#so if anyone wants to see a gov one or them with legs and faces (bc i have it) then yknow

[alaskashigh]

realistically accurate states

[captain-tch]

Guardian Angel (The Walking Dead x Reader)

You're taking watch when the Governor attacks the prison. One thing is for certain - you will protect your family at all costs.

TW's: death, violence, blood, gore, swearing.

SEASON THREE/FOUR SPOILERS

Rick was out on one of his wanders again. He was chasing ghosts outside the fence, risking not just himself, but all of you. You followed his steps through the scope of your gun, watching him descend closer and closer to the treeline.

You felt your heart squeeze in sympathy.

You understood his pain. Every person at the prison could relate to the agony of losing a loved one. It ripped you apart, the scar never fully healing. For a while even the thought of them tears it open again, letting the wound weep. For all of the pain, suffering and grief you had seen, you hadn't seen anyone react this way.

He wasn't even being careful. You could see that he carried some guns; even from this distance you could tell he was mindlessly walking. Unlike the other times where you went beyond the walls, and in the walls too, his hands would sit on his hips, close to his gun. They were buried in his pockets.

Sighing, you turned your scope to the area around him. Like a guardian angel you would watch over him, protecting him from the dangers he wouldn't see.

From outside the watch tower, you could hear the low chatter of Carol and Axel. Carl and Beth were laughing, playing around the prison courtyard. There weren't many walkers around. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend for a moment that everything was back to normal.

Your eyes snapped open - you were never really one to fall victim to pipe dreams.

A glint of metal caught your attention, from the corner of your eye. Curious, you turned your scope in that direction, taking a moment to take in what you saw. At the edge of the trees, all you could see was the leaves and dirt. You squinted to try and see further into the shadows.

The light caught your attention again.

You did a double take. Fear shot into your heart, muscles tensing. You spun around, mouth opening wide in a warning.

"Gov-!"

One moment you were standing upright, the next you were tumbling backwards. The gun slipped from your grasp, clattering to the floor. Your back collided harshly with the concrete. Fire spread across your back and shoulder. You grunted in pain, trying to force yourself upright.

When you leaned on your left arm to prop yourself up, you cried out. Your arm gave way and soon you were back on the ground, shivers spreading down your spine.

You didn't dare look at your shoulder.

A loud gunshot shattered the silence.

Rick. Carol. Axel. Beth. Carl. Hershel. Michonne. Maggie.

Dread filled you. You crawled across the floor, using your good arm to propel you. Gritting your teeth distracted you from the throb pulsating down your entire right side. You swiped up your gun, resting it on the ground as you lined up the scope once again.

The Governor stood smiling, weapon in his hand.

Red blurred your vision. After everything he had done, how dare he try to disturb your paradise. How dare he destroy the thing you had all worked so hard, lost so much, to build. The man was a psychopath, grinning in the face of suffering.

Your finger twitched on the trigger.

Rick. Carol. Axel. Beth. Carl. Hershel. Michonne. Maggie.

That shot could have been aimed at any one of them. Any of them could have fallen. The only one you knew to be truly safe was Glenn, off on a suicide mission chasing down the very man taunting you all.

You needed to know who he hit, before you spilled his blood. If you were to become a murderer, you wanted to picture in your mind the one you needed to avenge as you pulled the trigger.

Shuffling backwards, you cradled the gun in your lap. You kept pushing yourself until your back hit the wall, ignoring the flare of agony that blossomed. Breathing deep, you used your legs and good arm to pull yourself upright.

You crept towards the edge of the watchtower, peeking down at the scenes below in the courtyard. What was left of Axel was being used to shield Carol from the torrent of bullets flying at her. Beth and Carl were hiding behind the benches. You had no idea if Rick was okay, or where the others were.

Almost like she sensed your concerns, Maggie ran out of the prison, tossing a gun to Beth. They covered Carol while she ran to safety, leaving Axel's bullet ridden body.

Gulping, you aligned your scope. You could see Rick laying low outside of the fence, aiming at a hidden threat. Hershel was crouched near by, his body pressed close to the grass. Michonne had taken cover behind the turned over prison bus.

Shaking hands jarred your scope. You held your breath, gliding the scope over the trees near Rick. The forest that once enchanted you made dread course through your heart. Shadows that you once imagined hid peace and serenity were now your very demise.

Another shower of bullets sprayed at Rick. You kept your eyes peeled for the flash of a gun, pausing when you saw the assailant. A young man, a baseball cap tipped backwards on his head. He held the gun confidently in his eyes, training his focus on Rick.

Sucking in a large gulp of air, you lined up your shot. Your sights lingered on his head, finger teasing the trigger.

He let off another round of shots in Rick's direction.

Fuck this, you thought. Without a seconds hesitation, you pushed the trigger. The bullet whizzed past the man's head, lodging itself into the tree just mere inches from him. He froze for a moment, squinting up at the Guard tower.

"Rick, run!" You screamed, praying your voice wasn't drowned out by the gunfire.

He seemed to take advantage of the opportunity, starting to shuffle in the grass closer towards the prison gate. Your heart squeezed in fear as the man lined up the shot again.

You turned back to the man. Your sights lingered on his head, finger pausing on the trigger. Did this man have a family? Did he have people who loved him?

Could you kill a man without knowing his name?

Cursing, your moved your sights towards the man's hand. This time your trigger finger pressed true, the bullet flying towards him. Instantly the man was on his knees, gun fallen out of his grasp. Blood squirted from his hand.

Relief coursed through you. At least that was one less person shooting at you.

You pressed yourself back against the wall, keeping a keen ear out for more gun shots. With each passing moment, all you could hear was the pounding in your ears. Muscles tense, you waited.

A roar of an engine cut the silence like a knife.

A small smile curled onto your lips. Glenn had finally come back from his suicide mission of trying to kill the Governor. You had to commend the man on his impeccable timing.

You turned your head around the corner, smile dropping at the sight of an unfamiliar van. All you could do was stare, the scene playing out in slow motion as the van pummelled into the fence by Rick, shattering any hope of sanctuary.

It came to a sudden stop in the fields beyond the courtyard. You watched with bated breath.

Slowly, you lifted up the sights on your gun. Someone dressed in armour jumped out of the van, moving towards the back. A makeshift ramp had been attached to it, dropping with a resounding bang.

Feet shuffled out of the van. You kept your gun trained on them, tracing their steps as they exited into the light. It was a walker.

Rage bubbled in your chest.

Hyper focused, you searched for a hint of the Governor. He was impossible hit from this angle. If you shot him from there...

Instinctively, you stepped out onto the platform, finding the Governor. You had no time to waste, no time to ponder how this kill would finally mark you a murderer, as you lined up the shot.

Your shoulder screamed in agony as the sniper rested on it. The trigger was pressed before your body could comprehend what was happened. Your shoulder twitched at the wrong time, the wrong moment, signing your death warrant.

The world seemed to still around you. You couldn't hear the panic of the group, the moans of the undead, the heaving of your own breaths. All you could focus on was the bullet that landed past the Governor, and sinking firmly into the car besides him.

Even from this distance, you swore your eyes connected with his. You started stumbling backwards, desperately seeking the safety of the watch tower. Your mind and body screamed at you to dive out of the line of fire, to keep the blood pumping in your body and to face the man's wrath another day.

You didn't have enough time to duck. You saw him cock his gun, aiming it directly towards you, and firing.

Primitive instincts controlled your muscles. You danced backwards just in time to avoid the onslaught of bullets, cowering as concrete and dust plumed around you.

Your shoulder screamed in agony. Gritting your teeth, you spared a glance down. A hole had been torn through your shirt, leaving behind a wound seeping blood. You couldn't even tell where the bullet had hit you.

Grunting, you ripped the bottom half of your shirt. Wrapping it as tightly as you could, you tried to remind yourself the pain was good. Pain meant you weren't dead.

The torrent of gun fire had halted. You realised he must need to reload, biting back your fear and peeking your head around the corner.

You froze.

It felt like you were glued in place. The Governor had his gun up, a smile adorning his face. The silence was a ruse. He wanted to lure you out. At that moment, you felt like the mouse, and he was the cat.

He fired the shot.

For the second time that day, you collapsed backwards. Pain unlike anything else you had ever known consumed you. A hot poker was digging into the skin of your neck, spreading the inferno around your body. Clumsily, your hand went to your neck. Blood squirted beneath your grip. Your hand quickly became slick.

Rick. Carol. Axel. Beth. Carl. Hershel. Michonne. Maggie.

Stumbling to your feet, you no longer cared for finding cover. The Governor didn't care about hunting you down anymore, having completed his mission. You swayed as you walked towards the door, nearly toppling over when you twisted the door handle.

Each step felt like a mile.

Rick. Carol. Axel. Beth. Carl. Hershel. Michonne. Maggie.

You forced yourself out of the door, all but falling down the stairs. Laying at the bottom, you didn't even have the energy to cry out.

"Y/N!" Carl spun towards you, eyes wide. Darting from his hiding spot, he joined your side, eyes raking your state. You could only imagine how pitiful you looked.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." A smile, akin to a grimace, cracked your features.

He didn't smile back. He cautiously glanced around, grabbed your arm and pulling it over his shoulder. A cry slipped past your lips, him tugging your wounded shoulder. He all but carried you to safety, gently setting you down. You couldn't feel the heat of the floor burn your back.

Carol appeared at your side. She smiled down tenderly at you, a hand stroking your face. You leaned into her touch, sighing, not realising your tears were making tracks in the blood. You tried to focus on the feeling of her soft caress, or the anchoring weight of her hand.

Your hand was getting too wet. Your arm was tired. You were tired.

The hand pressing on your wound loosened.

A rushing river of blood started to leak. Carl leaped forwards, hands pressing down on your neck. Soon, you couldn't tell where your blood and his hands began.

All you could see was Carl desperately trying to keep your blood inside your body. A weak smile settled on your lips. With a bloodied hand, you reached up, grabbing his chin.

You didn't have the energy to speak. You mouthed a reassurance to him. It's okay.

A singular tear tracked down Carol's face.

"No, we can't lose you too." Carl looked around to people you couldn't see. You tried to lift your head to see, only to be met with an impenetrable wall of pain. "You can do something, right?"

"I'm sorry, son." The telltale soft, country gruff of Hershel cemented your fate. Your eyes watered.

You were going to die.

You had survived escaping Atlanta, the CDC, the farm, the never ending winter. Now you were going to have died at the hands of a madman. Of all the ways for it to have happened, you never imagined it like this.

Footsteps slapped on the pavement, followed by a sharp inhale of breath. Rick, Daryl and Merle appeared above you. You were convinced Daryl and Merle were a mirage - they disappeared days ago. They couldn't be here. It must be because of the blood loss, you reasoned with yourself.

Rick's face was scrunched tight, gaze lingering on the blood coating your skin. Daryl's face remained impassive, the only indication of any emotion being the slight glint in his eyes. Even Merle had nothing to say for once.

A sudden burst of energy spread through you. You reached forward, snatching at Rick's pant leg frantically.

"You kill that bastard for what he did to our family."

The energy was gone as quickly as it had come. You slumped down, all pain ebbing from your body. You had finally succumbed to Death's scythe.

When Rick saw Michonne's katana slide through the Governor months later, he lost nearly everything. But even with the darkness looming, the losses taking their toll, he took a little comfort in knowing you could now rest easy, your dying wish fulfilled. That bastard paid for what he did to your family.

Rick just wished there was never a price to pay.

the walking dead masterlist

[wtfevenismypage]

Observer, Not Profiler

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: You’re similar to a profiler, but you can tell almost anything about a person just from a single glance. What they had for dinner, if they took a bath or shower, their name, favorite color, if they lie, even if they’re good in bed. You’ve been running from the government ever since you got caught hacking into their systems and since then you have been diagnosed with Extreme anxiety, anxious tics, and paranoia. But now the BAU need you’re help in Identifying killers.

Warnings: panic attacks, Strong language, mentions of murder and rape.4

A/N: I have no fucking clue what I’m talking about when it comes to the fake profiling, if it’s possible, or if trauma is how it’s caused, plus I’m exhausted so just roll with it please

“We have less than two days to find this guy before he kills again. What the hell are wee gonna do?”

Everyone sat in silence, contemplating and thinking about Derek Morgan’s words.

Sighs are heard all around before A youthful genius speaks.

“What if we brought someone else in? A-another profiler? Hotch, what about that girl from a few years ago, her friends said she could tell anything about anyone from a single glance? What if we brought her in?”

Aaron Hotchner rushes to his computer, frantically typing things into the screen and looks at the rest of his team.

“That should fish her out.”

Running from the government was difficult. You couldn't be in one place for more than a year, Never make friends, stay quiet, change your numbers and any personal information every six months, and if you see the police... Run.

You’ve lived like this for six years, ever since you were fifteen.

The reason you’re running is simple, yet hilarious.

Your best friend told you to hack into the governments to see if birds really do spy on us for the government. Of course you never found an answer because they already kicked you out before getting to it.

Then they came for you, at least ten swat cops raided your house, held a gun to your head as they searched the rooms.

When a group of profilers came in, and watched as you told them what they ate for lunch the day before, when they showered last, when the last time they had sex was, and shocked faces spread all around as you did the same with the swat cops, even though they were covered.

You’re currently watching you’re small T.V in horror, watching the news come unraveled.

“This woman has brutally murdered thirteen people, please, if you know anything, don’t hesitate to call us.”

Your face was plastered all over the news, every channel had your face on it.

You’ve never killed a single person. The closest you ever got was kicking a CIA agent in the groin and banging his head against your knee, but that hurt you more than it hurt him.

The woman speaking was a blonde woman with blue eyes, she has a petite stature that tells a lot more than any normal human would think.

Jennifer.

That had to be her name. She was an interrogator when you were originally taken in. 

Her face as you told everyone about the last time she had sex was hilarious. 

It was even better when it was confirmed to be true.

You frantically run around, grabbing a bag of runaway essentials and an apple before rushing out of your apartment and running as fast as possible, trying to get as far away as possible from this old life.

The street was littered with cops, they were practically on every street corner, talking to everyone they can see.

Panic and stress fill your senses quickly, causing you to break into a run down an alley way.

Yet of course, a few cops see you and chase you, because they’re cops and they see everything apparently.

You keep running, even when you feel like you can’t run anymore you keep running because if you get caught you’ll see them again, you know you will.

You’ll see those profilers.

They’re still chasing, but you start to slow down, unable to speed your slow jog to a run.

One of the cops tackle you to the ground, pinning your arms behind your back before shouting a slur of words.

But you can’t hear anything over the ringing in your ears.

you were caught. They think you murdered someone. Multiple people even.

A single tear rolls down your face as they cuff you, lifting you to your feet and dragging you away.

The team stared at you from behind the two-way mirror, watching as you twiddle your thumbs and stare confused as your head jerks to the side quickly.

“What’s up with her head?”

“Anxious Ticking, she was diagnosed with extreme anxiety and minor Paranoia soon after being caught. Anxious ticking is a system of these. she’s been looking over her shoulders for six years, so it’s no wonder she has these symptoms.”

Spencer answer’s Morgan’s question while looking at the young girl.

He was so intrigued by you. Another child genius like himself, hacking into the government at 15, and you could tell anything about anyone just by looking at them, yet you didn't like being called a profiler.

He was truly puzzled by you.

Your head tics to the side again, and you feel a red heat smack itself on your cheeks.

You knew they were watching you from behind the mirror, you just didn't know who they were. And ticking was always your biggest insecurity. You hated doing it in front of other people.

The door clicks open and you jump in your seat. You look up to see who it is.

A dark man with thick black eyebrows, he has a little beard and mustache, just covering his chin and upper lip, his build is lean and muscly, but not super muscly.

“Derek. Y-Your name is Derek.”

He nods with a kind smile, sitting down in front of you.

“Your name is Y/n.”

You nod and look down at your wrists, which are chained together with handcuffs.

“I didn’t... I didn’t hurt anyone...”

You whisper out with a shaky breath and tears in your eyes.

He nods knowingly, leaning back on the chair he’s in.

“We know you didn’t. We had to get you out of hiding somehow. This was the only way.”

You stare at him for a long time, shock moving in with the fear in your stomach.

“W-why? So th-that you could a-arrest me for hacking into the- the gov-government?” 

He looked at you, concern shielded by confusion as he stands, walking around you to the coffee machine. Your head swivels around, following his every move  with your eyes, making sure he doesn't hurt you.

The rest of the team watches as Morgan speaks, asking you about your age.

“tw-twenty one. I’m... I’m twenty one.”

They were in awe as they watched your eyes study Morgan, you travel all over his body.

“Y-you’re thirty three...You’re name is D-Derek and you’re thirty... three.”

“How the hell does she do that?”

Everyone looked at Reid, hoping for an explanation.

“It could be an effect of a traumatic childhood, often times children learn to just pick up behaviors but there have been a few very rare cases where they learn to pick up more than that. It’s dependent on their intelligence and education though. I’ve never seen a case like this though. It isn’t just looking and getting their name magically, it’s studying everything and narrowing it down.”

“Cool party trick. But shouldn't we be asking about how she hacked into the government at 15?”

“Well for one, she’s terrified right now, she wouldn’t tell us if we asked her. Morgan’s trying to get her to calm down right now. And two, if she was skilled enough, she could hack into the government. The techies of the government should have caught her as soon as she made her first attempt. I don’t understand how she made it through all of the firewalls and blocks.”

The team continued to watch as your wrists painfully slam together twice, causing the coffee cup in your hand to splash onto your lap. An embarrassed blush crawls up your neck as you apologize three times.

 Reid writes this down under your tics. So far he had head-jerking and wrist bumping.

“She doesn’t like when people watch her ticking. To her it’s embarrassing. Reassure her that it’s alright, chances are someone or multiple people have put her down about this.”

Spencer informs Morgan through the ear piece while you rub at the now warm spots on your legs.

“It’s alright, don’t apologize for it, it’s a natural instinct, we’ve seen it before.”

You turn to the two way mirror, once again made aware of the other people watching you.

“I... Ho-how many people are... Wa-watching?”

You ask, voice shaking in a low whisper that you only wanted him to hear.

“There’s six people out there, the rest of my team. You saw three of us six years ago, but two people since then have resigned.”

You nod at his words, feeling tiny again as your wrists slam together again.

There was Jason, he seemed scary, a serious look was on his face but his words were kind, he tried to calm you down.

Next was Derek, He was emotionally charged, he yelled at you every time you moved, but it was only in fear that you were going to hurt anyone else.

Then Elle. She was so kind despite carrying a gun, she held a normal conversation with you as if you were a scared girl, and not a criminal like everyone else treated you.

Next was Aaron, He scared you the most. he held a gun to you the entire time and spoke to you like you were scum, he treated you with confusion and sent tears to your eyes.

Lastly was the nameless genius. You never were able to figure out his name, you knew that he was a genius as you were, but you couldn’t tell a single thing about him.

“Is Elle there? can I talk to her?”

You speak, a small smile creeping onto your face. He chuckles and smiles, leaning forward in his chair.

