home for another couple hours. So you sit back into the couch, glass of wine in hand, sipping a generous amount before letting out a quiet sigh. You don't bother turning on the television, knowing you won't pay attention to anything on it anyway. Nothing could possibly distract you from the fact that the man you love has been absent for the better part of a year, and you've allowed it.

Allowing it has been easier than walking away. You've invested too much of yourself into this, and walking away feels more like a betrayal to yourself than anything else. Meeting him for the first time all those years ago seems like a fever dream. Something that happened in another lifetime, and now you're stuck in this one, desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything to hold on to the life you once shared that you'd do anything to get back.

You can see it like it was yesterday. You were working at a shop your grandmother owned late one night, wiping down the counters following a particularly rowdy group of teenagers. You sold treats: ice cream, brownies, fudge, etc. It was just something part-time to do while you figured out your next move, but honestly, you kind of enjoyed it. The shop door chimed just as you were rounding back around the counter to toss the dirty rag in the back. You had to do a double take when you looked up as you saw none other than Miguel Galindo and his men standing in the lobby. All dressed in suits, sunglasses resting on their noses, looking expensive overall. You cleared your throat, giving them all a warm smile.

"Hi," You squeaked out, avoiding eye contact with the infamously cocky Miguel. "What can I get for you?"

"My son loves your butterscotch soft serve. Can I just get a scoop of that maybe in a cup? He's only two." Miguel says politely, adjusting the cufflinks of his sleeve.

You nod, "Yeah of course, any toppings or anything?"

Miguel looks at you like the question takes him off guard. "Uh, I guess not."

You nod, and then get to work. You slide the cup of ice cream over toward him, sticking a spoon in it, and grabbing a napkin.

"Can I get anything else for you guys?" You end up making eye contact with the guy standing near the tables in, behind Miguel. The only one besides Miguel that wasn't wearing sunglasses, although you weren't complaining. The man was very attractive. His tongue darts out his bottom lip as he makes eye contact with you, his back stiffening.

"Actually, yes. My wife comes in here a lot, and she gets some sort of fudge. I don't know if you still have it. A coconut white chocolate something?" Miguel asks, eyes dancing over the fudge flavors. You smile and nod.

"Yeah, it's seasonal but I think we may have some in the back. Give me just a second." You say before scurrying, kicking yourself for not asking how much he wanted. You lean back around the door, "I've got 2 pounds left."

He nods curtly, "We'll take all of it."

Once his fudge is wrapped up, you ring him up, wishing him well. As they're leaving, the man you made eye contact with before lingers, giving you a once over, then making his way out the door. Days later, you've almost completely forgot about the encounter, you see a rather familiar pair of braids stroll into your shop, and the rest is history.

As the clock ticks, you end up just drinking straight from the bottle. The fuss and the fight have left you once and for all. After all, you figure, there's no need to pretend like you aren't going to drink the entire bottle anyway. And then Nestor will come home, notice, and you'll tell him to wipe the worry off his face. You're not entirely sure that he could fix it even if he cared enough to want to.

"And if this is the long haul How'd we get here so soon? Did I close my first around something delicate? Did I shatter you?"

Nestor dreads going home. And it's not solely because you don't look at him with the same fire in your eyes anymore. But he just really hates to see you drinking yourself into a stupor every night because of a life he can't get out of either.

He loves you. That much has always been true. He's adored you from the moment your eyes connected in that ice cream shop, and in that regard, nothing's changed. But there was nothing he could do to stop the ever changing circumstances around him. His life belonged to the Galindo cartel, and it didn't matter how much he hated watching you succumb to the darkness of it, he still had a job to do. His loyalties lied with them no matter how much he loved you.

So, yeah, he fucking hated going home. And as he walks toward the front door, he wonders what flavor of wine you've chosen to drown in tonight.

"Y/N? Mi amor?" He calls, unloading his pockets and turning the safety on his handgun. He hears you before he sees you. The deep breath, and then your unsteady feet.

Your hair is disheveled from the couch, the bottle of...white wine in your grasp, and you lean against the wall. Your eyes meet his, a watery grin on your lips.

"Missed you." You mumble as he walks toward you. He tilts his head, pressing a sweet kiss into your hairline, his hand sliding down to cup your face in his hand as he stares down at you.

His eyes glide over the wine bottle. You're down to the last fourth of the bottle, and the very broken part of him wonders if you're on the comeback. At least you haven't finished it yet. He slips the bottle easily out of your grasp, gulping down the last fourth, then leaning into to plant a kiss to your lips.

"It's 3am, amor. What are you doing up?" He asks, voice quiet, lips brushing against yours.

You let out a sigh, pecking his lips. "You know me, I don't really sleep if you aren't here."

Nestor nods, setting the wine bottle down, undoing the first few buttons his shirt. "Well, I'm here now."

