#stands up to the abusive shithead that's made his life hell

[four-color-words]

Oh my god. I knew I was gonna like Chris, but. Oh my god.

[nessinborderland]

Be Mine (04)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader / Chishiya x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn’t want an Alpha; you didn’t need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Drama, Developing Relationship, Past Abuse, Scars, Death, Blood and Gore, Animal Death

Notes: Okay so, not much to say about this chapter. You'll find out why :) Please mind the new tags :) we don't want anyone getting triggered here. Fun fact: every time I write "x growled" I imagine Perry the platypus from Phineas and Ferb doing his signature growl lmao. Cracks me up every time :D

AO3 Link        Masterlist

Game, “Akazukin: Red Riding Hood.”

Everyone’s eyes are locked on the screen.

“Red Riding Hood has to run from the Big Bad Wolf while being protected by the Huntsman,” starts the robotic voice. “One person will be Red Riding Hood, while the others will be divided into two groups: the Big Bad Wolf and the Huntsman.”

“What the- “

“Clear conditions,” the voice continues, “Whoever manages to bring Red Riding Hood to the final checkpoint, wins. The time limit is thirty minutes. After thirty minutes, the losing group dies. If after thirty minutes no one is in possession of Red Riding Hood, both groups die. Is instant Game Over if Red Riding Hood dies or refuses to follow the rules.”

You were terrified of this tale as a child; you had nightmares of an actual wolf coming in the night and devouring you and your mom. Then you had grown up and realized how the tale could be interpreted as a warning to Omegas when it comes to Alphas and their manipulative nature. That hadn’t changed your opinion on the story.

The screen changes to white.

“Now for the groups,” says the voice once again, “Red Riding Hood- “

You gasp; it’s you. It’s a picture of you. You’re Red Riding Hood.

“Big Bad Wolf- “

Your eyes go wide again; Niragi and Chishiya.

“How unoriginal of them,” you hear Chishiya remark with a huff.

“The Huntsman-” and it shows the faces of everybody else in the game. There’s a pregnant pause where everyone just stares down at their phones as it dings.

“Rules,” reads the voice, “No outside weapons allowed. There are axes, as well as other useful weapons hidden throughout the area that are only to be used by the Huntsman. The Big Bad Wolf is not allowed to use any weapons besides the ones already in their possession.”

“What weapons?” you ask no one in specific as you look at Chishiya and Niragi.

They both raise their hands as Chishiya simply replies, “Claws.”

You make a surprised sound, “How are you supposed to protect yourselves like that!?”

They both look at you, and this time is Niragi that says, “I don’t know about this dog but I can do a lot with these.” You don’t fail to notice the threat in his voice as he looks down at Chishiya. The other man just huffs out a laugh.

“The game will commence in five minutes,” says the voice in a cheery tone, “Use that time wisely.”

A commotion erupts as everyone starts realizing what the game consists of. You can’t believe it yourself; you’re nothing more than a pawn in this game. Shouts of “We have to fight two Alphas to death?” and “We can do this, there’s a lot of us.” start all around you. Someone is crying. Some people just run into the dark. You ignore the loud voices around you and focus on your phone as it lights up.

If you stop running or hiding, it’s game over. If you show yourself to the Wolf, it’s game over. If you try to cheat in any way, game over. 

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump. Niragi is looking at you with that expression you hate; betrayal and pain. But now there's also serious determination.

"No matter what you do, you can't stop running," he says. "This seems way too easy for a Ten of Spades, so watch your back."

"What about you?" you ask, eager to cover his hand with yours.

"Oh, so now you worry about me?" he retorts with a bite to his words. You can't help but flinch when his hand drops to his side and his expression changes to a mean smirk. "I'll live so I can kill that motherfucker and make you regret the moment you fucked him." 

"Niragi I- " 

"Save it," he turns your back to you. "I don't wanna hear it." 

You see him walk away, approaching the two other militants that came with him. At least the imminent game made him pause his murder attempt. You take a glance at Chishiya, who is still focused on the screen. You wonder what is going through his head; if you know something about Chishiya is that he always catches details others don’t.

"You!" someone pushes you in the back, and you fall to your knees before you can balance yourself "Who the hell are you?”

Two different growls sound at the same time someone lunges themselves to whoever pushed you. You look up to see Chishiya in front of you in a protective stance. You take the hand he offers you and stand up to see Niragi, currently on the ground punching a man.

“Niragi stop!” you scream. He either ignores you or doesn’t hear you. No one else tries to stop it either; Chishiya simply because he doesn’t care, and everyone else out of fear. The man being beaten tries to fight back but is clearly at a disadvantage. You gasp when you see Niragi’s fingers take the shape of claws. You jump, grabbing his arm before he can slice the man right in the face. “Stop!”

Niragi looks back at you with yellow eyes, and you see as his hand takes a human form again. You pull him out of the crying and bleeding man on the ground. He doesn’t make any effort to stop you. His eyes are locked on you, still animal-like.

“You- you’re part of the game, aren’t you!?” coughs the man Niragi had punched. He sits down holding his nose, quickly dragging himself away from the other man. “You- you have to be!”

“E- Excuse me? you shakily ask in a confused tone. 

“You’re not even a player, you’re just part of the game!” the man continues, “Are you gonna tell me that is a coincidence that this game is the way it is?! All you have to do is follow some rules! You live either way!”

You shake your head, “I- I am not sure what you’re implying, but I have nothing to do with this!" you reply. You confess that yes, you think it’s a big coincidence you got the role you got, but you’re not involved. You had no idea.

The man takes a step in your direction, but Niragi puts himself in the way.

“Watch it,” he says in a commanding tone. “Remember who you’re talking to.” The man holds his stare for a moment, before looking down and taking a step back. Niragi turns to the rest of the group. “Whatever you shitheads are thinking, she’s not involved in any of this. So, unless you wanna die before the game even begins, I advise you to shut up and focus on the game.” The corner of his lips pull up in a smirk, and you see the glint of fangs. “May the best wolf win.”

He then turns to you and your eyes lock. You want to talk to him, explain how and why things happened the way they happened. But you can’t say anything, not when he steps closer with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place.

“You’re wasting time, go!” Niragi orders as he pushes you forward. You stumble a little as you start walking into the dark park. You look back at him and Chishiya, and you nod to each other; they will be able to find you. You’ll be alright. They will be alright.

You bolt into the night. You can barely see anything in the dark, except for the shadows that the moonlight helps casting. You just know you have to run, or you’re dead; they’re dead. The conversation from moments ago keeps playing in your head; could it be possible that this game was made specifically for you? But how would they know that the three of you would be in the same game? It sounded so far fetched; but also...possible.

Hunting horns blast through the air, making you jump and cover your ears at the awful sound. You know what it means.

Game Start.

You start hearing rustling and footsteps behind you as the other players soon follow in your steps; if to catch you or find a weapon, that you don't know. You keep running until you’re out of breath, stopping for just a few seconds behind a large tree. Your legs are shaking and your lungs are burning. The area around you is silent though, and that gives you some peace of mind. You close your eyes and sniff the air. Nothing. 

You’re about to start running again to look for an actual hiding place when a sound makes you freeze in your tracks.

A howl.

And not from a regular wolf. You recognize it instantly.

Never in your life had you heard a werewolf howl until now. After the war, an Alpha fully transforming very rarely happened. The ones that did only transformed in extreme situations, usually to protect a loved one. The regular individual would not transform not even once in his lifetime. And here you are, hearing two of them. It awakes something primitive in you, and every single hair on your body stands up in a shiver. You have an impulse to howl too, but control it at the last second; you’re not doing that. You’re not an animal, as much as the wolf inside you likes to prove you wrong.

You’re startled when a hand covers your mouth, something cold pressing against your neck. You try to move, but the blade nibs at your skin. So you stop, trying to control your breathing.

“Don’t you dare to make a sound.” whispers a male voice. “I’ll chop a finger for every sound you make.”

You give a trembling nod, letting yourself be dragged by the unknown man. He’s way taller and stronger than you, so you don’t even try to fight back. You notice he’s not alone. What seems to be two young girls walk behind you, whispering in agitated voices. 

“Kai, are you sure the checkpoint is this way?” asks one of the girls in a low tone.

The man grabbing you, Kai, shushes her and stops. You can hear him sniff the air, probably looking for signs of an Alpha close by. He suddenly pushes you against a nearby tree and locks eyes with you. You’re surprised to see that Kai is not much older than a highschool boy.

“Mira, press this against her neck,” he whispers to one of the girls. She approaches you, trembling hands holding the small ax against your skin. The boy stabilizes her grip before nodding, “Don’t let her move or make a sound,” he says looking into the girl’s eyes. “If you do and those Alphas hear us, we all die.”

If you’re honest with yourself, you would stay quiet either way; the last thing you want is the blood of those kids in your hands. You watch as Kai takes a map from his pocket, opening it and analyzing it for a few moments.

“If this map can be trusted I’m pretty sure the checkpoint is this house right here,” he points at a place on the map and then ahead on the path, “About three kilometers that way. We can do this.” he checks his phone. “C’mon, we only have about twenty minutes.”

You have been walking for a short moment when the smell hits you.

One of them is close; Niragi, you’re pretty sure. The others smell him too, and you notice in the dark as their eyes widen in a panic and they start running, pulling you with them. You can hear him as he gets closer, like a monster in the night. You try to ignore the exhilarating feeling that goes through you at being chased by him; it’s just like the first time you met.

One of the girls trips and falls right behind you. You flinch at hearing her screaming get louder until it abruptly stops. The other two kids hesitate before Kai stops, pushing you and the other girl to keep running. The girl, Mira, grabs your hand as you both run, and you can hear her crying.

A far away whimper of pain makes you stop in your tracks; one of the Alphas was injured.

“We have to go, please!” begs Mira as she pulls your hand, “Please, we have to-”

Mira’s words are cut short when she falls and you’re pulled down with her. You gasp in pain as you hit the ground, arm stretched into whatever hole the girl fell into. You hear a scream, then silence, as you hear a sound you can’t quite place. It’s dark and you’re not sure of your surroundings, but you could swear that hole on the ground wasn’t there seconds ago.

You’re about to ask if she is okay when the metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils. You squint in the dark, trying to see something in the black hole. The moonlight appears out of nowhere, and you can finally see. You gag when you notice the contorted body of the girl, now impaled in wood spikes. Her eyes are wide, mouth open in a permanent scream.

There are traps.

There are traps everywhere and you can’t see them.

You drag yourself away from the hole, feeling a panic attack start to form as you struggle to get air inside your lungs. You try to shake the image of the dead girl from your mind, shakily rising to your feet. Your phone gives an alarming beep, and you take a look at the screen to realize you have been in the same place for too long. You have to keep moving.

You shake the tears from your eyes and walk by the hole without a second look. 

A scream far behind you snaps you out of your stupor, and you immediately take off running again. You don’t want to think about what might be happening. Despite their numbers, you can’t imagine how Betas can ever win against two fully transformed Alphas.

You’re running through an open field now, surrounded by flowers that you can barely see. A noise to your left makes you look at the line of trees, but you can’t find the source of the sound. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t notice the open trap right in front of you.

You scream as the dented iron snaps around your ankle, pain sparking up your leg. You fall to the ground like a bag of potatoes, and immediately try to open the trap up. But you’re not strong enough, and the iron teeth just dig deeper into your skin. You control a sob as the pain and panic grow; you have to keep moving. You have to hide. A sound, now closer, makes you stop whimpering, and you hold your breath as you see them.

No, not Niragi and Chishiya.

No, not the Huntsman either.

Wolves. Real, wild, one hundred percent animal wolves. A pack of them. No more than twenty meters from you.

You stay still, hoping that they won’t take an interest in you.

But no. Of course that’s not what happens. 

You look around for something to defend yourself with, but you’re defenseless. Here you are, trapped, wounded, on the ground, and without any means of defending yourself. The wolves approach you slowly, like they know you have no means of escaping. They start surrounding you.

“Stay away!” you scream, shaking your arms in hope that the movement will scare them away. “Shoo!”

It does not.

One of the bigger wolves prepares himself to jump. You close your eyes with a sob, waiting for the moment they will tear you apart. 

He’s here.

You feel the air shift as a big dark form covers you. You’re now completely involved in his scent; cinnamon and wood. You keep your eyes closed and brace yourself. The air is filled with the sound of growls and whimpers and teeth ripping flesh. Something warm and wet splatters on you and you know it’s blood. A loud whimper of pain, a strange mix between a wolf and a human, makes you snap your eyes open.

In the moonlight, he’s huge. Terrifying. Beautiful. Bodies of wolves are on the ground. The survivors try to fight the much bigger werewolf. His fur is black as a raven’s feathers, thick and glossy and matted with blood. You can’t look away until he’s done.

Niragi is clearly tired and injured. Saliva drips from his open jaws as he takes labored breaths. He turns to you, and you notice one of his paws is practically mangled, a shine of white bone contrasting with the black fur. A big oozing laceration runs down one of his flanks, and you’re not sure if it was done by an axe or a wolf.

You snap out of your freezing state and make a move to go to him. You scream when the trap still around your ankle makes itself known. He’s on you in less than a second, hovering over you as his snout touches your leg lightly. You can’t resist the temptation to touch him, grabbing the fur of his neck and pressing your face against him.

You feel him when he suddenly changes back into a human, and your face is now pressed on his bare skin. You notice he’s naked, pale skin now almost fully covered in blood and dirt. A cut you haven’t noticed in his wolf form now clearly shows on his forehead, making blood run down his face like a waterfall.

“Niragi-” is all you manage to say. You want to cry, ask him if he’ll be okay. You panic again when you notice how much time you have left; probably not more than ten minutes. Niragi says nothing as he focuses on opening the trap with a grunt. You let out a cry of relief as the thing leaves your ankle. The wound bleeds profusely, so you take off your top, tying a makeshift bandage around the injury with the help of Niragi.

He finally looks you in the eyes as he helps you to your feet, supporting you against him.

“Y/N we-”

That’s all he manages to say.

The next moments happen so fast you can barely process it. 

An arrow comes flying out of nowhere, burying itself into Niragi’s chest. His eyes go wide as he looks at you, a surprised expression in his eyes. You watch him with an open mouth as his eyes turn to gold for a moment. Then he falls to the ground. Rough hands grab you and pull you. Someone is screaming; you realize later that it’s you. Other voices laugh and they sound...excited? Happy? You can’t understand why. You trash around in an effort to get free. Whoever grabbed you punches you right in the face. For a moment, all you see is black with sparks of white. You hear a faint, “We only have five minutes!”. No. Niragi and Chishiya have to find you. They promised. They can’t die. Then you’ll be alone again.

Someone screams again. Loud voices. People running all around you. You hit the ground with force enough to take the air out of your lungs. Someone tries to grab you again, but their grip disappears like they have been pulled away. Tears are streaming down your face, but you can’t open your eyes. You can’t stand up. You hear the familiar sound of a wolf growl.

Niragi? 

No; peppermint and rain. 

Then you feel something warm touching you. You feel soft fur under your skin. Then it’s like you’re flying. You grab onto whatever is moving under you out of instinct. You know you have to hold on tight. You try to focus, but it’s too much. 

Then nothing. Darkness. You’re not sure if you lost consciousness or not. A loud sound, similar to a siren, is what makes you open your eyes. You’re on the ground, stone cold under you as you try to sit up, covering your eyes from the sudden bright lights. 

A cheery tone comes from your pocket. You stare at the phone; Game clear.

You finally look around, and there he is.

A big white wolf. 

Not as big as Niragi, but still impressive. His white fur is covered in blood; if his or someone else’s, you can’t say. Your vision turves as you try to stand up and lose your balance. He catches you before you can fall, teeth gently grabbing your jacket. You stare at him in confusion; what the hell just happened? A spark of pain makes you look down at your ankle. Memories come rushing back.

You gasp. No. It can’t be.

“Chishiya, where’s Niragi?” you ask in a trembling voice. His cold eyes stare at you for a moment too long. You’re about to make a move to find Niragi yourself when the white wolf changes right in front of you. Like Niragi, the man is naked and mostly covered in blood. There’s a cut on his arm, still bleeding. A wave of concern runs over you, and you feel yourself panic even more. He sighs before his eyes lock on you.

“He’s dead.”

Next Chapter

[dogbearinggifts]

People in this fandom like to single out one specific sibling as Just The Worst. Usually that’s Luther, but I’ve seen it with others, too. And here’s why that doesn’t work: 

Luther locked Vanya up in a soundproofed room, ignored the advice of his siblings, and went into “take her down” mode instead of “let’s try and help her” mode once she snapped. He accused his siblings of murdering their own dad and often defended the man who abused them all for years.

Diego didn’t just push Vanya away—he pushed everyone away. His cutting remarks toward Vanya are the ones most often referenced, but he makes them toward everyone. He takes a dig at Allison’s divorce, makes a lewd remark about Luther’s body (of which he is incredibly self-conscious) and calls Klaus “stoner boy.” The only reason he’s given a pass for Klaus is because he’s shown to genuinely care for him, but that’s the lone exception. He also allowed his lust for revenge to distract him from the more important business of saving the world, not realizing or caring until the last minute that revenge would have been the opposite of what Eudora wanted.

Allison abused the hell out of her power, turning her own daughter into a puppet when she didn’t feel like being a proper parent and quite possibly mind-controlled Patrick into falling for her. She also allowed her emotions to get the better of her, lashing out at Vanya for the crime of trying to be nice.

Klaus hasn’t been sober in 17 years, as we’re well aware, but the darkest sides of his addiction are only hinted at in the show and rarely brought up by fans. Suffice it to say, the fact he’s been to prison, been in and out of rehab centers, and isn’t trusted by any of his siblings attest to many, many years of betraying his family to get high. 

Five is a condescending asshole. Yes, he’s a 58-year-old man in a child’s body, but that in no way excuses the way he treats his siblings. Age and experience are no excuse for telling your brother “I don’t think I’m better than you, I know I am” or telling your newly-sober and still-fragile brother “You’d know that if you were actually sober.” 

Ben doesn’t get as much screen time as the others, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only decent one. While it’s true he’s the only one who cares to try and push Klaus away from drug abuse, saying “Oh, waaahhh, I have it worse because I have to stay here and watch you be a dumbass” while Klaus is losing his mind to torture goes a step or three beyond tough love.

Vanya could have approached her siblings in private, told them how much they’d hurt her, and given them a chance to apologize. Instead, she decided to tell the world that they were all shitheads who had it better than she did, and played the victim when they hated her for it. She also took swipes at Allison, the only sibling making a concerted effort to be her friend, and ended life on Earth as we know it.

You see? You can’t single one sibling out as Just The Worst because, if you look at their actions objectively, they’re all Just The Worst. They’re all damaged by their upbringing, and they’ve all damaged each other. They’ve all done shitty things and have had shitty things done to them.

Now, you might be tempted to defend your favorite sibling, point out that they’re actually Just The Best. I’ve got both good and bad news for you, pal, because....

Luther not only tries to treat Vanya as an equal—giving her a chance to speak in family meetings, speaking to her and not over her—he accepts all his siblings unequivocally. He has no reaction to Klaus twirling around in a skirt, listens without judgement to Allison’s confessions of power abuse, makes no remarks about Delores. He apologizes quickly when he realizes accusing his siblings of murder was shitty, wrote poetry on the moon, and has great taste in 80s music.

Diego might be abrasive toward his siblings, but he sticks by a drunk and distraught Klaus long enough to figure out what’s wrong and is quick to empathize with Vanya when she too is locked up on suspicion alone. He tries to get Luther to recognize his own abuse as such, adores his mom, and, despite the stormy nature of their relationship, clearly treated Eudora well.

Allison is quick to realize she was wrong to mistreat her sister, both recently and as a child, and moves to make amends—and keeps it up even when Vanya purposely treats her poorly. She accepts responsibility for her power abuse and her spoiled attitude and defends the person who robbed her of her powers.

Klaus is probably the most empathetic of his siblings, and he’s not afraid to show it. Even when suffering, he takes the time to comfort Luther and defends him at the cost of his life. When he confronts Reginald, he doesn’t only bring up his own abuse—no, he calls Reggie on the carpet for how he treated all his children. Even after he’s been demoted to lookout, he discovers a new power because he wanted to protect his siblings.

Five survived over 30 years in a post-apocalyptic wasteland because he thought he might stand a chance at going back and preventing the deaths of his siblings. When he accepts the Handler’s offer, it’s with the understanding that she will ensure his siblings survive. Everything he does is motivated by the chance of keeping his siblings alive. If that’s not loyalty, then I don’t know what is.

Ben doesn’t have to stick with Klaus. We see him walk away and vanish while Diego ties him up. He chooses to stay with him, give him someone to talk to, and fight a losing battle to push him toward sobriety—and when Klaus is about to give up and relapse, he accepts none of that bullshit.

Vanya may have been excluded by her siblings all her life, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care about them. When Allison takes her to task for trying to be nice, she later calls to check up on her and make sure she’s okay. When she thinks she’s killed Allison, rather than running from consequences, she returns to the Academy just to apologize.

You can’t single one sibling out as Just The Best, either, because they’re all Just The Best. They’ve all done shitty things, but they’ve also done caring and even heroic things. They’ve all suffered and they’ve all made others suffer, but they’ve also tried to alleviate that suffering.

This show isn’t about one horrible sibling who makes their siblings’ lives hell. It’s about seven siblings, who are all horrible and all wonderful, trying to heal from the scars of their past. This show is best enjoyed when you take their flaws alongside their virtues, and appreciate them for the fantastically complex characters they are.

[strangerthingsharrington]

Can’t Fight This Feeling

-6-

My head was pounding. I thought it was literally going to explode.

I hadn't slept well that night. I woke up almost every hour because of these dreams about Russians kidnapping Dustin and threatening to kill him because we were trying to crack their code.

At six thirty in the morning I gave up and decided to just stay awake. I washed and brushed my teeth to try and get me a bit more motivated.

I went to the kitchen in my pyjamas and a worn copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. I brought my foot onto the chair and leaned my head against my bent knee. I wasn't paying attention to the book, I think I reread the same sentence spoken by Scout about fifteen times before I really realized I wasnt absorbing any of the context. My mind was so spaced out.

Mom eventually came into the kitchen and went right to coffee maker where she got a new pot ready.

She turned to face me and raised a brow, "Isn't it summer break, honey? You should be sleeping."

I put my foot back on the ground and rested my arms on the table over my book, "Rough sleep," I mumbled.

She frowned at me, "You feeling okay?"

Yeah just the pure anxiety and fear about Russian spies being in Hawkins and I cant exactly tell anyone.

"Yeah...might have been too warm in the room last night or something," I lied and looked away from her, over to our sliding doors where the sun was already beating down.

I heard the chair across from mine move, I looked over just as she sat down with a small smile, "Was that Steve that dropped the two of you off last night?"

I rolled my eyes slightly, "It was."

She smiled, "See, he's not as bad now is he?"

I bit my lip, "Not as bad as high school but that doesn't mean he's been like...redeemed or something. Just means that Dustin looks up to him and I don't really have any other choice."

"Dustin is smart," she said easily, "he wouldn't get led astray by someone he didn't trust."

"Just because Dustin trusts him doesn't mean I have to, mom," I retorted, "I'm not going to ignore all the bad things I can associate to Steve Harrington just because of Dustin. I'll tolerate him and be nice, but you guys can't ask me to overlook everything."

She looked at me sadly, "LuLu...no one is saying that. Especially me. I remeber the day you came home school after that Tommy kid said Steve liked you...I remeber how upset you were. And those feeling were and still are extremely valid. You had every right to be upset.

"But sometimes, people do change. And people mature and grow up, and you should consider acknowledging that Steve might be doing just that, too," she told me gently, reaching across the table to touch my hand.

I sighed deeply, "I know, mom...I get that. I dunno...I think maybe I just want some sort of acknowledgement from him that he knows he made some of high school rough for me...I don't know if he even realizes it, and it's not something I would just randomly bring up to him, because that's weird," I said with a small smile.

"Well," she said heavily, "maybe that's something that you two can talk about at some point. But I just want you and Dusty to be happy, that's all that matters to me," she smiled.

I grinned, "I know."

"Whoa, Lou knows something? Alert the president," Dustin said from behind me.

I turned and looked behind me, "Yup, I know that I will always be taller than you."

He stared, unamused, "I'm sorry that you're literally the size of a toddler, but when I do get taller then you I'll make sure to carry you in my pocket," he said, walking over to me and patting my head.