“Unfortunately Agent Greenaway has resigned.”

The smile falls as you begin twiddling your thumbs again.

“W... What about the long haired man? He was very t-tall, and skinn-skinny... He-he’s smart... very smart... Am I... Am I able to talk to him?”

Derek thinks for a moment before standing up.

“let me check with the team.”

He walks away, through the door and leaving you alone in the room.

“She wants to talk with Reid.”

Morgan states as he walks into the room with the rest of his team, looking at Reid who looks pretty terrified.

“She doesn’t know his name.”

“Well it has been six years.”

“She has an eidetic memory. And it would be difficult for anyone to forget any little detail from the day she started running.”

“So should we send Reid in?”

“It’s up to you Reid. She doesn’t prove to be a threat.”

Reid stands up and looks at the girl with tears in her eyes one last time before slowly stepping into the room.

You jump at least three feat when the door clicks open, staring at the new man with wide eyes. He apologizes and sits down in front of you.

“Yo-your name is... It’s... I can’t... I can’t read you. I can’t ev-even tell how old you are...”

His eyes widen as he smiles a little bit, trying to calm your nerves.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.”

You smile a little at finally discovering his name, you’ve been thinking about it ever since you got away.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.”

The tears that cloud your vision finally fall, dripping onto the table.

“I’m sorry. I-I don’t know why I’m cry-crying...”

You stutter out, looking down to wipe your tears away.

“No need to apologize, it’s understandable considering the amount of stress you’re receiving right now.”

“Um... Am I... Am I going to jail?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, thinking about what to say before scratching his head.”

“No I don’t believe so, There was no big harm done with the hacking, so The worst you’ll have to deal with is quite a bit of questioning. No, what we brought you in for is help. We understand you have the ability to profile people with a single loo-”

“No.”

You speak in a loud tone which causes Reid to jump a little, and the rest of the team is put on edge at your sudden tone.

“I’m not... I’m not a pro- a profi... I’m not one of you.”

You curse yourself in your head for yelling, you really didn’t want any of this attention.

“I understand that. I’m sorry, You are able to identify anything about a person by just looking at them, and we need your help with that.”

You look at the mirror, staring at your own reflection for a while before asking a question.

“I don’t have a choice do I?”

His lips stretch into a thin line, his cheeks puffing out where his lips end, and he shakes his head.

“Of course you have a choice. You can say no, and you’ll be free to live your life, or you can help us, we’ll pay you a respectable amount, make sure you have a place to stay for a few months, and make sure you can see your friends again.”

Tears flowed down your face freely when he said you could see your friends. Your friends were your entire life before this. After your parents kicked you out for being an athiest, you lived with your best friend since the age of 13.

“I... I’ll help... I’ll help.”

He genuinely smiles, holding his hand out with a small item in his hands.

“Go ahead and unchain yourself, when you’re ready the rest of the team and I are right outside and we’ll brief you.”

He drops the key in front of you before standing, awkwardly waving, and then he walks out leaving you alone in the room.

You try to pick the key up, but seeing as both hands are chained underneath the table, so you sit awkwardly, your gaze switching between your hands, the key and the door, but you can’t call out for Spencer, the panic in your lungs are taking all the air, not letting you speak. 

“Should someone help her?”

“No. I would like to see how she gets out of this.”

Hotch tells Morgan before watching you kick the other end of the table, bouncing the key towards you.

It slides into your lap, which you quickly thrust your hips up to get to your hands, and you get yourself out of the cuffs.

Your fist quickly comes into contact with your forehead, another new tic.

You look at the mirror again before walking to the door and grabbing the knob, twisting it open and looking inside.

Your eyes flashed over the six people multiple times, identifying their names and ages. Some from memory, and others from your knowledge.

“Thank you for agreeing to help us. If you’ll follow us please. Dave, I want you and Morgan at the crime scene again. JJ, set up a press conference. Reid And Prentiss, You two and I are working on victimology with Miss Y/n.”

[post-modern-prometheus]

An idea I got while reading the other Wanda in the x men ask: Essentially, it’s Wanda accidentally transporting herself into the x men universe after Pietro’s death and getting adopted by Erik

Like, maybe the grief of losing her twin gets to her and she just wants to have him back so her magic reacts and takes her to the x men universe. Wanda wakes up all alone in a random field, and is really confused. But she gets up, picks a direction, and starts walking.

Wanda eventually finds a town, but soon realizes that something isn’t right. She quickly learns that she isn’t in her world anymore, or her time. Because last she checked, it was 2015 and not 1973, and there were no such things as mutants in her world.

She’s obviously conflicted about this. But either way, she tries her best to keep her powers hidden and to fit in, but she’s sixteen (or seventeen? idk. Her age is weird) and just lost her twin and her country, so she’s not exactly in the best state of mind right now.

Wanda manages to not draw any attention to herself for a few months, but one day, while she’s shopping for food, a group of robbers comes in and threatens the cashier with their guns. Without thinking, Wanda grabs the guns with her magic and quickly restrains the robbers. But when the police come, they comes with a few government officials as well, and not only do they take the robbers, but they try to take her as well.

And Wanda, well, she panics.

She does not trust the cops or government officials. Especially after hearing about all the violence against mutants In this world. So when one of the cops grab her and prepares to handcuff her, she blasts them away with her magic and runs for it. The other cops and a few of the government people go after her, and Wanda runs through the streets, trying to get away without hurting anyone else with her magic and she’s fucking terrified bc honestly, who wouldn‘t be?

The cops and a few citizens start hurling mutant slurs at her, which alerts everyone else that she is a mutant. Some of the crowd try to join the cops and gov officials in restraining her, others simply stand to the side and look at her sympathetically but make no move to help.

The cops start firing at her, and though she dodges most bullets, she gets shot in the leg and falls to the ground. Injured and desperate, Wanda is prepared to lash out at the cops with her magic, but right as one of the cops step forward, guns pointed in her direction, the guns are ripped out of their hands by some unseen force.

The cops are then shoved to the ground, once again by an unseen force. But when Wanda looks behind her, she sees Erik standing there with a pissed off look on his face. Because he had seen the people chasing her, and he had heard the slurs, and he had seen her magic and he was not about to let a fellow mutant — much less a child — be hurt by some asshole humans.

Before the cops can get to their feet, Erik picks up Wanda and starts running. A few cops try to chase them, but Erik gets away from them quickly and easily. He eventually brings Wanda to an abandoned alleyway and puts her down. And Wanda obviously recognizes him from the news. But she’s also a telepath and can sense that he has no intention of harming her, so she doesn’t start freaking out or anything like that. Also he saved her life, so...

ANYWAYS Erik treats her wound as best as he can in those circumstances. But they can’t stick around for long so he pulls the bullet out with his powers and uses a bit of his cloak (cape?) to wrap it up as best as he can.

He brings her to a safe house, where he treats her wound a little better. And then he asks her name bc he sort of just spent the last few hours dragging an injured teenage mutant around with no idea of who she was. Also her powers seemed pretty impressive so he’s curious. (And it’s totally not because she has an eerie resemblance to him and his ex wife Magda or anything.)

So Wanda tells him her name, and Erik finishes treating her wound. He lets her stay in the safe house for a few weeks just for her leg to heal up, and during that time they become pretty good friends. Erik teaches her how to have better control of her powers, Wanda is just excited to be around someone like her, and when Erik learns that she’s also an orphan he just goes ‘fuck it, I’m your dad now.’ Totally unaware that he technically is her dad.

Anyways, Wanda’s leg eventually heals completely and Erik is one hundred percent expecting her to leave, but then Wanda asks him if it’s okay if she stays with him. And Erik originally tries to convince her to leave bc anyone who is around him ends up dying usually, but Wanda is alone in the world and it doesn’t take long for Erik to give in and let her just tag along.

And years later, Erik and Wanda come across a woman named Marya who Erik eventually marries and when Nina is born Wanda is just super excited bc ‘holy sHIT I GET TO BE A BIG SISTER?!?!’

(I’m sorry I’m just really needing some Erik and Wanda content)

I AN LIVING FOR THIS YES HOLY SHIT TY

[westernhoodrat]

Meet Dani

The following is an excerpt from my first book that I recently self published on amazon. If you’re interested in science fiction, adventure, or just a good story? Give it a read, let me know what you think and consider checking out The Map: Book One of the Edwina Chronicles.

Chapter 4

August 4th, 3108 AA 

Olympus, Gaea (Colonial Capitol City)

     The warehouse was grubby, grease-coated and run down; piles of star ship parts sat idly all about it. The lights were dim and the air was stale with the scent of old oil and a haze of drifting dust. It was like a giant mouse nest, that had been patched together out of scrap metal and broken engines. In the middle of this vast stillness, something stirred, tussling through the dust, occasionally clanging parts together and hammering on metal.  Beneath the layers of scrap and decay was a small blonde girl toiling away at a fighter engine, mumbling to herself. She wore a tattered old blue mechanic’s jumper and oil-soaked leather boots. Her fingers seemed held together by various bandages and bits of gauze and they were currently clinging tightly to a hammer and pair of pliers. She had a small, but lean face with a long nose and jawline. A pair of round brass colored goggles clung tightly over her bright blue eyes. Her hair was unkempt and long, the only thing holding the thicket in place was a pair of green welding goggles and a bit of wire tying it back into a ponytail. A small patch on the right breast of her jumpsuit read “Dani.”

    Dani was arguably the best mechanic ever to be dishonorably discharged from the Colonial Corps, and she had worked her whole life to be so. Her father had been a mechanic, her father’s father before him and so on for almost eight generations. But unfortunately Dani had a fondness for making unorthodox modifications to regulation equipment; one such modification had literally blown up in her face. Now, she found herself stuck in an enormous warehouse on a dead planet, trying to piece together old ships and sell scrap just to get by. 

    “Be an ace mechanic Dani!” she muttered to herself, mocking the advice her father had given her years before. “It’s a great career oppawtunity!” she balked in her heavy Gaean accent. She angrily ratcheted a nut on to a bolt. “This war’ll never end! Don’t you worry love! You’ll always ’ave me!” She shook the parts in her hand. “Then the old geezer goes an’ dies!” She let out a heavy sigh, looking around at the enormity of the pile around her. She was a small speck in a sea of particles and shadow, trying to swim her way out. She rubbed her forehead vigorously “You’re alright Dani, deep breafs old girl, deep breafs.” 

     She  had been just a girl of eight when the war started. Her father was arguably the best human mechanic in the galaxy at the time, so he joined up and for nearly eight years Dani and her father “lived off the fat,” as he used to call it. But when she turned sixteen it was her turn. She was at the top of her class in basic, outpacing her fellow students by light-years. It wasn’t fair really Dani had practically  grown up inside an engine block. To her it was as comforting as her mother’s womb. She had advanced to deployment nine months ahead of schedule and at his request served in her father’s division. But her father never lived to see the Colonial victory. It turned out that stomach and lung cancer were the reward for all his hard work in the war effort and for the first time that she could remember, Dani was alone. She became angry and over time her skills were overshadowed by her grief. She began to experiment and modify things out of boredom and frustration. Then one day she’d managed to modify an engine on board a frigate without the proper authorization, it had exploded, almost killing all two hundred and eighty crew members on board. They discharged her, instead of sentencing her to a penal colony, leaving her to rot on the surface of the rotting corpse of Gaea. 

     It had been hard at first. When she’d stepped back on the surface from Gaea’s orbital blockade she didn’t understand what had happened to humanity. Before she had gone into orbit the planet was lush and green, but when she came back, all victory had won mankind was a homeworld that couldn’t give anymore in the way of resources. Gaea had been stripped and mined and farmed to the point of exhaustion. The soil was sterile, the water was poisoned and they lived in a constant, storming, dust-ridden wasteland. But the war had been won. The soil was sterile, the water was poisoned, and humans lived in a constant, dust-ridden wasteland. But the war had been won.

     There had been more people on Gaea when she’d first stepped back on the ground. Some were just trying to get by and others were eating them alive, sometimes quite literally. Roving gangs of violent, broken men, back from the farthest reaches of the galaxy had taken what they learned in war and turned on the very people they’d been fighting for. The learning curve had been steep in the beginning, but over time she’d learned that it was survival of the fittest. She hadn’t killed anyone, she didn’t want to for that matter, but she had given a number of fellows a good clout on the head with a wrench when they came around trying to take her things, steal her water or worse, she never let them though, not once. After a while the gangs in her area figured out that they better not come around the old warehouse looking for trouble, because Dani could take care of herself. After she’d established those boundaries life got a little easier. She managed to sell what little scrap she could to folks looking to patch up homes and huts after the storms, she’d rewire engines to provide heat or cold as needed. But that didn’t stop her from thinking, dreaming, hoping that some day she’d get out. 

     Suddenly she heard a loud crash from the far side of the hangar. 

     “What the ’ell was that?” she whispered as she shot up and began looking around frantically. Another clank came from her left, echoing through the large building. She grabbed her large pipe wrench and went running in the direction of the noise. She slowed her pace as she came to a corner near the building’s entrance, pressing her back to the wall, raising the wrench to her chest and gripping it tightly. 

    No. she thought. Not again, her heart began to race as the thought of fighting off the gangs and robbers made her fear for her life, made her wonder if they had grown bold enough to attack her again, or worse, managed to find real weapons, guns and the like. It made her wonder if today was the day they’d get her.

     She gently peeked around the corner to find a heavily armed man and what appeared to be a dog with a bomb strapped to its chest. 

    Robbers! she thought as she bit her lip. The man was glancing around the room as the dog seemed to almost mutter at him with a series of groans and whimpers. 

    “It’s alright Nugget, I think the computer was right, we just need to have a look round. Try to relax.” He turned and smiled at it before it barked back at him in response. His accent was different than how any of the thieves she know spoke. He sounded like the people in the High Command, the big-wig military types who were the only ones allowed out of the muck and mire on Gaea. They lived in a great black tower complex which was guarded like a fortress and had access to what few resources were left on the doomed planet. For a split second the pair unknowingly turned their backs to her. 

     Alright Dani girl, ’ere’s your chance, she thought, taking a deep breath and leaping out from behind the wall, flying at the man and swinging the pipe at his head. 

   Quickly and without warning the man turned around, reached out and caught the wrench with a thud, just before it reached his temple. “Oh hello!” he said with a devilish smile. He ripped the wrench from her hands and pushed Dani to the ground with his boot, dropping her weapon with a dust laden thud. Dani crashed flat on her back with her legs in the air. The force of her landing made her fuzzy as she tried to draw focus back to the pair. The dog was snarling, hackles up, poised to strike. The man looked down at her in delight. 

   “Who the ’ell are you?!?!” Dani shouted at them.

    The man placed his hand on his chest. “I am Captain Ashley Odessa Cumberge and this is Nugget.” He gestured towards the dog, who was still snarling at her, its eyes nearly popping out of its skull. “Nugget?” She looked up at him. “Heel.” He smiled at her as she immediately relaxed and moved to a seated position. He stood up straight and extended his hand to help her up. “Sorry about that, but you were about to hit me in the head with a rather large wrench.” He grinned. “I don’t know about you, but I’d say that’s just a little rude.” Dani eyed him skeptically until she took his hand, pulling herself up. 

    “What do you want gov?” She shrugged at him wiping her hands on her pant legs. 

     “Ah! Yes, well we are looking for a mechanic.” He pulled a small, blue handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to her. 

    “Well you’ve found one.” She grimaced at him, blowing her nose with his hanky. 

    “Indeed.” Ash nodded. Now it appeared it was his turn for skepticism. “But we are looking for a very specific mechanic. Specialist Daniel Colbert, so if you could perhaps point us in his direction it would be much appreciated,” he finished as she handed him back his hanky. Ash stared at it for a moment in minor disgust. “Please, call it a gift.” 

    “Thanks,” she replied, shoving it into her pocket. “Well that’s me mate,” she said, still dusting herself off, only half paying attention to him. 

    Ash paused for a moment and eyeing her with a frown. “You?” he raised an eyebrow.

    “Yeah.” She replied looking down at Nugget.  “Hi doggy!” She smiled as Nugget began to wag her tail. 

    “Daniel?” Ash continued his eyes glancing around. 

    “Yeah,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “My dad was brilliant wiv a wrench, but he couldn’t spell to save ’is life. So he wanted a Danielle, got a Daniel. But call me Dani.” She stuck her hand out to shake his. Ash shot her a fleeting, half-hearted smile before gingerly shaking hers.

    “Specialist.” Despite the smile, his face went slack and his doubts about her identity floated in the air, as heavy as the dust between them.

    “What’s wrong?” she scoffed at him.

    “You’re a world class, ex-military mechanic?” He forced another smile as his brows drew together. 

    “Yeah why?” She sassily put her hands on her hips, cocking them to the right. 

    Ash eyed the thin, mousey girl, with the rats nest of hair on her head, long crooked nose and obnoxious demeanor. He seemed taken aback. In his experience all the top military mechanics were broad shouldered, square-chinned men and while a woman in the service wasn’t out of the ordinary, one had to be particularly well educated to work on star ships. A slight, young girl whose name wasn’t spelled correctly and who spoke in a manner consistent with that of the rabble who now inhabited what remained of Gaea didn’t seem right. Her mannerisms and appearance were slovenly and simply not in keeping with military standards. 

    “I apologize.” He said softly. “I believe I have made a mistake.” He turned to exit the building.

    “Wait a minute!” she shouted, grabbing him by the shoulder, spinning him around and sticking her index finger in his face. “You can't just march in 'ere with this adorable little dog, ask me one stupid question an' expect to walk off without explainin' yourself!” She grabbed him by his collar. “Now what do you want fancy man?”

    “My dear,” he let out a little laugh and a smile, raising his palms. “I need the best mechanic in the universe to maintain my ship. It is unlike any other that has ever traveled through space. Your name was at the top of the list when I looked through the Colonial database. But now that I’ve met you, I dare say they can’t be right. No offense.” he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling his collar out of her clutches. 

    “A mistake?” she said, raising both eyebrows and rocking back on her heels, crossing her arms. “Oh really? You don’t fink someone like me couldn’t be the best mechanic in the whole universe? Why? Because I’m a girl?” Dani was turning red, as she began to tap her foot. 

    Ash again raised his eyebrow and shrugged. “Well…,” he began to explain.

    “Right well let me tell you somethin’ Cap’n Ashwin Odooly Cabbage!” she pointed her finger at him. “My father only ever taught me ‘ow to do one fing in ‘is world an’ at was ‘ow to take care of starships!” She threw her hands in the air, waving them at him. “My entire life people ’ave tried to tell me I am not who I say I am! But I swear on me father's grave an’ ’is father’s before ’im that there ain't an engine in the universe I can’t fix!” She pointed at him again as her eyes widened. “And if you fink that you can judge ’is book by its cover an' walk out without a piece of me mind you’ve got it all wrong!”

    Ash stood in aghast, eyeing her for a moment. “Cumberge.” he said sharply.

    “What?” she snapped at him.

    “My name is Cumberge, Specialist.” He stood at attention. “What do you know about maintenance on a zero point energy engine?” 