He watches his words roll over you, settling into your cracks and threatening to split you wide open. Your watery grin slips off of your face, and one of your hands runs through your hair absentmindedly.

"That's it?" You ask, your voice barely registering to his ears.

He doesn't want to hurt you, really. But he can't fuck you like this, and he won't coddle you into reversing whatever story you've managed to spin around him tonight. Icing you out isn't his intention, it's just a very unfortunate consequence of losing his trust.

He stares at you a minute longer, then turns to walk down the hallway, into your bedroom, turning on the hot water in the shower. And when you hear the bathroom door close, you crumble.

"Lost again with no surprises Disappointments, close your eyes And it gets colder and colder When the sun goes down"

You had plans. And considering you were hardly ever invited anywhere, you were almost too excited. Fitted black dress, tall heels, dark makeup and hair styled to perfection. You were just finishing strapping on your shoes when your front door opens. You jerk your head up in surprise, meeting Nestor's confused gaze.

"You're home early." You comment, leaning back down to adjust your heels.

"Yeah I asked Mikey for the night off..." Nestor trails off as he notices how dressed up you are. He had plans too. Plans for the two of you, in a desperate attempt to reconnect. "Where are you headed for the night?" He keeps it casual, not wanting to guilt you into a change of plans.

"Girls night with a coworker." You say, giving him a wide grin, only to notice his face falter at your words. Your eyebrows furrow as you sit up, eyes scanning him. You stand, watching his eyes wash over you, drinking you in.

"Well," He mumbles, meeting your gaze once more. You almost expect him to object, but he doesn't. He wouldn't. "I hope you girls have fun."

You nod, giving him a slight smile. You open your mouth, wanting to invite him to tag along, be the Girls Night Out bodyguard, but you quickly close it. He didn't take the night off to babysit you and your friends.

"I'll text you the location." You say, grabbing your purse off the hook, running over to him to give him a goodbye kiss. He gives you a slight grin, and a curt nod.

"If you need me..." He trails off, meeting your lips once more, giving your hips a squeeze, then releasing you. You nod, muttering out a quick 'of course' before heading out for the night. And you do text him the address, adding a not-so-subtle winky face as an invitation. You kind of want him to show up. Tell you how hot you look. How he can't stand the thought of another man looking at you. But he doesn't, and you desperately try to hide your disappointment in the bottom of a margarita pitcher.

Nestor, a few beers deep himself, stares at the winky face for a long time. Types out a few messages, deletes all of them, letting out a frustrated groan. He doesn't know what you want. You won't tell him, and he's never been the type of man to guess. So he decides that if you text him again, he'll show up. But hours pass by, and nothing, so he drinks a few more beers, pausing one bottle at his lips when he hears your giggles on the porch, and then a key in the door. He doesn't have it in him to tell you the door's unlocked.

He hears you stumble in, your heels clicking against the floor of the foyer. He stands, setting his beer down and meeting your very inebriated figure halfway. Your tangled up in your coat when you feel Nestor's hands slide up to help you remove it. You mumble out a 'thank you', staring up at him as he hangs your coat up in the small closet in your entryway. He even puts it on the hanger. You notice that he's got his hair down, and it makes you smile. He turns and does a double take when he meets your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows when he sees the wistful look on your face.

"What is it? You okay?" He says cautiously, holding out his hands. Honestly, you look like you're way past fucked up, and he's concerned you're going to throw up. He's in no mood to clean up vomit on his night off.

You nod, leaning against the wall, trying to focus on him enough not to fall down. "I really wish you would've shown up tonight."

He tilts his head at your words, and opens his mouth to apologize but you interrupt him, "No, you didn't want to spend your night off babysitting. I get it. I just," You pause, letting out a sigh, and running a finger over his cheek, "I just really miss you."

Nestor crosses the floor in a matter of milliseconds, his hands coming up to grip your face in his hands. His lips press against yours, his body backing yours into the wall. You tangle your fingers in his hair, and revel in the groan he lets out. But he breaks the fevered kiss, his breathing heavy against your lips, as he rests his hands against the wall on either side of your head. He doesn't say anything, though. He doesn't need to. He said it all with his mouth.

"The question pounds my head What's a lifetime of achievement If I pushed you to the edge? But you were too polite to leave me"

Following the Girls Night fiasco, Nestor invites you to an event hosted by the Galindos. He, of course, will be on duty but Miguel usually lets his men peruse, only jumping in if needed at events like this. Really, Miguel had wanted to get everybody together to show his appreciation for all their hard work. Miguel, after all, was no stranger to the toll it could take on relationships. Nestor, however, tried to ignore how disappointed he was that Mikey had scheduled this party on his birthday. You and him had made...other arrangements for the evening.