I swatted his hand away but he switched hands and continued to pat my head. A second later it turned into us just swatting at each other's hands and calling each other names. It continued to escalate because no way in hell was my little brother going to get the upper hand.

"Don't touch me, you goof."

"Be quiet you jerk."

"You little shit head."

"No you're a shit head!"

"Kids!" mom exclaimed.

By this point I was standing, and had pinned Dustin's arms behind him and he had his leg wrapped around my leg trying to trip me. We looked up to the kitchen entryway and saw mom standing with the man himself, Steve.

Dustin and I relased each other, "When did you get here?" Dustin asked breathlessly.

I was breathing heavily after our little friendly tussle, "I knocked on the door and your mom let me in?" he said, holding a tray with three coffee cups.

Steve and I made eye contact and his eyes shifted down to my legs before immediately looking away from me. I looked down and remembered that my pjs consisted of black short shorts and a Bowie shirt.

I was instantly mortified.

"I'll be right back," I said with a blazing hot face.

I sped walked past Dustin, mom, and lastly Steve who's face might have rivalled mine in redness. 

I ran to my bedroom and closed the door behind me.

I ran both my hands down my face. This was all I needed in my life. For my former crush/high school mean guy to see me in shorts that were too short for him to being seeing and an old worn out David Bowie shirt.

I pushed off my door and went to my dresser, pulling out a pair or jeans shorts and off the shoulder sweatshirt with my worn out converse shoes.

I composed myself and took a deep breath before heading out of my room and back to the kitchen, where Steve was sitting at the table with my mom and Dustin.

"LuLu!" mom happily said, "Steve said he was driving you and Dustin to the mall?"

I looked at the table set up and the only empty chair was next to Steve, I looked to Dustin and saw him grinning at me. Shithead.

I walked over and sat down quickly, "Yeah um, I wanted to see Robin. Don't really have the chance to see her now that she's working so, yeah."

Mom continued to smile at me and nodded, "Maybe she'll want to come over for dinner next week?"

"Maybe," I nodded.

Steve cleared his throat from next me, "I huh, got you a coffee. I wasnt sure what you took in it but your mom fixed it up," he said, sliding the white cup over to me.

"Oh! Okay, thank-you," I brought the cup up and took a sip.

"Well," my mom started, putting her hands on the table and pushing away, "I've got to head to work. Let me know if you two need a drive back from the mall on my way home."

Steve raised his hand, "I can drive them home, Mrs. Henderson," he told him, lowering his hand awkwardly.

She smiled sweetly at him, "Well isn't that nice, thank you, Steve. You two make sure you thank him for driving your butts around."

She pushed her chair back in and left the kitchen.

"Wait till you see the stuff I'm bringing-"

"Shh!" Steve and I both raised a hand to cut off Dustin's sentence. We heard the front door close and we both let our hands down.

"You trying to let mom hear about your spy gear that you're bringing to the mall or something, Dust?" I hissed.

"Seriously, we can't let your mom find out, man, keep it to just me, Louise and Robin," Steve agreed.

Dustin's mouth was still open, "Okay, well, I don't appreciate the sass from either one of you, if I'm being honest.

"Anyways," he dramatically stated adding an eye roll, "I brought binoculars so Steve and I can do some spying of our own."

I grinned and took a sip of my coffee, "Who's going to work on the message then?" Steve questioned.

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, "Robin," Dustin and I stared at the same time.

Steve rolled his eyes but nodded in understanding, "Sure, where is Lou gonna be? With us?"

I looked over at him, "I'm gonna stay with Robin," I stated simply.

"Yeah, we can't exactly have three people running the mall looking for Russian spies, two is way more than enough," Dustin said sternly.

I nodded, "Exactly."

Again, Steve shrugged, "Okay, yeah, sure."

I pushed my chair away from the table, "Okay, well let's get this started then."

——

Dustin had taken Steve out of Scoops Ahoy the moment Robin stepped foot in the store. Dustin was absolutely adamant that they would be able to spot a spy amongst the throngs of people that were already congregated inside.

I was stationed in the back room and Robin was sitting on the back counter in the front of the store next to the open partition so we could play the recording and both be able to hear it.

Robin was twirling the pencil around her fingers when the shrill chime of the bell rang out. Robin closed her eyes and took a deep breath, I looked around her and saw Erica Sinclair, Lucas' little sister with a group of her friends. I babysat Erica on occasion and she called me, and everyone, a nerd.

She caught my eye and scrunched her face up at me before ringing the bell again, "Ahoy!" she yelled.

I moved my head only to see Robin staring blankly.

"Do you think she'll just go away?" she asked as the bell continued to be hit.

"Nope," I said with a pop.

Robin sighed and spun away from me, sliding easily off the counter.

"Yes?"

"I would like to try the peanut butter swirl, please," Erika told her with a phoney pleasantry to her voice. 

"No, no more samples today," Robin replied with a entertained edge to her voice.

I looked around Robin and saw Erica's face drop, "Why not?"

"Because you're abusing our company policy."

Erica scoffed looking around the counter, "Where the sailor man?"

Robin started turning toward me with a small smile, "Sorry he can't help you, he's busy."

"Busy with what?" Erica asked confused.

Robin smiled at me before turning to face her and her friends once again, "Spy craft," she said simply.

"Then I'll come back when sailor man is back," Erica scoffed before turning and walking away with her friends.

Robin laughed as she faced me, "She will honestly make me stand here forever to serve her little tiny spoonfuls of ice cream."

I giggled and shrugged, "She's always been a bit sassy."

"Anyways," she sighed, "a trip to China sounds nice...what could this mean?"

"I'm not sure," I mused, "I get that it's a code you're not supposed to easily crack...but shit, this is insane."

She closed up the Russian to English dictionary and groaned, "I need a two minute rest because my brain is going to explode."

I nodded and hit pause on the recording, "Do you think Dustin and Steve have found anything yet?"

Robin hummed, "I honestly don't know. I mean, do you think Russian spies would just be hanging out in the mall where they're making secret codes?"

"No," I shook my head, "they would have somewhere secret to go...it wouldn't be in the open. They would have a secret entrance too, probably."

"Well if Steve on the case, he's probably trying to find the next girl to try his 'Ahoy ladies! Sail with me on this ocean of flavour,' opening line on," Robin said off handed.

I smirked, "Is that the line he's going with?"

"Yup. And he's struck out every single time," she said with a small chuckle, "so how has it been hanging around with him?"

"Conflicting," I admitted with a small smile.

"Why?"

I let our a deep breath, "Because I just...I still put Steve with Steve Harrington from high school. Jerk extraordinaire," I said with a small laugh, "but he hasn't been really coming across that way the past couple of days and it's messing with my brain a bit. He brought me a coffee this morning for Gods sake."

"He's dopey but he's not...as much of an asshole. Granted, I think everyone is a bit of an asshole..." she drifted off but it made me laugh and nod.

"I don't know," I whined, "it's like, I know in the past he's made me feel bad and embarrassed. But yesterday he made me laugh and he's been nice to me. But I'm constantly reminding myself of how shitty he made me feel to try and cancel out the okay feeling I've had."

Robin smiled sadly at me, "Trust me. It was hard for me to feel anything other than irritation for him when we started working together. But I've tried to separate high school Steve from this Steve and that's how I've been able to keep a level-ish head around him," she explained before rolling her eyes, "granted, like I've said, he can still be a giant moron and I'm a bit of an joking asshole to him...but he's not, you know...mean mean in return."

I leaned my head through the partition and rested my forehead on her shoulder with a huff, "We're bonded through this spy nonsense now, gonna have to get used to him a bit."

"Speaking of spy nonsense," Robin sighed before reaching out and hitting 'Play' on the recorder, "let's try and wrap this message decoding up."

—

Title credit to REO Speedwagon and gif credit to owner

[demonicintegrity]

oKAY heres the details on that depressing Devildice human highschool au i made with a friend back around 2017/2018. Kinda a mess so bare with me. long post with themes of abuse, depression, and other nasty stuff.

- Lucifer Angelo grew up in a pretty bad place in Texas. The details werent fleshed out other than that it was a pretty ignorant place.

- The important fact of the matter is that his dad (who we never did settle on a name for lol) was a Christian preacher. Charismatic man, but an absolute shithead to Lucifer. Even with his other kids he was strict and pushed his ideals and plans onto them. Also had a temper and a loud voice.

- Preacher Angelo was once a pretty alright man, although very self-centered and was pretty condensing. He had a marriage early on in his life and had a few kids, named after archangels. Marriage fell through, and he starts drinking and moves on the next one a bit after. Have a couple more sons named after archangels. It also falls apart. On number 3? he has the final sons to complete his arch angel themed kids. At first it was just in honor/inspired by the angels and his Christian lifestyle, tho i think around the second marriage is where he just started getting delusional and started thinking himself as godlike and thought his sons will spread his word and whatever. Needlessly to say, his partners once they found this out went :/ and it went downhill from there.

- Man we really just took every flaw and worse thing to have in a parent and shoved it into this bastard lmao

- Lucifer was actually the product of an affair within his final marriage. Ofc cheating was a dealbreaker and they divorced. The girl he was cheating with stuck around a little bit, but died in childbirth due to complications. Thus he was left with this child that wAs BoRn FrOm SiN so he named him Lucifer. He would be his son of sin while his other sons would be Perfect People. (Even though they and their mothers started to want nothing to do with him lmao)

- He got by and took care of Lucifer decently but because this was an AU of Angst(TM) Preacher Dickhead became an alcoholic, had money troubles over time because economy troubles or whatever, and took out his temper on his son more and more. Luci was taken to church every Sunday by his dad.

- Kingsley Dyce was born in Lousiana to his parents Patrick and Fahri. We had a whole separate story for Fahri’s family and how they met, it was cute but that’s completely irrelevant right now. They lived modestly and were technically stable but there wasn’t always extra money for fun stuff and there were times were they were just getting by, but they never let Kingsley onto it.

- Kingsley (nicknamed King or KD by his friends) was a pretty cool kid. Had fun in Louisiana despite being a bit flamboyant and full of himself, made good friends. His relationship with his parents were fairly okay. He was a total mama’s boy, loves his mother to death and would do anything for her. As he became a teen his relationship with his father got a bit more strained because Patrick was a very Traditional person and into his teenage hood Kingsley had a habit of dancing not-so-masculine or modestly. He also was getting into makeup.

- Stepping back tho, as a kid he was in the church choir. His family is Catholic and his parents took him to church every Sunday. His favorite activity was to rollerskate. He and his friends were always skating to each other’s houses or skating at the rink. Skating, video games, and singing was his life.

- During his 6/7th grade his family moved to Maryland because of a job opportunity. King was suuuupper bummed. Maryland isn’t like Louisiana at all so there was an adjustment curve. Despite that, he didn’t have a hard time make friends. (insert humanized casino crew here)

- Side note: KD had a tooth gap as a kid and got braces during middle school to correct it. It gave him a lisp. He also had glasses and a questionable sense of fashion throughout middle school. This isn’t super relevant but its important to me that you can imagine this kid as the doofus he was. He also was roughly at an average height.

- In 8th grade there was a new kid that came into his class; Lucifer. Luci’s dad had also moved to Maryland for a job. Despite his entire class wondering what the hell was this southern emo kid’s problem, he wasn’t overtly bullied, just ignored. KD however, was intrigued by this asshole and made it his goal to figure out his issue and be all up in his business.

- Luci is currently dealing with some of his hardest years here. In Texas he had a hard time making friends, was bullied, and wasnt surrounded by the best sort of people. His abuse was getting worse as his father struggled more and more, and the move wasn’t the greatest fix considering he was still drinking and getting himself into debt. Luci didn’t care about school nor about life in general.  But then this asshole waltz into his life and boy golly was he feeling things about it.

- The relationship at first just KD latching onto Luci and talking to him about any and everything and trying to drag him around town. Slowly, Lucifer began to be amused by this jerk and his friends. He also didn’t live too far away so KD was able to easily bike to his place even though he never wanted KD over.

- KD picked up on the abuse Luci was going through, and honestly didn’t know to confront it. At first it was just sharing food cuz Luci wouldn’t eat and chatting to him because he got uncomfortable seeing Luci alone with head down all the time. Eventually he talked to his mom about it and the two of them kept inviting Luci over. Fahri became the mom Luci never had and Patrick despite working long hours and extra shifts, would take time to give Luci practical lessons and be a better masculine figure in his life. Luci was slowly being given a family but he also was pulling away from it. He was in the midst of a depression and he was pretty mean to everyone to deal with it, and pulled to himself more as he began to love KD and his family. The new friendships doesn’t cure depression, nor was it helpful against abuse.

- TW under break for more details of abuse, neglect, depression, and suicide

- His abuse was verbal and physical. He got yelled at for being a failure, yelled at because he didnt care about school, drunk his fathers booze, got into trouble and lashed out. He got beat for back talking and whenever the drunk asshole wanted to fight with him. It had been going on for years. He was also neglected pretty bad. Food wasn’t super plentiful in the house, he lived on fast food and luci didnt know how to cook. There was more booze in fridge than food. Power/water would sometimes not be on if his father forgot about certain bills. It was bad.

- Some time during this 8th grade year he also developed a crush on KD, he didnt voice it because his dad was homophobic as shit but also because he certainly didnt know how to navigate love and didnt want to ruin his relationship with KD. So he repressed it.

- Also during this 8th grade year Luci tried to commit suicide. He had texted KD before hand too, with some note that boiled down to he cared a lot about KD but couldnt stand anything in the world/his dad/bringing KD down/whatever and it was obviously a suicide note. KD freaked out and immediately got his ass over there, kicked down the door, and found Luci in his dad’s room with his dad’s gun to his head. I don’t think we ever settled on the details of the situation but it was traumatizing for both individuals to say the least.  KD was able to talk him out of it.

- That incident made them inseparable. Luci never had someone care for him like that, cry for him like that. KD had grown attached and close enough to consider him his best friends, the incident only solidify his want to make his best friend’s life better. It was a rough few months after that and KD was sworn to never tell his parents what happened.

- TBH that was about the worse of it, this was an high school AU and high school became a bit better for them in certain regards. KD got his braces off, got contacts, and had one helluva growth spurt going into HS. Luci went deep into a punk-emo phase his freshman year which killed his fashion, but was slowly becoming a bit more confident in himself. KD and his parents were able to help him a lot. Emotional support, practical life lessons, and food was always a given.

- Its a bit of an up and down throughout high school. KD gets into makeup, heels, dancing, and bisexuality and it causes a major strife with him and his dad who wanted a “real” son. The relationship went through major struggles and would take a couple years to really heal.

- Luci struggles a bit with drinking and deals drugs and booze to get his own spending money. He starts somewhat taking his school seriously, but even though he does work in class he doesnt always do homework or projects and whatnot. He has a habit of physically intimidating other students and occasionally tries to pick fights.

- The “casino gang” also have their own things going on. If a recall correctly, Wheezy was also in a neglectful house, Pip and Dot ( ??? and Dorothy) were twins from a wealthy well off family but were ignored and were terribly bratty, Piroeutta was just an quiet Russian outcast, Mango had 7 siblings and no space to himself and who was bullied for his large off-putting appearance, Chips was just loud, and i completely forgot what everyone else’s deal was. KD and Luci mainly hung out with Chips, Piro, Pip, and Dot. They were still pretty close to the others but those four were the only ones they regularly hung out with at lunch and outside of school.

- There are a couple things that could happen throughout high school. My personal fav i can remember is a particular angst with KD trying to get with another dude and Luci being Upset and lashing out at him at a party result and ugh that scenario was angsty but also turned very cute???

- Regardless, when they do get together they’re unstoppable tbh.

- and yes, the gang would readily throw hands with anyone who said shit. Barely any of them care about suspensions.

- I kinda forget a bit of stuff. I know misc. scenarios here and there both fluffy and angsty, but this post is already long enough lmao so feel free to hit up my ask box with any questions/comments. I dont really think Ill come back to this au?? If i do Im gonna edit a ton of stuff because looking back certain themes and scenarios seem borderline insensitive and/or poorly thought out. I did found a fic of this au on my phone with KD and Luci as adults tho and Im v tempted to rewrite some of it and finish it because it was good.

[purplesurveys]

817

Does it make you nervous when someone does something dangerous showing off? If it’s something supposed to be taken seriously, like an athlete doing a risky ice skating spin, then I’d be nervous in that I don’t want them to fail. But if it’s someone doing something rather foolish like doing a moonsault off a roof or putting out a candle with their bare fingers, the mischievous side of me will silently half-wish something goes wrong haha. Have you ever had to take a pee test? You mean a urinalysis? Yeah. Angela’s doctor mom suspected I had UTI a few weeks ago so she had written up a recommendation for me to take a ‘pee test,’ as you put it. Have you ever had to supply someone with clean pee? I mean, I did for the aforementioned urinalysis lol. And what do you mean by clean pee? How is that different from dirty pee? Lmao Are you a bit of a nerd? Guh, I loved calling myself this is a teenager...because...y’know...I was a teenager and wanted to sound cool and ~not like the other girls~ lol but I was definitely trying too hard at the time. I don’t consider myself a nerd now and I don’t think I ever was. Are you in charge of cleaning anything in your household? Just my own dishes for the most part, but that’s it.

Are you good at HTML? At one point I was, because it was once a common practice on Tumblr to customize your themes, add your own pages, and basically just mix up your blog. I dunno if normal Tumblr still does this haha but if I tried to do this today I’d be rusty for sure. Ever carved/written anything on a park bench? Nope. I always feel like I’d get caught. Most interesting place you've ever visited? I’d say Shanghai was the most interesting mostly because it was SO incredibly first-world and the whole place was just so modern, so technologically forward and the experience was so jarring considering the dumpsite I live in. It was very daunting seeing all the bright lights, people dressing up so well, luxury shops on every corner, and how rich their nightlife was. Have you ever had anything tailored? Yes, my lola knows how to do that so whenever I need my clothes adjusted I’d just ask her to do it. Fan of Walton Ford artwork? Ever even heard of him? Nope, haven’t heard of him. Do you keep your eyebrows more thick or thin? I never get my eyebrows done; I don’t find it necessary. They’re naturally on the thick side, but from years of trichotillomania and plucking my left eyebrows, the hair eventually never 100% came back and the end of that eyebrow has juuuust a bit of a bald patch on it. It’s only noticeable for those who know about my trich, but still. What color is your bedroom door? It’s brown, but the bottom part sports a lot of chipped-off paint due to my dog scratching on it to get in and out of my room for the last twelve years.   Do you value your personal space, or do you hate being alone? I value both since I tend to need either at different points. Have you ever been hunting? Never.  Your take on one-night stands? Are they okay? You do you, and it’s definitely okay. It’s just not my thing. Do you always wear a bra? Not when I’m at home. I for sure haven’t worn one in a while due to the pandemic forcing me to stay home, but I did wear a bra when I went to the hospital a couple of weeks ago. Felt so weird lol. Do you have a wrist watch? No. I always lose them under my watch (hehe) so I just stopped wearing them altogether so that I don’t keep wasting my parents’ money :/ Do you usually jog or go for walks? I’ll sometimes go for walks, but for leisure. I don’t think of them as workouts at all. Could you be happier? Yeah, I think this is how most of us, if not all of us, feel.

Don't you just love aerial views? Like...from airplanes? Yessss, I love them a lot. When my dad books flights for us I always call dibs on a window seat as I never get tired of seeing cities and towns from the sky. Do you own a pair of Dr. Martins? As far as I know it’s Martens, and no I don’t. I’ve always thought they were too chunky for my liking. Do you like wine? Hate it, I never liked its bitter taste. My girlfriend and some of my aunts love wine though so sometimes I’ll have a glass or two and pretend to like it so I can spend time with them haha. Do you scrapbook? Nope. We do have scrapbooks at home, but it was my mom who made all of them for mine and my siblings’ baby photos. Have you ever been told not to do something you desperately wanted to do? Of course. ^ did you listen? Not always. Why are the angry birds so mad at the pigs? ...I don’t care. I never played the game actually. Would you feel bad about breaking up with a kid on his birthday? Kid sounds weird in this sentence lol, and yeah I’d say that’s a pretty shitty thing to do. There are 365 days in a year and unless my significant other has been an abusive shithead, I’d pick a date other than their birthday to break up with them. Have you ever sung anyone the happy birthday song? On their birthday, I guess...? How many followers do you have on Twitter? At the moment, 722. Do you like Hello Kitty? Not really. Have you ever won on one of those grabber machine things? Not that I can recall. My sister has always been the one better at those than me, she wins something every time. Though there was one time I was at the arcade and was just fucking around with the claw machines until I saw a kimono-wearing Hello Kitty left behind in one of them; I figured someone won it but didn’t want it, so I gleefully took it and gave it to my sister who’s super into Hello Kitty AND anything Japanese haha. Is there an actual word for those? I call it the claw machine. Have you seen the movie Remember Me? I never have but I remember wanting to because Robert Pattinson is in it, heh. Do you like thunderstorms? Love them. I can see myself living somewhere where it rains all year round. Have you ever been horseback-riding? I’ve ridden a horse before but I don’t think it counts as horseback-riding? It was part of the itinerary on one of our trips to Tagaytay nearly a decade ago, and a skilled rider was maneuvering the horse for me. I was like 12 and didn’t know any better, but today I absolutely wouldn’t take part in some tourist attraction thing that would use and tire out animals. Have you ever seen your naked back? I’ve had to turn around and look at it in the mirror a few times because I have scoliosis and I had wanted to see the point where my back starts to curve. Are you gonna French kiss your hubby at your wedding? Noooooo. I hate doing PDA myself so I’ll likely be sheepish at my own wedding actually, considering the fact that I wanna invite like 400 people lol. Do you think girls generally look better with their natural hair color? I don’t base attractiveness off of hair color, so I don’t really care. Who is the last person you held hands with? Gabie. Was ages ago though. Would you agree that wedding cake is so much better than any other cake? (: I mean, wedding cake isn’t even a type of cake lol. I think cheesecake is the superior cake, though. Do you feel awkward with strangers in elevators? Not at all. It’s a lot more awkward if I know the person but am not close with them or don’t know them all that well, so then I’d have to spend the next few seconds figuring out if I wanna make small talk or just ignore them altogether. Do you cuss excessively when you're upset? I can cuss excessively regardless of my mood. I don’t do it as much as I did when I was a teenager, but my potty mouth will still slip out every now and then. Would you rather cheat and tell your other about it or be cheated on? Eugh, this is an awful question. Can we just go with no cheating? Do you own a pair of shorts that could be mistaken for underwear? I don’t think so. Have you ever felt free after losing something once important to you? Yeah, I was recently reading my old survey answers from 2015 when my breakup was fresh, and apparently I was a super happy camper who felt free as fuck when Gab and I had broken things off so I guess that’s one example lol. Have you ever been to a rave? Nope, no raves for me. How many bananas have you ever eaten in a row? I’ve only eaten a whole banana once my whole life and that was a few weeks ago when I had a fever. Mom said it’ll be good for my body so I was made to eat one for breakfast. It wasn’t all that bad, but it will still take a whole lot for me to have to eat another banana. Have you ever felt like you can burn the world down? I’ve never been that angry before, no. Can you read/speak in any language(s) other than English? Yuh, Filipino is my first language.

Have you ever had sex outside? I’ve had it outside but we were still hidden, like inside a car lol if that still counts. Have you ever been outside naked? ^ Same situation. Do you like guys with long, brown, shaggy, flippy hair? If it looks majestically taken care of, yep. Do you have a beauty mark? I don’t. Have you ever been in a shrubbery maze? No. I’ve been terrified of them ever since watching The Shining, and I don’t think I’ll ever be up to entering one since I hate getting lost. Do you think you're the best thing that's happened to someone? I dunno. I don’t really need this big of a validation, so it’s genuinely fine if no one thinks of me in this way. Is the best thing that's ever happened to you a person? Yes, but also a dog. What's your boyfriend's style, or what style tends to attract you? I’ve observed that Gab jumps from one style to another. Some days she’ll dress like a sophisticated aunt and wear nice flowy dresses, other days she’ll opt to look a bit tomboyish and wear a graphic or tie-dye t-shirt and jeans. Do you know anyone who works in a cafe? Yeah, my cousin Bia. How many songs do you think you know all of the lyrics do? Hundreds is a safe guess. Do you enjoy jazz or blues music? I enjoy both, but I like jazz a tad bit more.