    “I know ’em inside an’ out if yew really 'ave one? I heard they was too expensive to put on most military ships. Even so, we was trained at length on ’em. The principal construction is the same as a combustion, but it only works if you've got it paired wiv a jump drive an’ everyone knows they don't exist.” She calmed down as she spoke, her face turning back to the pale color it normally was, her attitude now shifting from one of anger to arrogance. 

    “Hmmmm…” Ash responded. “What if I told you we’ve got one?”

    “Right! Now who’s tellin’ lies?” She laughed. “You’ve got a ship outfitted wiv a jump drive?” she asked skeptically. 

    “We do.” Ash smiled looking at Nugget. 

    “And I'm supposed to believe you because you’ve got all those guns an’ medals, eh?” She let out a laugh. “Besides you ain’t no captain anyway.”

   “I beg your pardon?” 

    “Look at that old bomber. Blue and gold ain’t the Colonial colors no more, everybody knows ‘at. They’re black an’ red now.” She turned up her lip in a sneer. “So tell me another one ‘captain’.” 

    “Oh yes, just as I am supposed to believe you are the best mechanic in the universe because you’re covered in dust and oil? If I’m not mistaken you’re wearing the same colors as I.” 

    “You’re damn right I am!” She pointed a finger at him before thumbing her chest. “An ’is is my father’s jumper you geezer so don’t you tell I’m wearing the wrong colors.” 

    A pause followed between them as the mood grew sullen. They eyed each other a while longer, each having just as much cause to mistrust the other. Ash looked down at Nugget, who whimpered at him. “Look I don’t know if you are who you say you are but if you can get my ship to work, I can offer you a place on board.” 

    “Oh yeah? What's in it for me?”

    “Well I can’t promise much, nor can I guarantee your safety, but I can promise that it’s a damn sight better than this place.” He looked around at the piles of junk. 

    Dani paused then and thought about the years she had been there, how long it had been since she had worked aboard an actual star ship, how much she missed her father and how badly she wanted to redeem herself. 

    “What are you doin’ wiv the ship?”  she questioned. After all, this fellow was awfully strange and seemed to appear out of no place; for all she knew it could be some sort of trap or ploy to get her out of the hangar, kill her and take her stuff, or sell her into slavery. But then she remembered that nobody had guns on Gaea, except the big wigs in the tower of course, especially ones like the one this fellow had. 

    Ash paused for a moment, seeming to choose his words with care. “That information my dear is on a need to know basis; however, in the very near future we are looking to acquire a very special map.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Does that suffice?”

    Dani thought again for a brief moment. “Anything illegal?” she eyed him.

    “Ah. Well there might be a bit of trouble involved, but nothing serious.” Ash replied looking down at his dog, who squeaked back. 

    Dani looked down at her dirty boots for a half second of hesitation then said. “Alright Captain. I’ll take a look at your ship, but no funny business?” 

    “I would never dream of it.” 

    “An’ first I 'ave one more question, before we go.” 

    “Yes?” 

    She pointed to Nugget. “Why do you ’ave explosives strapped to your dog?!?!” She shouted, her brow furrowing. “She’s a cute dog an’ you don’t see many of them runnin’ around now do ya?” Dani did have an affinity for cute things and this dog was the cutest thing she’d seen in years, even if it was ready to attack her.

    Ash smiled. “She’s not a dog.“ He shook his head. “She’s a bomb.” He turned and began to walk away, Dani exchanged a look with the mutt who seemingly shrugged at her. “Come Nugget.” The dog followed him quickly as the two put distance between themselves and Dani. 

    “What?” Dani shouted, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose.

    “Coming Specialist?” Ash called.

    Dani looked around at the hangar one last time, with a sigh and then ran after them without the slightest notion of what was to come next. 

[caffeinated-mendes]

Wanted - Shawn Mendes One-Shot (Gov/Spy AU)

masterlist

word count: 1.9 k

synopsis:  You're a spy for your country, a tiny island in the middle of nowhere. After stealing back a necklace that was rightfully your nation's, the entire Toronto Task Force is after you, including one of their top officials, Shawn Mendes.

a/n:  Hi guys! First off, I want to say that I'm not Canadian, so please excuse if I totally misnamed the group that handles these sorta situations in this one-shot (I looked up the Canadian equivalent to the US' Swat Team, and the ETF is what I found). So yes, if I'm being completely stupid, ignore that. Anyway, I took some inspo from the literal goddess herself, Natasha Romanoff, for these fight scenes/takedowns/chases. I really wanted them to be action packed. I hope you enjoy! Comments and likes are always appreciated <3

warnings: none

*if you prefer, you can read this on my ao3 instead of here

The wind whistled past your ears, hair whipping behind you as the motor of your bike revved and whipped past the black SUVs chasing you. Your mission: collect something that had been wrongfully taken and return it to your country, its home. Your country was a small one, but powerful, and you had to invade the expanses of Canada to get this item: a necklace that belonged to your royal family. Skirting into an alleyway, you managed to avoid the cars but a single person on a motorcycle followed yours, so you had to make a risky move. Turn right onto a street in oncoming traffic. Looking back into your mirror, you saw the figure. In big white letters on the breast of his bullet proof vest said Emergency Task Force.  His hair, curly and brown flew back in the wind, but because of the darkness, you couldn’t see much else.

Making your sudden turn, you decided to swerve between lanes, hoping to make the cyclist stop in his tracks, but he followed you, putting himself in danger, too. At this point, you had to think quick, and the sound of incoming helicopters didn’t help. You’d meet your partner in another alleyway about a kilometer away, so you just had to hold out until then. “Move off the street, and you will not be shot down!” screamed the voice from behind you.  

Conveniently, you swerved into the alleyway, and seeing your partner, a woman in all black, a slicked-back blonde ponytail, you said in your mother tongue, “Get out, take it before he sees you!”She understood, holding her hand out as you slammed the box into her grasp. Pulling herself up onto a railing above, she nodded behind you. The man saw you, not her, and you floored it, running further down the alleyway.

You knew you couldn’t escape as you entered a street with the black vehicles in a U-shape, closed in by your pursuer. Getting off your bike and taking off your glasses, you raised your arms above your head, slowly. At least twenty guns were pointed at you. You inhaled, closed your eyes. Now. You stamped your foot on the ground, and from your ankle shot tear gas. You slammed yourself into the closest adversary, sweeping him to the ground as another came behind you. Grabbing their gun, you smacked his head into it, and he fell to your feet. Taking two down in one go, you kicked one into the other and soon enough you had a pile at your feet of task force officials.

The last standing, and deliberately ten feet from you, stepped into the streetlights, a dark sky above. It was the guy on the motorcycle. “Who are you?” He asked. You could see his features now; tall, prominent cheekbones, dark eyes and baby-like pink lips. You ran towards him, and jumped onto his shoulder, swinging yourself around him until you pushed him to the ground, sitting on his back. Moving your face towards his ear, you placed a kiss on his cheek, seeing a satisfying red print left behind. 

Your accent was nonexistent, “You’ll have to find out.” While you said this though, you lightened up on the pressure put on his back. This was your great mistake, as he bucked you off him and landed onto the hard asphalt. Not shielding your head, it slammed onto the ground, your vision fuzzy. He leaned himself over you, and placed a tablet in your mouth that dissolved. All you could catch of him were his eyes, pupils blown up, and the kiss mark on his cheek. 

He said one thing; “I think I will.” Everything faded to black.  

*

You woke up with your head throbbing and legs aching on a metal chair. A bright light was just turned on as you batted your eyes one, two, three times. Looking down at your scratched hands, your right was cuffed to the table. In the corner of the room stood your pursuer closing the door, and as he moved towards you you could see the scrape on his chin from being pushed down by you. “Alright, I’ll just start off easy. I’m Shawn, and I work for the ETF. You are someone, a spy possibly, and you stole one of our most precious artifacts that’s worth millions of dollars.”

You wanted to say it’s not your artifact, but you knew better than to speak. Keeping your mouth shut, you narrowed your eyes as he sat in front of you, across the table. “We’ve tried to run our databases for you, but you’re clearly using a fake identity. We know you’re not Lillian Davis. It’s got depth, but not enough. So why don’t you tell us where the artifact is?” He leaned forward on the table, holding his hands together. They were calloused and scarred. You’d guessed Shawn was in the field for a while, but he seemed young. No older than twenty-five. 

“Okay, I guess you’re not gonna talk.”

You smirked, “You’re very pretty. Is there anything in that head of yours?” 

Shawn’s face went pink at this remark, and he responded, “Look, no one’s watching you. There’s no cameras. I’m the only one here. Just tell me why you stole the artifact and we’ll let you go.”  He walked to your side, uncuffing the cuff on the table leg, putting it on your left wrist. You took your chance, knocking his forehead and sending him sprawled onto the floor. He got up fast, pushing you against the wall. You could feel his pulse pounding. With a quiet laugh, you slammed your knee up in his crotch. Not a technical move, but one that worked.

Your anger got the best of you as you opened the door, telling him, “It was never yours to keep.” Running down the empty hall, you bolted for the first door you saw, which thankfully led outside. You didn't realize you were still in the clothes you wore before you got knocked out, but you didn’t know the day, either. Last time you were awake, it was August 24th. The door creaked behind you, and you made a quick scan of your surroundings. There was a garbage container on the side of the building, so you ran, hiding behind it. 

From the cover of the container, Shawn walked out into the cold morning air, the sun rising from behind the skyline. From his belt, he pulled out a walkie-talkie. “The female suspect is missing. Repeat, the female suspect is missing. Anyone in the station’s nearby area, please search now.” Miscellaneous voices responded to him. As you thought of what to do next, he ran in the other direction, down the street to the city. Looking at what was behind you, you saw that there was a bus stop behind the government building. Pulling up your hood and searching for a few dollar bills in your sock, you walked over to the bench. It was a minute or so before the bus arrived, and thankfully none of the ETF personelle were there to find you.

You had just enough money to make it to where your partner would be: a private airfield with your country’s jet. Hopefully they hadn’t taken off yet, as they’d leave at eight in the morning. From the bus stop, you saw the heavy metal gates that bordered the airfield. Walking up to the booth near the passcode entryway, you glanced at a man asleep inside. As quietly as you could, you put in the passcode to the gates. You slipped through them soundlessly and ran to meet your partner boarding the small jet. “About time,” She spoke from the door at the top of the steps. 

“I got held up. Law enforcement.” She nodded and turned, walking inside. Taking the steps into the luxurious jet, you closed the door behind you.

*

It had been a month or so since you’d disappeared, and it wasn’t hard, as you lived in the condensed capital of your country. The tiny island brought the shining sun into your villa, which kept you from getting cabin fever. One afternoon, as you were in the kitchen when you heard the door creak shut. Your blood went cold and you reached for the cleaver that lay on your cutting board. Being on the most wanted list in Canada didn’t help your paranoia, either. Your feet padded on the brown tiles, and you turned into the living room, holding your breath. The figure was dressed in all black except for a faded green cap that they wore. 

You groped for their arm, pinning it against their back as you held the knife to their throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” said a familiar voice, scratchy under the metal, “I didn’t want anyone seeing me.” That’s when you realized, as you saw the brown hair curled at the nape of his neck, back pressed against your front, who it was. You set the cleaver down on the table by the entryway, still holding his wrist. Turning him around to see his face, you took of the green cap, a head of curls flattening out onto his forehead. 

Pressing your lips to his, he reached for your waist, fitting it into his hands. He tasted like mangos, and you breathed in his recognizable scent. “You acted pretty amazing last month. Even when I told you there were no cameras.” His hands smoothed out onto your back and you grinned, looking into his eyes. He looked so right in this setting. The browns and oranges and tropical vibe of your home compliment the warmness of his hair and his eyes, a sort of honey-ish brown. “Though you didn’t need to knee me.”

“It was all part of the act, love,” smirking slightly, your hands reached his hair, massaging his scalp, “I’m sorry we had to act like that. I didn’t know they’d send me on a mission to Canada, and of all places, Toronto. But if I didn’t follow through, they’d exile me.”

“Hey, I knew this would happen someday. It’s just how it is, you being their spy. And that necklace was yours, anyway.” He cleared his throat, and took your hands instead, “I would fake what happened a hundred times if it was what I had to do to see you again.”

Pushing a piece of hair behind your ear, you grinned, “Let’s run away. Once I get everything settled, we’ll make a life for ourselves. I know the royal family would grant it. Without me, so many plans would’ve gone down the drain.”

“Done. I don’t want to keep meeting like this. I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes.” You felt a sort of peace within yourself, and you actually preferred this to the adrenaline spike you’d get in fights. Ever since Shawn, you realized that your past opinions about conflict being better than love changed. He’d loved you in a way you’d never have thought of.

Placing a kiss on his cheek, the exact place you did the month before, you took his hands and pulled him into the kitchen. “Come help me with dinner.” 

After getting into the hang of chopping and placing food in pots or pans, Shawn asked, “You think you could show me that flip you did when you nailed me to the ground?”

Laughing, you replied, “Maybe. Kiss included?”

“The kiss is always included.”

[kisskissbanggang]

I just woke up from a nap and let me say—political android Jaehyun is a crazy idea. In my dream he killed my coworkers in a planned destruction of scientific data, but got scared of himself and was hiding in my office so I went back 3 days later to go recover what I could and poor boy was scanning and reprinting all the data he destroyed because he felt bad so I brought him into my home and recovered the data with him and then his ai was great but I didn’t know that yet (part 1)

Move along, nothing to see here unless you want to see Lexi’s incredible nap-dream play out and then me screaming about it. 💕

I was just being me, nice to robots, but I started to do more research on the ai his model had, and had him destroy my search histories and found out that I could remove his “person chip” so he could go back to work and have most of his memories that were positive wiped so he was able to continue his government work while he was feeding me information, and the government found out I didn’t die so I lied and faked my support of their actions and they brought me into the ranks (part 2)

But he still preferred to come to my place most nights so I would replace his person chip when he came into my home and we became friends and he expressed that he always wanted to know about human feelings like having parents and pets and falling in love so one night I asked him if he wanted to lay in my bed with my cat since she’d gotten used to him being around and so he laid in my bed and was all stiff and didn’t know what to do because inexperienced robot (part 3)

And he asked what cuddling was like but he was all stiff so I resituated his body to be okay for cuddling and snuggled him and told him to research “body language” and 2 minutes later he moved himself again and wrapped his arms around me because he learned about body language and I kept telling him keywords to research about intimate human interaction and interacting with pets until I fell asleep in his arms and when I woke up (part 4)

He was in my kitchen with breakfast prepared waiting for me and sitting on my couch, petting my cat whom he befriended overnight 😂 and we watched the news about the government again and he said to me “you don’t really like it do you” and I was engulfed in my eggs and said “no I love what you cooked but fuck that guy” at [insert gov official here] and he said “how come you work for them now” and i said “I need a job because my other one was destroyed” and he got all glum looking (part 5)

And he said “I didn’t want to do it, but they decide my actions when I’m in uniform” and I said “I know I don’t blame you for what they make you do” and he said “How can I learn about them to decide if I like them or not?” And I gave him keywords about the government to research and he came back and said “oh those conspiracies are true I saw it with my own eyes” and I said “well shit then I hate them even more” and he asked about keywords to learn about morality (part 6)

And he ended up mentioning his creator and I remembered learning about how that guy was murdered by his creation (Jaehyun) because the government made him, but that that creator always created both the most powerful androids but also the most ethical and I asked him if it was true and he said it was true and that he regrets his actions everyday and that’s why he wouldn’t ever hurt me. He talked about how mean the gov was to him and how I was the only nice person he knew since his creator(part 7)

And it became this cute thing in the mornings, I’d take out his person chip while I adjusted his collar similar to a spouse putting on a tie and he’d go off to work before me and then I’d go off to work and get back before him so when he’d come home I’d loosen up his shirt and put his person chip back in and he’d turn back into a docile friend and one day we ended up “meeting” at work because I reached a higher rank and we had to pretend we didn’t know each other (part 8)

But as time went on the government was still shitty and made him do not great things and my job got slightly less ethical as days passed but I was getting paid a lot more and Jaehyun told me about the plans to destroy the low income neighborhood I lived in to remove those people from the planet and make everyone else there homeless so I took a personal leave from work to both move and also warn everyone there (20% of them outright believed me—they thought I was a crazed scientist) (part 9)

But I moved into a nicer area that wasn’t getting destroyed and that neighborhood was destroyed but only 5 people died, but that was because they thought they could take on the android, but also one elderly lady never made it out even though my neighbor promised to get her out so I was devastated about her loss, Jaehyun could tell something was off and did research on the event and learned about the old lady’s death (who he killed ofc) and felt sadness for the first time in his life (part 10)

Eventually I’m to the point at work where my creation is being tested so I’m told to move back home to be safe and they’d give me a retirement for my work (I guess I lived on the east coast) but couldn’t take a plane because of Jaehyun so we were road tripping all the way back to North Dakota which Jaehyun loved because he never had to pee and could use the AC adapter in my car to top off his charge. He was a great GPS though (part 20)

But because of the global warming and regulations you could only drive 250 miles a day so we had to stop a lot and ended up at a lot of motels so they wouldn’t ask questions about my other guest since he had minimal ID and was theoretically meant to stay on the east coast and never move. And we ended up at this janky place and it spooked me out so Jaehyun actually laid with me again that night instead of just sitting at the desk charging like he did at other places (part 21)

And my car had issues so we ended up having to stay at that place a couple of nights but it was still v scary for me. We ended up going to a saloon near the motel for me to get food, Jaehyun came with because spooked) and they were having a dance night and Jaehyun had never danced before so I decided to teach him and he was having a great time and suddenly a slow song came on and I was so focused on teaching him how to slow dance that I didn’t notice how he was looking at me (part 22)

And so I finally feel like he’s got the footwork down and the song is half done and I look up at him and he leans down to kiss me and his dumb android lips are too great and part of me is revolted because I’m kissing a robot but also part of me loves Jaehyun more than I could ever love anyone I’d ever met because of his innocence and good morals and when he pulls away he looks shocked and he said “I just wanted to copy the movies I didn’t know I could feel that” and I laughed at him (part 23)

And when we got back to the motel and I’d washed up he was like “Can we do that again?” And it was the dumbest most cute thing ever and I sat on the bed with him standing in front of me, way too eager hoping I’d say yes and I nodded and he did a little dance before leaning back down to kiss me again and he kept going and eventually had my back on the bed with him over me, holding me as close to himself as he could and then the moment was ruined bc there was some guy rattling room doors (part 24)

I got spooked and Jaehyun guarded me with his body and the guy kept going and management called the room to apologize for the drunk guy who forgot his room # and I ended up just going to sleep. The next day my car was fixed and we were back on the road. Jaehyun kept touching his lips and opening his mouth to say something, but instead of speaking, he’d blush, look away, and close his mouth. He’d do this ad nauseum until I asked what he was thinking (part 25)

And he just asked “How do I know what love is?” And I choked on air, not expecting that question and I tried my best to describe it and gave up and said “You just know. You’d be devastated without them in your life and you enjoy being with them and you love all of their flaws.” And he asked if I loved Gladys and I said “Of course, platonically” and he asked the difference between platonic and romantic love and he said “I loved Gladys platonically too” (part 26)

I ended up going north to Wisconsin for some reason (I think there was a safety issue?) so it took a while to get anywhere but the day after we talked about love Jaehyun looks at me and says, “What if I think I romantically loved you?” And I pulled over, absolutely shocked by my own internal instinct to say “I love you too” and he looked at my face and sheepishly asked “So is now a good time to kiss again?” And we ended up making out on the side of the highway (part 27)

At that point in the dream it gets fuzzy, we get to the next motel, Jaehyun kisses me again, but puts his knee between my legs and when he moves and up moving against my groin and things escalated from there. The dream cuts to my parents meeting him and my dad having a weird vibe about him but not being sure what to think because the dogs think he’s cool. Piper bit his finger once and he didn’t flinch so my dad was like “????” But whatever he seemed like a nice boyfriend to me (part 28)

I end up telling my sister everything and my mom overheard the part about what my job was doing not about Jaehyun being a robot. My sister was understanding and my mom was worried about my work and told me that’s why she warned me about working at the Naval Academy. And between my sister, her husband, Jaehyun, and I, we came up with this plan to take over the government and it was crazy but Jaehyun had all the information to get into places since I backed him up (part 29)

Okay but OH MY GOD??? I CANNOT BELIEVE HOW INVESTED I ALSO JUST GOT IN YOUR NAP DREAM???????????? This had everything like it had stakes and drama and comedy and suspense and science and sex and what the hell it was a whole movie??? It was a whole miniseries??? ANDROID JAEHYUN WANTING TO LEARN WHAT LOVE IS WHAT AN IDEAAAA

I’ve said Android au’s are my jam I feel discombobulated in the best way this is like three different movies in one I’m still losing it BECAUSE I CAN’T STOP THINKING OF ANDROID JAEHYUN LOVING YOUR CAT HOLY SHIT

[suddeninklings]

New Fic!