But you dressed up, swiped on your best lipstick, and showed up on Nestor's arm anyway. Mostly because you knew how important it was to him that you come along, even if the two of you had been in a weird place.

As you near the doors of Miguel's mansion, Nestor plants a kiss to your head (carefully as not to fuck up your hair), and then opens the door for you. Hand in hand, you walk in, greeting both Miguel and Emily and then turning to greet the fellow men.

Throughout the night, everyone seemed pretty friendly. The other henchmen had riveting stories of Nestor to tell you, much to his demise, but he enjoyed watching you laugh along so he allowed it. You decided to take the night off from drinking and only had a glass of champagne when Miguel made his toast. You could see the preemptive glint in his eye though, and it made you wonder what tricks he had up his sleeve for the evening.

You decided to leave your gut feeling alone, and let yourself enjoy the one night you and Nestor had had out together in a while. The two of you danced to the music, mingled with the other guests, and genuinely seemed to be having a good time. And then the thing happens. And you had been waiting for it.

Nestor's hand tenses up in yours, and his focus is on something else. Definitely not on his dolled up wife, trying to get him to dance again. He glances around the room and you see the moment that Miguel gives him the signature head nod. Nestor's entire disposition changes and his eyes soften only a little when they look at you, he lifts the hand he's holding to his lips, then leans down to your ear, "El deber llama, mi amor."

You let out a sigh, turning to meet Miguel's gaze also. But his focus is on Emily, and you find a seat, letting your feet rest from the assault of the heels you had worn. You swirl the remaining champagne in your glass aimlessly, before downing it, and then smiling as Emily plops down next to you.

"It's hard." She blurts out, sipping on the drink in her hand.

"What is?" You ask curiously.

She turns to look at you, "Staying. Knowing what they're doing instead of this."

You let out a sigh, shaking your head, "And what are they doing?"

She doesn't answer you at first, just sips on her wine and watches all the other guests then she lets out what's probably meant to be a laugh and says, "That's the million dollar question, Y/N."

"And do you miss the rogue Who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? Will you forgive my soul When you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?"

"I just want you to be honest!" You found yourself shouting, although you know Nestor doesn't respond to it. You're just angry, and hurt. Tired of trying to figure out how to navigate his world, and yours.

"I am honest." He says, throwing up his hands. "I can't give you all the details because I don't know. I just take the orders."

"Bullshit. I'm not an enemy, Nestor. I'm your wife!" You yell, and you know you shouldn't be but fuck, he's infuriating. "Don't downplay your role in the cartel to me. I've watched you earn it. I helped you earn it!"

Nestor laughs, "And what did you do that helped me get good with Mikey?"

"Oh! That's it. I don't get to know things about your life outside of this house because I'm separate from it. Is that it?" You egg on, heated. "You think that because I haven't killed anyone personally my hands are clean?"

Nestor rolls his eyes, "Nobody said tha-"

"You didn't have to." You cut him off, your voice calmer now. The two of you glare at each other for a few moments and you watch Nestor's resolve fade.

"I have appreciated your support." Nestor says quietly, giving you a genuine look of appreciation. "But you are on a need to know basis. And you don't need to know this." Correction: he didn't want you to know this. He didn't want you to be anymore disappointed in him than you already were. It's one thing to hear rumors about the things your husband gets up to when he's not home, it's quite another to hear him say it.

You nod, your eyes narrow as you glare at him. "Well, I guess I should be thanking you, then?" You don't wait for a reply, just run a frustrated hand through your hair and walk to your bedroom, making sure the door slam is extra dramatic. And when you hear the front door slam, you slide down the door, putting your head in your hands. Hurt, but mostly just confused about what the fuck that argument was actually about.

"...Did I paint your bluest skies the darkest gray? A universe away And when I got into the accident The sight that flashed before me was your face..."

Mierda was the only thing Nestor could think. Mierda, he fucked up. He should've taken this guy out when he had the chance, and now here he is, tied up, being beaten for information he would never give. Apparently, loyalty even overrides unbearable pain. And he was most definitely in unbearable pain.

The punches just kept coming, to the face, ribs, stomach. One guy even started kicking at his legs. He would kill him the slowest, he figured. What kind of asshole goes for your legs when you're tied up to a fucking chair?

"Yo sé que tú sabes. Bien podría decirnos." The man said, leaning down with a cocky grin on his face. Nestor found it quite amusing that he had yet to actually tell him what information he wanted, but kept beating him anyway. Not that Nestor would ever say anything, but this seemed like some bullshit. Nestor took several more blows to the face and stomach, doubling over in pain, his grunts muffled by the bandana stuffed in his mouth.