What's the most emotionally painful thing you've ever been through? Finding out about Nacho. My grandpa’s death hurt as hell too, but back then I had no choice but to harden up and force myself to be ok and focus because I had an insanely important college entrance exam coming up five days after his passing, and I couldn’t afford to get distracted. With the news of Nacho, I was doing nothing that night and I was completely vulnerable when it hit me. How many band t-shirts do you own that are black? I only have one band t-shirt, and it’s black. Can you make a clover shape with your tongue? Nope. Would you agree that Beck is a musical genius? (: Beyoncé lost to him for Album of the Year at the Grammys for her 2013 album which she highkey should’ve won, so he’s kinda on my shitlist for that looooool Do you ever feel like the main people in your life don't know you at all? No. I wear my heart on my sleeve for the most part, so I don’t have to worry about that. Do you like Ben Folds? I’ve never heard of him. Do you watch The Voice? Nope. Do you have a protective father? To an extent. He hates catcallers and always tells me to tell him if there are any around when we’re out so he can beat them up. He’s not crazy protective to the point of being possessive or overly strict though. Have you ever worn a headdress? Just for school productions when we would represent cultures that have headdresses.

Last thing that caused you to get sick? A UTI. What's the biggest misconception about you, personally? It annoys me to no goddamn end when people say or assume that I’m fake. It’s called being polite and civil even around people I don’t like which I’m pretty sure is more mature than fake, dude. Have you ever seriously thought you loved someone without telling them? No. Are you squeamish? About certain things. I hate watching clips of people having their bones break or get dislocated, people passing out, too much blood, among other stuff.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

The Devil in Disguise, Pt. 3

Dean Winchester x Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Dean’s on the run from escaping a prison where a job went south. Sam is in the wind. With nowhere to go and an injured leg, Dean takes refuge in the only place he could find—an old remote cabin. Normally empty for long stretches, Dean happens to stumble in the same day that the cabin’s owner returns. After a rocky first encounter, Dean comes to believe that a distant connection they share could be the thing that saves his life and gets him back to Sam. But will it happen before Y/N’s finance, a prison guard at Green River, finds the secret she’s hiding in the woods?

A/N: The fic was inspired by the song “The Devil’s Backbone” by The Civil Wars. This is part 3 of 5 written for multiple bingo cards that go for both chapters. Set around S2 (Folson Prison Blues). New tag lists are at the end of the fic. I have tag spots open, let me know if you want to jump on or off for SPN (Dean and/or Sam, or RPF for Jensen)

Warnings: (Part Three): Language, Mild angst, Hints of abuse, Drinking, Smut (18+ only)

WC: 5.7K

*Banner created by me. I do not own any of these pictures.

Dean didn’t say much to her for the next couple of hours. After [Y/N] helped set him up in the bathroom so he could take a makeshift shower, he made his way to the kitchen without any assistance, albeit very slow. She tried to help him hobble his way along, but he insisted on doing it himself. Once he was clean and his wound was tended to, she placed down a big bowl of chili and a hunk of cornbread, warmed and oozing with butter. He thanked her and as the fragrant spices filled his nose, his stomach rumbled fiercely. Dean dove in and greedily ate every bite until the bottom of the bowl was so clean it was hard to imagine there was much in it, to begin with.

“I guess it was good?” she asked with a half-amused grin. 

Dean leaned back in the chair and groaned along with the wood. He smiled, satisfied, and patted his stomach. “So good. I feel like I haven’t eaten real food in, well, forever.”

“Can’t imagine your meals at Green River were exactly gourmet. Then, living on soup and protein bars the last couple of days couldn’t have done much for your taste buds…” she trailed off and shrugged, rising from the table and clearing his dish. 

She seemed different, like something in her was changed by the earlier encounter. Despite their close moment after Derek left, Dean felt like she was holding something back; maybe it was the need to cry or just the urge to rage, but even he could feel the shift in her mood without her saying a word about it. 

He sat quietly and watched her move around the kitchen, cleaning dishes, putting away the rest of the food. Silently going about her business, and yet, he could almost see the wheels in her head-turning. His own thoughts kept going to what he overheard while in the closet, but also, to the closet itself. A lock on the outside, sure, why not… but one on the inside could only mean trouble. But, was it trouble for [Y/N] or someone else? Unable to keep his thoughts to himself, Dean leaned forward on the table but didn’t look in her direction at first. “Can I ask you something? And, I don’t mean to pry, but... my curiosity is piqued.”

She stood at the sink, and just when he thought she wouldn’t say anything, [Y/N] turned around and he could already see she knew the questions he wanted to ask. She still didn’t speak, just used her expression to grant permission for him to ask.

“Alright…” he started then turned in the chair and did his best to stand with a bit of weight on his injured leg. He didn’t wobble this time, though held onto the table for support and now that he was secure, his gaze focused on her. “Why is there a lock on the inside of a closet door in your bathroom? What were you trying to hide from?”

[Y/N]’s gaze fell to the old hardwood floor, but that half-amused smile stayed on her lips as she considered her answer. Finally, when she lifted her (y/c) eyes, Dean saw years’ worth of pain and heartache in them. It didn’t make him sad for her, but instead anger at the people who were the cause of it. 

“My father used to hit my mom. She put it in there one day when he wasn’t around so I could have a place to hide if I needed it.” Her reply was so matter-of-fact and calm, that Dean had to take a moment to process what she actually said. 

“He what?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“He hit her, a lot. We lived here for a few years when I was very little. He had been asked to leave his prior parish, so my mom fixed this place up for us to live in until he found a new one. It was her grandfather’s cabin. So, she loved the place and was thrilled to live here for a while.”

“Guessing your dad didn’t care for it,” Dean spat, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth just as the impression of her father did.

“Nope. Not even a little. He drank, got violent, took all his frustrations out on her. You know how it goes. Eventually, the offer from Green River Baptist came through and here we are. We moved out of here and down into the house adjacent to the church, and she installed one there, too.”

“Did he ever hurt you?” Dean’s question had more of a punch than he intended, which didn’t go unnoticed by her. 

“No. Well, once, but not like he hurt my mother. Once we were moved into the new church, his outrages stopped for the most part. ”

Dean shook his head and inhaled slowly, trying to still the rage he felt towards her father. “Your mom… where is she now?”

“Residing in Green Valley cemetery. Remember I said I had family there?”

“Oh,” Dean replied awkwardly and shifted weight off his bad leg, “yeah…”

“Here, come on,” [Y/N] said, and quickly dried her hands on a dishtowel before moving to help Dean. “Come sit in the living room. There’s a fire going and then I’ll put the kettle on for hot chocolate.”

“Got any booze to throw in there?” Dean asked hopefully.

“I do, but you can’t have any. Not while on those meds. I need you clear-headed as you can be.”

Dean sighed heavily. “Awesome, thanks Nurse Ratchett.”

“Yeah well, you’ll be thanking me should Derek show up again. Cause I guarantee the next time he does, he’ll have a shotgun in hand.”

“Peachy,” he mused and rolled his eyes as he slung an arm around her shoulder as she helped him walk into the living room. 

Once in the living room, she let him go so he could sit on the couch then turned to tend to the fire. That was when he really watched her closely; from the glow of the flames against her face, tracing the lines and curves of her body, right on down her tight jeans to her wool-socked feet. He was so curious about so many things--including how she would look sans the layers of the thermal and flannel she wore--but had no idea whether he should or could even bring himself to ask. She was a stranger to him, but yet, he felt close to her in a way that even surprised him. 

Dean watched every move she made and studied her face as she seemed to be lost in the dancing flames. When she snapped out of it and turned back to him, he didn’t try to look away or pretend he hadn’t been watching her. 

“What?” she asked nervously, “why are you staring at me?”

“Just watching you work the fire,” he replied casually, though they both knew it was much more than that. 

“Ok, weirdo,” she snarked and turned to go into the kitchen. 

“So, can I ask you something else?” Dean called out to her, and when she didn’t respond, he twisted his torso to see her moving about the kitchen. 

She just finished filling the kettle and gently rested it on one of the burners then turned it on. “Ask me whatever you want, Dean. I have no secrets.”

“You got me,” he replied, his wide, toothy grin made her chuckle.

“Other than you… what do you want to know?”

“What the HELL are you doing with that guy?” 

“Derek?”

“Yeah, Derek. Derek is a douchebag.”

“Well aware, thanks.” She continued on making the hot chocolate, and when she retrieved the bottle of rum from the pantry, Dean couldn’t help but smile when he saw her pour a small shot into each mug. 

She was quiet for a while, long enough that the kettle began to whistle and he assumed it was her way of avoiding the question. Dean wouldn’t push her, not when she was doing all she was for him, but he couldn’t take his focus, or his eyes, from her. Nor could he understand how such a beautiful woman, with skills and balls of steel like her, would stay with an overbearing shithead like Derek and that being based on only hearing a few minutes of their lives together. 

[Y/N] came back into the living room a minute later with two steaming mugs that smelled heavenly of chocolate and liquor. 

“If you end up having a reaction to your meds with that shot of rum, it’s your own damn fault,” she said and handed him a mug before sitting on the opposite end of the couch, one leg tucked beneath her. 

Dean smiled smugly and sipped at the piping hot liquid. “I’ll take my chances, thanks.”

She stared into the fire for a beat, and when she finally turned back to him, he realized that she wasn’t just being quiet, she was thinking; most likely trying to phrase her answer to his question.

“I met Derek in high school. My mom had died by then, the incident in the church with Deacon had happened, and I was a wild kid. Summer before sophomore year, I met Derek at church. His family just moved here and my dad set me up on a date with him… a good Christian boy.”

“Oh, I bet that date was gads of fun,” Dean mocked and licked the chocolate from his lips. 

“It was, actually. Derek wasn’t as good of a Christian boy as he pretended to be. We went out drinking at the pits in the woods, and had a great time.”

Dean raised his brow in surprise. “I certainly didn’t expect that answer.”

[Y/N] chuckled but it was flat and sad. “It didn’t last. We dated for two years, and by the time we were about to be seniors, in his head, my father already had us walking down the aisle. The second I graduated, he wanted to marry me off and get rid of me. By then, Derek wasn’t exactly the guy I thought he was and I was so ready for it to be over.”

“So, why are you still with him all these years later?”

She shrugged. “When you are mentally beat down and told you’ll never do better than what you got after so long you start to believe it.”

Dean swallowed hard and felt his teeth grind together in an attempt to bite back words he had no business saying to her. As they sat there in the heavy silence following her words, he was seething in anger that anyone could think of her as anything but wonderful.

“That’s horse shit, you know,” he said softly, raking his teeth over his bottom lip in frustration. 

“Yeah, well… tell that to eighteen year old me who was getting kicked out of her house and forced to live with a guy who I didn’t want to be with, or be homeless.”

“Well okay, but you're clearly not eighteen anymore. You work? Right? Have money… why stay?”

“It’s just not that simple Dean. I wish it were, but it's not. Besides, what do you care? In a few days or two, you’ll be able travel and I will somehow get you back to your brother. Speaking of… I guess we should talk about that. How do you wanna--”

“Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Change the subject. I’m not letting this go, [Y/N]. That guy is a massive dick. I have known plenty of guys like that in my life. Bullies, all of ‘em. Chances are if he hasn’t raised a hand to you yet, he will.”

She raised her brows subtly and didn’t look him in the eyes. He knew what it meant, but didn’t want to press her. Truth was, he didn’t have any right to get into her business, but yet…

“[Y/N], I’m not trying to--”

“I know,” she interrupted, but it was quiet, almost a whisper. 

Dean moved closer to her, ignoring the burst of discomfort it caused in his leg. He left a bit of breathing room, but reached out and placed a hand on the bend of her knee. He waited a moment to see if she would recoil, or react negatively to his touch. She didn’t. 

“No, you don’t know,” he said. “I won’t tell you what to do, but sweetheart, you do not need that guy. Not for a damn thing.”

Her eyes slowly came up to meet his and he could see the conflict brewing in them. Despite the temperature, she gulped down the hot chocolate and placed her mug on the small table beside her. Without saying anything, she got up, Dean’s hand falling back to the couch, and went into the kitchen only to return a moment later with the bottle of rum. She sat down in the same position, only much closer to Dean; close enough that her knee was gently pressing against the side of his thigh.

[Y/N] took a quick pull of the brown liquor and winced as it trickled down her throat. She passed the bottle to Dean, who looked between it and her with uncertainty.

“My very beautiful nurse said it would screw with my meds,” he shrugged, flashed her his most charming smile. 

“She’s an idiot. Get drunk with me, wouldya? Cause honestly, after these last few days I could use it.”

Dean placed his mug of hot chocolate down on the other table and took the bottle from her. The taste of the rum was like heaven on his tongue, but he knew he had to pace himself. She wasn’t wrong about keeping a level, clear head, yet the allure of getting drunk with her was something he didn’t want to pass up, either. After spending the last few days down with an infection and fever, Dean knew he couldn’t be too carefree with his actions. 

Passing the bottle back to her, she took a shot from it, her (y/c) eyes intently watching him. “I don’t want to talk about Derek. Tell me a story, Dean. Tell me about what you and your brother do. What other creatures or monsters have you killed?”

Dean scoffed and stammered a moment before he could formulate an answer. “I--Well… why? Why would you want to hear those stories?”

“Because,” she shrugged and drank from the bottle again before passing it to him, “at least what you’re doing seems important… meaningful. Me… I am a bored soon-to-be housewife who likes to pretend I write important things when really it’s just a bunch of bullshit.”

“I doubt that,” he replied, keeping his green eyes locked with hers as he raised the bottle to his lips. He was feeling the effects of the alcohol quickly; could feel it coursing through his veins and an overwhelming need to touch her rose with it.

“Just tell me a story,” she laughed, “I don’t want to think… I want you to distract me, please?”

“Alright,” Dean nodded and gave her back the bottle. She took a healthy pull from it, placed the cap back on and reached over to leave the bottle on the floor beside the couch. The fire crackled and popped in the background while Dean tried to think of a case to tell her about; one that wouldn’t be too dark or heavy, but he was struggling because they all were like that. She thought what he and Sam did was important, and maybe it was, but it certainly came with a hefty price.

“This one time Sam and I had to join a traveling circus,” he shrugged and felt his heart warm as she broke into a disbelieving smile.

“Seriously? What was going on there?”

“A killer clown, or so we thought. Thanks to a little help from a friend, we found out it wasn’t so much a clown but a rakshasa--”

“A what?!” she snorted, the alcohol clearly affecting her as well as she tried, and failed, to repeat the word. “A rakssha--rakeis--a what?!”

“A rakshasa… a spirit, shapeshifter of sorts that likes to feed on humans. This one had set up shop in a traveling carnival. Passed itself off as a clown, got kids to let it in the house and then would eat one of their parents.”

“Oh,” [Y/N] said, wrinkling her nose in disgust, “gross.”

“Yeah, very,” Dean chuckled, his tongue darting across his lips while looking at her. It was an involuntary response, but he could see her watching him closely now, too, and he didn’t hate it.

“What else, tell me more,” she requested and leaned forward enough that he could see a spark of life returning to her eyes. 

Dean recounted a few other cases he and Sam had worked over the years, keeping them short and sweet, and mostly ones where there was a happy ending. He left out the demon stories or the time when Sam had to put down a woman after he’d fallen for her because she had been bitten and turned into a werewolf. He went more in-depth about the case they worked for Deacon, too, and other times he’d been in their lives. [Y/N] listened attentively, her eyes never leaving his face and the more he talked, the closer she got. 

What felt like hours later, she moved off the couch and once again tended to the fire. From the corner of the room, the CB radio crackled to life again, making both Dean and [Y/N] freeze, then catch the other’s nervous gaze. They waited silently through the unintelligible voice mixed with static, waiting to see if one would make sense; if Dean’s name was the topic of the call or if--

“[Y/N].... you…*static* ...up. Now! Over.”

Dean saw her face fall the minute the voice was clear enough to understand. Her whole body stiffened, a coating of fear mixed with anger taking hold of her expressions and forcing her to walk towards the CB. He realized as she got closer that she still had the fireplace poker in her hand. Even from across the room Dean could see how tightly she was gripping the iron weapon, her knuckles turning a ghostly shade of white.

[Y/N]’s free hand darted out and snatched the handle from its base and gave a quick look over her shoulder. Dean nodded, his way of agreeing to be quiet. She drew in a deep breath and pressed the button. 

“I’m here. Over.”

It took a minute, but the voice came back clearer this time. “What the hell you thinkin’, girl? You better get your ass back to town... *more static* ...ing. Storm’s …. *static* ...for days! Over.”

There was another moment of hesitation on her part before she pressed the button and spoke again. “I’m not a God-damned child. I’ll tell you what I told Derek. I’m fine. I will be back when I am back. Over and out.”

Without hesitation, she turned off the power to the radio and gently placed the handle back in its cradle. [Y/N] stood motionless, still holding the poker with a fierce grip as if she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to use it or not. She finally moved, turned back around to face him and that’s when she noticed the poker in hand. Paying it an absent glance, she gently laid it back on the rack and shook the haunted thoughts from her mind. 

“I don’t wanna tell you what to do, but maybe turning that off isn’t a great idea,” Dean suggested carefully. “It’s kind of our early warning system, you know?”

“You’re right,” she replied, and went back to the radio to switch it back on, then maneuvered a few of the controls so music began to play through the small speaker on the unit. “There, at least that’s better to listen too. And it’ll flash when something’s trying to get through.”

“Who was that?” Dean asked, unable to quell his curiosity. 

“My father. Derek probably left here and went straight there. They’re always conspiring something,” she muttered.

Dean nodded and tried to think of something he could say that would change the sudden change in her demeanor. Seeing how her father’s voice alone affected her, made him just as disgusted as he had been when he saw how Derek’s presence changed her. [Y/N] was a special kind of woman, how she was so mistreated by the men in her life left him baffled and angry.

Before he could think of something to say, she spoke up first as she knelt down by Dean’s injured leg.  “I should check your wound…” 

“You’re just surrounded by douchebags, huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she replied and began to pull up the bottom of the sweatpants when he leaned forward and put his hand on her shoulder. 

“My leg is fine,” he said. “I mean, if you’re just looking for a way to get me to take my pants off, I can think of better ways, sweetheart.” He knew he was being blunt, and while he certainly wouldn’t turn down the mysterious beauty, he was only trying to get her back in that light-hearted, easy-going way she was before the CB had gone off. 

[Y/N] laughed but then caught his gaze, and in it, he saw that maybe his comment wasn’t as laughable to her. 

“Is that so?” she asked and stopped pulling up his pant leg, but didn’t remove her hand from his ankle. He could feel her feather-light touch on his skin and desperately wanted her to touch him everywhere. “And just what way would that be?”

Dean chuckled and needed to decide how far he could, or should try to take this. He was injured, after all, and she was a stranger with two very aggressive men in her life. Getting involved with her in any way was only going to mean trouble. But then she looked at him, challenging his comment with nothing but the tick of her brow and the pout of her lip; subtle, but sexy. He knew there was only one way it could go.

“Well, you could come back up on the couch and let me show you…”

Dean’s heart was pounding, unsure of how she would react. When [Y/N] slowly rose from the floor and stood before him, he sat up straighter on the couch silently praying she would take him up on his offer. Everything in the room seemed to shift at once; the fire popped and hissed as it caught a new log ablaze, the song on the radio ended, the first few notes of Unchained Melody started on some distant AM station, and [Y/N] was slowly removing the flannel she wore over her thermal shirt, and tossing it to where she had been sitting on the couch. 

“You shouldn’t say things like that if you don’t mean it,” she whispered, her expression unreadable, but intense. 

Dean reached out for her hands, pressed his palms into hers, then laced their fingers together before gingerly pulling her forward and gauging her resistance. When she didn’t fight him at all, he continued guiding her closer which forced her to straddle his lap, or she’d fall on top of him. She did so without any hesitation, but hovered over his lap and kept her eyes locked with his. He wished he could read her, get a feel for what exactly she was thinking. Though he had been with plenty of women over the years, she made him nervous; more surprising than that was that he liked it.

“Who says I don’t mean it?” he breathed, more taken with her with every inch closer she came. “If you’re uncomfortable, or you want to--”

“Shut up,” she huffed and leaned into him, her lips pressing to his while his hands released hers and immediately went to her ribs, sliding down to her hips and holding onto her tightly. 

Her lips were soft and sweet and heavily laced with the taste of rum. She kissed him with a tempered need; he could feel her wanting more, just as he did. Yet there was still a hesitancy to how she pressed her mouth to his. Wanting her to feel comfortable, he let her set the pace and happily followed with every step further she took it. [Y/N] sank down lower on his lap, her hands sliding up his chest, towards his neck; her fingers locking together behind it as her thumbs gently rubbed against the sensitive spot behind his ears. 

Dean moaned softly into her kiss and wrapped his arms around her back, slowly lifting the back of her shirt and lacing his fingers together against her skin. She parted his lips with her tongue, her need beginning to overcome the shyness of their first encounter. [Y/N] didn’t stop Dean when his hands moved up her back and unclasped her bra; she didn’t protest when he began to lift the thermal shirt up just enough for him to feel the bottom curves of her breasts. Through all this, she only kissed him deeper. For as much as he wanted her, and as much as he would hate himself should this derail their momentum, Dean pulled back from her suddenly. 

[Y/N] was surprised, her breath coming in short spurts, her hands still clinging to his neck. 

“What? What’s wrong?” she asked, desperately searching his face for a reason. “Is it your leg? Are you in pain? Is it me?”

“No! No, absolutely not… you… you are…” Dean exhaled heavily and licked his bottom lip as his fingers kneaded into her skin and his dark, lustful eyes drank her in, “... you’re perfect. It’s just that, you don’t know me, not really. This… this can stop if you want, I don’t want you to blow up your whole life because of one night.”

“Dean, if I am going to implode my life, I can’t imagine anyone else I would want to do it with. Besides, how is this any different from if we’d met in a bar and had a one night stand? Hm?”

Dean considered her answer and shrugged. “I guess it’s not.”

“It’s not. And right now, I don’t care about anything outside those doors. I just want to feel good. Can you make me feel good?” she whined softly.

“I think I can help you out there,” he smirked, his tongue again running along his bottom lip as he sized her up and imagined the things they could really do if not for his bum leg. “But, huh, I’m not playing at full capacity here, so…” he trailed off with another shrug, but she didn’t miss a beat. 

“Well then I guess it’s up to me then, isn’t it?” she breathed and leaned in to kiss him again. 

Within a minute, Dean pulled off her thermal and her bra with it, her chest bare and glowing in the light of the fire. He trailed his mouth in soft, lingering kisses across her neck and down to her chest, while his hands traced the lines of her skin delicately. He could feel himself getting harder as she moved in the slightest bit against his lap. By the time his mouth had found her nipples and her hands were pressing his face into her chest, he was fully erect and desperate to feel more of her.

[Y/N] must have felt the same because her hands unlocked from his neck and roughly ran down the length of his torso, coming together between her legs, and palming his erection through the thin layer of cotton sweatpants. The moment he felt the pressure of her hand against his dick he inhaled sharply and growled low, relishing in her touch. They continued that way for a minute, kissing and touching and rubbing and grinding deeper, until [Y/N] couldn’t take it anymore. 

She suddenly rose from his lap, quickly unbuttoned her jeans and took them off, tossing them aside with the rest of her clothes. She stood in front of him, slotted perfectly between his knees in only her pink cotton panties. [Y/N] slowly knelt in front of him and ran a finger along the waistband of his pants, carefully peeling them back over his engorged member. She took him in one hand, the flesh on flesh contact causing him to exhale slowly. It was when she brought her mouth to his dick, and lightly kissed the tip did he close his eyes and roll his head back against the couch. Letting her tongue linger on along the shaft, she licked down to his balls before lifting her head and gently removing his pants all the way; taking special care around his wound.

[Y/N] again stood in front of him, but Dean couldn’t wait for her to resume her place on his lap. He gripped his dick and began to massage himself as she watched, and the way she watched made him want her even more. Just as she removed the last piece of clothes, he sat up and with his other hand reached out for her. Neither of them spoke, as he once again guided her on his lap and as she hovered over him, he dragged the tip of his cock through her warm, wet folds and felt himself go weak at the sensation. 

Her breathing became shaky as he continued to pushing and pull himself through her sex, brushing her clit delicately at first. But after a few times, even he couldn’t take the teasing anymore. 

[Y/N] bent her head down into his neck, her teeth nipping at the lobe of his ear as she begged him in a needy whisper, “Please, Dean… don’t make me wait another second.”