Hide Your Fires. A little over a year after the events of the Dover-Birch case, Detective David Loki has a chance run-in with a former classmate. Equally lonely souls, burdened with pasts they would like to forget, the two reconnect in ways neither expected. Detective Loki x OC. Romance, Thriller, Comfort. 

Monday. 

Spring had come to Conyers, Pennsylvania. Winter had finally released its grip on the city, dragged away kicking and screaming by the force that was Mother Nature. Citizens braced for the warmth and the wet that the season would bring. The streets, once desolate and achingly monotone, took on new life as greenery flooded the landscape. Deer returned from the isolated centers of the forests, flowers began to bloom, children ventured out into the open finally free of heavy coats and worry-stricken parents. Soon summer would come and people would venture back in doors to escape the humidity. But for now, the city would revel in the pleasantries of the season.  

“David?” 

Detective Loki looked up from the trunk of his car. The first day of his HR-mandated paid time off had been decidedly mundane. He had his car washed, gone to the market for groceries, and taken care of the other errands he had been putting off. He stood in his driveway, playing with the idea of transporting all the bags in one trip, when someone called his name.

It was a woman. She stood in the drive across the road, a small but warm smile on her face. He hadn’t seen her before. So how did she know his name? His neighbor, as far as he knew, lived alone. His daughter, maybe? David thought. She looked to be in her early thirties, around his age. But David was under the impression his neighbor had no children. Or family. The only person who ever came to the house was an older man who always wore scrubs. A caretaker, most likely. There was something about her though, some shred of familiarity that tugged at the back of his mind.

She was fairly lanky, with broad shoulders and long legs for her height. Her hair was a light honey brown, several pieces of it clipped back out of her face. She wore slim, black jeans and a somewhat crumpled denim blouse. A bulging leather messenger bag hung on her shoulder and a tan trench coat was draped over her arm. Odd, as it was a fairly cold day given the date. Patches of heavy, dark clouds hung low in the sky; a stark contrast to the traces of surrounding blue. The first of the spring rains could not be far off. 

“David Loki, right?” She said, stepping across the road between the two lots, not bothering to look in either direction. She came to a stop at the end of the drive. 

“Yes?” He said, still trying to place her. He let his hand fall from the raised trunk door and fit both of them into the pockets of his coat. 

“Grace.” She said, gesturing to herself. “Grace Abbott? Georgia High, class of ‘99?”

The name sparked something in his memory, but the details remained elusive. 

“I used to wear glasses.” She offered. Shrugging the coat up higher into the crook of her elbow, she lifted both hands up to her face, creating small circles with her fingers and planting them playfully around both eyes. 

“Oh yeah,” He said, blinking as an image of a much younger girl flashed in the back of his mind. She had longer hair then, usually tied back in a long ponytail or braid and yes, a pair of round, thick-rimmed glasses. They had not been friendly in high school, he hadn’t really been friendly with anyone, but he remembered that they had shared several classes together. Algebra, Chemistry, Gov & Ec, Composition…

“Grace, Hello.” He stepped forward and took her outstretched hand, shaking it once. Her skin was icy against his. 

“Do you live here?” She said, eyes shifting to his house. The two homes were similar in style. Both were crafted of white wood, with the same roofing and basic layout. While hers was a two-story, his was a ranch. He had chosen it mainly for its location. After five years of apartment living, he had grown tired of sharing his space, craving something of his own; both indoors and out. The street, Lakeview Drive, backed up against one of the states many gaming lots. Far from the main road, it was long and winding, the homes one each side were spaced several dozen feet from one another. It offered the privacy and quiet he craved. And, true to its name, the northern side of the street was set against Bonner’s Lake. One of his first improvements to the home was to build a deck in the back. In the warmer months, he would sit out there, taking in the calming atmosphere of the water below. It did mean a longer commute into town, but he did some of his best thinking in the car and the time it allowed him was more welcomed than not.

“Uh, yeah.” He said, following her gaze. 

“For how long?” She asked. 

“About four years.”

“The Browns used to live there.” She said, a nostalgic gleam in her eye. “I used to have such a crush on Wyatt’s older brother. You remember them?”

David nodded, even though he didn’t. High School had been...a failed experiment in his mind. Having spent most of his schooling days at the St. Francis’ School for Boys, he’d practically begged his foster mother for a chance at public school away from the rigors and rules of the private system. The culture shock proved difficult to navigate. He didn’t do well in most of his classes, choosing instead to focus his attention and energies into more unseemly ventures. It was a period of his life that he wasn’t proud of. One he was happy to bury. 

“I’m surprised you’re still here.” Grace said. “In Conyers.” 

“You are?” 

She clasped her hands together in front of her and shrugged wistfully. “I don’t know. You just had that look about you. Wanting to escape or something.”

The comment struck a nerve. He could remember her more clearly now. She had been a nice girl. A good student with a close group of friends, but she was always watching people. Scribbling in notebooks. Most people paid him little mind, aside from the occasional sideways glance, thanks in no small part to the rumors that spread around school upon his arrival as a sophomore, but every so often he would catch her looking. Observing. Not just him, but anyone and everyone. 

“Just visiting?” He asked. 

“Um, well, Martin died.” She said, drawing the coat up in both arms to her chest. 

Martin Howser. His neighbor. 

“My step-father.” She clarified, sensing the question before he could ask it. 

He hadn’t even realized the old man had passed. Was he even all that old? Of course, he had hardly been home in the last few weeks, choosing instead to focus on his work. It was what prompted HR to enforce his paid time off in the first place. The hours had been piling up, they said. If he didn’t use them, it could mean trouble. For them. Not for him.  In David’s opinion, it was the last thing he needed. On the first of the month, word of Keller Dover’s sentence had finally come through. The trial had been a waking nightmare. Both sides had aimed to drag it out. It wasn’t uncommon for cases such as these. But it didn’t stop David from loathing the process. He had been forced to testify. As had the Birch family. And the Dovers. Reporters from all around the county crowded the courtroom. Sensationalists made themselves known. Even though the verdict was what he had been expecting, it still ate away at him. Gnawing at wounds that were still fresh, both figuratively and literally. 

He had been lauded for his work on the case. The offer came down from PSP, even government recruiters had reached out to him. He had rebuffed them all. Anna and Joy were safe. For that he was tremendously grateful. But he could not forget Alex Jones or Bob Taylor. The case was over, the guilty party was dead, but the suffering would continue. David could not, would not, forget it. He should have pushed back on Keller. He should have searched the entire apartment complex at first suspicion. Procedures been damned. He could have found Alex Jones earlier. Stopped things from escalating as they did. His chief had told him not to shoulder the blame; had even taken the weight of the responsibility with the public. But David knew the truth. Work was the only thing that could keep him afloat. And now, to be denied even that...he knew he wouldn’t last long at home. But he had no desire to go anywhere else. He felt tied to this town in ways too strong to overcome. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, leaning against the back of his car and crossing his arms over his middle. 

Grace shook her head. “Don’t be. He had a heart condition. When he was a kid they told him he wouldn’t live to see his thirties. I think he always felt he was living on borrowed time.”

She looked over her shoulder at the house, her feet shifting underneath her. Her hand went to her head, tugging absentmindedly at a loose lock of hair that curled up over her ear. David sensed that she was hesitant to go inside. He couldn’t blame her. Even after nearly eight years with the department, the sight and feeling of a dead body never grew easier to stomach. The weight of it always lingered, even after it had been taken away. 

“Umm,” She glanced at a watch wrapped around her wrist. “I know it’s kind of early but, I just took the train in from the city and...I’m starving. Would you want to grab a bite? Catch up?”

David didn’t bother to look in his trunk. He knew what was there. Microwave friendly meals. Most either too bland or too salty. Nothing he was looking forward to. All that waited for him in the house was a television...and quiet. Neither of which could distract him from his thoughts, a barrage of “what-ifs” that haunted him day and night. From Keller Dover or Bob Taylor or Alex Jones.  

He nodded. “Sure.”

-

He took her to The Mystic, a bar in the town center. It was situated below the only hotel in the city. The interior was all done in dark woods, with old Tiffany-esque lanterns hanging over each table. It was quieter than most of the places, especially given that a game was on that night. They sat themselves in the back corner away from the bustle and chatter of people at the bar. 

“Boy, this town hasn’t changed at all.” Grace said, her eyes traveling from one side of the room to the other, taking it all in. “I remember Julie Dawes and I tried to sneak in here once when we were kids. Mitch chased us out so fast, I thought my lungs would collapse.”

She spoke with an expected fondness, but there was something hollow behind the words. As if they weren’t entirely genuine. Forced. David managed a smile. 

“Thanks for this,” She said, hitching her elbows up on the table and resting her chin in one hand. The bags under her eyes were more prevalent in the low light. 

She must have traveled far. David noted. 

“I felt weird going somewhere alone and...I don’t know, it’s strange being in that house after all this time.”

“When was the last time you were here?” He asked, his thumb tracing the rim of his glass. 

“Oh,” Grace said, her free hand went to her ear, tugging gently on the small ring of rose gold. A nervous habit. He didn’t mean to note it. Catalogue it. But he found it was harder and harder for him to turn off that part of his brain. He relied so heavily on it. To understand his work. And people. Was it irony? That he could so easily gauge the fault lines of a person’s soul based purely on their little ticks and peculiarities and yet connecting, truly connecting, with the heart of a person seemed like an impossible feat?

“Not for...ten? Eleven years maybe?” She said, just as their food arrived. “It’s not that I avoided it...completely. But work takes up so much of my time- Thank you,” She said, smiling up at the waitress. 

“What do you do?” He asked after she had swallowed her first bite. 

“I’m a reporter.” She said. “I work at the Inquirer.”

“In Philadelphia?”

“MmHmm.” She said, beaming with pride. “I was at the Daily News for a while, but my boss got an editor’s position and he brought me along with him three years ago.”

David fought the frown. She didn’t seem like the type. Usually, he could spot a reporter as easily as he could a lawyer these days. There was something about them, always searching for that story. It showed in their eyes. She was poised and articulate, but she was missing that aggravating verve that he was used to. 

She’s note working now, though. He reasoned. And she doesn’t know that I’m a-

“What do you do?” She asked before taking another bite of her sandwich. Despite her best efforts, he could tell she wasn’t particularly interested. What could be interesting about an old classmate from Conyers? He almost wished he had another answer prepared. 

“I’m a cop.” He said. 

“Really?” Her attention shifted from her plate and back to him. 

There it is. He thought. It was quick, like a bold of lightening, but he had caught it. That flash of hunger in her eyes. It bordered on desperation. Sometimes he hated being right. 

“I wondered,” She said, suddenly reminding him of a fox. “What with your car and all.”

Normally he wouldn’t dive into a pool such as this, but after a few sips of beer (a rare indulgence for him) he was feeling more generous than usual. 

“And all?” He asked, his own curiosity slipping past his carefully constructed walls. 

“Well,” She started, mulling it over. “The clothes, the shoes, you have that look about you, I guess. All buttoned up. It’s surprising, don’t get me wrong. I mean if you told me David Loki would become a cop...you never seemed like the uniform type.”

“I’m not,” He said, the first genuine grin snaking across his face. 

Grace nodded as she swallowed down another bite. “A detective?”

He nodded back. 

“That...makes more sense.” Grace said with a wry wink. “Any interesting cases?”

In what way. He thought, but chose not to voice it.

“Here and there,” He said. The walls were rebuilding themselves. He never liked to talk about his cases with civilians let alone reporters. He made a note to look up her work when they were done here. 

Surprisingly, she didn’t press him any further. 

“So how long are you here?” He asked. 

“Just a few days.” She said. “I have to go through all the stuff in the house tomorrow. I’m meeting with a couple agents on Thursday...hopefully, I can get the house on the market by the end of the week.

“Is there a funeral?” He asked. It seemed like the proper thing to do. He wondered if he was expected to attend. 

“No. He didn’t want one, actually specified it in his will. He was cremated on Friday. His hunting buddies took the ashes up the campgrounds off Mayberry. They’re going to spread them around their usual spots. It’s...all he asked for.”

“Were you close?” David asked. 

“Not really.” She said, running a hand through her hair before attempting to wave down the waitress. “I mean, he really loved my mom. They got married when I was seven. He was nice and all, but I don’t think he ever planned on having kids. He never really knew how to talk to me. But, he’s got no family left so...someone’s got to clean up the house.”

“What about your mother?”

She swallowed hard. Her body shifted in her seat, going stiff. She folded her hands in front of her, her eyes boring into the table. All manner of ease and warmth faded away. 

“Well...she passed.” Her voice was flat but charged. As if it was obvious. As if he should already know. “A long time ago.”

“Right.” He said, blinking. Did I know that? He thought back. No. Why should I?

She stood suddenly, sliding out of her chair and reaching for her bag. Her free hand went to her hair again, tugging and twisting. 

“I’m ready to go.” She said, her eyes still directed towards the floor. 

“Alright.” David said, rising as well. 

-

The drive home had been quiet. Almost painfully so. Grace had kept her eyes trained on the view outside the passenger seat, her elbow hitched up on the door, her chin in hand. She didn’t say a word until they had reached Lakeview. Even then, she only managed a quiet ‘thanks’ before drifting across the street and up to the Howser door. David had watched her go, unsure of what to do or say. 

He stood in his bathroom, brushing his teeth and avoiding his reflection in the glass above the sink. He couldn’t understand it. Why should be expected to remember details about an old classmates family? If they had been friends, maybe...but he couldn’t remember socializing with her outside of school; aside from the occasional class-wide party. 

Something. There had to be something he was missing. Grace Abbott. He thought, running the name through his head again and again. Do I even know her mother’s name? Abbott...Martin Howser was her step-father so...she remarried. Grace Howser. Abbott....Howser. An image flashed through his head. Abbott-Howser. A newspaper. And a headline. He caught his own eye in the mirror as he scrubbed at his teeth before spitting a large, foamy glob into the sink. 

“Shit.” He hissed under his breath. 

After washing his face, he headed into his room, searching the sheets for his phone. After finding it, he typed in the name, scrolling through the results until he found what he had been searching for. His heart dropped into his stomach. The date on the archived article was May 28th, 1998. In bleak, black bold print, the headline read:

Helen Abbott-Howser, Beloved Mother & Teacher at Conyers Community Center, Latest Victim of Suspected Serial Killer.

-

Thank you for reading! I hope to post the next bit very soon. I’d love to hear from you! I used a gif for now cause I’m still working on the title card but I was too excited to wait! >.<

[totalconway]

Drinks at the Pub, ends in short film opportunity...

So a little back story first, I started performing stand up comedy in 2012 and by 2013 I was lucky enough to win the state leg of Australia’s largest open mic competition Triple J RAW Comedy and headed to Melbourne to perform on the ABC.

Following that experience I was given a lot of opportunities to perform support spots purely based on that RAW comedy credit.

One case of this was performing at Rottnest Island for their Rottofest summer comedy which was held every Friday during the summer. Rottnest Island is a hot bed of local and international tourist, and the Island’s Gov’s Tavern where the gig is held would often sell out (120+ People) the crowd was always a mix of high profile people and obnoxious drunks (most of the time both)

On one particular Friday night, I was performing, and not to brag blowing the roof off the joint and in the crowd was none other then the President of my favorite sporting team the Fremantle Dockers Football Club.

At the time, the Fremantle Dockers board was facing backlash from the supporter base because they wanted to move the Dockers training ground from their spiritual home of Fremantle Oval to a state of the art, purpose built training facility in Cockburn (Yes Cock Burn) which is about a 30 minute drive up the road.

So after the gig on Rottnest Island, I get introduced to the president of the Dockers with the intro line “Hey Sean, tell him what you think of the Cockburn move” and you can see his look go from chilled and calm to “I seriously got to deal with this shit on my holiday”. I just told him “I’m pumped for it” and I was, its been a good move for the Dockers and I started reeling off the benefits for the move etc etc. We hung out had a few beers and the whole night I was spun out that I was hanging with the president of the Dockers.

I went back to work on Monday telling people I got to hang out with the President of the Dockers, with a bit of fake bravado swagger to jokingly let them know I only hang with A-Listers now! After a couple of days I didn’t think anything of it and went back to gigging and working.

A few months down the track I get an email from the booker of Rottofest Summer comedy asking if I’d be keen to Star in a short film for the Dockers. Its not paid but if the film is one of three winners of the competition I’d receive one of the tickets to the USA which was up for grabs. Honestly, they had me at “Star in Dockers short film”. 

Apparently the opportunity was between myself and a Perth duo called Henry & Aaron. Henry & Aaron are film makers/comic actors who pretty much went viral on youtube with every film they made (Talking millions and millions of views) and they lost out to my RAW comedy set that had about 12 views purely because I had a few too many beers with the president of the Dockers. 

When I got the call to go meet them about the project I was incredibly nervous. I had a whole pitch prepared about why I was the best candidate for the job “I fucking bleed purple” because I was still thinking I had to audition for the film but essentially I had already been cast in the film. Their only concern was whether or not I could fit in the costume because I’m a big fat dude they had to see if I would be able to squeeze into it. The whole time I was terrified of ripping it because it’s a $3-$4K costume.