"Es ese cabrón de jefe, o tu chica. You choose." The man sneered, and at the mere mention of you, Nestor's eyes narrow. Who the fuck was this guy and how did he know about you? He starts going through his mental checklist of where you would be today. It's Thursday...probably evening? You got off work at 4:30 so you'd definitely be home. Nestor closes his eyes, not giving anything away but his insides start bubbling in panic. If you're home, they're going to find you. If Miguel didn't intervene soon, he would have to tell them something, anything. Nestor would make up something, or tell them something insignificant. Play dumb? No. They obviously knew he was Miguel's right hand.

The man in front of him breaks his thoughts with another hard punch to the face. Nestor turns his head slowly back to the man, a glare planted in his gaze. If he could just get his hands free, he could take this guy. He tugs on his restraints, hard, hearing a slight crack of hope but he huffs in frustration as that's all he gets. A meaningless, twinge of hope.

Meanwhile, you're dancing in your kitchen, stirring the soup you had spent the last hour or so making. You turn off the burner, reaching up into the cabinets for a bowl, only to feel a hand hastily grab your waist, and then the other pressing against your mouth. You try to twist, screaming against the hand in alarm. As your kicking against nothing, another figure comes at you, masked and grabs your legs, carrying you out your back door and throwing you into a van.

You bang your head against the door on the other side, letting out a groan of pain, looking up to see none other than your husband staring at you with wide eyes. His leg bouncing as he glances around the van or something, anything to break the two of you free. You feel a kick to one of your legs and you sit up, pulling your knees to your chest as you stare up at one of the masked assailants.

He roughly jerks your hands out and duct tapes your wrists together, then slapping a piece over your mouth. Your eyes meet Nestor's again, and he looks you over, checking for any injuries. He figures that if they actually hurt you, he'll lose his cool, and he hasn't yet. Only probably the bump on the back of your head, he figures. You sit quietly as both men climb into the front, swerving the van around wherever they're taking you. You see Nestor trying to see but the frustration on his face tells you it's unfamiliar. His eyes meet yours again, his foot reaching out to you and you grin against the duct tape, stretching your foot out to touch your shoe to his. He's trying to comfort you, and while it doesn't do much for your nerves, it makes you smile.

The van takes a sharp turn and you tumble over, hitting your head again on the bench next to you. You whimper, scooting back up. But you don't have time to dwell because all at once, the van door slides open behind you and arms pull you out, closing behind you with a more than stressed Nestor. If he can't see you, he can't comfort you (or himself, for that matter). His wild eyes meet the mans, and the amusement he sees behind them infuriates him. God, he hopes Miguel pulls through soon. If they hurt you, he won't forgive himself.

"Last chance..." The man says, his tone condescending. Nestor stares up at him, his stance resolved. This earns him another punch to the stomach, but then he hears the van door shut and it's just him. And his thoughts.

He's not sure how long goes by, but it's dark out when the van door opens, and Nestor's almost lost his mind trying to figure out who the fuck these guys are and what they want. If he knew, he could manipulate the information in their favor.

"Alright, pendejo," The man begins, but before he can finish, a bullet rings out and he drops to the ground. Nestor's relieved for a moment, until he sees you stepping into the van, blood dripping down your arm and a bruise forming on your left cheek. He's absolutely elated to see the pistol in your hand, though. Your breathing is heavy as you tug at his restraints, frustrated grunts leaving your throat as they won't rip. He watches you lean down, searching the guy for a knife, and he smiles slightly at your small fist pump when you find what you're looking for. The knife slides through the material with ease, and he immediately pulls the bandana out, spitting it into the van floor. His bruised hands come up to your face, his eyes searching you for anything life threatening. You shake your head, giving him a kiss to the cheek.

"I'm good, mi amor." Your voice is a little shaky, but overall, you look okay and he gives you a nod, eyes apologetic. He presses a long kiss to your hair, then slips the handgun from your gasp, wrapping an arm around you and stepping out the van, eyes on the prowl for any more men.

Nestor digs into his pocket, handing you the gun back, but standing in front of you, eyes peeled as he waits for Miguel to answer. It seems that only minutes later, Nestor sees an Escalade roll up, only excited to see Marcus just this once.

Miguel steps out of the vehicle, and you have to do a double take because he's not in a suit. Nestor and him speak quietly as Marcus leads you to the car, helping you inside and then asking you questions about the men. You tell him everything you noticed, which wasn't much, and lean your head back against the seat, resting your eyes. Marcus goes to join the other two men, who are still talking in hushed tones.

Nestor is so invested in trying to talk through who the men was, that when he glances up and sees your eyes closed, he panics. You hit your head really fucking hard, and there's a rule about falling asleep with a concussion. He's quick on the draw, at your side in a moment, shaking you awake by your shoulder.

"Y/N? Need you to wake up for me, mi dulce." You groan awake, eyes meeting his in frustration as relief washes over him. His hand trails over the cut on your arm, then sliding up to cup your cheek. "Might be concussed."