He complied, gladly. Dean let go of himself, and grabbed her hips, rocking her in a way that he could slip into her and filled her with the first thrust upwards. She cried out, but not in pain. It was as if the instant euphoric feeling of him inside her needed to be released so she could concentrate on the rush that followed. 

Dean rocked her slowly on his lap, while his mouth toyed with each of her nipples, taking turns lavishing each with attention. His moans were muffled by her chest and he found himself completely lost in how good it felt to be inside her. Her hands were wrapped around him, her nails digging into his back, then his shoulders, pressing him as close to her as she could. Her hips moved in rhythm with his, as her mouth fell open and her eyes closed. 

The sounds of heavy breathing filled the room, muffling the Righteous Brothers pouring from the radio, and even drowning out the sound of the fire. 

“Fuck,” Dean grunted, his lips snarling into a smiling as she moved her body faster when he cursed. He used the pad of his thumb to rub her clit, the instant he touched her there, she whimpered, her whole body melting at his touch. 

“Oh… GOD… fuck, Dean! Feel so good…” she panted, her head rolling back then around so her chin fell to her chest. She was riding him with speed and purpose, the need to climax so great and so close she let go of him to grip the couch for better leverage.

“Damn, baby,” Dean mewed, unsure of how much longer he could go before he would cum. She felt so good on him, and even though that final push towards orgasm was downright euphoric, he didn’t want it to end yet. 

He finally released her clit and grabbed her hips tighter, pushing and pulling her into him as roughly as he could. One last time and he felt her walls flutter and spasming around his cock as her body began to tremble and his name didn’t just fall from her lips, but rang out like church bells, followed by a string of expletives that would easily get her sent to Hell. 

It was all he needed to cum, and though he tried to move her off him before he did, she finally resisted him, intent on taking his release inside her and crashing her lips to his as he did. 

Dean held onto her for dear life, his mouth falling away from hers as he buried his head between her breasts. She held him there and slowed her movements against him, finally coming to a stop and letting her body relax, but still not moving from his lap. He lifted his face to see her, she was sweaty and beautiful, her hair falling around his face, causing some of her features to linger in the shadows of it. He reached up and tucked a hair behind her ear. 

“Well? Feel better?”

[Y/N] absently licked her lips, then revealed and small, impish little grin. “Dunno… I think maybe we should go back to the bedroom and try again. Just so I know for sure…”

“Well I am absolutely good with that, but--”

“But, what?” she asked, an ounce of doubt moving into her eyes. 

“But, as much as I wanna be the romantic guy and carry you in there, I’m gonna need you to help me hobble that way. I do believe you just drained any strength I had left in my leg.”

“Oh,” she said and moved off him, clearly panicked. 

“No… sweetheart… I meant that in a really, really good way. Whatcha say you help me up and we take this back there,” he smirked and nodded towards the bedroom off the kitchen.

“Happily,” she grinned and moved off his lap. 

Standing in front of him, she held out her hand and helped him rise from the couch. The pain in his leg was noticeable, but not nearly as much as it had been before. She left her clothes behind and slung an arm around his waist as he slung his over her shoulder.

“Just one request,” she said as they made their way to the bedroom.

“Anything.”

“This needs to go,” she demanded, tugging at his shirt. “I want to feel all of you this time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he complied and quickly discarded the shirt he’d been wearing, tossing it behind him, not caring where it landed. “For you sweetheart, anything.”

Everything Tags: @sorenmarie87 // @yallgotkik

SPN Tags: @kazosa // @wings-of-a-raven // @closetspngirl // @idreamofplaid// @screechingartisancashbailiff // @linki-locks11 // @winchesterxfamilybusiness// @spnhollis // @sandlee44 // @stoneyggirl // @clarinette07 // @negans-wife // @deans-baby-momma // @hobby27 // @breereadsthings // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson// @lauravic // @aomi-nabi // @akshi8278 // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare// @coffeebooksandfandom // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @fictionalabyss// @adoptdontshoppets // @blackcherrywhiskey // @babypieandwhiskey // @maddiepants // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @unlikelygalaxygiver

[maliwarm]

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@writeblrs April prompts, day 4

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It was always like this with them... Copy and original, duking it out to the death. They had always been on close to even footing, with him barely coming out on top as the eventual victor each and every time, thanks in no small part to the assistance of others for many of those instances. But the playing field had started tipping more and more with every passing year. He was getting slower. But Krizalid only seemed to be getting faster.

A scream ripped from K’’s throat, almost drowning out the snap of bone. He writhed and thrashed from his pinned position, free hand clawing at metal floor. His nails might be bleeding from how hard he was scratching, he wasn’t sure, too preoccupied by the pure unbridled agony radiating from his other arm.

“You know,” Krizalid said conversationally, as though he were talking about the weather with an old friend, rather than slowly twisting K’’s mangled arm behind his back, drawing out fresh screeches. “It doesn’t matter anymore that I’m the copy. I’ve come to terms with it, and I’m fine with it.”

Tears blurred his vision. He could barely make out the pair of small, bloodied forms he’d been trying to protect through their glossy sheen. Asahi and Emi remained completely unmoving, thoroughly beaten to unconsciousness. They hadn’t been prepared for this. He hadn’t expected them to be prepared for this. Children of two of KoF’s longest standing veterans or no, eleven year olds weren’t supposed to fight a high level NESTS officer, let alone the one that had been cloned from him. K’ could only blame himself for the situation, even if Krizalid’s appearance was an event completely out of his control. Kyo and Benimaru had entrusted the safety of their children to him, trusting him to keep them safe, and he’d failed them. Now their young lives were in jeopardy.

“If being the original entails becoming so weak, I think I’m more than fine with being the fake.” White stole K’’s vision as his arm was violently wrenched upwards. He could feel the broken bone segments grinding against each other nauseatingly. He couldn’t even tell if he was still screaming or not; there was just the pain. Eventually, his abused limb was dropped, Krizalid scoffing while he tried to bite down on his whimpers. “Why, just look at you... You’re a pathetic shell of yourself, starting to fall apart at the seams. It’s hardly worth the effort exerting myself against you anymore.”

The line between consciousness and oblivion was straddled desperately. K’ tried to focus on his own breathing, choppy and thin, to keep himself awake. The kids. He had to protect them. He couldn’t do that if he blacked out.

Booted footsteps faded. Something metallic groaned then clanked loudly far away, echoing some in the dark space. He was barely aware of these things happening until the footsteps grew louder once more, prompting him to blink away the encroaching darkness with more vigour.

“It’s high time I put you out of your misery. I’d be doing the both of us a favour, really; I imagine you won’t be keen to reach the age where you vegetate and shit yourself, no? It would be an amusing fate to bear witness to, certainly. But one that is most ill befitting of you.” Something smacked meatily against Krizalid’s palm a few times. “No. I have something far better in mind...”

K’ wasn’t sure if he heard the blow or felt it first. Either way, there was a sickening squelch as something pierced through leather, skin, and muscle just below a shoulder blade. Whatever the object was, it was long, and had been driven through him with enough force to jam itself into the floor with a harsh screech, juddering inside him. However loud he’d been screaming beforehand couldn’t compare to the shriek that was now ripping from his throat.

He lay panting and choking soft sobs in the aftermath. Eyes screwed shut. The occasional tremor running through his body jiggled the metal slightly, drawing even more whimpers through tightly clenched teeth.

Charred fabric wafted into his nostrils on a small breeze, heavy fabric whispering. Warm breath puffed against his ear, though the accompanying tone was downright frigid in comparison. “I’m going to destroy what few things you care about that you have left, right before your eyes, before I kill you. I think I’ll start with those little eyesores.”

Blue eyes snapped open at that, just in time to watch the ends of Krizalid’s purple coat slide from view, the man himself rising back into a stand.

K’ began to struggle, seeking to rise, but only aggravating his injury. Pained mewls were choked out with every new lance of pain radiating from the stab site, but he only fought harder to rise. His unbroken arm trembled, straining against the floor to push himself upwards. To move. To help. To protect.

“Don’.... don’ tou— argh!” He could see some of what had been jammed into him now. Thin but sturdy piping, ripped clean from the base’s wall, the end having crumpled the steel floor inwards with the sheer force with which it had been jammed through him. A touch of translocation had probably aided in that. Blood slid down the surface of the pipe, oozing in more and thicker trickles the more he continued to struggle. “Get a-away from them... bastard...!”

Krizalid raised an arm. Crimson flame burst to life around it in an instant, snapping at the air hungrily. He didn’t turn at K’’s shouts, eyes trained solely on Asahi’s and Emi’s prone forms.

“Krizalid...” Icy fingers of dread clawed at his heart. The pipe slid nauseatingly through him as he shoved himself higher. But not by much. Not enough. Now panic was rearing its ugly head, edging into his words. “You stay the hell away from them. Y’hear me?!”

Asahi was a cocky little shithead, just like his dad. And Emi the complete opposite of hers, apart from that irritating need to stick her nose in others’ business. But they were good kids. More importantly, they didn’t have anything to do with the long running feud between clone and source.

“No... no, no, no...” His right arm kept throbbing like it had its own heartbeat, but it wouldn’t even twitch when he willed it to. His only method of channeling his powers, rendered completely useless. It was his worst fear come true. Without his fire he couldn’t do anything; couldn’t protect anyone. “Don’t you dare...!”

That arm slashed downwards, flames sweeping to follow in a flaring comet trail.

“NO!!!”

Cold metal closed around his shoulder. “H-hey, snap out of—“

K’’s eyes shot wide open. A backfisted swing was already on its way, clinging panic triggering his fight or flight response before he was fully awake.

There was a startled yelp before knuckles met metal, pain radiating from them all the way up to his forearm.

In an instant the image of the rundown NESTS base faded, drab greys and darkness traded in for sunlight and tacky, peeling wallpaper.

And Frag, staring down at him with wide eyes.

“Wh... what the fuck! You trying to kill me or something, you crazy geezer?!”

K’ blinked, slow and confused, until comprehension dawned. What he’d seen had already happened; a dream of events past. Asahi and Emi were fine; they’d made it out of that base alive thanks to a last minute appearance of their fathers and subsequent chasing off of Krizalid. It had been a close shave, but they were all alive here and now, scars healed, a good six-odd years later. They were probably in the middle of school or training or something right this moment. And he... he was on his stomach on the bed of a motel he barely remembered checking into last night, freshly woken by his young clone.

Slowly, his fist was retracted, knuckles still throbbing, but paid no heed.

“Jesus, kid...” He smeared that palm down his face to hide how badly it was shaking. “Don’t do that again. ‘S not safe; I could’ve broken your nose.”

Or killed him on accident.

“Well sorry for caring about you,” Frag snapped, bristling. He straightened abruptly, turning on his heel and storming away. Though he paused briefly in the doorway to shoot him a filthy look over his shoulder. “Next time you start crying in your sleep, don’t expect me to snap you out of it, asshole.”

The door was slammed, leaving K’ alone to his thoughts and the sight of shitty wallpaper.

[wordsaremybestfriends]

Didn’t Ask for This: Chapter 5

Hey friends!! Back with another chapter of this word jumble.... Hope your holidays or just regular days were great!! I’m so excited to show the next chapter of this, especially since it’s starting to heat up again!! Don’t forget if you would like to be tagged, just shoot me an ask! Or you can just shoot me an ask telling me how much you love the story! Or how much you hate it! 

(I am very lonely.)

Hope you’re all doing well! 

Warnings: Cursing, child abuse, vocal abuse, violence, *TELL ME IF YOU FIND ANYTHING ELSE*

By the time Emma had gotten back from the hardware store, she was thoroughly over the dozens of weird looks she got while she was driving home. It was slightly hard to look away from a girl with an ice pick, fire extinguisher, and a few full tins of lighter fluid strapped to the back of her vespa in the middle of the day.

At least they couldn’t see the lighters and a squirt bottle of ammonia with a can of chili pepper seasoning she hid in the seat of her bike for emergencies, or else she’d be in even deeper shit than she was in already.

The house was quiet when she returned, but a familiar car in the side yard near the cellar made the hair on her neck stand at attention. Steve Harrington was at their house for some reason, and if Emma had to guess, he followed them home from the Wheeler’s house to ‘help’.

“Idiot,” She murmured under her breath as she grabbed the bags of new supplies on the back of her scooter that cost her about half a paycheck. She dragged everything inside and straight through the front door, where the two culprits were sitting in the living room. Guilt painted their faces, and only heightened her fear as she set the supplies down, eyeing the two hesitantly.

She took a small breath before beginning to speak, Dustin and Steve’s gazes trained on each other, an unspoken conversation taking place between each other. “Please tell me that you guys didn’t do anything stupid.”

Silence filled the living room as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, a bubbling sensation of fear gathering within her chest. Neither boys could actually look her in the eyes, and all it did was heighten her anxiety.

“One of you guys have to explain what the hell went on here, and why you both are suddenly so damn quiet.” Emma’s voice was tight and demanding, and Dustin would have sworn she looked more like a mother than her older sister. “Now.”

Both shifted uncomfortably in their seats, a dozen emotions flashing through their eyes. Steve was the first to look up at her, clearing his throat.

“Look, it’s not that big of a deal, okay?” Steve said, hands out as if he was trying to hold back a lion. “Stay calm for us, okay?”

“Spit it out, Harrington!” Emma spat.

“We sort of…” Steve began, voice going softer as he continued. “Might of…. Kind of… Lost the demogorgon.”

The sheer silence before people know a storm was about to begin set over the house as Emma let her eyes slipped closed. She willed every inch of her body to not go and slap the two of them, but the heat that was building in her body was unavoidable.

“Steve and I were cleaning up the mess of Mews,” Dustin suddenly began, springing to his feet. “And then when we were done, we were sitting outside and we couldn’t hear anything inside the cellar, so we thought it had escaped or something, and then we started opening it and there was a hole in the wall and the skin and the-”

“You lost a monster that gave us hell last year!” Emma screamed, unable to hold in her pure anger and frustration at the moment. A single finger- A single rude finger, to be precise, was pointed at the boys as her mind began to race with possible plans, and ultimately, what she’d tell any authorities if murders began to start taking place around town when a mysterious dog-like creature was around.

“Technically, we didn’t kill it, it just escaped-”

“Not helping, Dusty.”

“Look,” Steve said, standing from the sofa to look the short girl in her eyes. “I think Dustin and I have a great plan about luring it to the junkyard with some old meat, and then just burning the hell out of it like last time.”

“And I already got ahold of Lucas and Max, and they’re on their way to the junkyard right now, while we still have daylight,” Dustin added.

Emma’s eyes shut tight as she tried to think and block out the two boys she wanted to fight in front of her. “I swear, you both are going to give me gray hairs.”

“We’ve already called a butcher,” Steve reasoned, standing beside Dustin. “And I think since we’ve got a bunch of supplies already, we have at least a decent shot of containing it, Henderson.”

Emma shook her head again, wishing she could just go back to the time that she was reading her philosophy book with no one around and the biggest worry on her mind was what she actually wanted to do in life. She rolled her eyes, unable to think about anything else but their collective stupidity.

“If this monster doesn’t kill us, I’m going to kill the both of you myself.”

---

With three backpacks filled with various supplies, Emma stood in her bedroom, throwing her hair into a tight ponytail and grabbing a thicker sweater. By just the sheer looks of it, she was sure they’d be out for a while tonight, and she was not about to freeze her ass off, just to look cute in front of Steve.

Plus, the idiot boy was more or less on her nerves, so she couldn’t really find it in her heart to keep up her feelings for him at the moment.

“So,” Emma began as she emerged from her room, tugging on her sweater and checking the laces on her converse. Steve was at his car, grabbing a few things while Emma went over the plan one last time with Dustin. “You just picked up the meat from the butcher so that you and Steve can leave a trail across the train tracks to the junkyard, where Lucas, Max, and I are boarding up that old bus as a safe space.”

Her brother nodded as Emma tossed her pack to her back, an icepick and fire extinguisher sticking out on one side and a squirt bottle of ammonia and chili pepper at her side. She stood, straightening her clothes as Dustin threw on his pack, a box of lighter fluid and a lighter in it, and Steve’s with his bat as well as some snacks and a few flashlights. Two pails full of meat scraps were sitting on the front porch as the three prepared. They had filled water bottles, and even though they were going on a monster hunt, they looked just about as normal as any teens in Hawkins nowadays.

“I think our best option might be to split off a bit, you know?” Dustin asked, shrugging his shoulders with a look of innocence and sincerity in his face. If the two teens actually liked each other, there wouldn’t be any pain in trying to get them together, right? “Maybe Lucas, Max, and I could start getting the junkyard ready with what we talked about while you guys trail the meat across the train tracks.”

“No,” Emma said bluntly, rolling her eyes. “I’m not leaving you three kids alone, especially with a demogorgon on the loose. I’ll go to the junkyard.”

“But, you and Steve-”

Emma shot a glare at Dustin, catching onto the plan that he had in place. “Will be going in separate groups, Dustin. We’ve already made the plan and we’re not changing it up now.”

“But neither of you guys know who Max is!” Dustin exclaimed, eyes as pitiful and convincing as possible. He kept Emma’s gaze on him, knowing she’d break down eventually. “And she’s like, super shy and everything, so if I go there, then I can make sure she doesn’t freak out, you know?”

“No,” Emma said, pushing past her brother to go to the kitchen and grab a few extra pieces of halloween candy to stuff in her bag. With her back turned, she continued. “Last year was different, when you had El around. She had super powers, or whatever, and none of you guys do. I’m not taking the chance that you-”

“Henderson?” Steve interrupted hesitantly as he stepped back through the front door. “Hate to tell you this, but your brother kind of left on his bike already.”

“He what?” She snapped, spinning from the counter to look at Steve standing across the house from her a confused look on his face. She sprinted to the window to find him all the way down the street, too far away to catch up with now. “That little shithead…”

“Hurry up, Henderson,” Steve said, shaking his head. “We’re losing daylight, and I don’t think you want to be setting up an abandoned junkyard to kill a demogorgons in the dark, do you?”

Emma couldn’t help the grumble that escaped her lips as she left the kitchen quickly, and past Steve as he followed her out. She locked the door, picking up the gloves before grabbing the pail and looking to Steve. “We’re going to make this quick, and we’re going to make this easy. Got it, Harrington?”

The boy only nodded, slightly intimidated by the girl’s sharp tone.

The two set off into the woods behind the house, the train tracks only a five minute walk away from their backyard. No words were exchanged as the trekked through the piles of fallen leaves and fallen branches of the woods, the sunlight peeking through the top making the ‘forbidden woods’, as her mother used to call it, a little less forbidden. The train tracks, old and forgotten through the trees, were slowly getting dotted with meat chunks every few steps, a Hansel-and-Gretel-like trail behind the two teens. Only ten minutes had passed in total when Steve broke the tense and mostly awkward silence between the two.

“You really love your brother, don’t you?” Steve asked, voice friendly and calm. He looked down at the girl that was almost a foot shorter than him and fought to let his words escape him as he walked beside her.

She didn’t look up, eyes tracing the brush around them. “Well, yeah. He’s my little brother. He’s a good kid.”

“I know,” Steve shrugged. Silence fell over him like a blanket in July as they crunched along the path.

A few moments passed before he tried to speak again. “It’s kind of funny, you know.”

Emma really didn’t want to answer, but kept up the small conversation instead of coming off as even more of an icy bitch. She didn’t need any more reason for everyone to hate her at school. “What?”

“The whole situation in general,” Steve said with a small voice as he tossed out some meat lazily, watching how it displaced the leaves around it. “You, me, back together to save the world and everything.”

“You got lucky last time, Harrington,” Emma replied, with a gaze pinned on the woods before her. They were probably a mile away from the junkyard, which meant this ultimately painful conversation between the two wasn’t going to be finished anytime soon. “You came to apologize to Jonathan, saw Nancy and I, and then invited yourself in so you could snoop.”

“I do believe that I kind of saved your life, Henderson?” Steve smirked, a proud tone to his words. “You know, your life, stopped your death, helped you live another day-”

“You picked up a bat and hit a monster,” She deadpanned. “And then Jonathan and Nancy burned the hell out of it.”

“But I beat the monster.”

“Both Nancy and Jonathan were capable of doing that as well.”

“But I was the one to do it.”

Emma stopped, eyes narrowed as she looked at Steve. “What the hell do you want me to say? Thank you for being in the right place at the right time?”

He folded his arms, matching her scowl while throwing another piece of meat down on the tracks. “I’m just saying, you wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for me. You shouldn’t hate me for that.”

The girl scoffed as she turned back to the tracks, continuing her walk as he stood behind her. His body still was simmering with a bit of annoyance, considering that she was acting a bit unlike the typical girl who got saved by someone during a near-death experience.

“I don’t like you,” Emma said plainly. “You saved my life and I said thank you. I don’t think I have to spend the rest of my life trying you repay you.”

“Well no, you don’t-”

“Then what do you want from me?” She retorted. “Because I sure as hell am not going to make you a statue for you because you happened to stop by when my friends and I were-”

“God, you can’t stop acting bitchy for one moment, can you?” Steve suddenly shouted at her as he stood a few paces behind her. His hair was falling into his eyes as he glared at her whilst turning around. Amusement flickered in her eyes as she tossed another piece of meat down.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t act bitchy, Harrington. I am a bitch.”

The boy could have growled at her as she began walking again, those skinny hips swaying with each step. He could feel the heat rushing to his ears, and wished he didn’t have to wear these stupid gloves so he could run his hands through his hair and possibly tear it out. She just can’t give me a break, can she?

“I have no idea why the hell you hate me, Henderson,” He seethed, shaking his head as he walked behind her, no intent on catching up with her gait. “I have done nothing to you, you know?”

She didn’t reply for a moment, eyes looking at the train tracks ahead as she let another piece of meat fall from her hands. It was as if she was thinking on her words, trying hard to find a good comeback, or at least something to shut him up, in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t hate you, Harrington.” She was somewhat quiet as she spoke, almost like the words she was saying were a reluctant confession. “I just don’t like the person you are.”

Now, she wanted to say, though she would never let it slip. I don’t like the way you are now. I wish we could go back to middle school, and sit in the back of Mr. Kipler’s class, and just talk like we used to.

“Why?” He asked, not wasting a moment. If he had a chance to hear the honest words of Emma Henderson, one of the school’s most bitter and sassy students, he was not about to throw it away.

“You date girls as if it was a hobby,” She shrugged, face still turned forwards as Steve walked a single step behind her. “And you’re the basketball and hockey team captain, which means you’re automatically a popular boy. And with almost all the girls in school jaded by the way you look, you can get almost anything you do forgiven in an instant.”

A still silence filled the space between them as Steve let her words steep in her mind. He shrugged, continuing on beside her instead of behind. “I guess I never really thought about it like that.”

The silence that filled them wasn’t as unbearable as before, but Emma’s mind was suddenly focused on a single question, one she really didn’t want to ask but didn’t want to lose the chance to know the answer.

“So… Why do you hate me?” She asked after a moment, voice hesitant and small as she spoke. It was almost childlike, the ignorance and innocence that filled her voice and Steve could never remember her talking to anyone like that since he’s known her. A tiny frown was on her lips as she remembered what Dustin had told her in the garage, and how even though she had never thought seriously about the possibility, she liked the way her heart beat around him, and the way she felt with him near. Except, of course, if he actually hated her like she assumed he did.

Steve’s face was serious as he looked down at the girl. He couldn’t hide the way his eyebrows shrugged themselves together as he tried to find the words that weren’t ‘I actually really like you, Emma’, and ‘I think you’re the most amazing person I know’.

“I never hated you, Emma,” He finally said, voice slow and soft like hers was. It was pure and gentle, like his heart had taken control of his voice and he could only form the words, not the sounds he made for her. “I always thought you were pretty awesome.”

She couldn’t hide the snort from within her as she rolled her eyes at his words. “God, please don’t lie to make me feel better, kid.”

He tried to laugh beside her, heart beating faster at the bit of emotion he caught underneath her words. Was it sadness? Guilt? Loneliness?

“Why would I lie to you?”

Emma rolled her eyes, a bored from taking the smile she had forced to her lips instead. “Steve Harrington, we’ve been going to the same school since kindergarten and even though we were almost in each other’s classes, I think this is the longest you’ve talked to me your entire life.”

“Now you’re the liar,” He laughed beside her.

“Seriously?” She continued, turning back to the tracks. With her voice slowly declining in intensity and volume, Steve began to feel the weight of her seriousness that laced her weak attempt at playfulness.  “Come on, you’ve always been the golden boy and I’ve been the girl everyone’s waiting on to shut up in the back of the class. You don’t talk to people like me.”