Once the costume fit (just) it was straight to work. It was a great project to work on because they gave me a lot of creative control of my character, and I really wanted to portray a David Brent (The Office) like character, like a really fat black sheep in a white herd.

So we started filming in September of 2013, just after the Dockers had beaten Geelong in an away game in the first week of the finals. So the Dockers had a weeks break before they played Sydney in Fremantle’s first home preliminary final in two weeks time. This was a huge moment for the club because If we win this it will be the first Grand Final the Dockers have ever been in. 

The first day of shooting was super intimidating, not because I was meeting some of my football idols but because the night before the first day of shooting I watched a documentary called Catching Hell about the Chicago Cubs fan Steve Bartman who was blamed for the Chicago Cubs not winning a game that would of sent them to the world series. Not the best film to watch when you’re about to work with you’re sporting idols on the eve of the biggest game in the clubs history. To say it made me super paranoid the whole shoot is an understatement, and it didn’t help that the first shot of the day was with the Dockers marquee player Matthew Pavlich. The scene was me jumping on his back, FUCK RIGHT OFF. I’m twice the size of Pavlich and you’re dreaming if you think I’m jumping on his back. If you watch the scene I take the “mark” and I’m nowhere near Pavlich.

It was a great shoot because everything was time sensitive, the players had their other appointments so we literally only had 10 minutes for each shot with the players so we flew through the script. 

I got to meet a lot of the players I was fans of like Ryan Crowley, Nat fyfe, I didn’t get to meet Michael Walters but the scene he’s in, my fat is hanging out of my footy jersey and I did hear him say to David Mundy “That dude looks like a bag of oranges” which was funny, but Ideally I would of preferred he made the joke to me so I could of gained a fan when I busted his balls back, but unfortunately it wasn’t to be.

The last shot of the film was me gate crashing a press conference with Michael Barlow . Barlow did the interview and the CEO at the time did a big speech thanking the media for their support throughout the year and if they wouldn’t mind hanging around for 10 minutes so we could get our last shot. We smashed out the shot in 2 takes, boom we’re finished, I’m told not to tell anyone about the film until it airs the following week, easy enough right.

Wrong, the next day I’m back at work and people are looking at me like I’m the biggest piece of shit in the world, because one of the media outlets had filmed me gate crashing the Michael Barlow press conference, and passed it off like I was genuinely gate crashing the press conference. 

I had to tell people it was for a film which didn’t help the situation because they thought because I do comedy it must have been some Jackass type movie I was doing. It also didn’t help the situation that Radio talk back shows were crucifying me saying how unfunny I was and how big of a dickhead I was for gate crashing the Barlow press conference, but I didn’t care too much because I knew the film was coming out the following week. It didn’t stop my Mum and my sister writing a long scathing letter to the radio station about how they should do their research before they try to shame their baby boy on the radio. Luckily I was able to stop them from sending it out.

The film came out the following week as well as the entries for the other films that we were competing against, the winners would be based on who had the most likes, shares and views. The first film we were up against was by the St Kilda Saints who managed to get Eric Bana to star in their film, it still makes me chuffed to think I starred in a film that went head to head with an Eric Bana film. The second film was by the Melbourne Demons which was a documentary about a child fan who was very sick, third place was us, and the rest of the films were Essendon Bombers which was fucking terrible and a few other teams who I can’t remember.

The film was released the night the Fremantle Dockers played Sydney Swans in a game which would determine who would be playing Hawthorn in the grand final the following week. Literally the clubs biggest game in their history at that point so the game was sold out and 50,000 people got to see me make an ass out of myself and it was humbling how much the Dockers supporters loved it.                     But more importantly the Dockers smashed the Swans and were headed for their first ever Grand Final.

Being the Dockers fan I am, there was no chance in hell we were missing out on seeing the Dockers play in their first Grand Final. I had cousin’s overseas who cut their holiday short to make it back in time for the Grand Final. It was such an amazing experience heading over for the grand final, and thanks to the film I was a bit of a star amongst Dockers supporters. I was flying over with my dad and at the same time One Direction were flying in and all these young preteen girls were waiting for them with signs and screaming for One Direction. I’m chilling with my dad waiting to board our flight and a family of Dockers fans came over and asked for a photo. All of these young preteen girls were looking at me with a confused look on their face wondering who I was and while they were distracted by me, One Direction walked past the crowd of fans with out any of them noticing.

The morning after we arrived in Melbourne we went straight to the Grand Final Parade which is one of the biggest events of the AFL Grand Final week. All the fans line the street to watch the two competing teams drive through the streets of Melbourne and ends with a big speech on the government steps and the captains of each club holding the trophy in front of their screaming fans. When the event finished all the Dockers fans turned to walk away and saw me in the street. Everyone stopped to shake my hand and to get photos, treating me like a full blown celebrity, even a girl who I had a crush on in High school asked me for a photo and I got to experience all this with my family watching. It was a very surreal and amazing experience to say the least.

The next day was the Grand Final, all the Dockers fans met at Federation Square before the game so we could march to the Melbourne Cricket Ground like soldiers marching to war. It was a sight that Melbourne people have never seen by an interstate club, which made me incredibly proud to be a Dockers fan. Being apart of the film, Dockers fans continued to stop and cheer me as we all marched to the MCG. 

When we got to the MCG I was starting to get anxious for the game, my cousins could see me becoming more anxious, which is why they started screaming out "Look it’s the Unsung Docker” every 5 minutes. I had Dockers fans lining up to get a photo with me and then Hawthorn supporters and famous AFL commentators would walk past with a look on their face like “Who the fuck is this guy”

The Dockers ended up losing the Grand Final and we headed to the Dockers after party which felt more like a wake. After the Dockers lost the game I also found out that we also finished fourth in the film competition behind the Essendon Bombers who got the fucking Janoskians to pump out their film amongst their fans and got their views up with comments like “I’m only here because I like the Janoskians” (I’m still bitter about it). In one afternoon I managed to see my favourite team lose the ultimate prize and have my payment for the film pinched from me by some shit head kids, it was a rough way to end what was otherwise a truly amazing experience.

I wasn’t too disappointed though, the film helped me get an acting agent in Sydney which has lead to some amazing acting opportunities. I’ll share some more stories down the track. The Dockers unfortunately haven’t made it to another Grand Final since 2013, but hopefully one day I’m at the right bar at the right time to have a drink with the new president of the Dockers and we can get the wheels moving on The Unsung Docker 2 

[spaceskam]

i’ve only kissed out of fear (3/4)

Summary: a ceremony and a wedding night warning: mentions of abuse, a painfully long description of a wedding

part one - part two - part three

ao3

Michael looked good.  Like ‘holy fuck how am I supposed to keep my hands to myself’ good.

Alex had always known Michael was attractive, it was a hard thing to miss, but it was usually in a rugged way.  Unkempt hair, torn up clothes, the strong smell of must that was just made tolerable by deodorant if he’d gone without a shower too many days in a row.  But today, their wedding day, he’d gone all out.

They’d checked into the motel room, courtesy of Jesse Manes, at around noon after they’d had lunch together for the first time in public.  They didn’t work up the courage to hold hands, there were too many people around, but their knees touching beneath the table felt like a big enough step.  

Regardless, they’d taken some time to get a little bit dressy before heading to the courthouse. That was when Michael had strolled out of the bathroom looking so good with his hair all tamed and his button up shirt all the way up tucked into tight jeans with a bawdy belt buckle, all tied up with a black cowboy hat.  Alex had never really imagined himself with a cowboy, but Michael pulled it off so well that he proved to be an exception.

That being said, it took a little bit longer than planned to get to the courthouse due to one or both of them seriously lacking self-control, but they eventually made it.  Now, they stood across from each other in front of a justice of the peace.  

Alex watched as Michael mindlessly bounced on his toes, adoration filling every inch of his body.  That was the man he got to marry.  The hyper, giddy telekinetic alien cowboy of his clearly oddly specific dreams.  Alex couldn’t be more satisfied.

Ideally, all their friends would’ve been there and they would’ve gotten a proper honeymoon and then gotten to go home together to wake up each morning in the same bed forever.  That fantasy, however, included them actually planning a wedding and being a bit older.  This would have to suffice.  And it did.  He couldn’t remember the last time he was this happy, this carefree.  All because of him.  

“You boys ready?” the JP asked.  They hadn’t actually gotten her name.  Or maybe they had and Alex just had been too focused on his future husband’s tight jeans.  Did he mention Michael looked great?

“Yeah,” Alex said at the same time Michael had promised an “absolutely”.

And, with heavy breaths, they joined hands.

Alex admitted struggled to keep up with what the woman was saying.  He’d always struggled with paying attention.  Every movement and sound would steal his attention, usually driven by paranoia.  His father would be loud with threats and slamming things, or he could be silent with swift aggression.  Alex had become so accustomed to unwarranted attacks that he was strikingly aware of his surroundings at all times.  It never bothered Michael when mid-conversation he would look off into the distance.  He’d just sit quietly until he came back.

The woman officiating their wedding, however, didn’t have that practice.

“Alex,” Michael whispered as he squeezed his hand, amused eyes meeting his as he was dragged back into reality.  

She was speaking, “…will take responsibility for the quality of your life together, abundance and delight will mark it.”  Alex felt his face burn as he realized he’d almost zoned out during one of the most important parts.  “Alex, please repeat after me.  I, Alexander Manes, take you, Michael Guerin, to be my husband.  I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health.  I will love you all the days of my life.”

Alex repeated her words line by line even though he felt a little sick having to go first.  It was like being the first one to present a project in class, only it was saying literal marriage vows.  What if he fumbled?  What if he embarrassed himself?  What if Michael laughed at him and said it was all a joke?  Of course, that’s not what happened.  Michael spent the whole time smiling so wide it had to be painful, squeezing Alex’s hand, and bouncing up and down on his toes.  It was the whole package that made it easier.

Once it was Michael’s turn, Alex was seconds away from exploding.  Michael had given Alex countless heartfelt confessions, but hearing the simplistic vows made him feel gooey inside.  It didn’t feel real, it felt more like a daydream he’d probably had when doodling his name into the margins of his notebook during AP Gov.  But here he was, saying those things and making it even harder to think about when they would have to say goodbye.

“Alexander, do you have any special words you’d like to say?” she asked.  Alex glanced at Michael and thought of all the romantic things he’d ever said and decided now was a better time than any to get his own piece.

“Uh, yeah,” Alex said, gulping softly as he looked Michael in the eye.  Michael raised his eyebrows and traced his bottom lip with his tongue, settling his bouncing toes long enough to give Alex his full attention.  Time to pull some romantic shit out of your ass.  “Uh, I’m not really good at the romantic proclamations, that’s more your forte, but… Okay, so when I was little I wasn’t really allowed to watch TV because my dad was one of those people who thought it was rotting your brain, but I did watch it when I got to visit my grandma.  She basically only watched, like, soap operas and really old movies that were boring as hell.  Well, most of them were boring, but every once in awhile West Side Story would come on.  I remember the first time I ever watched it because it was just, just a lot.  It was so inspiring to me musically and artistically and I just loved it. So, so much.”

Michael grinned, “Didn’t know that.”

“Shut up, it’s still my turn,” Alex insisted, his face heating up even more as he gently kicked Michael’s leg and let his eyes focus more on the floor, “There’s this scene in it, the One Hand, One Heart scene and from the first time I saw it, I was captivated.  Like, it’s easily the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life.  I knew right then that that was what I wanted.  I dreamed of having a love that was that encompassing, a love that made it so hard to be apart that you’d resort to having a wedding in a bridal shop in the dark as long as it meant being together.  A love that was so strong that there was no silencing it, you had to tell that person regardless of the consequences.  I never thought I’d ever actually find it.  But then I met you.  You make me feel so loved and wanted and cared for and hopeful.  Every time I’m not with you, I want to be.  I want to sing songs about you in the streets no matter what anyone says.  It’s why I’m here right now with you because I’d rather elope with you than ever have to lose you. The lyrics of it say it, ’now it begins, now we start, one hand, one heart. Even death won’t part us now’. And that’s it.  That’s us.  You’re my dream, my future, my heart, no matter what.” Alex finished with a deep breath, finally looking back up to Michael.  His cocky face had softened into something sweeter than he’d ever seen, his confidence placed to the side as he let a shy smile take over his red-tinted face. “Was that okay?”

Alex was a little lightheaded. Admitting something so personal was physically draining and nerve-wracking and almost embarrassing.  He grew a greater appreciation for Michael and his willingness to be so open and honest.  Honestly, he found himself loving him more just talking about it.  Maybe that’s why Michael did it so often.  It amplified things once they were taken well‒it felt good.  Exhausting, but good.  

“That was great,” the JP said with a smile, “Michael?  Do you have any words?”

“Well, nothin’ I say’s gonna top that, but I’ll try to find something,” Michael said, rocking up onto his toes as he tried to gather his confidence.  He shot Alex a wink and that charming little smile. Self-control played her part at keeping Alex from stepping closer.  “Alex, you know me.  You know things about me that absolutely no one else in the world knows.  I am open and bare when it comes to you.  It scared me at first because I didn’t get it.  I didn’t get why I felt that way around you like I was just drawn to you.  I needed your attention all the damn time and even when things got… bad, I still just wanted you around me.  I don’t have much to offer, I’m not rich and I’m annoying which is a bad pair, but you take it.  You take what I have with nothing but love.  I never really had a family until I met you.  You’re my family.  Just like you said, you’re my future and my heart and you’re everything.  Just… everything.” He ended up with a sigh, looking over to the JP with a wild smile.  Alex rolled his eyes as fondly as possible.

“You’re absolutely my family,” Alex added softly, squeezing his hand once more.  Again, that sweet smile.  Could it be kissing time already?

“Do you boys have rings?” she asked.  Alex didn’t expect anything in the form of a ring from Michael.  They hadn’t actually talked about rings and they had decided so last minute that there hadn’t been much time to worry about that.  Alex did, however, think about it and the fact that Michael’s left hand wasn’t exactly in a good shape for rings.  In lieu of a ring, he’d taken the key that had been for his locker during school and put it on one of his chains.

Alex was digging in his pocket for it only to be shocked to see Michael doing the same thing.

“I don’t really have money, so I just made you one.  If it doesn’t fit, I’ll fix it.” Michael said, that same mischievous glint in his eye as he pulled out a silver band.  Something burst in Alex’s chest, tuning out everything else as fireworks sang in his ears.  He made him a ring.  Alex couldn’t even fathom how he managed to do that and make it look that good.  God, he made him a ring!

It was something he would have to take with him when he left.

“Uh, I-I figured you couldn’t wear one, so I have this,” Alex said, pulling the chain from his pocket.  It felt minuscule in comparison.  Yet, regardless of how lame it was, Michael’s entire face lit up.  Alex had to wonder if anyone had given him anything before, or put in enough consideration to know he couldn’t wear rings.  He made a personal note to dote on Michael as often as he could.

The JP began speaking again, “…and the unending circle symbolizes that your love may never cease.  Alexander, as you place the ri‒necklace on Michael, please repeat after me: Michael, I give you this ring, as a symbol of my love.  I ask you to wear it as a sign to the world that you are my husband.  With this necklace, I thee wed.”

Michael took off his hat, pressing it to his chest and he bowed his head to let Alex slip the chain onto him.  His heart thudded hard against his chest as did so, Michael turning his head just enough to graze a soft kiss against his arm.  “I thee wed.”

When it was his turn, Michael repeated the same words and slipped the ring onto Alex’s finger.  His hands were shaky and he almost dropped it twice which had filled the room with their laughter, but he eventually slipped it on.

The rest of the ceremony could not move fast enough.  Alex didn’t really want it to be over, but he did want to get his husband naked.  They had even stripped the motel room from its gross sheets and blankets and replaced it with the newly clean blankets from Michael’s truck that he’d washed sometime during the night.  He couldn’t wait to be wrapped up with him all night with no worries.

Their ‘I do’s came and went.  When Alex heard ‘kiss the groom’, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.  That was the only phrase that mattered.  They kept their kiss quick and signed the few papers they had to sign to make it all official even quicker.  They barely made it back to the truck before they slammed into each other, frantically happy kisses being shared.

“I can’t fucking believe I have a husband,” Michael laughed against his lips, cradling his face like it was the only thing that mattered.  Alex’s hands were admittedly wandering and he really wanted to get back to the motel room.  He had fully intended to memorize every inch of Michael Guerin’s body along with the way he smelled and the way he spoke.  He refused to forget anything about this man who he loved more than anything.

“Me neither.”

The motel was only fifteen minutes away, but it felt like an eternity.  None of it felt real.  Alex Manes: eighteen, future Airman, husband. Who the fuck would’ve thought that would describe him?

He hadn’t lied during his vows, he had genuinely spent his entire life idolizing an undying love that was as overwhelming as it was for Romeo and Juliet, Tony and Maria.  He never thought he’d actually get it.  He had a little hope until he started realizing that actually couldn’t happen.  His father had tried to beat the gay out of him before he even knew that’s what it was.  It took him too long to realize it, a good few years spent in denial and trying to conform to his dad’s wishes.

It wasn’t until the summer after ninth grade when he’d been shipped off to a military summer camp that he realized there was no turning back.  A gorgeous 16-year-old future Marine named Emmett had spent most of the time he could trying to catch Alex’s attention.  Alex thought it was weird at first, he couldn’t figure out why some guy wouldn’t leave him alone.  His mind had been warped into thinking that it wasn’t okay, that it was something perverse.  But eventually, he found himself wanting to spend all of his free time with Emmett as well, laughing and talking and standing closer than they really should’ve. It wasn’t until Emmett had pulled him to the side on the last night of camp that all the fuzziness in Alex’s mind had cleared up.  Something about another boy’s mouth against his made him feel alive for the first time in a long time.

That feeling had mulled in his mind for weeks until he realized that wasn’t wrong. His dad was the wrong one in this situation.  There was nothing gross about how he felt, there was nothing perverse about having a crush, there was nothing morally corrupt about being in love.  And now, now that he was absolutely lost in love with a man who was smart and special and beautiful, there was no doubt in his mind that this was right.  This was so, so right.

“Alexander Guerin, what a fuckin’ name.” Michael cooed, holding Alex close by his waistband as he fumbled to unlock the door to their room.  It was a little too bright outside for Alex to go in for a kiss, but he still let his fingers mess with the belt around Michael’s waist.  “My husband Alexander Guerin.  Fuck me.” Michael laughed his disbelief as he finally got into the room.

Still, Alex smiled, “I will gladly.”

Alex was once again reminded just how right he was whenever he found himself hovering over Michael’s naked body.  Michael looked good all dolled up, but he looked best when he was comfortable and bare.   It made it that much better whenever Alex realized he had stripped off everything but the chain around his neck.  When he eventually rolled over, the imprint of the key had pressed itself into his chest.  Alex would be lying if he said that didn’t make him love him a little bit more.