“What a downer, Henderson,” He joked, shoving her slightly with his elbow as he tossed another piece of meat down. The junkyard was almost upon them, the rusted body of the bus sitting in the center with metal sheets and the kids standing around it. “You don’t honestly believe that crap, do you?”

Emma didn’t reply as she sped up into a jog, leaving the boy behind. It didn’t take long for her to join the kids and get straight to work, but Steve couldn’t quite shake her words as he followed her. Or the way her voice made him actually stop and listen to her words.

And he especially couldn’t shake the look he glimpsed on her face, with drooped eyes and a low frown, almost like her light had been dulled and she was left numb instead.

Tag list: @luv2reade16 @lillie-writes @kararanae23@harringtonwife @tiarrasmith @sarahmariedesserts

[shimmershaewrites]

Waltzing's for Dreamers, Chapter 11 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl AU).

Title:  Waltzing's for Dreamers. 

Rating:  M, just to be safe. 

Warnings: adult language, allusions to abuse, some angst. 

Characters/Pairings:  Daryl Dixon, Merle Dixon, Enid, mention of Oscar, mention of Sophia Peletier, past Carol/Daryl, mention of past Merle/Karen, hints of Karen/Tyreese, mention of Axel, mention of Negan (ugh), his wife, Amber, Dwight/Sherry. 

  Behind a cut.  Because this one got away from me.  Hope you don't mind. 

Waltzing’s for Dreamers

    More than six years after Vegas.  Early August. 

      “Pull over,” Merle orders.  “Gotta take a piss.  Probably ain’t the only one.” 

  A glance in the rear-view mirror suggests otherwise—E’s been playing that new game Oscar downloaded to her iPad, Temple-something or other, since the novelty of being chauffeured around in the Impala had worn off ten minutes into their hour's long trip—but Daryl don’t say nothing.  Recognizes his brother’s stall tactics for what they are and flips on his turn signal at the intersection.  Pulls into a gas station with a Texaco sign and a towering James Dean pointing the way and parks.  “You go on.  We’ll just stay here.” 

  “Suit yourself,” Merle shrugs as he unloads his big body from the passenger seat.  “You want something to eat, you’ll get your asses movin’.  ‘Sides,” he slaps the car’s hood, “damn thing’s hotter than hot.” 

  The double meaning of his words makes Daryl grumble.  “You best be buyin’.”  Heaving his own door open, he performs the same courtesy for his niece and the preteen barely even takes her eyes off of the screen in front of her as he nudges her toward the mini-mart’s entrance.  Still enthralled with her game and happily oblivious to the back and forth bitching between him and her jackass father.  “Ever occur to you,” he hisses as the kid passes beneath his brother’s bracing arm and ducks into the air-conditioned tourist trap, wandering a few feet away from them both, “we could be arrested for this?” 

  Merle grin falters slightly.  “Got your panties all in a twist for nothin’, Darylina.  Thought we’d turned over a new leaf, but I can see we still have a ways to go.” 

  Guilt only softens Daryl up so much and the best non-apology he can manage is to keep his mouth shut.  Let the subject drop for the time being.  “Man, just hurry up.” 

  “Fuck, but you’s straight up actin’ like a woman,” Merle mutters as he makes a beeline for the restrooms. 

  “We ain’t here when you come back,” Daryl calls out to him, “we’re in the car.  Waitin’.”  Soon as his brother’s out of sight, he tracks down his niece.  Finally finds her clear across the store.  Standing in front of a red counter and a display case full of fudge that sets his mouth to watering.  Flipping her ponytail over one skinny shoulder, he voices a gruff reminder.  “Know you shouldn’t be sneakin’ off like that.” 

  “I didn’t sneak.  You and Merle were just too busy fighting to pay me any attention.” 

  It still throws him, her calling Merle, well, Merle.  Logically, he knows it shouldn’t when his brother didn’t know shit ‘bout her for the first eight years of her life.  Still.  When it’s all said and done, he’d been in Sophia’s life even less time than the three or so years Merle’s been in Enid’s and he’s still haunted by the memory of that little girl asking if she could call him Daddy.  By his choice to walk out on her and her mama without saying goodbye.  It’s always there, that regret.  It never fuckin’ leaves him, no matter how many times he reminds himself he only done it for their own good.  No matter how many vices he indulges in to try to dull it.  It’s always there.  Just like the wariness the kid staring up at him has never quite managed to shake completely.  Yeah, she might have let them in.  Him and Merle.  But it ain’t escaped Daryl’s notice she keeps one eye on the door, always ready to make her escape should his shithead brother relapse into the fuckin’ mess her mama kept her protected from all those years, and he can’t say he blames her.  Not one bit.  “Weren’t fightin’,” he tells her.  “Not really.  Ain’t seen us really fight.”

  Those big, old soul eyes of hers narrow skeptically. 

  “M’serious,” Daryl insists.  “You ain’t.  Hope you never do.”  Nodding his head at the display case, he unconsciously swipes his tongue over his lips.  “Shit looks good.  Want some?”  He looks up sharply when a cotton-candy sweet voice butts into their conversation. 

  “I can give you and your little girl some samples if you’d like.” 

  “Ain’t my…” 

  “One of each flavor,” the cooing blonde entices.   

  “One of each?”

  Kid asks the question with an overkill of wonder, and Daryl has to bite back a smirk because there ain’t no DNA test needed to tell him the little con artist slipping her arm through his and tugging at the back at his shirt is his brother’s girl.  Naw, she’s a sweet and sour chip off the old block, and he knows for a fact Merle would be beaming at her right now.  Proud as a fuckin’ peacock if he weren’t taking the longest piss in the history of all mankind.  “Dunno,” he says, wincing slightly when the comment earns him a pinch to his side.  Looking back up at the woman, he explains.  “Gotta be gettin’ back on the road soon.  Don’t have time to stick around.” 

  “I can box them up for you.  Won’t take but a minute.” 

  Little E turns up her game, batting her lashes and pouting.  “Please, Daddy.” 

  Choking back a laugh, Daryl gives in.  Goes all in, really.  Those years of pretending with Carol—first as a loving husband, then as a man that was walking away from one big, elaborate sham—coming in handy.  “Alright.  Really do need to get a move on.” 

  They make out like bandits, all three of them.  End up back in that Impala, eating up the miles between Bakersfield and San Francisco before the girl’s mama can send out a search party.  Pull up in Karen’s driveway in the middle of the afternoon to find the woman herself waiting beside an idling U-haul, the concern on her face morphing into a relieved smile when she lays eyes on her daughter.  Then dissolving into a disapproving frown when she sees the kid’s chocolate smudged lips and the nearly empty box of fudge in her hands. 

  “I’d make her ride with you and Patrick, but I’m not sure you can keep both of them alive,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes.  No, ma’am,” she says, plucking the box of sweets from her daughter and pushing them into Merle’s chest.  “I think you’ve had enough, thank you very much.  Go wash your face.  We should have been at the airport an hour ago.  We should have been in Jacksonville with Ty and the team last week.  Got the Patriots in their house in less than a week, but I digress.

  “’Member now why me and you, we never made a real go of it,” Merle tells her with a shake of his head.  “Always been a real buzzkill, Woman.  Life of the fuckin’ party.” 

  Daryl elbows him sharply in the side.  Exchanges the bulging duffel bag in his hands for the box of candy.  “Merle.  Just shut up while you’re ahead.” 

  “Listen to your brother,” Karen advises over her shoulder as she marches up the shrub-lined sidewalk.  Checks to see what’s taking her girl so long.  “Enid!  We still have to go through security.”  

  “What?  Company jet not available?  Ow.  Ouch.  Dammit, Darylina,” he scowls, rubbing his already tender side.   

  “Stop bein’ a jackass.” 

  “Fine.  Somebody gonna tell me who the hell Patrick is?” 

  “Kid’s pet turtle.  ‘Member?  Had him since she was six,” Daryl reminds him as he pops the Impala’s trunk and slides the girl’s back pack over his own shoulder.  “Named it after some cartoon character.  Here,” he says, looping the bag over his brother’s prosthetic when he stands in front of him again.  “She’s gonna want this with her on the plane.” 

  “Sure you won’t come with me, Baby Brother?  Ain’t never gonna remember all this shit.  Don’t know what I was thinkin’.  Girl ain’t gonna care one way or the other if I follow her all the way to Florida.  Ain’t cut out to be no daddy.  Hers or anybody else’s.” 

  Daryl frowns.  “Now who’s actin’ like a woman?”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Karen comments as she rejoins them.  Sizes Merle up.  “You backing out?  Because if you are…” 

  Merle clenches his jaw.  Straightens his shoulders and stands a little taller.  “Ain’t.” 

  She stares at him, like she’s not sure if she can believe him or not, the same way Daryl catches her girl doing sometimes, and he supposes that’s fair.  His brother ain’t really done nothing in the past to earn their trust.  But the sonofabitch is different now.  Daryl knows it even if they don’t, so he comes to the asshole’s defense.  One last time, hoping he don’t make a fool out of him when all is said and done.  “He ain’t backin’ out.” 

  A split second of hesitation and Karen nods.  “Good.  We’ve got a layover in Las Vegas.  Another one in Chicago.  I’m going to call you,” she warns as she walks toward the waiting cab.  “Check on Patrick.” 

  “Hear that?  That’s one stone cold bitch right there,” Merle tells him with a dawning grin.  “Startin’ to ‘member how me and her got along.” 

  Daryl’s brow furrows in confusion and the fog of memories dredged up with the mention of Vegas dissipates.  “You didn’t.” 

“’Xactly.  Made the sex…well, hey there, Darlin’.  Come to see me off?” 

  The eleven-year-old scoffs and snatches her back pack from him, works it over her small shoulders.

  “Enid!  Hurry up!” 

  Daryl chucks her on the chin.  Offers her a tiny smile when she turns her back to his brother. 

  “Bye, Uncle Daryl.” 

  “See you ‘round, Kid.” 

  “Hey,” Merle grouses.  “What ‘bout me?” 

  “Try not to kill Patrick.  ‘Kay, Dad?”  Then she’s off, racing to the cab and her anxious mother.  Grinning that coat hanger grin out the window at the two of them and their stunned expressions, their jaws still dragging the ground as the cab leaves their sight. 

  Daryl’s the first to recover.  He reckons it’s gonna take a while for his brother to come back around.  “Heard the girl.  Best protect that turtle with your fuckin’ life.  Listen.  I, uh.  I gotta get back on the road.  Square things away with Axel and the guys.  Was thinkin’…” 

  Merle, being Merle, is impatient.  Interrupts him.  “Yeah?” 

  “Was thinkin’ you were right.” 

  “Ole Merle’s always right.” 

  Daryl doesn’t even try to refute the bastard’s claim.  Doesn’t have it in him to poke holes in the natural high he’s enjoying.  “Bakersfield.  It ain’t home.” 

  “Georgia on your mind?” Merle drawls.  Winks. 

  “Man, could you just…what the hell’s this?” he asks, when a yellow package hits him square in the chest.  “Ass Kickin’ Beef Jerky?” 

  “Kick your ass right back to Mouse and your girl.” 

  He ducks his head, grips the Impala’s open door until his knuckles turn white.  “’Phia ain’t mine.  Don’t deserve that little girl or her mama.” 

  “Yours in every way that counts, Lil Brother,” Merle says, clapping a hand over his shoulder and giving it a brotherly squeeze.  “And that woman of yours?  You don’t just up and quit lovin’ somebody the way she loved you.  I know.  ‘Cause you ain’t never stopped lovin’ her.  Been tryin’ to fool yourself for a long time, but me?  I ain’t never bought it.” 

  “Yeah?  How come you never said anything, Asshole?” 

  His brother shrugs.  Turns toward the idling truck, but not without a glance back.  “Figured you’d come ‘round.  In your own sweet time the way you always do.” 

  “Things you don’t know.  Ain’t so easy as me makin’ up my mind, admittin’ I still love ‘em.” 

  “Never was.” 

  “Naw.  Wasn’t,” Daryl agrees.  A thought occurs to him then.  Out of the blue, and he pinches the bridge of his nose.  Sighs.  “That asshole Negan ain’t gonna be waitin’ for me, ready to take battin’ practice when I get back is he?  You sure we didn’t steal his car?” he asks.  Watching Merle climb in the U-haul after his bags, settle himself behind the wheel. 

  Merle shakes his head, slides a pair of sunglasses on his nose, and gives him a grin full of nicotine-stained teeth.  “Just borrowed it.  He claims otherwise?  Just ask him how Amber’s doing.” 

  “Amber?” 

  “Cheerleader that came in with her mama last week when they dropped off the Volvo.  Real pretty little piece of jail bait I’m sure his sick wife would just love to meet.” 

  “Dammit, Merle,” Daryl curses.  Disgusted and more than a little bit disappointed in his brother.  “Girl’s a kid.  Not much older than…”  He can’t even say it.  Feels too sick to his stomach to even think of somebody taking advantage of Sophia or Enid like that and he slaps his hand down on the car’s hood.  Swears some more.  “Fuckin’ hell.  Dirty piece of shit.  Girl’s a kid and you’d just let…”

  “Ain’t just lettin’ nobody do nothin’,” Merle is quick to cut him off.  “Prick’s days are numbered, thanks to that weasel Dwight.” 

  “Dwight?  What’s he got to do with...no.  Sherry?” 

  “Is probably filin’ assault charges as we speak, promised to go with the kid to the police station to file her own.” 

  “Wait a minute.”  Daryl’s frown deepens even further.  “Where’d you hear all this?” 

  “Got eyes and ears all over the place, Baby Brother.  All over the place.  That’s why I know.” 

  “What?” 

  “Time for you to go home. Running out of time.” 

  “What do you mean I’m running out of time?  Merle?” 

  “Mean what I mean,” Merle says cryptically.  Shifting the U-haul into gear and maneuvering it around the Impala.  “Daylight’s burnin’.  ’Member what I said.” 

  “Which par…dammit, Merle.”  He leaves, disappearing around the same corner the cab had, and Daryl can only wonder. 

 Running out of time for what? 

[racke7]

Shirou and male!Saber

So I started thinking about whether Shirou was bisexual or not (”there’s technically no proof that he isn’t” and all that) and came to an interesting kind of conclusion.

Shirou falls in love with three women over the course of Fate Stay Night. Rin, the sentimental magus; Sakura, the suffering one waiting for a hero; and Saber, the idealist with an insecurity-complex about Kingship.

In comparison to these three individuals who all have a personality a magus with a desperate wish to save people (because godawful survivor-complex that was reinforced by Kiritsugu), basically everyone else? They’re villains or non-entities.

Souichirou, the cold-blooded murderer without regard for others.

Lancer, the violent battle-maniac of a womanizer.

Assassin, the swordsman with little care beyond his sword.

Archer, the antithesis of his own youthful ideals.

Berserker, the mindless monster.

Shinji, the narcissistic and abusive shithead.

Kotomine, the poster-child for sadistic glee.

Gilgamesh, the fuckwit.

Issei, the good guy who has no clue about the supernatural.

Like... of that whole lot, Issei is the only one that Shirou ever manages to be friendly with. For good reason. But trying to build a relationship where one person is on the other side of the Masquerade, with an extremely low likelihood of ever crossing over?

Shirou is... completely isolated as far as male acquaintances go. So isolated that it’s almost suspicious.

The plot goes so far as to change the gender of one of the most renowned mythological figures in Europe, just to make sure that Shirou doesn’t make any actual male companions. And if that doesn’t sound suspicious as all hell, I don’t know what does.

So, why do I think it’s being suspicious? Well, on a meta-level, the people who play eroge or eroge-esque type of games are usually generalized as crazy people who hate all men who aren’t themselves, because of jealousy-issues. So the Visual Novel basically decides to portray all non-Shirou male characters as villains or non-entities, in order to stop them from being annoyed at their characters.

(It’s easier to love a handsome villain, than it is to love a handsome friend. Or something.)

But let’s not get into that, because blegh.

Much more interesting is that, if you were to switch Saber’s gender back to normal? You’d end up with... a lot of things happening very similarly.

Like, the confrontation with Berserker? The one where Shirou takes a hit because Saber is a girl and needs to be protected?

Originally, this makes a kind of perfect sense as far as an outlook on women goes, but Shirou is... Shirou. Even if he believed that it was women’s place to be protected by men (which... considering him growing up with Taiga is... suspicious), Shirou’s place is to protect people.

As in, would he still take the hit if he thought that Saber was outmatched against Berserker? If Saber struggled to stand, would Shirou push Saber out of the way and take the hit instead? Yes. Of course he would, he’s Shirou.

The difference here is that he wouldn’t be able to excuse himself with any cultural norm afterwards. Why would he interfere in a battle between men? Why would he try to physically protect someone whose entire duty was to act as his bodyguard?

We all know the answer, of course. It’s because he’s a heavily traumatized mess of a person who’s still desperately trying to make up for being a survivor when so many others (who called out to him as they died) didn’t. Who was afterwards presented with “perfect happiness“ in the face of Kiritsugu’s desperate relief, and decided that saving people was his Purpose in life.

But Saber? Rin? Everyone else he might run into? They don’t really have a clue about any of that until the Holy Grail War is well on its way.

Rin figures it out because she’s a genius. Saber... doesn’t. Not really, anyway. She sees him as being similar to herself, which is... not entirely wrong, but really missing the point.

So a male Saber would change... Shirou’s excuses. That’s the only thing I can really imagine changing.

I sincerely doubt that Saber would really care overly much about Shirou’s gender, and an awful lot more about how Saber is already married. Even if said marriage kind of broke apart in flames and disaster, what with Lancelot’s inability to stop being too handsome to live. (And yes, that includes “for either gender”, because Lancelot was really handsome.)

So, would it change their relationship? Yes. Most definitely. But in what way? I really couldn’t say. Perhaps it would lead Saber away from the “you did nothing wrong, Saber. Stop being too hard on yourself“-route of protecting her from her choices, and more into the “you did lots of shit wrong, but you never made the same mistake twice, and no other King would’ve done better“-route of allowing Saber to come to terms with the fact that his kingdom paved the way for a new kingdom to rise from its ashes.

Ideologically it’d be a bit different. Relationship-wise it’d probably be more heavily into “equal partners“ and less into “infatuation with a similar soul“, which would be a very different kind of dynamic.

(And... I mean, Sakura might get an overload of imagining Shirou and Saber having hot steamy sex. And Rin would probably not realize that she has a thing for girls until... she meets Luvia, probably? Luvia is very pretty, for all that they rub each other the wrong way. Illya would in all likelihood gleefully claim the title of “most important woman in Shirou’s life”, by prying it out of Taiga’s relentless grip. Taiga herself would probably try to flirt with Saber for ages before she starts picking up clues about their relationship and becoming cheerfully scandalized about the implications.)

(And Archer... I don’t know? It’d depend on whether Archer imprinted on Arturia or Arthur, really. He’s pretty stubborn about his crushes, and he considers basically everything Shirou does as cringe-worthy in the extreme, so... maybe he’d be too weirded out by the thought of being just as gay as Rin to think too hard on much of anything else?)

(Issei though? Issei would probably get really uncomfortable about a lot of things. Mainly because... it’s rather obvious that he’s got a crush that he never imagined could be reciprocated. So that’d be... fun for him to some to terms with.)

And... I don’t know. But if the story would barely change at all, and their relationship would probably hit nearly every single milestone that it did before. Then why in the hell wouldn’t Shirou be bisexual?

[chokememrstark]

A Dangerous Game

Chapter: 10/15

Words: 1593

Summary: Sam comes across a very interesting book that describes a ritual in which one can play a game with the Devil. His curiosity is sparked and even if he doesn’t think he will ever actually do it, Sam soon finds himself face to face with this very entity. Things take a very unpleasant turn, but despite that, Sam is going back, as if something pulls him towards Lucifer.

abuse, violence, bullying, black magic, no hunter!au, a lot of angst, a lot of hurt/little comfort

Note: Because I feel I need to add this: Dean is pretty much a complete asshole in this story, so if you’re uncomfortable with that you might want to reconsider reading it (or tell yourself he is completely ooc, fine with me too xD)

AO3 Link

Thanks to @sassysupernaturalsweetheart & @brieflymaximumprincess for their wonderful beta reading and keeping me company while writing this story ♥

Tagging: @spnyoucantkeepmedown @samlicker83  @wait-what5 (if you want to be tagged, just drop me an ask or contact me via IM)

As soon as Sam came back home, he took the little box out from under his bed and opened it. Inside laid the letter his mother had written for him when he had only been a few days old. His whole life he had treasured this piece of paper and anticipated the day he would finally be able to read it - and now he was about to burn the words she had directed at him, the only words he would ever have that were hers. He didn’t even know why, but he had accepted the dare…

“Don’t be mad at me mom,” Sam said and placed a kiss on the letter in his hands. “You said if I ever found what I am missing it would feel wrong and insane and that’s how this feels right now, so please forgive me. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

He put the letter back into the box, closed it and carried it outside. In the tiny garden behind the house they lived in, Sam dug a small hole, in which he placed the box. He opened it again, took the letter out one last time and got his lighter.

“Please, let this not be a mistake,” he said and lit the letter.

Within seconds the letter was completely on fire and Sam dropped it back into the box to not burn himself. At first, only the letter burned, until suddenly the flames took over the whole box, creating a huge darting flame. It was so bright, Sam had to shield his eyes from the intensity of the light and when he dared to look again, all that was left of the box and letter was a small, gleaming pile of ashes. With a heavy heart, Sam covered the hole with the dirt next to it.

It was done, he had fulfilled the dare Lucifer gave him. Maybe one day Lucifer would tell him why he had chosen this dare, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer to this. Right now, without any explanation, it felt like a kick in the guts.

Sam stood in the night for a few minutes, silently mourning the loss of something this precious. Eventually though, when he realized standing there wouldn’t change anything, he went back inside and crawled into his bed. He really wanted to try the summoning Lucifer told him about right this second, demanding an explanation, but he was too exhausted to even give it a try.

After a strangely dreamless night, Sam woke up rather refreshed. With a clear mind, he was really glad he didn’t summon Lucifer the night before. He had been way too emotional back then and he would have probably screwed it up anyways.

Sam wasn’t surprised that Dean and his dad were still asleep - they rarely got up before noon on the weekends - so he had his peace while preparing breakfast. The last week he didn’t have a proper breakfast, so it was very nice just sitting down with toasts, some scrambled eggs and a coffee, without being disturbed. Sam took his time reading the newspaper, enjoying his meal and actually hoped for a peaceful weekend for once.

Before anyone else was able to get up, Sam retreated back to his room to not get into another argument, which immediately broke out when both Dean and John were up. Sam rolled his eyes when he heard them bicker in the kitchen again. Since they stayed rather civil so far, Sam continued cleaning up his room and shifting stuff around. He wasn’t the most tidy person, but at the moment his room resembled a garbage can and he really wanted it clean for… well, for reasons. No, so far he didn’t allow himself to acknowledge why he wanted it clean, even if it was pretty obvious.

When everything was done and the two blockheads still argued, Sam groaned frustrated. One damn quiet weekend, did he ask for too much? Couldn’t they get a beer each and shut up for a few minutes, just for a change? Sam really tried to ignore them, he knew shit would hit the fan if he didn’t, but at one point he just lost his patience.

“Can you two shitheads just shut the fuck up for one day?” he yelled as loud and angry as he could, instantly shocked by his own reaction. “Shit…” he whispered.

It was dead silent outside, way too silent for this to turn out well. Sam quickly jumped off his bed and locked his door in case it was about to get real. He stayed at the door, waiting for something to happen, but for a while the same creepy silence stayed.

“This little…” he suddenly heard his brother hiss, followed by heavy steps into his direction, which caused him to quickly push away from the door.

“Dean, get a hold on yourself!” John said, but made no effort to hold his older son back.

“Come out of your room, you little coward!” Dean yelled through the door and began banging on it with his fist.

“Fuck off!” Sam spat back, as angry as before. He knew Dean wouldn’t manage to break down the door, even if he was shaking - both from anger and being scared shitless - he would not shut up this time.

“You think you can talk like that to me, you little shit?”

“Hell yes, I do! You’re an asshole, why don’t you piss off and find someone else to terrorize?”

“Oh, really? What are you going to do? Summon your imaginary friend to kick my ass?”

Sam huffed, now both angry and spiteful. How dare he… how dare he fucking say things like that?