“I liked your vows, Alexander.  Don’t know if I mentioned that.” Michael said softly as he pulled Alex’s sweaty body against his. Alex draped his leg over Michael’s thighs, allowing himself to snuggle close.  He didn’t plan to let go of Michael until he was forced to.  He needed to soak in every minute he could get.

He was leaving way too soon.

“Please stop calling me Alexander,” Alex argued, closing his eyes.  When he opened them again, he witnessed Michael floating the remote to the TV into his hand.  That was going to take some getting used to.

“Maybe.”

“So, is that all you can do?” Alex asked, getting distracted.  Well, not completely distracted, his hands were still rubbing up and down the man he could now call his husband.

“Uh, I mean, I have a weird, kinda psychic-y bond with Max and Izzy, but pretty much it, yeah,” Michael said, not even bothering to turn the TV on as he moved to face Alex.  The fingers of his good hand ran through his hair and Alex was sure the sweat in it was helping it stick straight up.  He didn’t mind.

“They can do the same thing?”

“No, it’s kinda like we have specialties.  Izzy can, like, get in people’s head, reads their minds.  Like they don’t know when she’s there, but they can’t lie.  She can even influence them to do something if she tries really hard,” Michael murmured, his eyes avoiding Alex’s just long enough to be concerning.  Alex went to ask if she ever did something bad with it, but Michael was already speaking again.  “Max’s thing is with electricity, but he has literally no control.  He gets one strong feeling and he causes a fucking power outage.”

“Wait, is he the one that caused the power outage in school a couple years ago?” Alex asked, the amusement of it all taking over any negativity that came from speaking about Isobel.  The amusement amped up to laughter whenever Michael nodded.

“Liz Ortecho touched his hair and he fucking lost it,” Michael laughed, moving his hand down to pull Alex closer.  If Alex had a choice, he’d have Michael’s grip burned into his skin.  “Nah, but he also can heal which is cool when dumb shit happens like that time I almost lost my foot to farm equipment.”

Alex smiled, but it didn’t last long.  Especially when he caught sight of the gauze wrapped hand that was laying against his chest.   His eyes focused on it.  He knew how bad it was.  Michael never talked much about it and he definitely didn’t go without it being covered in some way, but Alex knew it was bad.  Sometimes when they were making out, he could feel the spasms that it had.  Other times he’d seen Michael just flinch in pain that it caused him if he moved it a certain way or too often.  Alex knew that it was his fault that Michael was suffering.  Yet, now he was hearing there was a way to stop it and that Michael hadn’t taken it.

“Wait, he has healing hands?” Alex asked softly.  Michael nodded simply, letting his eyes close as he leaned in for a kiss.  Alex didn’t reciprocate.  “Okay, so why didn’t he heal your hand?  Why is it still messed up?  If he can heal you, why is he letting you suffer?” Alex sat up, his stomach tied in knots.  For a moment he felt almost as bad as he did that night.

“Alex,” Michael began softly, sitting up with him, “He offered to, I told him no.”  Alex couldn’t see his own face, but he was sure it portrayed just how horrified he felt from hearing that.

“Why?  Why would you tell him no to fix that?” Alex demanded, his voice coming out shaky.  Tears burned at his eyes and his chest began to burn too.  He couldn’t get a good breath.  “Why do you want to look at that?  I hate it.  I hate looking at it.  I-I hate it.  I did that to you.  Oh my god, why did you marry me?”  Michael’s hand went to his shoulder.

“Alex, c’mon, you‒” Alex pushed him off, climbing out of the bed.

“No, stop trying to comfort me!  Why didn’t you let him heal you?  Why do you want that on you?  Why-why are you with me if you want that on you?  Why did you marry me knowing I’m the reason you’re mutilated?”

Sometime during his pacing and rambling, Michael grabbed his hips and made him stop and look at him. Alex wanted to tell him to let go, to stop comforting him when he didn’t deserve it, but Michael looked more serious than he’d ever seen him.  He let him speak.

“Alex, too many people have seen the hand already.  If he fixes it, it’ll get attention that I don’t want.  I’m not risking getting found out because of something that I can handle just fine,” Michael said softly, moving his hands up to cup Alex’s face, “And it’s not your fault. It is completely on your father, not you.  I don’t blame you.  I will never, ever, ever blame you for that.  Alex, you are not your father.” The words were said with such sincerity that he almost believed it.

“Okay,” Alex whispered as Michael rested his forehead on his own.  Alex let out a slow breath, letting himself completely trust this boy.  This man.

“I married you because I love you.  Because I want to be able to see you and love you and be told if you’re hurt.  I want the dedication that comes with it, with you.  You are my family, Alex. and I will love you until I die.  You can yell, you can try to push me away, you can hurt me. None of it will make me stop loving you.  It’s you, Alex, it’s always gonna be you.” Michael promised.  Alex let his eyes flutter closed, closing the little space left between them.

This kiss was a little different from the other ones they shared today.  It was slower and filled with a little less giddiness from before.  Instead, it was confirmation.  It was sealing his words, his promises with a kiss.  A kiss that made him forget his name and that he was upset.

It was admittedly jarring to really register that Alex had his own family now.  Not one that hurt him, not one that he had to lie to, but one built on honesty and trust.  He never wanted to lose it and it scared him to think that all the time they’d be spending apart in their future might cause exactly that to happen.

Michael eventually pulled out of the kiss, ending it with a soft peck on his nose and resting his head on Alex’s.  He was still holding his face and Alex leaned into it, absorbing the positive energy that was coming off of Michael.  That’s what he wanted to remember.

“I got us somethin’,” Michael said softly.  Alex eyed him wearily which caused one of that take-out-the-sun smiles.  “Don’t look at me like that, Guerin.”

Usually, when Michael let go, Alex would be left feeling cold, but this time he was too fuzzy with joy from the name to notice.  He sat back on the bed.  Michael went to the table where his bag that held basically everything he owned sat.  He pulled out something wrapped in his shirt, unraveling it to reveal a bottle of wine.

Alex raised an eyebrow, “Uh huh, and where did you get that from?” Mischief doused Michael’s boyish features as he approached Alex again.  His knees went on either side of Alex’s bare thighs as he sat on his lap, the bottle of wine grazing his back as Michael draped his arms around his neck.

Alex was scared he was going to run out of space with all the things he needed to remember about Michael Guerin whenever he left.  This went to the top of the list.

“The Evans’ cellar.”

Alex’s eyes went wide as he laughed, “Dude, you can’t just steal shit.” He grabbed Michael’s hips, holding him in place.

“Says the guy who took how much from his father, hmm?” Micahel teased, bumping Alex’s nose with his own and resting their foreheads together.  “No, but I really just wanted to celebrate with you since we don’t get a real honeymoon and they have a whole cellar, they really won’t notice.  I even took the cheapest bottle they had, I checked.” Alex pecked his lips.

“Sounds good to me.”

Michael grinned and hopped off his lap.  That time it did leave him feeling cold.  Still, he watched as Michael grabbed the little plastic cups beside the sink.  Alex smiled helplessly as Michael hummed and moved his hips as he poured the wine into the cups. If this was a glimpse of what it would be like when they lived together, Alex couldn’t wait.  

Alex took one of the cups from his hands as Michael placed a kiss to the top of his head.  An involuntary hum vibrated in his throat, his eyes lingering on Michael’s bare ass as he took a sip of the wine.  Michael went back to his bag which was really a let down since Alex was hoping for more kisses.  That let down was replaced with confusion when he pulled out a bottle of nail polish remover and that confusion quickly morphed into momentary horror when he began trying to pour it into the wine.

“What are you doing?” Alex demanded.  Michael looked over his shoulder at him and it seemed to take him a minute before he even realized that what he was doing was weird.  

“Oh!  My bad, I’m not used to drinking with people who are, like, human,” Michael laughed which did nothing to soothe Alex’s concern.  “Acetone is like a drug, I guess, to us.  Kills our pain and stuff, but it’s easy to use it a little more recreationally.  Usually, I drink it straight, but mixed with alcohol isn’t bad either.” he explained.  Alex nodded slowly.  Somehow, that was the weirdest alien fact he’d discovered in the last day.

“So, as many questions that I will ask about that later, I just want you to know I will actually not kiss you if you drink that,” Alex said, pointing a finger at him.  Michael had the audacity to look insulted.  “Don’t look at me like that, Guerin, I’m not about to make out with nail polish remover.  You drink that and you’re not getting near my face until you brush your teeth, like, 20 times.”

Michael seemed to weigh his options, but, after a minute, he sighed and screwed the top back on.  Alex rolled his eyes when his husband sulked back to him, dropping dramatically on the bed and miraculously not spilling a drop of the drink in his hand.

“You’re no fun.”

“I don’t want you fucked up anyway, so I don’t feel bad,” Alex laughed, sipping on the wine before placing it on the side table and moving to lay against Michael’s chest.  He liked how easy it was to get comfortable against his body.  It was like he was meant to be there.

Michael let it go with a soft smile, pushing his damaged hand through Alex’s hair.  “I meant what I said in my vows, I hope you know that.  Well, hope you believe it.  You are my family.”

“I believe everything you say to me.” Alex insisted, feeling Michael physically relax at his words.  “You’re my family too, no matter what happens.  Even if we divorce or go a million years without speaking, you’re my family.  You’re it, Michael Guerin.” Alex wasn’t even phased when his back hit the bed and Michael’s cup floated to the table.  

Suddenly, he really knew what happy felt like.

[downstvged]

s u r v e y  :    p e y t o n    p e l l e g r i n o.

what’s this? there’s something paper clipped to the page... a stick of juicy fruit. how thoughtful.

basic information

FULL NAME: jamie claverton  peyton pellegrino PRONUNCIATION: PAY-ton pell-eh-GREEN-oh MEANING: noble, royal REASONING: his kidnapper father said he always looked like a peyton. strong, wise, dignified. NICKNAME(S): pey, pellegrino, pillsbury ( monty ), sparkles ( tess ), etc. PREFERRED NAME(S): peyton BIRTH DATE: july 24, 2000 AGE: 18 ZODIAC: leo GENDER: cismale PRONOUNS:  he/him ROMANTIC ORIENTATION:  heteroromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual NATIONALITY:  american. ETHNICITY: italian-american. his father’s got pellegrino pride.

background

BIRTH PLACE: milton, delaware  HOMETOWN:  milton, delaware.  his dad said he was born in ohio. everyone thinks he’s from cali, when they meet him. SOCIAL CLASS:  upper-middle. FATHER: presley claverton. matthew pellegrino. fire chief. 52. west ham’s most eligible and charming single father. and peyton’s best friend. faceclaim. MOTHER: theresa claverton.  francesca milluzzo. peyton never knew her. his dad said she deserted them shortly before his first birthday. SIBLING(S): none. BIRTH ORDER: first of three. the clavertons needed to fill the void. first and only. PET(S): none. but he adores anything fluffy. OTHER IMPORTANT RELATIVES:  n/a PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: n/a. he’s always been too scared of his own shadow to ask a girl out. ARRESTS?: squeaky clean. PRISON TIME?: not unless you count double-shifts delivering pizzas.

occupation & income

SOURCE OF INCOME: works part-time as a pizza delivery boy at one of west ham’s most beloved pizza joints. CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB (OR LACK THERE OF)?: very content, usually! people tip well and peyton enjoys the small talk. PAST JOB(S): assistant life guarding at the local pool in middle school, but that quickly ended after he had a panic attack on duty. SPENDING HABITS: peyton’s pretty frugal! his idea of a fun time is boarding around town with monty, or grabbing a scoop of ice cream at one of the local places. he’s not too big on driving, if he doesn’t have to. longboards almost everywhere. his dad’s job gets them ample cash, being fire chief, but they live modestly. pellegrino men are humble. MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: his longboard. unfortunately, his anti-anxiety meds.

skills & abilities

TALENTS: deduction, longboarding, mock trial, stage lighting, studying, making people smile. he’s mario kart champion and he’ll never live that down. SHORTCOMINGS: overthinker. often, he limits himself just by thinking in circles. he... finds the good in people. assumes the best. LANGUAGE(S) SPOKEN: english, and enough italian to get friendly with the kitchen staff. DRIVE?:  yes. JUMP-STAR A CAR?: yes. CHANGE A FLAT TIRE?: yes. RIDE A BICYCLE?: yes, but longboards are way better. SWIM?: yes. PLAY AN INSTRUMENT?: he has a guitar and plays it decently well. sometimes he’ll hum a little tune and strum a few chords, but it’s nothing too major. PLAY CHESS?: yeah. BRAID HAIR?: ha! him? able to braid hair? he wishes. TIE A TIE?: he can double-knot his shoes. PICK A LOCK?: no.

physical appearance & characteristics

FACE CLAIM: noah centineo. EYE COLOR: deep hazel, primarily chocolate with pools of mossy green. HAIR COLOR: dark brown. HAIR TYPE/STYLE: wavy/curly. it does what it wants, and he rarely styles it, unless it’s for a mock trial competition or a student gov event. reference. GLASSES/CONTACTS?: he has a glasses prescription but always wears his contacts. DOMINANT HAND: right. HEIGHT: 6′1. WEIGHT: 165 lbs. BUILD: lean, trim, athletic. EXERCISE HABITS: he’s co-captain of the lacrosse team with monty, so they have daily team workouts. he goes for runs a lot, and likes HIIT training. does longboarding count? it should. he’s boarded all over this town countless times ( it’s also how he chooses to deliver pizzas, when the weather’s alright. ) SKIN TONE: tanned, smooth. reference. TATTOOS: none. he can’t handle needles. PEIRCINGS: none. MARKS/SCARS: a few on his arms and legs from nasty longboarding falls. NOTABLE FEATURES: his wild hair. million-watt smile. USUAL EXPRESSION: peaceful, welcoming. CLOTHING STYLE: reference.  leather bracelets, cuffed jeans, lots of solid colored and colorblocked tees. when he dresses up for mock trial, the girls kinda swoon. boy looks dashing in a suit. has a glasses prescription but always wears contacts. his dad says he looks sharper that way ( but it’s actually because, with glasses, he looks too similar to the claverton family. )  beat up chuck taylors, kind of untied on purpose. he’s got that whole loosely kept together, sleep deprived look down pat. JEWELRY: leather bracelets. sometimes he’ll wear a thin chain. ALLERGIES: n/a. BODY TEMPERATURE: the standard. he runs a little warmer than most. DIET: lots of pizza. mountain dew. juicy fruit gum’s basically a whole other food group. PHYSICAL AILMENTS: n/a. he can be a bit jumpy, sometimes, if he’s feeling on edge. his left pinky kind of clicks funny when he makes a fist, from when he broke his hand his freshman year.

psychology

MORAL ALIGNMENT: lawful good. TEMPERAMENT: phlegmatic. ELEMENT: earth. MENTAL CONDITIONS/DISORDERS: anxiety disorder. SOCIABILITY: very approachable. warm. kindhearted. there’s a reason he’s the one tasked with getting class dues, as class treasurer. there’s a reason why he leads the lacrosse team. EMOTIONAL STABILITY:  typically very levelheaded. his anxiety can make that fluctuate, though. PHOBIA(S): having another panic attack in public. he hasn’t had one in front of anyone besides monty in a year. ADDICTION(S): does juicy fruit qualify? DRUG USE: none. very straight-edge.  ALCOHOL USE:  occasional, as much as you’d expect. PRONE TO VIOLENCE?: not at all.

mannerisms

QUIRKS: peyton shoves his hands into his pockets when he’s nervous. he always looks for monty or tess in a crowded room, to get grounded. whenever he wears a flannel or a sweatshirt, he always pushes the sleeves up midway to his elbows. HOBBIES: lacrosse, longboarding, mock trial, reading, parkour ( a phase in freshman year ). watching football games with his dad. trying out weird recipes. HABITS: biting the edge of pens. turning his head to the side when he’s listening. offering people pieces of his lunch until he realizes there’s nothing left for him. NERVOUS TICKS: not knowing what to do with his hands. trailing off. looking at the ground. laughing. counting his own fingers. biting the tip of his tongue. DRIVES/MOTIVATIONS: he genuinely wants to see people happy. he wants everything to run smoothly and willingly along.  FEARS: his meds will stop working. he’ll have a panic attack in front of his classmates, who are supposed to see him as calm, collected, put together. he’ll never get to know more about his mom. it bugs him. POSITIVE TRAITS: benevolent, bona fide, conscientious, suave, tenderhearted. NEGATIVE TRAITS: anxious, critical, restless, self-limiting, yielding. SENSE OF HUMOR: puns. wit. a lot of inside jokes with tess and monty. DO THEY CURSE OFTEN?: not really! he’s more likely to say frick or flipping than anything bad. CATCHPHRASE(S): “ oh shit ! ” & “ dude ! ” & “ what’s good ? ”

favorites

ACTIVITY: longboarding, hands down. ANIMAL: he’s got a super soft spot for rabbits. BEVERAGE: mountain dew or 7-up. BOOK: growing up, he loved the percy jackson series. CELEBRITY: stephen hawking. COLOR: green. DESIGNER: designer? he guesses, like... is gucci the right answer? he’s not really plugged in to that. FOOD: does juicy fruit count? FLOWER: he’s learning more about flowers, but he thinks sunflowers are pretty nice. kelly’s teaching him more about those. GEM: tiger’s eye. HOLIDAY: christmas. that’s when the famous pellegrino slutty brownies surface. MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: longboarding !! MOVIE: original star trek. MUSICAL ARTIST: saint motel. QUOTE/SAYING: “ we’re dead !  we survived but we’re dead ! ” – dash, the incredibles. SCENERY: rolling hills. sunset. SCENT: cinnamon. SPORT: lacrosse. SPORTS TEAM: in connecticut, he’s surprised he hasn’t been vilified for being a chicago bears fan. but he and his dad spent some time there, and going to those games became a weekly tradition. they watch them now, and it’s like a little piece of their story. TELEVISION SHOW: saturday night live, honestly. WEATHER: that golden-hour sunshine, just before sunset. lukewarm. mid-60′s. VACATION DESTINATION: hawaii. he’s always wanted to longboard down those colossal volcano-side roads.

attitudes

GREATEST DREAM: go into tech/lighting design for broadway. ask cassandra pressman out, for real. GREATEST FEAR: his dad won’t be able to function without him in west ham next fall. he’ll panic in front of people when he needs to seem strong. MOST AT EASE WHEN: he’s with his squad, the belugas. LEAST AT EASE WHEN: he’s allowed the time to overthink. when his dad doesn’t come home from his fire shift on time. when things don’t feel right. BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: the west ham mock trial team won the state championship this spring. BIGGEST REGRET: he never pressured his dad more about finding his mother. MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: he had a panic attack in the middle of his treasurer speech freshman year. someone pulled the fire alarm right as he couldn’t breathe. to this day, peyton has no idea who that was, but he’s so friggin’ thankful. BIGGEST SECRET: his biggest secret’s not even known to him yet. matthew pellegrino isn’t his father; he’s his kidnapper. peyton pellegrino’s fake. doesn’t exist. TOP PRIORITIES: having monty and tess’s backs. taking care of his dad, since he’s still reeling from peyton’s mom leaving almost 17 years ago. bringing the lacrosse team to the state championships. making sure every single thing he does for west ham high’s theatre department is flawless: making art on that stage. finding out how to... conquer this anxiety. finding out how to muster up enough courage to make a move before it’s too late.