“Yeah, maybe I’m gonna do that!” he eventually yelled back, hands balled to fists and ready to fight. “Someone finally needs to hand you your shitty ass on a plate!”

At this, Dean began kicking at the door, which finally caught their dad’s interest again and he interfered.

“Enough, you two!” he commanded with his army-voice. “Dean, get the hell outta here before I forget myself! And Sam, open the damn door, now!”

“No way! I won’t open the door until this asshole is gone!” Sam wouldn’t allow Dean to get in, no matter how much his dad thought he had him under control - he hadn’t.

John argued with Dean again, but this time their conversation was short and it only lasted a few minutes before Dean stormed off angrily and smashed the door out again.

“Now, open the door, kid, or I’ll make you!” John commanded again and Sam finally obeyed. His dad stepped into his room, arms crossed and an angry look on his face. “What did your brother talk about imaginary friends?”

“Oh come on!” Sam groaned. “He’s insane, don’t you see that? He’s annoying me all the time, it’s not funny anymore!”

“What was he talking about, Sam? I want an answer.”

“He found a book I had to read for school and mocks me for it, that’s all!” Sam lied blatantly. “He said I’m trying to make friends with the devil, I told you he’s going nuts!”

“And, are you?” John asked serious and Sam looked at him in complete disbelief.

“Are you kidding me, dad? What do you think I am, some kind of satanist?”

“Well, you certainly look like one,” John scoffed and eyed his son suspiciously. “I better not find any dead animals or shit in your room, or you’ll get the beating of your lifetime.”

“I’m not running around, killing animals and summoning the devil, geez!” Sam threw his hands in the air overly dramatic, sat down on his bed and crossed his arms. “I just want to be left alone, that’s all.”

“I’ll have an eye on you, Sam.”

“Yeah, whatever…”

His dad stayed for a moment longer, inspecting his son and the room, then left and shut the door behind him. Sam fell onto his back in a huge relief. Thank God he had cleaned up before! If not, his dad would have seen the book on his bed and the candle stumps in front of it, that would have ended in a catastrophe. Not that this topic was over now, but at least he wasn’t bleeding in a corner, begging for his life to end just now.

Summoning Lucifer now, with his dad being as suspicious as this, was not a good idea. Still, Sam needed to talk to someone and there was no one else he had. If Lucifer got angry, he could just ask him to end it, right? Maybe he would do it quickly, without torturing him too much. It wasn’t that he wanted to die, not really, but he would rather die on his own terms if he had to.

Sam knew he had to be very careful, but he wanted to speak to Lucifer as soon as possible. His perfect opportunity came three hours later, when his dad got a call. He came to Sam’s room, informed him that he had to work in the town a few miles away for a few days and would leave some money home, so the boys could get food. Sam nodded and tried to look as sad as he could, even asking what he should do if Dean decided to let his anger out on him. At this, John smiled and told him not to worry, his brother wouldn’t do anything. Sam really didn’t believe him, but still nodded dutifully and watched his dad leave.

[meminissse-juvabit]

here’s a small bit that i’m coming up with as I go about Ronan handling himself and his nightmares and his past on his own, without Gansey and without Adam

It had been weeks since Ronan’s last nightmare, which was a good sign because it meant he hadn’t brought back anything dangerous upon waking, but not such a good sign considering he hadn’t been dreaming at all. Or sleeping, for that matter. The last time he’d allowed himself to dream, a dead and bloody body had materialized on his chest, and he was forced to look at it until he regained control of his body and was finally able to move, to shove his father’s body onto the floor with a sickening thunk. He hadn’t allowed himself to break down at the time, but now, weeks later, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold himself together. Living at the Barns was great, was what he’d been yearning for since he’d read his father’s will, but he hated to admit that damn near everything in that house brought memories flooding back, memories of his father--both alive and dead-- and his mother. He hadn’t clued anyone in to this fact, as it didn’t mesh well with his mask of indestructible-ness, but that didn’t keep him from unraveling on the inside. Usually it was Gansey’s confidence and reassurance, Adam’s comforting presence, that kept him from descending into that ever-looming downward spiral, but with neither of them here he was dangerously close to that edge. Phone calls from Gansey these days were more of an annoyance rather than respite from his loneliness, and conversations with Adam only made him miss Adam’s presence more. The empty bottles of whiskey littering the house was only a reminder to Ronan of how out of control he had become. It was not a nice feeling.

When Ronan finally allowed himself to break down (actually, it wasn’t so much as him allowing himself as him trying to get it out of the way. He knew it was going to happen, and the anticipation was almost as bad as the break-down itself), it was even more unpleasant than he’d thought it would be. Images of his father’s bloody corpse flooded his consciousness, followed by images of his mother’s bloody corpse. It’s all my fault this is all my fault I could’ve stopped it I should’ve saved my mother sooner I could’ve dreamt something up to save my father I only missed him by a few hours I shouldn’t have slept that night I should’ve been a better son I could have saved them I could have saved them they deserved so much more

And then, as he might as well have an all-encompassing break-down rather than a bunch of separate break-downs, he thought of Adam. Ronan had only very recently come to terms with his sexuality, and although he knew his friends supported him, he still wasn’t sure if he supported himself. Living in the south his whole life meant being subjected to some harsh, perpetual homophobia, and, despite his best efforts, a lot of it had gotten through to him. The women at church often made snide comments regarding homosexuality, and though he knew none of it was directed at him specifically, he couldn’t help but internalize their words. You’re an abomination, Ronan. God will never accept you as you are. You are alone, you are damned, you are hard impossible to love. And on that note, his internal monologue took a new turn: Adam is too good for you. You will never be good enough for him, you will never be as lovely and as lovable as he is. He will always be so much more to you than you are to him. This is a fling, this will never last, Adam will nev-- 

His thoughts were punctuated by a tinny, annoying tune emanating from the cell phone on his bed behind him. He allowed himself only two seconds to check the caller ID before sinking back into his depressive state. The screen said Adam Parrish, but Ronan wasn’t in the mod to talk to him. He’d recognize the strain in Ronan’s voice in a heartbeat, and his call would only make Ronan miss Adam with a greater ferocity. He silenced the wretched device only for it to start back up again. He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, wiling the thoughts to make a clearing large enough for him to participate in this conversation with Adam. If he’d called more than once, it must be important. He clenched his fingers, his jaw, even his toes, and picked up the phone.

“What do you want, Parrish?” He did his best to keep his voice level but he knew Adam would hear any dissonance.

“I’m outside, shithead.” Ronan’s breath caught in his throat. He paused for a bit too long, so Adam said, “Come let me in.” 

Ronan was having a difficult time coming to terms with what Adam’s voice had just iterated. Adam Parrish, the most incredible boy on the planet, had left school just to come see Ronan. Ronan’s heart fluttered before his destructive thoughts, kept so lightly at bay after his implosion, rushed into his consciousness. He’s here to break up with you. He’s too good to break up with you over text, over a phone call. There’s no way he’d come all the way out here just to spend time with you, when he already has so much on his plate with school and work. Ronan’s distance and violent nature had finally, finally pushed Adam to his breaking point, and Adam was here to tell him this was it, that Adam had had enough. Ronan had known all along that it would come to this. 

Ronan hung up the phone, swallowed his dread whole, and slowly pulled himself up from the floor where he was pathetically curled up. He abused himself mentally for allowing himself to unravel like this. He connected the circuits in his brain that were necessary for his mask, and left all of the other cables unplugged. He knew this was dangerous, he knew leaving these wires unconnected left him vulnerable to electrocution at the slightest movement, but he was too exhausted, too broken to pull his whole self together.

It was all he could do to keep his hand from trembling as he reached for the doorknob, but he promised himself he could finish his self-loathing soon, once Adam was gone. Ronan was convinced Adam wouldn’t be here long.

But when Ronan opened the door, Adam was smiling brightly, holding something small and wrapped in his hands. His smile wavered, faded when he looked at Ronan’s face. 

“What’s up?” Adam asked, consternation now clearly displayed across his beautiful face, the lines in his forehead no longer shadows but deep ravines. Ronan said nothing, instead opting to step aside to invite Adam inside. This image of Adam was not at all consistent with the scenario he had been imagining. Adam accepted the invitation, taking one last look at Ronan before heading to the couch, clearly expecting Ronan to follow him. Ronan did, but slowly. Usually seeing Adam and being so filled with emotion made Ronan want to punch something, but this time he wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of Adam’s body on his own. So he sat next to Adam, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his tanned skin but not close enough to touch him.

Adam placed the small rectangle on the coffee table, its presence casting a shadow on the old wood. Then he turned to Ronan and studied his expression. Adam still wore the worried look, and Ronan could hardly stand to look at him.

“Why are you here?” Ronan finally choked out after a few full minutes of silence. He was deathly afraid of Adam’s answer.

“I missed you,” Adam said earnestly. “And I haven’t heard from you much over the past few weeks, so I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“You know I don’t use my phone,” Ronan growled.

“I know, I know.” Adam looked exhausted. “Are you, though? Okay, I mean?”

Ronan didn’t know how to respond. He considered for a moment how easy it must be to be able to lie.

“I--” Ronan stopped. His words felt like acid in his mouth. How badly he wanted to tell Adam everything, how badly he wanted to keep it all inside himself. Adam didn’t push it, though, and instead pulled Ronan into his chest. Ronan allowed himself to be moved, allowed his head to rest in the crook of Adam’s shoulder, allowed Adam’s presence to engulf him. Ronan steadied his breathing, told himself that Adam would not be doing this if he was about to break up with him. Or perhaps this was the calm before the storm, perhaps Adam was giving Ronan one last bit of intimacy and affection before telling him It’s not you it’s me, actually it is you, but don’t take this the wrong way, okay? I just can’t do this anymo--

“I love you,” Adam said softly, his breath hot in Ronan’s ear. Ronan’s heart stopped and his body went still. He pulled away to get a good look at Adam’s face, searching it for deception and for any sign of a coming but....

Neither of these things were apparent in Adam’s expression, and all Ronan could find was sincerity. 

“I thought you were coming to break up with me,” Ronan said softly, and he cursed himself for allowing his voice to break. 

Now Adam’s face was surprised, and a little hurt. Ronan suddenly felt guilty.

“Why the hell would I do that?” Adam replied, exasperated.

“I figured you’d finally had enough of me. I thought you finally realized you’re too good for me.” When Adam didn’t respond, Ronan continued. “You’re in college, doing all these incredible things and making something of yourself, and I’m here, still in Henrietta, not even having graduated high school. You’re a fucking angel, and I’m just... just--”

Adam cut him off. “Ronan, I love you. I’m in college because I worked my ass off and killed myself at Aglionby for this. You’re a god, a god who can pull the world from his dreams. You don’t need this. I already know how goddamned smart you are, how incredible you are, and how amazing and beautiful you are.” Adam placed his long, gorgeous fingers under Ronan’s chin and tilted his head up to meet his eyes. “Look at me. I’m not going to break up with you. Not now, not ever. The last thing I want to do is lose you. Do you believe me?” 

Ronan’s brain was on fire. This was not what he expected but this was what he wanted wanted wanted. He blinked a few times to make sure Adam was still there, to make sure this wasn't another one of his twisted dreams where Adam would suddenly turn into a demon. But Adam’s face, Adam’s lovely and strange face, was still there every time Ronan’s eyelids moved out of the way.

Ronan nodded, and Adam pulled him in even closer, whispering his affection in Ronan’s ears and littering his skin with kisses.

[caredogstips]

6 Iconic Works Of Art With Brutal Insults Hidden In Them

We all take our inessential little revenges where we can. If someone cuts you off in commerce, you give them the thumb. If one of your co-workers ingest your lunch, you pee in the coffee maker. If someone talks at the movies, you follow them residence, dress like a comedian, and shriek “their childrens” awake each night for the rest of “peoples lives”. But not everyone stops events so reasonable. Here are masters who held onto enmities so long and so hard that their petty avenge became commemorated in their work.

# 6. Harry Potter Is Full Of J.K. Rowling’s Secret Insults

We’re at a culture time where anyone who needs Harry Potter explained to them is clearly a robot trying to gain sentience. So we’re hop-skip the purpose of explaining who Harry Potter is. Better luck next time, robot. For the rest of you, it turns out that J.K. Rowling realise it a habit to turn real beings from her life into attributes in her works, and for shifting those personas into avenge. For instance, when Stephen Fry was hired to narrate the first audio journal, he was told that a sequel was already in the works. Fry commended this Rowling person whom he’d only met with, “Good for you.” She took it as an offend and never forgot it. It got petty.

When registering the book, Fry had fus adding the words “pocketed it.” Through a bizarre lecture hindrance, it always came out as “pocketeded it.” So he called her up and would like to know whether he could change it. Rowling afforded a hard no. And then, through sheer coincidence , the phrase “pocketed it, ” appeared in the next four Harry Potter notebooks. That’s how ridiculous “womens issues” was willing to get for the tiniest quantity of revenge.

Which introduces us to the character of Gilderoy Lockhart, the blowhard educator from Chamber Of Secrets . He was based on a humanity Rowling knew and reviled, who was constantly bragging about acts that almost certainly never happened. So she made him a persona in her work who virtually facilitates Magic Hitler rise to power and get his psyche mopped. Then, after publicly announcing that this shithead was based on a real guy, Rowling responded, “Don’t annoy … he will never in a million years dream that he is Gilderoy Lockhart.” So everyone who has ever gratified J.K. Rowling, take note: There’s a decent hazard she thinks you’re a stupid asshole.

Based on a real stupid asshole .

Another character, Harry’s vile Aunt Marge, was based on one of Rowling’s family members who “liked dogs more than people.” But there’s one character who rises above all others in the annals of hated Harry Potter Characters. The one character whom every fan agrees is the most evil and disliked. No , not Voldemort. Not Lockhart. Not even the sniveling Wormtail.

It’s Dolores Umbridge. Her identify literally signifies “annoyance and offense.”

You goddamn bitch .

If you watched the movies, you might recollect Umbridge as the short one dressed in all-pink who realise Harry write with a pencil that carves characters into his tissue. Seemed a little bit much, right? Well, she was based on a educator Rowling knew whom she described as someone she “disliked deeply on sight.” The impression was mutual, and Rowling described her style as being “appropriate to a girl of three.”

Imagine you’re a coach trying the very best to fertilize young judgments. One of your students( though not your favourite) has already become the most successful writer since God. Excited, you open one of her volumes and find someone who’s clearly you, written as a dimwitted maid of immoralities garmented for a children’s tea party. Oh well, you predict she never forgave you for those imprisonments …

“That was just the once, you crybaby.”

… and then later in the book, your reputation is dragged into the woods by centaurs — a scene which we’re almost certain implies that they then raped her.( That centaurs abuse human girls is an essential part of the lore around them. For speciman, the centaur Nessus was killed while trying to rape a human lady .) Yeah, that’s how freaking nighttime this gets. J.K. Rowling didn’t get along with one of her coaches, so she had the teach get( apparently) sexually contravened by horse-men in a children’s volume. Then she announces to the world that this sorceres get bayoneted in every flaw by centaur rooster is based on a real party. “Not to * wink !* name any refers, but it was one of my teachers, and here’s job descriptions! “

“Does she have teenagers? They just watched Stand-In Mommy lose all hope and glory. Oh glee! ”

So if you ever had an proof with J.K. Rowling, give the books another speak. There’s a good chance a goblin based on you has been torn apart by unicorns for the amusement of children.

# 5. Muslim Street Artists Bash Homeland … On Homeland

Homeland is a testify with so many absurd constructions that it’s more of a practical joke on the observer than a floor. But that’s not why it’s contentious. It’s about CIA agents contending Islamic terrorism, and it’s been called everything from insulting and humiliating to borderline racist. Basically, the appearance treats controversial issues the same way Donald Trump might list his favorite Mexicans — it’s not quite “bigoted, ” but it’s definitely uncomfortable.

So some of Homeland ‘s detractors decided to speak out against the reveal from inside the show itself. One occurrence took place in a Syrian refugee camp. Because the writers are all lily-white Americans with little-to-no Syrian refugee camp suffer, they decided to let some individuals who knew Arabic embellish the laid with graffiti. You possibly discover where this is going. They wrote smart-ass words everywhere.

This suggests ” Homeland is watermelon, ” which is meaner than it resonates in Arabic .

The three masters hired were Don Karl, Heba Amin, and Caram Kapp, and they felt that the establish reached Arabs and Muslims feel disliked and helped shape negative minds. So they said so, in Arabic, right in front of the producers’ non-Arabic-speaking faces.

“This show does not represent the view of the artists.”

The entire place seems a bit obvious in hindsight. Homeland is no other indicate on Tv that hires Middle-Eastern performers, and most of them either play-act suicide bombers or regular grinders. So when the same evidence hires Middle-Eastern set designers and tells them to make it super Arab-y , no one should be surprised if they respond by trolling you.

Actual translation: ” Homeland is racist.” Oh, and “NO MICKEY MOUSE.”

# 4. The God-We-Wish-It-Were-True Story Of “The Cask Of Amontillado”

“The Cask Of Amontillado” is one of Edgar Allan Poe’s most well known toils. It’s about a being who gets retaliate on a acquaintance by pulling him underground with wine and then entombing him alive. He leaves “the mens” chained to a wall to die, mocking the man’s shriekings for blessing. A few vague details are given, but it’s never become clear to the reader what injustice invigorated the assassination. Even for Poe, it was a bit dark.

“Once you’re dead, I’m giving your body the teabagging of Amontillado.”

And it all started because another novelist was sort of a douche.

Like all scribes, Edgar Allan Poe had a wonderful sexuality life, great “hairs-breadth”, all the money in “the worlds”, and countless antagonists. One of them was a scribe mentioned Thomas Dunn English. The two detested one another, and Thomas wrote a parody of Poe into one of his tales: a reference appointed Marmaduke Hammerhead who writes a legend called “The Black Crow, ” acts crazy, and is drunk all the time.

Poe didn’t think it was cute. He registered a suit against the working paper English worked for, and acquired. Still unsatisfied, Poe decided to placed him into a narrative. And in that legend, he garmented “the mens” like a jester, walled him up in a dungeon, and tell madness and famine race to destroy him. In … in fiction! Exclusively in fiction.

This was his response to being announced crazy .

As you might have approximated, the poorest of the poor drink dumb “whos got” lay alive in “The Cask Of Amontillado” was based on English. So if you had to read the tale in high school and none of you could figure out what the hell the guy did to deserve such a dark fate , now you know. He gently taunted Edgar Allan Poe. When Poe kills you in a legend, he dresses you like a buffoon and lets you whimper for their own lives alone in the blackness. As opposed to doing you in with the whimsy of a centaur penis.

# 3. Willow Swerved Multiple Movie Critics Into Villains

Though you put your heart and soul into a work of art, there will always be a critic there to tell you it sucks. It happens no matter how great your artistry happens to be, but it happens a lot if your prowes — like Willow — kind of sucks.

Maybe in a preemptive strike against their inevitable offenses, or maybe as revenge for past commentaries, George Lucas mentioned two of the villains in Willow after film reviewers. The first was General Kael, a skull-headed warlord reputation after Pauline Kael, who had called Star Wars an tired circus with no psychological clutch. Well fuck you, Pauline, you’re an evil skeleton now. In Willow .

“You look hopelessly cool and impossibly badass. Aren’t you ashamed? ”

And this wasn’t the only period this happened to Kael. The same year Willow “re coming out”, an analog of her also appeared in the Dirty Harry movie The Dead Pool . Apparently, the filmmakers still hadn’t forgiven her for calling Dirty Harry “fascist, pro-violence, pro-gun, republican nuttery scrap.” So they based a reputation on her, and then had that character get brutally jabbed to demise. That’ll picture her who’s pro-violence!

“I know what you’re deliberation: six gaping spurting curves, or only five? ”

You might believe that George Lucas was outdone, since his insult was simply appointing some guy “Kael, ” while Dirty Harry exited all-out and killer her. Perhaps you’re right. But wait until you hear about the other reviewers who took a smack in Willow . This one is brutal .

At the end of Willow , a two-headed fire-breathing dragon shows. George knew the dragon could be more than a fantastic culminating to history’s greatest film — it was his chance to get revenge for every mean happen Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert had ever said about his movies. Those guys would rue the day they traversed the artistic juggernaut of George Lucas!

He identified the dragon Eborsisk.

“We grant it two deformed-looking whale dicks up.”

Oh, shit! Can you envisage what Siskel and Ebert must have visualized when they received information that !? With one reputation( which is never even pronounce aloud ), Lucas killed them both and plummeted the mic. Eborsisk! That’s like both their reputations in one! It was the snap discover of all the countries … Eborsisk. The instant some supplementary information revealed that the dragon’s reputation was Eborsisk, “the worlds” knew never to doubt George Lucas’ filmmaking abilities again.

# 2. The Symbolic Middle Finger In The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn

The writer Sir Walter Scott isn’t exactly a household name, but there’s a respectable opportunity you’re familiar with some of his effort, like Ivanhoe and Rob Roy . Regrettably for him, the most famous journal in which his name sounds is The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn . And that’s because Mark Twain goddamn detested Walter Scott.

Even more than he hates you for misrepresenting him on Facebook .

Twain thought that Scott’s writing romanticized battle, and was worried that young men were reading about the magnificences of engagement and ranging off to combat. He felt that Scott’s novels were to blame for much of the “windy humbuggeries” of the South, which gave rise to concepts like duels or even the Civil War itself. He felt that Scott’s novels continued the delusion that Southerners were noble heroes and gentlemen, despite their participation in brutal frontier justice and the owning of other humans. So Twain are determined to immortalize his antagonism of Sir Walter Scott in art.

If you don’t recall the patch of Huck Finn , it’s about a runaway boy and an escaped slave traveling down the Mississippi River, and the language hasn’t aged well. What you may have never observed was an aesthetic offend to Scott encoded into their passage. In the tale, Twain named a steamboat after the object of his condescension; the Walter Scott is carried away by a strong present and wrecked against some rocks.

“The regained wood was then turned into an outhouse which was consistently full of shit.”

It was meant to symbolize the path the Old South rode along on Scott’s strong back toward an out-of-control catastrophe( the Civil War ). It’s a little bit more subtle than embed someone alive or probing them with a centaur, but it translates to the same act: “Fuck you, Sir Walter Scott.”

# 1. DC And Marvel Piss On Their Movie

In its very first trailer, Man Of Steel boasted a quote from Grant Morrison’s All-Star Superman . This was strange chiefly because All-Star Superman is considered one of the greatest Superman floors ever told, and Man Of Steel was a 150 -minute tantrum hurled by stupid room juveniles. Besides having a laser-eyed alien as the prime reference, they could not be more different. In Man Of Steel , Superman clicks cervixes and watches fathers succumb. In All-Star Superman , he is infallible and benevolent. He’s nearly drew as God.

It’s not even that subtle about it .

Morrison shovels the idea of Superman being a perfect compounding of every human ideal. So he was understandably ticked off that the matter is “gritty” movie in which Superman is a petty thug exploited a quotation from his duty. But since he wrote Action Comics , Superman’s flagship title, it was likely wasn’t appropriate for him to come out and publicly talk shit about the movie. Instead, he carefully knit all that shit-talking into a Superman story.

In a long, mind-bending narration that obligates Memento look like Blue’s Clues , Morrison acquainted a soul called Super-Doomsday.

We’re sure that swastika-looking “S” was purely coincidental .

It’s created by scientists attempting to make a pure and inspirational person, but in their hopelessnes, they sold him off to “owners corporations” which moved him into “a violent, disturbed, faceless anti-hero … a global marketing icon .“

Sound familiar?

“Oh, I get it. You’re like a metapho-AARRRGH! LASER BEAMS !!! ”

Superman eventually uncovers him and uncover a distorted half-Superman/ half-Doomsday — which is eerily same to the form of Doomsday’s origin in the upcoming Batman v. Superman .

“Ugh. Doomsday is some Kryptonian DNA with demon shit attached? What deplorable monster would green-light that project !? ”

Morrison got extremely heavy-handed as he wrote. The commercialized Superman is powered by “a simple corporate directive: kill the competition.” And if that wasn’t obvious enough, the large-scale bad behind Super-Doomsday( an imp from the fifth facet) find right out and explains it TAGEND Able to pinch limitless account in a single body …

“There’s blood on your princely pinnacle. A stain that can never come out. The mark of betrayal and exploitation … Your “S” a dollar sign! ” It almost sounds like he’s referencing a very concrete occurrence. Hmm … wonder what it could be?

“Hkk! This … testifies a fundamental misinterpret … hkk! … of 80 years of reference developing! ”

While on the subject of literary superhero retaliation, Marvel had a similar rebuttal to a bad movie in the sheets of Fantastic Four . In one issue, groupings of people birthing a strong resemblance to the stars of the appalling, frightful Fantastic Four reboot be standing talking about a movie that they worked on with a director referred “Trang.” “Its probably” a including references to FF chairman Josh Trank, but it’s so deeply unclever that it virtually seems impossible.

Turning that “4” on his shirt into four middle fingers would’ve been wittier . And then this happens TAGEND

“We had to level the whole metropoli in case they wanted to threw a reboot.”

That’s it — over the course of three boards, Marvel wordlessly explosion them. It’s the kind of hamfisted theme that makes you long for the intricacy of a fifth-dimensional pixie appearing to explain the laugh. Or, of course, the sophisticated nuance of J.K. Rowling’s unwanted centaur cocks.

Always be category, because you never know when you’ll end up a laugh in someone else’s innovation. Witness more of that in 6 Brilliant Insults Hidden In Video Games As Easter Eggs and 6 Famous Works Of Art You Didn’t Know Were Vicious Insults .

Read more: www.cracked.com

The post 6 Iconic Works Of Art With Brutal Insults Hidden In Them appeared first on caredogstips.com.

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[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 12: Roxy 

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of abuse and neglect including one description of a specific incident, mentions of substance (alcohol) abuse 

Author’s Note: Just gonna leave this here  http://mspaintadventures.com/?s=6&p=005607 for no particular reason 

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

“You’re — you know Ramona Lalonde?”

Rose allowed herself a small laugh at Kanaya’s expression. They, along with Karkat and Dave (who, true to his word, was…well, he was out of the room, at least) were sitting on the couches in the main room, chatting, and Rose had mentioned her aunt in passing.  

“She’s a member of the family,” Rose said. “She’s in Europe right now, but she is our - my, Dave, and Dirk’s - aunt. Which, for those not familiar with human family structures, means she is our mother’s sister.” Rose smiled at Kanaya. “I take it you’ve read some of her works, then?”

“Yes!” Kanaya blurted out. Her cheeks colored slightly with a lovely shade of green, and she visibly tried to restrain herself. “That is, I, erm.” Kanaya twisted her long fingers in the fabric of her dress. “I’ve always had a taste for, erm, a certain genre of literature —“ Karkat snorted.

“Trashy rainbow drinker books,” he said, barely hiding a smile of his own.

“They are not trashy!” Kanaya said. “And anyway, you hardly have any right to be criticizing my taste in literature!”

“Hey, no, I have the best fucking taste in literature, fuck you —“

“As I was saying,” Kanaya continued. “I enjoy books featuring…a certain mythological figure in our own culture known as a rainbow drinker, and a little while after I came to Earth, I learned that you have a similar creature in your own mythology. I believe you call them vampires?”

Dave snorted. It was the most he’d participated in the conversation since coming downstairs.

“Oh, hush,” Kanaya said, her face coloring a bit more. “Anyway, I asked at a bookstore about any such books, and someone suggested Fangs for the Memories, and, well, I ended up enjoying it so much, that I tore through several other of her works! I couldn’t really get my head around Complacency of the Learned, it may just be a bit beyond my grasp, but her lighter works have been wonderful reads! And — and you’re really related?”

Rose nodded. Before she could answer, though, Dave interrupted.

“Wait, Complacency of the — isn’t that the fuckin’ weird-ass rated-R Harry Potter thing?”

“There’s a lot more to it than that,” Rose said dryly, “but it probably is the book you are thinking of, yes.”

Dave snickered. “Jesus, this family’s fuckin’ weird,” he muttered.

“What the fuck is Harry Potter?” Karkat said.

“It’s like. These books about a wizard school or something that got really fuckin’ popular? I dunno, I never read ‘em. Saw one of the movies at like two in the morning once when Bro was out, but that’s all I got.”

“Oh. Wizards,” Karkat said, looking around at the decor of the main room. “Dunno what I expected in this fucking family, but that’s about the least surprising answer I could have gotten.”

“Well, as rumor would have it,” Rose said, “If anyone were to write about magic with any sort of authority, dear Aunt Ramona would be the one.”

“I’ve heard that,” Kanaya said, leaning in with a hushed, excited whisper. “People say she’s…dangerous, that she tinkers with dark forces beyond our understanding.”

“They certainly do say that,” said Rose. “Whether it’s true or not, I couldn’t tell you. But she does certainly have an air of mystery to her. From what I’ve gathered, even our father is a bit frightened of her.”

“Wait, what?” said Dave. “I dunno about that, Rose. I didn’t see the guy act scared of anyone in ten years.”

“You haven’t seen Aunt Ramona in ten years, either, by the sound of it,” Rose retorted. “Which isn’t surprising, I suppose. Ever since Roxy was old enough to take care of herself, more or less, she’s been abroad most of the time. I think she’s in France at the moment, although it can be hard to tell, with her aversion to being captured on film, and all.”

“If she’s family,” Karkat said, his voice carrying a scornful bite that made Rose narrow her eyes, “then why is it so hard to know where she is? Wouldn’t she fucking check in or whatever?”

“Not very often,” Rose said. “Aunt Ramona is…not on the best of terms with Mom. They love each other, don’t get me wrong, but Ramona is not exactly a patient woman. She could only stand so much of watching her sister slowly drown herself in increasingly extravagant spirits, and, frankly, I can’t say I blame her. She checks in with Roxy now and then, and with us even less frequently, but she’s hardly required to babysit her sister forever, and it’s not her responsibility if a grown woman wants to completely give herself over to alcohol.”

Dave shifted uncomfortably. “Fuck, man,” he muttered, in an oddly distant voice, “tell us what you really think about Mom, no need to be so fuckin’ nice about her. Jesus Christ.”

“Easy for you to say,” Rose snapped, making both the trolls and Dave jump. “You didn’t have to grow up with her constantly stumbling around half out of her mind!”

“Shit, did I say that out — fuck, sorry, you’re right, sorry,” Dave said, quickly. “I mean, she doesn’t seem all that bad to me, I guess, but I honestly remember approximately jack shit of what life here was like, so I kinda got no frame of reference, it just —”

“She’s just a harmless fucking woman who wants to hug people and cry a lot, what the fuck is your problem?!” Karkat spat. Dave made a soft, distressed noise, but Rose spoke before he could say anything.

“What I said to Dave goes double for you,” she said. “You’re not even from this planet, you barely know what parents are, and you’ve no right to tell me how to feel about my mother.”

“I’m not asking you to drop down and worship the ground she fucking walks, here,” Karkat said. “I don’t give a shit how you feel about her, you can feel however you want! But maybe cut her some fucking slack? At least she’s trying!”

“Oh, yes, she does try. Remind me to get out the participation awards to lavish her with, since she is trying so hard. So hard that she’s made not the slightest bit of effort to sober up long enough to participate in basic events in the lives of the children she’s supposed to be raising. Why, she’s practically Mother of the Year! How wrong I’ve been!”

With a sound like wind mixed with television static, Dave was gone. In the time it took Rose to process that he’d flashstepped away, she heard the noise of his bedroom door clicking shut.

“Oh, God damn it. Dave!” she called out, intending to ask him to come back down.

Karkat stood before she could finish, fists balled up tersely. “Fucking leave him be, too, why don’t you,” he growled.

“Karkat, can we not do this,” Kanaya said, but to no avail.

“Honestly,” Karkat said, “You keep acting like you’re so fucking world weary and dragged down by everyone else, but you’re half the fucking problem here!”

“Me?!” Rose said, standing up and glaring down her nose at him. “Excuse me for not just complacently sitting back and watching my mother destroy herself without being upset!”

“It’s not just your mother, first of all,” Karkat said. “If looks could kill, your entire family’d be dead by now! You get mad at Dave over shit he does because he’s had doing it beaten into him, and I don’t even know where the hostility you have against Dirk comes from, but —“

“I don’t act hostile toward Dirk, what the hell are you talking about?” Rose said. “The worst I’ve done to Dirk is to justifiably get on his case for trying to act like he’s the one in charge, when he barely knows what he’s doing half the time. That’s not hostility, that’s just being siblings! As for Dave, how are you so sure you know why he’s doing these things out of that? You barely know him!”

“He blocks his bedroom door with a chair,” Karkat said, his voice low, “because Strider  would sometimes burst into his room, and locking the door wasn’t enough to stop him. The chair didn’t either, but it slowed him down enough to not get taken completely by surprise. He told me that the day I met him,” he continued, his eyes fierce, “And every moment I spent in that fucking hiveblock only convinced me that Dave was completely right. What do I have to do to get you to fucking understand how fucking scared he is?!” Karkat shouted.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Rose hissed. “He’s got nothing to be afraid of here! He’s perfectly safe!”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know that,” Karkat said. “And with you and your brother constantly at each other’s throats — which you are, by the fucking way, don’t think I haven’t noticed just because you two are fucking subtle about it, every time you two are in the same room there’s always some sort of fucking resentment lurking behind every other word — and add that on to your mother constantly appearing out of nowhere, and you always three seconds from getting mad at him, of course he’s having a hard time figuring it out! Everything here is different and he doesn’t know what to expect, and as if that isn’t scary enough, you’re making it worse!”

“What would you have me do, then,” Rose said, “Just stand by and let him seal himself away? Be like my Aunt Ramona, leave my sibling to his self destruction without intervening?”

“I’m saying you need to be patient, dammit,” Karkat said. “He was coming out on his own. Give him space to get used to it, and he’ll start coming around and eventually figure out he’s not in danger. Forcing him to come out before he’s ready is just gonna scare him more!”

Rose snorted.

“You can’t bully him into recovering from this,” said Karkat. “There’s a time and place for yelling at people until they start helping themselves. Fuck, I’ve done that before, I get it, but this is not that fucking time and place.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Rose retorted. “The alien with his volume setting locked at two clicks past the maximum thinks he can lecture me about patience.”

“Oookay,” Kanaya said, standing. “I think this discussion has gotten quite angry enough. Could we perhaps reconvene on this matter later, or something? We’ve already scared away one person, and I fear I’m growing quite uncomfortable myself, and, um.”

Rose sighed. “I’m sorry, Kanaya, you’ve been very patient. I will admit I lost my temper a bit, there,” she said, flashing her best ‘this-is-called-being-the-bigger-person’ glare at Karkat, “And I think I’d better be alone for a time in order to cool off. If you want to know more about our Aunt, I’d be glad to answer more questions later.”

She turned on her heel, ignoring Kanaya whispering angrily to Karkat, who hissed something back. Rose paused at the foot of the stairs. “Damn, almost forgot,” she said, “Roxy will be visiting tomorrow. She’s our cousin. She’ll likely be here before Dirk and I get back from school; she’s got a spare key and the code to the garage, so she’ll just let herself in, most likely.”

“It’ll be a pleasure, I’m sure!” Kanaya said with a forced smile.

Roxy was so fucking ready for this. Like, hyper-ready. UBER-ready. She had this shit on lockdown.

Well, okay, actually, she had no idea what she was doing, but she was still feeling pretty confident.

Anticipation rode in her stomach like a butterfly on fifteen cans of pure caffeine for the entire drive to her cousins’ house. She was seeing one of her cousins for the first time in twelve years, and she was pumped as hell, if a little bit nervous.

She’d spent about two hours the night before looking around on online forums about how to help kids dealing with trauma and abuse, and from what she could tell, the general consensus was to be patient, let ‘em run off to whatever space they had that could be their own little safe space if they need to, and ask before doing anything like touching or hugging or stuff like that. Which was gonna be hard, because she wanted to hug the poor kid for approximately fifty years, but if he wasn’t okay with that, then she’d fuckin’ deal. Hug the cat a bunch of times instead, or something.

Roxy was practically vibrating by the time she pulled up into the driveway and parked the car. As she was opening the front door, she heard a gravelly voice, halfway through a sentence, talking inside the house’s main room.

“—about it, Rose mentioned something about your…cousin, I think she called it? Coming over for a visit.”

“Hi, yeah, that’s me, I’m the cousin!!” Roxy called, shoving her arm through the opening and waving excitedly. She let herself in and locked the door behind her, before whirling around, the pink tips of her hair batting her in the face as she did. Three people were on the couches: a lady troll in a pretty dress, a dude troll in an oversized sweater sitting across from her, and one grown up baby cousin seated next to the dude troll.

Grinning, she bounced over, then stopped herself short in front of him. “Heeeyyy- wait, shit, almost forgot!” she said, pulling her arms back from the hugging position they’d gone straight into. Had to keep it at least a little cool, here. “Is it gonna totally freak you out if I hug you?”

“Uh,” said Dave, “It’s…fine, I guess?”

“Good, cuz I’m ‘bout to hug the shit outta you,” Roxy said, and hugged the shit out of him. He made a slightly bewildered noise, and the troll next to him recoiled slightly. Letting go (for now), Roxy flopped down on the couch next to Dave, still smiling. “God, I’m so excited to see you! You probably don’t remember me at all, though, you were pretty little last time you saw me, and, agh, you’re so big now, look at you!! Ugh, listen to me, ‘you’ve gotten so big,’ what am I, your grandma? Whatthefuckever, you’re here, hey!!” She hugged him again, this time a little gentler, around the shoulders. (Did she imagine him leaning it into that time? Probably, but. Maybe not!!!) “So, I’m Roxy, and we’re cousins, and I’m gonna try real hard not to start bawling and ruin my makeup, but in case it’s not clear yet, I’m stoked as hell to be seeing you.”

“Kinda got that impression, yeah,” Dave said. Kid had one hell of a pokerface, damn, he’d give Dirk a run for his money.

“You’re allowed to tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, bee-tee-dubs,” she whispered conspiratorially to Dave. “Like, if I cross a line on accident, just go ‘Roxy, fuck off’ and I’ll step right on back over that line all smart-like.” Dave snorted softly.

“Got it,” he said, his lips twitching slightly into an almost-smile.

Introductions flew by quickly. Roxy tried to ignore the suspicious glares that Karkat was throwing her way; she remembered his name as being the one Dirk had said Dave actually trusted a lot, so, best to try and get on his good side. He was a cute little thing, with his little blunt horns and those big teeth sticking out almost as messily as his hair, and Roxy could see why Dave might take to him.

As the conversation progressed, both Karkat and Dave’s tension levels seemed to drop. Karkat refocused on some movie that was playing on the weirdest laptop Roxy had ever seen, and Kanaya picked up a sketchbook and made herself busy, occasionally interjecting with her own comments. Dave was…really hard to read, but Roxy did her best to drop any topic he seemed uncomfortable getting into, no matter how badly she wanted to know what he’d been through. She was a stranger to him, she had to keep that in mind, and he’d talk when he was ready.  

“I’d been hoping to get in touch with you online, too,” she said at one point, “But I think I rushed into it a bit? I messaged you soon as I got your username from Dirk, but you blocked me straight away, I think. Couldn’t get any messages through to you!”

“Well, yeah, I did that whenever I got a message from someone whose handle I didn’t recognize,” Dave said. “I mean, keeping in touch with friends and catching up with Rose and Dirk was kinda one thing, but. I was already breaking rules just by talking to people online at all, and I got why he didn’t want me doing that. Might accidentally give shit away, or something.”

“Did he catch you?” Roxy said. “All I know is that you just sorta vanished one day, and that’s what we assumed happened.”

Dave glanced away with a very small, nervous sound. His thumb absently traced the white scar on his cheek. Karkat’s eyes widened a bit at the movement, then narrowed.

“Shit, whoops, I didn’t think that one through,” said Roxy. “That’s probably a touchy subject, isn’t it? You don’t gotta answer.”

Dave replied with a quiet ‘thanks,’ and Roxy steered dutifully away from that topic, chattering instead about whatever came to mind. Dave didn’t seem to want to talk much at all about his home life with Derek, which was fine and about what Roxy had expected after reading the forums. Rose and Dirk seemed to be uncomfortable subjects, too, which did not bode well. She’d have to ask the trolls about them later.

Despite her best efforts to be careful, Dave grew distant after a while, and quietly excused himself, disappearing upstairs. Roxy turned to Karkat as soon as she heard the door close.

“I’m not coming on too strong, am I?” she asked. Karkat blinked at her. “Like, I’m excited as all fuck, and I know I can go overboard with this stuff sometimes. Is he just giving himself a timeout, or am I freaking him out, do you think? You’re the one who’s had the most luck with him, right?”

“I wouldn’t call it luck so much as I’m the only one who bothers to actually pay fucking attention,” Karkat grumbled. “But…no, I don’t think you’re scaring him.”

“He excuses himself all the time with us,” Kanaya added. “Usually a few minutes after something comes up to make him uncomfortable, but sometimes it seems like it’s just because a certain amount of time has passed.”

“He spent practically all his time in his block with Strider,” Karkat said. “It’s like I’ve said to Kanaya, he probably just gets overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, that’s about what I expected,” said Roxy. “All the shit I’ve read about kids dealing with trauma went something along those lines, y’know? Will he be back down, or is he done for the day?”

“He might come back,” said Kanaya. “He usually does, until Rose or Dirk get home.”

“God dammit,” Roxy said, startling both the trolls at her volume. “Are they being assholes? Fuck’s sake.”

“‘Assholes’ is putting it nicely, if you ask me,” Karkat grumbled darkly. “I’ve met rabid cholerbears who handled delicate situations better than them.”

“Oh, brother,” Roxy groaned. “Let me guess: Rose is being real fuckin’ impatient and trying to pick a fight over just about anything, and Dirk’s off being the cool mysterious lurker again. Yeah?”

“Thats…pretty accurate, yeah,” Kanaya said.

“UUUUUGH. God, these cousins of mine,” Roxy said. “I love them to death, but boy can they be ridiculous.”

“To be fair, I don’t think they mean to be,” Kanaya said. Karkat snorted.

“Oh, they definitely don’t,” said Roxy. “But despite being some of the smartest people I know, they’re a pair of idiots. They, like. They like to assume they know what’s going on, especially Rose, and it’s an uphill goddamn battle trying to get them to see things the other way, especially once Rose gets pissed.” Karkat was staring at Roxy, wide-eyed, like she’d just passed on the meaning of life, or something. “Like, it comes from a place of love in this case, I’m sure it does!” she added. “But that’s really only a starting point, and it’s not gonna be enough with poor Dave, after whatever he’s been through.”

“Holy shit, that’s what I’ve been trying to explain to them,” Karkat said. “But Dirk’s never around for long, and doesn’t trust me, which is fucking fine because I don’t trust him, either, and Rose always turns everything around to the fact that I yell all the time!”

“I mean,” Kanaya said, “I can kind of understand her point there? If Dave’s come from a home with the kind of turbulence you’ve aluded to, I can understand him being anxious with your tendency to shout.”

“He doesn’t have a problem with volume, Kanaya,” Karkat said. “I’ve been talking to him the same way I talk to everyone else the entire fucking time I’ve known him, and guess what? He doesn’t have a problem with it at all. It’s more like…atmosphere he has a problem with. Strider wasn’t loud, hell, he barely made a sound at all, that’s what made him so fucking scary!”

“So, like,” Roxy interjected. “Should I try and be noisy when I move around him, then? D’you think that’d help? Make sure he knows where I am?”

“Probably,” Karkat said with a shrug. “Honestly, it’s hard to get Dave to admit that anything bugs him, but he’s never complained or flinched or anything about me stomping around, so.”

“Okay, good to know,” Roxy said. “As for Rose and Dirk, I’ll try and talk with them before I leave tonight, kay? See if I can’t get them to rethink things.”

“Thank fuck,” Karkat said.

(Never one to make a promise she didn’t plan on keeping, Roxy made sure to talk to Rose and Dirk before leaving. Rose had seemed kind of annoyed at Roxy’s suggestion to maaaaybe chill out just a little bit with Dave, but said she’d try, at least. Dirk seemed more thoughtful, especially at the idea that making noise around Dave might actually be a good thing. Hopefully, things would get better, but Roxy was fully prepared to be visiting on the regular, just to make sure. With cousins this stubborn, you could never be too careful.)

After Roxy had gone home, Karkat went to check on Dave. The kid had come out of his room a few more times, spending a bit longer outside each time and, to Karkat’s surprised delight, actually did seem like he was getting more comfortable around Roxy. (Karkat himself begrudgingly had to admit, this particular ‘family’ person was…pretty great.) Still, he was clearly exhausted by the end of the day, and Karkat wanted to just…make sure he was right.

That, and he’d noticed something that had sparked his curiosity.

He ended up in Dave’s room, sitting on the floor and idly chatting as Dave lay on his back on his sleeping platform.

Eventually, Dave sighed. “Okay, whatever question you’re sitting on is lighting a fire under your ass, dude, I can smell it roasting away from over here. Just hurry up and ask it, already, before you fuckin’ burn everyone’s breakfast.”

“I…shouldn’t,” Karkat said. “I’m not enough of an asshole to go prying into other peoples’ personal shit, curiosity or not, and I’m not sure it’s something you want to talk about. You went really quiet when it almost came up with Roxy.”

“I don’t know Roxy, man,” Dave said. “I mean, I like her, but I ain’t known her long enough to be comfortable talking about some things. Haven’t known you long either, sure, but…I dunno, you’re easy to talk to, I guess?” Dave muttered something Karkat couldn’t make out over the pounding of his pump biscuit. Stupid definitely-not-a-pale-crush, now was not the time to get all sappy over an admission of trust. He’d spent enough time with humans and witnessing some of their media by now to get that humans were idiotically trusting in general, it didn’t necessarily mean anything. “Look,” Dave continued, “all your fidgeting is making me nervous just watching you. Go ahead and ask the question, get it off your chest, and if I ain’t comfortable answering, I’ll say so.”

Karkat took a deep breath. “I guess I just…feel a little confused, about some of the things you said about talking to people online.” Dave stiffened slightly, and again, Karkat watched his hand shift (mindlessly, it seemed) to cover the scar across his cheek, just like it had before. “You mentioned that you knew you were breaking a really dangerous rule, but why risk talking to your friends if you knew how much trouble you’d be in? You haven’t exactly been the reckless type in the time I’ve known you, it just feels fucking weird to me.”

Dave was very quiet for a long moment. “I guess I just…” he said, slow and thoughtful, “Kinda needed to talk to someone, y’know?”

Another long, quiet moment. Karkat almost started to talk, but Dave continued suddenly, “Maybe I’m just…too fuckin’ weak to be the fuckin’ warrior Bro wanted of me, I dunno. But John and Jade…I could just talk to them without having to worry about swords or about always being perfectly fucking composed or whatever. Just be a stupid fucking kid for a little while, you know? The only other people around were Bro, Be- uh, some of his guys, maybe whoever worked at whatever apartment building or motel we were at that time, maybe a guy working a corner store. And that was it, that’s all I had to talk to, and it was fucking exhausting, man. I guess at the time it was worth the risk just to feel…”

“Happy?” Karkat offered.

“…Human,” Dave said, softly.

Karkat blinked. “As opposed to what? How do you not feel human?”

Dave shrugged. “I dunno, man, I spend a lot of time just going around on autopilot. Feeling numb, because it’s better than having to deal with…shit I’m not strong enough to handle.”

“…And you’re still doing that?”

“Not today, so much,” Dave said. “Today was nice. Roxy’s easy to hang with, like, I can fuckin’ worry a little less and relax a tiny fuckin’ bit, same as with you.” Dave snorted. “Wow, fuck, that sounded a lot gayer out loud than it did in my head, what the fuck.”

Karkat quirked an eyebrow, but decided not to comment.

Silence stretched before them again. Dave rolled over and half buried his face in his sleeping cushion.

“He caught me, talkin’ to Jade at three in the morning,” he said. “Totally flipped out on me. I mean, I knew he would be mad if he ever caught me, but I wasn’t expecting…” He shifted his grip tighter on the sleeping cushion, his voice slightly muffled, but his mouth just uncovered enough that Karkat still heard every word. “Any time I broke a rule, made a mistake, whatever, the deal was always the same. Grab your sword, meet me on the roof, we settle this with blades. And it sucked, but I could deal with it, you know? Try and redeem myself by fighting back well enough to prove I’m not a total failure, ‘cept he always totally kicked my ass, but that was my fault for not being better. This time, though, he totally fuckin’ snapped. I’ve never seen him that angry, man, not before, not since. He didn’t even let me grab my sword, just dragged me off to the roof unarmed. Gave me this,” he gestured at the white line on his cheek, “and a few others, slapped the flat of the blade over my back a few times, and while I was too fuckin sore n’ dizzy to do anything about it, he broke my phone and my laptop right in front of me. Couldn’t hardly move for a week afterwards.”