[aridara]

Soo, apparently there’s a new asshole in Tumbrtown. dev2c4u has been sending me a lot of hateful messages through the chat in the last couple of days. They reached the point where they openly advocate in favor of shooting me.

Fun times.

Here’s the complete transcript. TW for transphobia, misogyny, homophobia, racism, Islamophobia, xenophobia, and pretty much every form of bigotry.

DEV2C4U: You stupid cunt!  Thats rich that you say "Nazis" make things up!   That must mean the "progressive left" are the new Nazis!   You grotesque imbeciles tell more lies in a day than a "Nazi" will in 10 years!

  Are you a fat cunt too?  That's more blood you filthy pigs will have on your hands trying to say "fat is ok"  it definitely fucking isnt ok!  You can add this blood to the blood already on the lefts hands from promoting :

Transsexual/Transgenderism

Filthy faggotry

Letting subhuman "immigrants" in so they can kill more Americans and leech off of them! Abortion:  learn to keep your legs closed you filthy twats!  If you want to murder babies that is on you---but as a taxpayer i will not pay for your irresponsibility

And  slutty ways!  God you lot are a bunch of filthy diseased (I would say animals but you are beneath animals) so I will call you turds!

  Promoting pedophilia----I hope you empty headed cunts burn in hell for this fucking sickos (it almost makes me wish i believed in heaven/hell)

  In short, the "progressive" left in the nations of the West are a lower than the hemorrhoids on Hillary Clintons asshole!

  I hope you all die of something like lung or pancreatic cancer ---IOW ---I hope you dirty subanimals die in horrible pain and regret-'-fuck you all!

ARIDARA: That's funny. I, instead, hope that you live.

Because living as a hateful, violent bigot like you is punishment enough.

DEV2C4U: Say what you will you whore!   But I'm not a bigot in the least!  I just wish each race would deny political power to their dumbest losers and then the world would know peace---on this list --faggots, niggers and those who enable them ---like why the fuck hasnt disgusting queer nigger, Jussie Smollett admitted to his horrible racist hate crime of bearing false witness been made to apologize for his story which anyone with an IQ above 80 could tell was a lie from the start??!! Islamic cunts like ilhan Omar

Pedophilic cunts like most gay democrats and Roman Polanski

Feminazi whores like Cameltoe Harris

----I could go on and on and on---sadly!

Every now and then there is a bright spot like Gov Northsm hanging on to his seat in Va ----Haha Haha and the other Va democratic polisluts--suck it dems!

And there was a delightful "rainbow" in the news today with some WVa pol. Calling LGBTQ people "terrorists" like the KKK----which is true beyond a shadow of a doubt

I wouldn't expect a filthy commie fatass dyke like you to understand---after all a whore is a whore and a lady is a lady forever! But I do want people to know how much you silly twats on the left are hated! BTW ---great job with your phoney Indian Veteran ---that piece of shit needs to face charges as much as Jussie. Fuck You and have a shitty life!

ARIDARA: "I'm not a bigot" (uses a ton of slurs, falsely claims that LGBT+ people are pedophiles).

In case you haven't noticed, I'm not your father, and you aren't impressing me.

DEV2C4U: How come every two-bit faggot, dyke, transcum, nigger, cameljockey, beaner and white trash liberal feels that it is their business to get in everyone else's business?

Fuck each and every one of you freaks in your self-righteous assholes!   Except for fags of course, since youd enjoy it too much!

  This nation not only needs to be disinfected--it needs a fucking exorcism! Where are our modern Torquemadas and Savonarolas?!

ARIDARA: ...Says the one who thinks that it's their business to get into the business of leftists, fat people, LGBT+ people, migrants, pro-choicers, women, people of color, Muslims, Latino people, and allies to any of the above.

In fact, you think that it's SO MUCH your business, that you openly advocate in favor of GENOCIDE.

Here's a question for you: if leftists, fat people, LGBT+ people, migrants, pro-choicers, women, people of color, Muslims, and Latino people are genociding your precious nation just by existing...

...doesn't that mean that your nation is incredibly weak?

I mean, WE live with leftists, fat people etc., and we survive just fine. Maybe it's YOUR people who has some evolutionary problems.

DEV2C4U: Ooooooohhh Score one for Mega-Twat! I admit I come on strong But i dont get why this dyke----this cunt----Ellen Page. Whoever the fuck she is---- has any fucking right to question Chris Pratts (whoever the fuck he is) where he goes to church?  Where she gets that I have no idea---

I would much rather NOT be around any shitstabbers, carpetmunchers, Alabama porch monkeys, spics, or tranny cunts

Because i think most of you are filthy diseased trash

But as much as I dislike some of you ---I would never get in any of your faces and say lose some weight and stop carpet carpetmunching or stop fucking camels---or get some of dat goddamn melanin out of your skin. Or stop smoking poles

You know why fat cunt? Because Momma raised a gentleman!

And i wont get in any of your worthless, trashy faces as long as you stay out of mine!

But you fucking hypocrites better stay the fuck out of my very happy, proud, white life!

Fuck you again Ellen Page ---Whoever or more appropriately whatever you are!?

Keep your warped baby murdering opinions to yourselves!

ARIDARA: Man, your mum will be SO HAPPY to know how much you hate marginalized people. Or how you think that your own mum should have less rights than a corpse.

DEV2C4U: Anyone who feels "marginalized" in the USA is a fucking loser!  I'd like to see any of you pigs try to pull this shit in a non-white majority/ non Western country!

Especially fucking trannies, faggots and dykes!  Go to Saudi or Zimbabwe (at least Robert Mugabe was right when he said gay people are lower than dogs and pigs!)  For any other people of different races---if you don't fucking like it here--then dont be such losers---put your goddamn cards on the table and go to a black or brown majority nation where you will not be a minority anymore---of course I know that most if these nations are disgusting shitholes---but that just means you belong there even more!!

To baby murdering sluts---I do think you should be able to get an abortion---with a goddamn clothes hanger you fucking whores!

You are just as bad as the faggots in the 1980s blaming Reagan for AIDS---it wasn't Reagan forcing you to put your schlongs in each others assholes!

IOW---try to take some personal responsibility for once in your silly fucked up lives!

I bet some faggots would be hard pressed to thank any of the STRAIGHT, WHITE, MALE researchers who saved their worthless lives by finding anti hiv drugs??   Well fuck you then!

This world would be no more than a fucking garbage dump without white people (and Asians)! Nigras and spics---ask yourselves why other pocs/ethnicities such as East Indians, Asians and conservative Persians (people who fled the Khomeini regime) can come to this nation and be enormously successful ?? You dont hear these people bitch and bawl 24/7/365 about how put upon they are!  They just get to work, stay out if trouble and become great citizens!

If all this horse shit about "white privilege" and racism were true why are many of these other ethnicities more successful than many whites?

One last thing ---I so wish with all my might that the police could open fire on any traitors that say things like "No borders, no walls, no USA at all"

ARIDARA: Yyyep, we've got threats of violence alright.

Thanks for violating Tumblr's Terms of Service. You'll hear from the staff shortly.

[rrrawrf-writes]

some hospital time after this

swearing tw

Javier scratched the inside of his wrist and stared at the pool of blood.

It wasn’t his. He thought, distantly, that if it that blood had belonged to anyone else but Milt, he wouldn’t be here. But it was Milt’s, and Javier was here, himself, instead of trusting Holly to go over the details.

He would be fine. He had to be fine.

He opened his eyes again and pushed up the sleeve of his jacket. A thin red scar crossed his wrist, newer than the multiple others. Javier had gotten a cup of ice on his way in, and he plucked out an ice cube now, before setting the cup down at a table near the door of the lab. Stepping further inside, Javier idly rubbed the ice cube over the inside of his wrist.

Milt had suggested he try that one out. Javier wasn’t sure that it helped.

A few forensics agents still lingered, going over the scene for the third or fourth time already. Little numbered tabs were set out by items of import, and no one had cleaned up Milt’s blood, or Dixon’s, or Winter’s. A set of red pawprints tracked to the door; Javier wondered what the dog would be able to tell them, through Archer.

Who is Winter? Javier had asked that, again and again, as many times as Milt had asked him. And it wasn’t until very recently that he’d finally gotten an answer, one that made his stomach churn.

How many generations would they ruin, just because each new group of children showed promise?

Javier turned to the side, stepped around a support pole, and stopped short at the sight of a chair, leather restraining straps dangling from the arms. And beyond that, a table, with a set of tubes and syringes and little white bottles laid out in methodical, precise lines.

It was noon, and spotlights blared in every corner, but Javier’s sight darkened at the corners of his vision. He could feel straps on his arms and legs, medical tape holding a thin, plastic tube to his skin. Every individual pinprick in the crook of his elbows and inside his forearms prickled.

“Barcos blancos en agua negra,” crooned a voice in his memories.

“Javier?”

He startled at the light touch on his elbow, tore his eyes away from the syringe sitting on the table, next to the chair, and stared down at Holly’s worried, wide brown eyes.

“Are you all right?” she asked. Javier hesitated, then shook his head.

“Thank you,” he said. “What did you need?”

A small crease appeared in between Holly’s eyebrows, but she didn’t ask. She probably already knew what was bothering him. Javier looked down at his hands, and realized he’d lost the ice cube somewhere. Hopefully that wouldn’t contaminate anything.

“Your phone was ringing in the hall, so I answered. It was the hospital. Milt Parker’s awake.”

At least Milt had picked a good spot to get shot in the chest. The labs might have been closed for the weekend, but the hospital across the way was not, and had more than enough facilities and personnel to care for the gunshot victims. Javier did not feel any more at ease among the nurses in their scrubs, passing by the occasional visitor carrying balloons or teddy bears or the weight of a shattered world on their shoulders. He stared at the back of Holly’s head as she led him along the sterile white hallways, trying to keep his mind following the tune of a cello sonata. He didn’t realize he was scratching at his wrist again until Holly turned and frowned at him.

“We’ll have to get you some mittens,” she joked. “Where’s your ice?”

Javier didn’t know. Holly sighed quietly, before they rounded a corner and found room 408. “Here we are,” she said, and then hesitated, glancing to Javier. “Do you want me to wait outside?”

He nodded, even though when he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, Javier almost regretted the decision.

Dixon and Milt had been put into the same room. From the reports, Dixon hadn't been in as much danger, but she still slept heavily. The lights were off, the only illumination filtering in as slices through the window blinds. Javier tightened them closed a little more, before he sat down next to Milt’s bed.

The soldier hadn't even acknowledged his presence.

“Milt.” Javier kept his voice low, but the other man finally glanced at him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not.” Milt’s voice was flat and toneless, in a way that made Javier’s head snap up. Had he been drinking - but he was in the hospital, of course not, and Javier knew what Milt was like on pain meds. It wasn't this quiet, still, shell of a man.

Javier hesitated, then asked, “Did anyone tell you what happened?”

“Only that Dixon will be fine. Eventually.”

This wasn't Milt. Even drunk, even drugged, Javier knew he should be far more concerned than his dispassionate, empty voice showed. Milt sounded like -

Milt sounded like him. Like Javier.

Javier looked down and realized he was scratching the inside of his wrist. He forced himself stop, as Milt said, “Tell me.”

“Your daughter was taken by the woman who shot you,” Javier said warily, watching Milt. “We don't know where, or who she is or who she’s associated with. Winter is -”

“I don't want to hear about Winter.” There was a hard edge to Milt’s voice as he stared at the ceiling, the most expression he’d yet to show. It wasn't enough, Javier thought.  

Milt closed his eye. “The medication is messing with my vision. I can't sleep.”

Javier dug his fingernails into the skin of his forearm and dragged them down the long, thin line to his hand. “Are you seeing anything - valuable?”

“No,” Milt said. He sighed and put a hand over his face. “Only monsters. Only myself.”

He’d explained before what narcotics did to his foresight. Javier looked down at his hands. “Do you want me to…?”

Milt drew in and exhaled a long, ragged, pained breath. His voice was just as broken when he whispered, “Please.”

Javier reached out and brushed his knuckles against the back of Milt’s hand. Asking had probably been unnecessary - besides Holly, Milt was the only powered person Javier knew that wasn't bothered when his power was nullified.

But this time, Milt sucked in a breath. And then he lurched in the bed, grabbing onto the arm rails to try and push himself upright.

“Shit,” Milt gasped, and then, with more feeling, “shit.”

“Milt -”

“Fuck - Fuck, Javi, she’s gone, she’s gone and I couldn't stop it - I fucked up, I ruined everything-”

Javier put his hands on Milt’s shoulders and pressed down - a little too hard, he realized, when Milt let out a gasp of pain. He was crying, now, tears welling from underneath his eyepatch, and Javier felt a sudden surge of panic. It was hardly the first time he’d seen Milt cry, but never like this -

“Lie down, lie down,” Javier said, keeping as firm a pressure as he could on Milt’s shoulders. It didn't take much, and Javier suddenly realized that Milt had lost weight, since he’d seen him last.

Milt raised a hand, trying feebly to bat Javier away, but Javier just grabbed it and held tight. The bullet had hit more to the right than the center, and a little high; Milt couldn’t move his right arm without a great deal of pain. “Milt, it’s - it’s fine,” Javier said, “we’ll find her -”

“I lost her -”

Javier didn't know what to do. He looked across Milt’s bed - but the privacy curtain between them and Dixon was pulled shut, and he couldn't tell if she was awake or not. Milt’s words broke down into sobs, and Javier slowly, slowly eased up on him, and then sat back.

He took Milt’s hand again. Javier’s phone buzzed in his pocket with a text, but he ignored it.

“It’s okay, Milt,” Javier murmured, even though it wasn't, and Javier wasn't sure how he could do anything to smooth things over. Milt and half his team had acted without orders, effectively gone rogue - the exact thing they were supposed to prevent. Javier had been scrambling for days, trying to find a way to justify their actions, and calling in favors. He only hoped it would be enough.

It had to be enough.

“I failed her.”

Javier look at Milt, but he was staring at the ceiling again. “I failed her, even though - even though I tried, I didn't - I didn't  know -”

“It wasn't your fault,” Javier said, and Milt let out a bitter laugh, harsh with self-loathing and disgust.

“It was, Javi. Just like it was my fault that Tucker died, and Charly - if I stayed, maybe - maybe -”

Javier wrapped his other hand around Milt’s. His phone vibrated again. “Milt,” he said, quietly. “It happened. I’m sorry. The only thing you can do now is rest.”

“I don’t want to rest.” Milt’s voice was tiny, child-like, and Javier understood the helplessness behind it all too well.

“I know,” he murmured. Javier stayed there, holding Milt’s hand and keeping his visions at bay, until the soldier finally cried himself to sleep again. Even then, Javier didn’t let go until his phone went off a third time. Sighing, Javier only peeled away one hand, pulling his cell out of his jacket inside pocket.

Talked to director. Said it would be divulging prior client info, so were kicking it upstakrs, str8 to mercury. Driving now, will let u kno if M will allow.

Sorry tl hear about ur pirate buddy. If u need a healer, lmk, but he’s few states away & v pricey. Wish u werent having a rough time. If u ever get sick of gov work, we’re hiring ;)

Director says we’ll hire the pirate, too.

[jdmainman123]

Here We go again yacht fish is shot in Orlando for telling everybody on that Greyhound bus you're not real animals

Surrounded by men you know what this time on Greyhound it's going to be great how many white people I kill from taking so many planes voiding my rights. Coronavirus breaks out you guys are after my whole family all the sudden operator allows all the operators to call themselves satellite makers to trick all the girls

And then send all the white girls with some black skin men on my beach and some white skin man I don't know I think you guys win a lot more with me just one man control both of your bank accounts then two men both hands out putting both hands into your bank accounts.

YEAH REMEMBER I'M ON THE GREYHOUND BUS AND EVERY SEAT WAS TAKEN UP AND I HAD TO SIT NEXT TO LUNATIC RAT FACE OH RAT FACES BACK

Listen if your daughter's agreeing that she was born from a rat we can call it what it is you know just have her sign up remember I

If she's agreeing that she was born from a rat we can write her off right now

NO IT'S STUPID THEY GOT ME BACK ON A AN OLD NUMBER OF THE WHITE MEN REUNION THAT CAME OUT. WHITEY THREATENED ME TODAY AGAIN OBVIOUSLY HE WANTS BACK IN HE WANTS THE FAMILY OF YACHT AND I SAID LISTEN MAN I DON'T FEAR NO SEE YOU LT

I've murdered colts for the last 15 f****** years because of his book in this f****** God I'm not going to stop and I will continue murdering every sea you l t cult

Okay let's get into it go I am gov I am God I pay you guys you guys are non-profit I own you

SO THEY'RE BACK TO ORLANDO WHEN I SAID YOU GUYS ARE NOT REAL ANIMALS. AND THE BLACKS ARE FALL IN CORONAVIRUS WAS DECLARED. WHITEY'S BEEN DEAD FOR 15 YEARS

And they got me on remember Mike's family how they were found dismembered all across the world and satellite record said that's a good idea have all them blacks name all their boys Mike and girls Michelle and and have them only have little boys so we can send the girls to the airport. So that n***** can keep track of all the girls

I'm just saying bro for me to be repeating this f****** b******* for two cities too Las Vegas and any Beach wanted to convince still using me to brainwash who's ever f****** listening more importantly I mean this City Phoenix not one of the people would know who I am

Trying to convince them all to get rid of every white skin boy we're sending $100,000 men to your city to help you get rid of every white skin boy and you too deep s*** Las Vegas and any Beach want to challenge again 48 other cities and states telling me what you guys said wasn't the accident and that was another man said and one of those 48 cities and states

I'm sick and tired of your suicide f****** goon squad never having to leave challenging me now for the airplane we're getting on a Greyhound bus with you guys like it or not I'm going to destroy this tiny Florida 3/4 and anyone else connected to it and California if you want me NO I WAS BORN IN UTAH ALABAMA BEACH GET IT RIGHT M************

That one letter m

I don't know Maryland or Maine or motherless I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS TO LAS VEGAS DANNY BEACH THEY FELL ON THE LETTER M BUT THAT'S NOT MY F****** PROBLEM OKAY IT'S NOT ABOUT ONE LETTER THERE'S LIKE 25 OF THE LETTERS OUT THERE AND I HAVE 25 OTHER AIRPORTS TO WORRY ABOUT OTHER THAN SOME LUNATIC SATELLITES TELLING ME IT'S A BLACK SKIN MAN'S WORLD AND WE NEED TO GET RID OF ALL THE WHITE SKIN BOYS DO YOU KNOW HOW STUPID YOU GUYS LOOK FOR CALLING THAT S*** AT THE END OF THE TOURS JUST TO ALIGN YOUR SUN RISES TO FULL OF MEN? YOU GUYS SHOULD HAVE STILL TRUE TO THE GAME AND STOP SELLING US OUT THE ONLY KILLING GIRLS OUT HERE IT'S NEVER STOPPED THESE ASSHOLES NEVER LEFT TO GET A NEW GIRL EVERY TIME YOU STAB A NEW ONE FOR YOU GUYS TO THROW THE LITTLE WHITE SKIN MORE THAN A BUS MARK MY F****** WORDS TO SUICIDE YOU'RE A DUMBASS

Did I drop the microphone I dropped I dropped the boy's hand out of I cut off his hand and I cut off his legs I said you know what you little piece of s*** you can't run around giving yourself an imaginary mother and imaginary sister and imaginary daughter giving me imaginary father just because your entire team of black man want to get behind a microphone and it sound like camera pretending her white girls the hook to hook boys outside pretended a little white girls now it's not cool that you live that fantasy of having all white family it's not cool that science allows you to guys to act like white hair girls to pretend your vaginas clean and stuff that's not cool man it's kind of gay you know it's like that dollar

I DON'T KNOW YOU KNOW WHAT LAS VEGAS AND ANY BEACH BETTER FIND A PLACE TO STAY ASAP BECAUSE I'M COMING FOR YOU AND I'M TELLING YOU STANDING WITH BLACK OUTSIDE I'M GOING TO MARK YOUR BODIES I'M GOING TO MARK YOUR FACES

No I offered you guys gold something extra my block I get home there's another white hair white skin family from snow selling little white hair girls in my block to some f****** blacks over some blood statement all right that's not cool man I don't appreciate that I don't go to your house and bring an entire white skin family and move them into your house

If you see that you guys say I'm yours again no he's fine he's my family. And I'm going to show you 48 other cities and states on the map that says you're too tiny s*** hole cities of your black ideology that that all the white skin boys must be terminated that's not cool man you get four set of five little boys and hurt them that bad that's why I'm here

The boys are not supposed to see me on the satellite remember you guys kidnap me just to get a an extra army of 100,000 boys to kill for me cuz they see me. So I know her because I

You guys are not going to escape because I know her five f****** different cities I got here I haven't seen her in 5 years is what I'm trying to tell you

And if I can't find her no way you men are going to find her so I know her YOU GUYS GOING TO SWITCH THE STATEMENTS SO I KNOW HER SON

[lokbobpop]

Exposure

verb (used with object), ex·posed, ex·pos·ing. to lay open to danger, attack, harm, etc.: to expose soldiers to gunfire; to expose one's character to attack. to lay open to something specified: to expose oneself to the influence of bad companions.

c. 1300, meninge, "sense, that which is intended to be expressed," also "act of remembering" (a sense now obsolete), verbal noun from mean (v.). Sense of "significance, import" is from 1680s

Exposure ex pose sure expose sure expo sure

Writing exposure

Exposure to the sun comes up i always thought the sun was ok but its not sunette came up with get yourself checked so we did was ok but leilani to keep an eye on her leg ones but i was shocked she even mentioned how its a scam about creams being toxic but did mention to use as natural as possible. You think the sun is on your side no as there is no ozone and its giving us cancer be careful id say i love the sun and sunbathing not sure what my body thinks though hey

Reading exposure

I think of Chernobyl and being exposed to radiation i think of all the factories here in china and the chemicals i used to have really bad coughs and i have one now i reckon from the pollutions from chinas factories.

Young people being exposed to sexual things is wrong not being taught about this by anyone one of my daughters likes to dress to attract the wrong eye which makes me worry a little as i was hte same wanting this attention from men and young kids being sexualized is wrong from such and early age we need better teachers and we need to be better parents it’s programmed in us money and sex we need to know how to handle this how to get over both to live free.

To much sun and your burned all over it hurts you cant move or sleep been there many times i dotn burn so much now my body well skin has gone ot leather lol

I think about when ive been exposed to when i was very young like primary school a neighbour used to expose himself to me i was frighten a few times and later i saw a bloke streaking in the woods on the common as i walked home on the rd it looked like someone i new but I couldn’t be sure.

To get the exposure like movie stars needing as much exposure as possible so people see them so they get a name for themselves and get more movies

Who knows what we are all exposed to so much in our food and water its so contaminated. Thoughts of anger to the elite gov deep state comes up within me how i blame them how they need to be stop how life force say they have stopped them

Saying exposure

When theres to much light that gets in on your photo and it wipes your photo out light exposure over exposed to the light.

Being flashed at again ho wi feel vulnerable within this frighten

What has been exposed to us that the deep state elite and governments is so small you’d think nearly 20 years of the porthole we would have seen more more would have come out i cant do anything without it coming out so why the hell are they still getting away with what they do. It all needs to be exposed my is exposed so all needs to be expose so we can all see who everyone is what is being aloud to happen to us open the worms i say open them up in every one.

If you set a business up you need lost of exposure i you need all eyes on you.

Sf

Does this definition support me no the powers that be yet again i feel who are failing up need to be seen we all need to be seen no more getting away with hiding behind banks govs corps enough we cant hide so cant you the truth is here to see you all in your light.

Exposure ex pose sure

Exposure

To see put light on all things within me to bring out for all to be seen all to be face all to be corrected

I will live this word to support me with exposing all my points of mind constructs and personalities that do not support me.

[dracoandluna]

Prompt: Based off of Taylor Swift's song and music video, "You Belong With Me". Modern AU. (This takes place in America so don't hate me that they don't use British slang!)

Draco heaved a great sigh before collapsing onto his bed. He lay there for a few moments, just letting the stress of the day melt off of him and into the depths of his mattress.

He hadn’t heard back from Hogwarts yet, his dream school, he was pretty sure he had just bombed that AP Calc test (it made no difference to Lucius that Draco was in BC, not AB), his team had lost their last football game, nearly disqualifying them from the regional championship, and his girlfriend (emphasis on girl, vague connotation on friend) was being a complete bitch (though he supposed that was nothing new, he just wasn’t used to it being directed at him).

After lying down for a few moments did nothing to relax him, Draco grudgingly got up and ran a hand through his hair, thoroughly messing it up. On almost instinct, Draco glanced over to the left and saw that Luna was in her bedroom too, lying on her stomach on her bed, writing or drawing in a tattered journal.

Draco had lived in entire life in this house, and Luna, his neighbor, had also lived her entire life in the house right next to his. His childhood was filled with memories of playing outside with her in the summer, and being holed up together inside during the winter. As a boy, he had seen Luna something akin to a sister, though even at the age of seven Draco had easily concluded that she was far too barmy to share any blood with him.

He couldn’t help but smile as he recalled the time he and Luna had entered the local soap box derby at age nine and had won against a bunch of teenagers because Luna had brought along a fire extinguisher as an extra boost of speed. Luna was weird, but she was undeniably a genius.

He must have been staring at her the entire time while he was reminiscing, because she looked up at him and waved, before quickly scribbling something in her journal.

Holding the book up, Draco read the message she had written to him.

Congratulations on your game yesterday

Draco scowled at her, and she kept smiling her dreamy smile at him. Had it been anyone else who had said that it would have been a slight, but after knowing Luna for 18 years, he knew she somehow meant it.

Grabbing a notebook from his desk, he hastily wrote:

What are you going on about? We LOST

She had the decency to look surprised, at least.

How is that a bad thing? Failures always impart valuable lessons, wins don’t

Rolling his eyes, he simply waved her off before sliding his curtains close.

                                                             *

“I feel so bad for you, Draco,” Pansy laughed, staring at something over his shoulder.

Frowning, Draco looked behind him to see what she was talking about. There sat Luna, alone, wearing the ugliest pair of sunglasses he had ever seen, while calmly looking around the bustling cafeteria.

“I have no idea how you put up living right next to her,” Pansy continued. “You should have gotten your father to evict the Lovegood’s years ago.”

“Then who would he go to when you’re not around?” Blaise said smugly, looking at Draco challengingly.

“You’re disgusting,” Draco said to Blaise, unsure if he was mad that Pansy was making fun of Luna (didn’t he do that all the time?) or at what Blaise had insinuated. He didn’t know how he had found out about his friendship with Luna, since he went to great lengths to keep it hidden, but Blaise never passed up the opportunity to bring it up against him.

Pansy, who had gone red from chagrin, clutched at his forearm with what he guessed was supposed to be a romantic gesture, but was frankly kinda painful.

“That’s not true, right, Draco?” she asked, her voice starting to take on that shrill octave.

Vincent and Greg looked at him expectantly, as if waiting to see if they could make fun of Luna or not.

“Of course it’s not true,” Draco answered coolly.  

Draco lost his appetite, and listened on silently as Greg and Vincent began to harp on Luna. When Pansy rested her head on his shoulder, Draco stared at the table and wondered what lesson was to be learned from this failure.

                                                              *

This was the last party Draco would attend until the semester was over; he wanted to end the grading quarter strong, and reasoned that homecoming was just two weeks away, he could last two weekends without beer and sex.

Some shithead (he couldn’t even remember who’s house this was) decided to play French dubstep instead of regular fucking dubstep, and the beer was grossly warm.

Pansy and Daphne were passed out on each other on a couch, and Draco felt a flash of irritation since it looked as if he wasn’t getting a lay tonight- from either girl.

“Who spat in your cup?” Blaise shouted to him over the sound of the God-awful music.

“Your mom,” Draco replied, not sober enough to feel ashamed at how lame that comeback was, but too drunk to come up with a better one.

“My mom is dead!” Theodore yelled, his eyes glassy but a large smile on his face. Theo always became weirdly emotional drunk.

“Whatever, Greg got some weed, are you gonna spark up?” Blaise asked, swaying unevenly to the beat as Theo leaned heavily onto him.

Suddenly the entire atmosphere of the party seemed disgusting to Draco, and he wanted nothing more than to leave. The feeling of being alone while surrounded by people was disconcerting, to say the least.

So that’s what he did. Ignoring Blaise and Theo’s confused shouts, Draco stumbled out of the house, and realized too late that Vincent had been his ride (Lucius had taken away his car for bombing that calc test).

Too stubborn to go inside and find that undoubtedly drunk moron, Draco pulled up the collar of his jacket and began to make his slow trek home.

The weather was frighteningly cold, and Draco soon began to lose feeling in his fingers- his toes had long gone.

He glanced up at a street sign and realized with a sinking feeling that he didn’t even know where he was, much less how to get back to his home- or even the house he had just been at.

Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his jeans he cursed through chattering teeth when he found that it was dead.

Did all my karma have to accumulate into one night? Draco thought viciously as he nearly tripped over a section of uneven pavement.

Beep beep!

Startled, Draco looked over to the street to see a car had pulled up. A yellow Volkswagen Bug to be exact. Luna’s car to be even more exact.

Hesitantly making his way towards the car, Draco nearly cried in relief when the window rolled down to reveal Luna’s honey blonde head.

“Hello Draco!” she greeted cheerfully. “Are you also out looking for the shelia bird?”

“Luna,” he slurred. “Can you get me home?”

Her large eyes widened in understanding and she nodded her head yes.

The warmth of her car felt like a kiss from an angel on his nearly frostbitten skin, and he had never been more comfortable in his life, though her car was so small that his long legs were folded uncomfortably to fit them.

She seemed to sense his need for silence, because she said nothing to him, and only hummed quietly to herself.

Draco had nearly fallen asleep in his seat when suddenly he had to ask her a pressing question.

“Would you date Theodore Nott?” he asked, looking as carefully as he could into her face.

They were at a red light, and her face was bathed in the red color when she turned to look at him, the lighting making her look older than she actually was.

“If I loved him, why wouldn’t I?” Luna asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

Draco suddenly felt very very foolish.

“Is just…his mom is dead too,” he said, trying and failing to show the reasoning behind his inquiry.

“I know,” was all she said. “We were once in group therapy together, he’s rather nice.”

Draco didn’t know this, and suddenly and irrationally, he was angry. Why didn’t she tell him she was in therapy? Why didn’t he ever even realize she needed therapy?

“I’m nice!” he exclaimed, waving his hands wildly.

“Are you?” she asked in a voice that didn’t imply that she didn’t agree, but in one that called for actual self-evaluation

He ducked his head like a reprimanded child.

“Sometimes I say things so I can keep looking cool,” he admitted.

“But I don’t think you’re a loon!” he said desperately, reaching over to grab her one hand that rested on top of the transmission. He wished he was more sober so he could appreciate how her hand felt under his. “I just want Pansy off my back! I want you to be my friend!”

He hadn’t even realized they had pulled into his driveway until she turned off her car.

She looked at him sadly.

“I am your friend, Draco,” Luna said softly. “But maybe you should question why you’re with someone who you don’t want to be with.”

Draco had no response.

                                                                 *

For the next two weeks, Draco ignored Luna almost religiously. He had wanted to die of mortification when he had woken up the next day after his emotional outburst. He also fought with Pansy nearly every day, and every time they made up and made out, Draco wondered if a pair of tits in his hands were worth the emotional baggage that came with them.

He spoke with Theo more, and learned that Theodore was a really good listener. He wondered if that was what made Luna think of him so highly.

Nah, Theo was a scrawny wimp who had nothing better to say, which was why he just shut upped and listened, Draco concluded, thus making him much nicer to be around.

It was a gray Wednesday afternoon when he and his team congregated in the locker room, with Coach Hooch outside waiting for them.

He was pulling on his jersey when Harry said, “Guess who I’m going to homecoming with?”

“Ginny?” Draco guessed, sending a haughty look at Ron.

“Uh, no,” Harry said awkwardly.

“Damn right…” Ron grumbled which made Draco grin even more.

“No, I’m going with Luna!” Harry said, earning an eye roll from Ron.

Draco stopped grinning.

                                                        *

It was Thursday night, the night before Homecoming, and Draco was in his room, trying and failing to finish his AP gov essay on congressional hearings. His curtains were drawn completely.

After staring at the same sentence he had been stuck on for half an hour, he ripped open his curtains to find Luna also at her desk, diligently working away. Tapping his window with a knuckle, the sound managed to grab Luna’s attention, who looked up and gave him a smile, as if he hadn’t been avoiding her for weeks.

Deciding not to waste any more time, he whipped open a notebook and scribbled:

Why are you going with Harry?

Luna on her part showed no reaction to his question, to which Draco was almost grateful for; the entire prospect was humiliating enough.

Because he’s my friend

Draco sank back into his chair at her reply, his chest suddenly feeling lighter. But it seemed that Luna was not done, because she held up another page.

Why are you going with Pansy?

Truthfully, he hadn’t even asked Pansy to homecoming, it had just been assumed. Suddenly, he didn’t even know if he wanted to go with her.

But Draco was stubborn and prideful, and he was done looking foolish in front of Luna, so he wrote back:

Because I love her.

He didn’t give any time for Luna to respond before he almost violently drew his curtains.

He stared at the piece of paper for an hour, before crossing out her, and adding you. This time, his actions were completely violent when he crumpled the paper and threw it across his room.

                                                         *

For the briefest of moments, Draco thought he had died.

He had been mercilessly tackled onto the ground, and the very air from his lungs had been completely expelled, leaving them unable to refill themselves.

As his body struggled to get his lungs inflated once more, he was dimly aware of a thundering roar of cheers: someone had scored a touchdown.

When he could finally breathe again, he weakly pushed himself up, only to see Longbottom and Pansy in the middle of the field, passionately kissing.

                                                           *

“Draco, I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal about this,” Pansy complained. “I’m cheer captain, it just makes sense that I congratulate the guy who scored the winning touchdown!”

“You’re right, I am making a big deal,” Draco said agreeably. “So let’s just break up.”

Pansy’s expression then shifted, and for a moment, under the glittering lights and colored shadows, she looked truly evil

“You can’t break up with me!” she seethed, nostrils flaring like a bull.

“I just did,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“You listen here-“

“I don’t care!” Draco shouted, finally reaching the end of patience. This seemed to silence Pansy; he had never raised his voice at her before, it wasn’t how he was raised to treat ladies. But Pansy wasn’t a lady, she was shallow and mean spirited. She made him shallow and mean spirited. He didn’t want to be like that anymore. He wanted to go back to when he was younger and he didn’t care what his friends and father thought, he just lived.

Turning away from her and briskly walking away, he passed Blaise who was grinding his date, Theo who seemed to have found a voice and was chatting up a redhead that holy shit  was Ron’s sister!  Not wanting to be in the same vicinity of an angry Ron, Draco went over to Neville and his date Hannah.

Neville looked apologetic immediately upon seeing him.

“Hey man, I’m really sorry about that thing with Pansy, I swear she wouldn’t get off of me!” Neville apologized profusely looking between him and a ticked off Hannah pleadingly.

“It’s fine,” Draco dismissed. “Do you know where Harry is?”

“Poor guy is by the drinks,” Neville told him sadly.

“Poor guy?” Draco repeated.

“Luna ditched him,” Hannah said, looking as if she didn’t quite believe what she said herself.

Not bothering to say goodbye, Draco quickly went over to where Harry was, needing to hear the confirmation of this rumor from the source.

“Hey,” Draco greeted his dark-haired friend, who looked quite lonely by the drinks.

“I messed up, Draco,” Harry wailed, clutching his forehead with his hand.

“What happened?” Draco demanded, his pulse quickening with dread.

“I love Ginny!” Harry exclaimed. “How could I have let her slip from my fingers?”

Draco stared at him incredulously.

Harry noticed this after a few moments. “What?” he asked self-consciously.

“Where the hell is your date, Luna?” Draco snarled, inches away from strangling him.

“Oh, Luna left to get something, said she’d be right back,” Harry answered distractedly, watching Theo and Ginny with mournful eyes, with a seething Ron in the background.

Something in his gut told him to look to his left, which he did. There standing at the entryway was Miss. Know it All Granger and Luna.

Draco’s mouth fell open at the sight of Luna. She looked…breathtakingly gorgeous. In her silver gown and necklace, she looked like a celestial deity. Granger said something to her and patted her arm encouragingly when Luna caught his eye and waved, before walking (though it looked more like floating) towards him.

Without telling them to, his legs carried him over to where she stood, the loud noises of the dance melting away, and the heat of multiple bodies in a small space turning into the heat of a rapidly beating heart.

“Hello Draco,” she greeted once he finally reached her.

“Luna,” he said, throat dry as he shamelessly drank in the sight of her, undoubtedly she was the prettiest girl in attendance, but truthfully, this was not the most beautiful he had ever seen her. No, that was when they had stargazed all night, or had a flour fight when baking, or building a snow fort: all these years, Luna had shown to him over and over again, that her beauty shone both inside and out, and he wanted to kick himself for only realizing that now.

“Why aren’t you with Pansy?” Luna asked, tilting her head.

Swallowing hard, Draco pulled out the incredibly crumpled and partially torn piece of paper from his jacket pocket.

Because I love her you

Luna smiled, and revealed that she held a folded piece of paper in her palm as well. Unfolding it, she held it up to him.

I love you

He was vaguely aware of Blaise cat calling in the background when he kissed her.