“Fuck,” Karkat whispered.

“I guess…” Dave said. “I mean, I probably got no right to tell anyone how to handle parenting shit, since I’m still a fuckin’ dumbass kid, but. If there was ever a time he went too far, I think that mighta been it, y’know?”

“I think I can see why you never tried to contact anyone online afterwards, that’s for fucking sure,” Karkat said. “Holy fuck, Dave.”

“It was just the one time, though,” he said, softly. “I think he felt bad about it. He didn’t try and make me strife him or anything for a good two weeks afterward, so.”

“Yeah, and that just makes it all fucking better,” Karkat grumbled. “Dave, holy shit, I was literally raised by a goddamn animal and my lusus sure as fuck never did anything near that vicious to me, what the fuck!”

“Sorry,” Dave mumbled. “I dunno why I told you all that, sorry, fuck.”

“It’s fine,” Karkat said, “holy shit, I’m not mad at you, okay? I’m mad that your fucking guardian thought this was remotely okay, and I’m mad about a lot of other shit, too, but not at you.”

“Kay,” Dave said, his face now fully buried in the sleeping cushion. Karkat, after a moment’s hesitation, rested his hand on Dave’s shoulder. Karkat didn’t miss Dave flinch slightly at the touch, but the human didn’t pull away, nor did he raise his head.

“Fuck, I dunno why I’m choosing now of all times to have a goddamned moment,” said Dave. “You don’t deserve to put up with this shit, man, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” said Karkat. “It’s fine, Dave, really.”

“I’m,” said Dave, swallowing thickly, “I’m sorry, man, I just. I think I need to be alone a while.”

“…Alright,” said Karkat. “Just come get me if you change your mind, okay? Even if it’s the middle of the night, or whatever. Fuck knows I don’t sleep on this planet anyway, so it’s not like you have to worry about waking me up.”

Dave made an affirmative noise. Karkat left the room with a feeling of guilt crawling in the depths of his hunger sack.

—That hand on his shoulder had felt, for a moment, like the nicest goddamn thing in the entire world. He’d been lying, he hadn’t wanted Karkat to leave at all, but —

But it was too much. If he’d let the guy stay, fuck knew what would’ve happened. He’d already spilled his guts about that night talking to Jade, and the poor bastard was involved in this shit enough, he didn’t deserve any of that. Didn’t deserve to deal with some asshole human he barely knew crying all over him like the fucking loser he was.

And he was, he was a complete fucking disaster. Every time Roxy’d hugged him, he’d had to fight off the old urges he’d been suppressing for years, to be a complete clingy asshole and beg for more affection. He didn’t need it, he was strong, it was fine. Except, it wasn’t fine, because being hugged like that, without the suddenness he was getting used to from Mom, it felt warm and safe and every time he’d wanted to melt into it, and Karkat’s hand resting on his shoulder had almost pushed him over the edge.

He couldn’t let that happen, he just couldn’t.

Besides, making friends and getting attached was only gonna make shit harder for both of them when he had to leave.

Or he could stay.

Haha. Yeah, right.

Dave groaned, and tried desperately to stop thinking.

[blatherkatt]

Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 6: 3/20, Part 2

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of neglect and abuse, mentions of terrorist activities, violence, blood (very minor); Illustrated

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

Dave stretched out on the futon and flicked on the TV, letting himself relax a little for the first time in ages. There was no sign of Bro, and the window had been open, a sure sign he was out somewhere (Bro never left using the main stairs or even through the maintenance hall like Dave sometimes did — as far as the owners of this apartment complex knew, Dave was the only person living in this unit, and Bro went to great lengths to keep it that way. Always did, every time they moved to a new apartment.), which was awesome, because the guy had been watching Dave like a fuckin’ hawk with a grudge for six damn days now.  

“Karkat, you sure you don’t wanna come out?” he called. “He’s definitely gone, and I mean, I don’t know when he’s gonna be back, exactly, so you can’t be out here for long, but my bedroom and the bathroom can’t be the best scenery in the long term, man. Stretch your legs or whatever.”

“I am not testing my luck, fuck you, I’m staying right here,” Karkat called back.

“Suit yourself, man,” Dave shrugged. He flicked through a few channels. Nothing on right now but reruns, damn.

He spent about an hour watching the kind of shitty movie he’d normally be all over, happily riffing it to shreds on his own, but there was something restless in him today, he couldn’t get into it. It was starting to piss him off. He heaved a sigh as the protagonist blundered through another incredibly forced scene, and reached for the remote again, clicking through a few more channels.

It was the news that made him freeze. Normally he didn’t give too much of a shit, except, holy fuck, that was Bro, was this live?!

It was, it was absolutely live, holy shit. Bro was…was fighting some poor fucker on a rooftop, and there were police around, and that explosion meant that some of the Usuals were probably around, too, and Dave knew that building, it was like an hour away the way Bro travelled, even if he stopped fighting right the fuck now he’d need an hour to get back —

Karkat. He could — an hour was plenty of fucking time, he could grab some cash, bustle Karkat onto the nearest city bus and tell him to keep bushopping until the money was gone, come back and beat himself up and trash the place so it’d look like a jailbreak, this was the best fucking chance he’d have, holy shit —

Dave snapped out of his reverie with a jolt. Right, he needed to act right the fuck now, this was not the time to be zoning out about getting shit done, this was the time to actually get shit done. With probably the second or third least dignified scuffle of his life, Dave bolted back for his room and shoved the door open (it was unlocked, since Bro wasn’t here). Karkat nearly jumped out of his skin, but Dave didn’t have time to laugh or apologize or what the fuck ever, this was now or goddamn never —

“Dave, what the fuck?!” Karkat started, but Dave shook his head.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Like, right now, we gotta go right the fuck now.”

“Are — are you serious? Now?!”

“Dude, Bro’s like an hour away, this might be the only shot we have, c’mon!” Dave grabbed a jacket out of his closet (force of habit; he didn’t have any long sleeved shirts right now, and didn’t like attracting attention to the scars on his arms from bad strifes, so it didn’t matter if it was hot out, he was wearing a jacket) and picked up his sword (also a force of habit), tugging Karkat after him as he hurried out of the room.

“What — holy shit, Dave, okay, I get it, we gotta hurry, but do you even have a plan?!”

“Yeah, it’s called get you on a fuckin’ bus right this damn second. I’ll make it look like you fought your way out and stole a buncha cash, you just gotta keep bus hopping ’til you’re as far outta Houston as you can get, alright? You know how to ride a bus, right? Shit,” Dave said, grabbing a bunch of bills out of the stash Bro always kept in the kitchen, in that one cabinet you had to open super carefully to avoid getting buried in knives (Dave was a pro at raiding it by now, albeit usually for enough money to buy a sandwich, not a bus trip to the other side of the planet).

“I mean, I’ve ridden one before, yeah, it didn’t seem that complicated —”

“But do you know how to read the bus schedules and pay for your fare and shit, dude? Ugh, nevermind, I gotta show you where the nearest bus stop is, anyway, I’ll show you when we get there.” He shoved the wad of bills into his jeans pocket and grabbed Karkat around the wrist. “C’mon, we’re taking the elevator this time, no time for the damn stairs.”

Karkat followed after him, sporadically bursting out with hushed complaints. Dave barely noticed most of them. His own internal monologue was going so fast that he had no doubt his mouth wouldn’t have been able to keep up if he tried, but was still making some sort of effort. He was probably muttering all kinds of nonsense right now, but who cared, who cared? The elevator dinged down way too damn slow, and as soon as it touched the bottom floor, Dave grabbed Karkat again and steered him towards another back entrance of the apartment complex, this one leading into a slightly different backstreet than the one Karkat had been smuggled in by. Dave always got pretty familiar with back alleys whenever Bro moved them to a new place; it was a good idea to know some other ways of getting around, just in case. These ones weren’t totally familiar to him, but the bus stop was near enough, he was sure…

Karkat stopped short as soon as they were out the door, throwing Dave off his stride. “Wait,” said Karkat, tugging Dave back to look at him.

“Dude, the fuck? We gotta hurry, man, what do you —”

“You should — you should come with me,” he said, and the fuckin’ sincerity in his bigass eyes was the only thing that kept Dave from laughing. “I know, you’ve got some idea that you can’t leave,” he continued, before Dave could recover enough to respond, “but, come the fuck on, let’s be real, you’re just as much of a fucking prisoner here as I am, and I don’t know jack shit about Earth transportation. We’ll stand a way better chance if we leave together!”

“I…” Part of Dave wanted to, recognized that he was at least right about the troll having a better chance with a guide who knew how buses worked, but that part got shut down immediately by the thought of Ben, staring down at him with sad eyes — “I can’t,” Dave said. “I told you, I can’t abandon him, he’s…he’s family, dude, I’m all he has.”

Karkat growled, an odd, clicky sound not entirely like any growl Dave had ever heard but unmistakeable nonetheless, and rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Dave! I don’t know why the fuck you think he needs you, all he has or not, but I’m pretty fucking sure he’ll be just fine. You won’t be, though, and I sure as fuck won’t be!”

“‘I won’t?’ The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come the fuck on,” Karkat said, “you’re the one who told me when we first fucking met that you weren’t sure he wouldn’t kill you —”

“I was joking, dude,” Dave hissed. “He wouldn’t, I’m family, I’m his goddamned son and I can take anything he can dish out just fuckin’ fine!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a big tough grub and all that hoofbeastshit. God, would you fucking look at yourself?! You’re half starved, beat up to hell and back, and he scares the shit out of you! This — whatever the fuck family means to you, this can’t be worth it!”

“The fuck do you know? You’re a god damn alien!”

“Yeah, and this fucking alien can see that this isn’t right, why the fuck can’t you?! Just shut up and come with me, you insufferable, pan-baked shitheaded —”

—A sound, high above, halfway through Karkat’s ranting. Dave couldn’t identify it, at this distance, not through Karkat’s voice. “Karkat, wait—”

“No, I’m not done! We’re both completely fucked in this situation, and you’re quite frankly fucking obnoxious, but sticking together is the best chance we mmfmpph mmpfpgh!!” Dave slapped a hand over Karkat’s mouth, hissing through his teeth.

“I heard something, shut the fuck up, I think something might have noticed us—”

That was a sound Dave knew all too well. Shattering glass, followed by a shadow passing overhead. Shit. Shit, shit, shit shit shitshitshitshit—

Dave shoved Karkat down the shadowed street. “Someone’s following us. Something, I don’t know, we gotta go, now, run!” he hissed. Karkat’s eyes somehow got even wider, and he nodded, tearing off after Dave as best he could. Dave didn’t run as fast as he could, even though he wanted to, fuck, but he couldn’t lose Karkat in the maze back here.

Stopping short and whirling around, he yanked the wad of cash out of his pocket and shoved it into Karkat’s hands, who’d stopped, wheezing, just after Dave did.

“You’re gonna wanna go straight, then left, then straight again, jump the little fence, and then just go towards the light and you’ll be right out by the bus stop,” Dave said, his words running into each other with how fast he was talking. “Take the first bus that shows up, the guy’ll probably tell you how to pay, you’ll have to get someone to show you how to read the schedules, just —”

“I’m not leaving without you,” Karkat hissed. Dave could hear how scared the poor guy was, fucking Christ.

“Look, if this is one of Bro’s guys, I got a way better chance of not dying than you do, none of them would kill me and risk pissing Bro off. I can hold ‘em off, but you gotta run. I’ll be fine, promise, alright?”

“No, fuck no!”

Dave groaned. “Holy shit, you stubborn jackass, you’re going to die if you don’t leave!”

“Come with me, then! Make sure I don’t! Like you said, I’m a fucking alien, how am I gonna survive on my own, huh? But if you come with me, we’ll both be free, and —”

A trash can tumbled over, making both boys jump. Dave slid into a fighting stance and drew his sword, shoving Karkat with his elbow as he did. “Fine, Jesus, I’ll catch up with you if I’m able!Run, Karkat, just run!” It was a lie. It was a bitter lie he had no intention of keeping, but that’d be alright, as long as Karkat got out of here.

The troll swallowed hard, nodded, and ran.

Dave didn’t watch him go. He turned his eyes back the way they’d come from, glaring into the shadows.

“Alright, whoever the fuck you are, let’s cut the shit and have ourselves a nice little chat, huh? No more of this bullshit sneaking around.”

He was answered by a pair of glowing red eyes, a distressing animal noise he didn’t recognize at all, and the growing sound of two pairs of running feet somewhere more distant, coming this way.

Well, shit, today just kept getting better, didn’t it?

He didn’t initially get a good look at what it was that jumped at him. It was a flash of white, something about the size of a German Shepherd, but whatever it was had claws and managed to slash small cuts across his eyebrow and the bridge of his nose. He shoved it away with the flat of his sword, and took a swipe at it, only for it to quickly roll away and hiss at him.

That. That was a dragon.

That was an actual fucking dragon, what the fuck.

Hissing and spitting, the dragon circled warily, its tail creeping up to its side, and oh shit, oh shit that thing was wearing a police uniform, were the police hiring dragons now what the fuck??

Red and blue lights strobed and flashed, casting harsh shadows on the narrow, shadow walls of the back street. Shit. Did this count as getting seen by the police, Dave wondered. He could hear Bro’s voice now, he was going to be fuckin’ crucified for this, oh God —

The approaching footsteps caught up, finally. Good news: two trolls, definitely not Bro’s goons. Bad news: They were definitely with the police. Probably that weird hybrid police officer-slash-Alternia whatchamacallit Dave had heard about. One of them fired off some rapid Alternian to the dragon, which turned its head and then, abruptly, lunged at Dave — no, lunged over Dave, managing a short glide despite the narrowness of the alley. The other troll, the one that hadn’t spoken, moved to follow it. Dave did his best to block their way, but his blade failed to connect, blocked instead by another.  The second troll got by just fine and followed after the dragon.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” said the troll who’d spoken.  She had a cane and dark red glasses — shit, was she blind?  Except her cane was apparently a sword cane — two sword canes, in fact, wow, that was just fuckin’ excessive. “We have some questions for you, citizen,” the troll said, grinning with a mouth full of fuckin’ knives, hot damn. “You’re under arrest, I’m afraid,” she finished.

Dave shoved her away as best he could, flashstepping back a couple feet. “Like hell I am,” he said. He moved to chase after the dragon and the other officer — shit, maybe it’d be better to just let them catch Karkat, the guy hadn’t done anything wrong, but Dave still needed to run —

He quickly found himself making introductions with the ground. The troll had tossed one of her blades so that it spun like a propeller, knocking into Dave’s ankles and sending him off balance. He was almost instantly back on his feet, though; plenty of practice getting knocked around had taught him how to get back up quickly. The troll used the time to get around him, though, blocking off his escape.

He could head back toward the building, he guessed, except, no, that’d be leading the fucking police right to the apartment, shit. He had to fight her, then. He had no idea how the fuck he was getting out of this, but, whatever, they had three swords between them and an obvious conflict of interests, so, alright, fine, let’s go, let’s fucking go, it’s on like Donkey Kong with a —

No time for that. Blades clashed in the alley, hard; sparks flew off to the side and Dave felt the force of the blow rattling up his left forearm in that painful tinge that warned that his old wrist injury was not going to make this easy. He brushed it off, tried to meet her blows — fuck, this was no fair, she was dual wielding, but that was alright, he was used to fighting people with way more experience and all kinds of unfair advantages, he could figure it out on the fly. No big deal.

(Of course, that other person was always Bro, and Dave had never once beaten him, but. Whatever. He’d be okay, he’d figure it out —)

Clash, again. There was blood in his eye, fuck, that scratch from the little dragon was affecting his vision, and the alley was dark and all he’d eaten today was half a bag of Doritos, fuck —

Clash, clash, clash, a feint here, a swipe there, his hands were getting sweaty and the time was ticking away, there wasn’t enough room to maneuver well in this fucking backstreet, everything was awful, Christ, he had to get out of here before —

Before he lost his balance again, yeah, exactly like that. Crashed to the ground, winded from again bony-ass elbow right to the goddamn diaphragm, aware vaguely of his shades clattering off to the side and his sword crashing out of his grip.

He didn’t get a chance to get up again this time. The troll pressed her boot against his chest, tipped one of the blades against his throat, and grinned.

“You’re under fucking arrest.”  

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Fine, Jesus! I’ll catch up with you if I’m able! Run, Karkat, just run!”  

Karkat felt some of his breath forced out at Dave’s elbow digging into his ribs, and he stumbled. He looked back, a retort on his tongue, but…

His pump biscuit felt like it was hammering at his throat in some desperate attempt to leave his body.

There was nothing he could do, Karkat realized; he was nowhere near as fast as these crazy flickery humans, he didn’t even have a weapon.

Feeling like an even bigger coward than he had the day he’d agreed to leave Alternia, Karkat swallowed hard, nodded solemnly to Dave, and ran. He didn’t believe Dave for a fucking second, but maybe…

He’d…he’d find a way to help, he thought as he ran. He could…Terezi! He could get Terezi, she was some sort of weird hybrid legislacerator, right? If anyone could rescue Dave, she could! He’d get away like Dave said, then find a computer or a phone and get Terezi, tell her everything he knew, where he’d been, and she could get Dave away from Strider.

(It was a desperate hope, but thanks to how much of his energy was being syphoned into breathing and keeping his legs moving as fast as he fucking could, he didn’t register how completely insane a chance the entire thought was. Besides, the thought that maybe he could find a way  to get Dave out alive was the only thing keeping guilt from completely tearing him apart.)

It wasn’t until he was confronted with a great stone wall that Karkat realized he’d taken a wrong turn.

Shit. Shit, he couldn’t risk backtracking, shit — someone was coming, oh God, he had to hide, there was a big metal trash receptacle that he could duck behind and pray whoever was after him didn’t spot him, he dove for cover and wrapped his arms over his head, as the clicking sound of his pursuer grew ever louder —

He screeched as a heavy weight landed on him, knocking him over backwards. He started to fight, tried to push it off — and as soon as his arms were away from his face, something long, damp, and slightly sticky dragged across his cheek.

“Augh, what the fuck —” he blinked, completely disbelieving. No…No way. “Pyralspite?! There is no fucking way - how the fuck!?”  The little dragon trilled, her entire body wiggling, and licked Karkat’s face again. She had on some sort of little black outfit, and these strobing red and blue lights flashed, lighting up the dead end Karkat had bumbled into, but there was no doubt, this was definitely Pyralspite.

“Holy shit,” Karkat breathed. All the tension suddenly left him at once, and he flopped flat against the ground. “Holy fucking shit,” he said. Another deep breath, and he switched to Alternian, saying, “Pyralspite, I have no idea how the fuck you’re here, but I have never been so happy to get licked in the face in my entire life. Oh, my God…Is Terezi nearby? Can you — wait, who’s coming? Shit, get off me, get off, God dammit you dumbass dragon get the fuck off me.”

A new pair of footsteps was echoing closer off the walls. Pyralspite trilled again, but did finally hop off of Karkat (only after licking his face one last time, gross).  Around the corner came…a troll, thank fuck, it was a troll; an oliveblood in some sort of costume that looked enough like Terezi’s uniform for Karkat to assume that they knew her.

“Hey,” they said, “you the friend Pyrope came looking for?”

“Uh, probably?” Karkat answered. “I mean…that’d make sense, actually, yeah. Yeah, I am, holy fuck can you please get me out of here.”

The oliveblood chuckled gently. “That’s what we’re here for, kid,” they said. “C’mon, we got an extra squad car on the way, we’ll get you somewhere safe.”

Exhaustion hit him like a red-hot right hook to the bone bulge, and for several exhausted, stumbling minutes, he silently allowed the troll to guide him. Karkat never thought he’d be glad to see sunlight, but fuck, getting out of the shadows of those buildings was a relief.

Less of a relief was the sound that greeted his ears from a little ways up the street. Two police cars were parked next to each other, and he could see Terezi, twirling a folded pair of sunglasses, along with two human officers, who were struggling with a very vocal, very familiar human teen.

“Fuckin’ — I know my damn rights, fuck you, fuck all of you, I’m not going and you can’t make me!”

“You have the right —”

“I wasn’t doin’ anythin’ wrong, y’all got nothin’ on me, this is horseshit, y’hear? I will bust the fuck out of this bullshit, goddamn army couldn’t hold me —”

“You have the —”

“At least give me my fuckin’ shades back, holy shit, let me have some damn dignity.”

“Nope!” cackled Terezi, as one of the human cops finally managed to shove Dave into the car.

“You have the right to remain silent,” wheezed the human cop, slamming the door shut. Karkat could see Dave sticking his tongue out at the officer through the window. Karkat swore under his breath and ran toward them, ignoring the shout of surprise from the oliveblood.

“Terezi, wait!” Karkat shouted. More running was the last thing his legs wanted to do right now, but fuck it, he wasn’t about to — yeah, he’d hoped to get Terezi involved, but he’d wanted Dave rescued, not fucking arrested!

Too late, Terezi turned toward Karkat. The car with Dave inside was already pulling out and driving off. Karkat caught a glimpse of Dave’s face as it sped away.

Without the shades, reading him was like a damn book, and the fear in Dave’s eyes made something in Karkat break.

“Geez, Karkat,” Terezi was saying. “It’s just like you to get kidnapped at the worst possible time. The good ole’ Vantas curse strikes again, huh?” She was grinning, teasing; Karkat was sure she probably did mean some of it on some level, but the tone of her voice made it clear that relief for Karkat’s safety overrode any irritation she might actually feel.

Karkat didn’t have time to care, even if he was really, really fucking glad to see her. “Terezi, you can’t — you can’t let them prosecute him, he’s not a bad guy!”

Terezi raised an eyebrow. “He wasn’t exactly acting innocent,” she said. “You okay there, Karkat? Because he tried to stop me from rescuing you. With a sword.”

“Well, yeah, of course he did,” Karkat said. “He’s been like, fucking conditioned to not trust the police or something, probably, I wouldn’t put that past that Strider bastard. Speaking of whom, that’s who you should be blaming for this!  He didn’t want to fucking grubnap me, but Strider fucking forced him to either do that or kill me, and the fact that I’m alive should clue you in to which he chose! He fucking — he was trying to help me escape, he thought we were getting chased by some of Strider’s goons!”

“Holy shit,” said the oliveblood. “You seriously got taken by one of Strider’s men and survived?”

“I don’t know that I’d call him one of Strider’s men,” said Karkat. “More like actually taken hostage by Strider him fucking self, and it’s only thanks to Dave that I’m goddamn alive, which is why you shouldn’t be arresting him! He’s not dangerous, he’s just a scared fucking kid!”

“Wait,” Terezi said, her smile dropping. “Da-did you say his name was Dave?”

“Yeah?” Karkat said. “I don’t get how that’s important right now, but —”

“His name is Dave,” said Terezi.

“Yes, I’ve said that like three times now, Terezi, fuck.”

“And he lives with Strider.”

The oliveblood made a sound that gave Karkat the impression of choking on air.

“Yeah…?” Karkat was really getting confused, but apparently this meant something to Terezi.

“Holy shit,” Terezi muttered after a long moment. “Holy…holy shit, that was him, holy —” She didn’t wait around to explain anything to Karkat. Instead, she turned on her heel and practically ripped open the passenger side door on the remaining police car, snatching fiercely at a small radio on the dashboard. “This is Pyrope, calling in —”

“There you are, fuck! It was a damn catastrophe over here, everything went sour, the guy was onto us from the —”

“Yeah, I know, I heard you all bitching about it earlier. That’s not the issue at hand, though! Dirk, where is Dirk?”

“Uh, he sustained some minor injuries, and we’re letting him rest since he seems pretty shaken up, so…”

“I need him back at the precinct. Tell him to get back to the precinct,” she hissed.

“What, now?”

“No, sometime in the next month, we can arrange a fucking tea party. Yes, now!!”

“Uh…we’ll tell him, sure.”

The other end went silent. Terezi sat back and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Dave fucking Strider, Jesus Christ,” she muttered.

“Is there something I’m missing here?” Karkat said.

“It’s —” Terezi was interrupted by static on the police radio.

“Look, Pyrope, the kid’s had a long day. I can see him from here, he looks fuckin’ exhausted, and I really don’t think he’s up for this right now. Let’s let him rest a bit longer, huh?”

“God dammit, Powers,” Terezi barked, practically screaming, “You tell him to get his mopey fuckin’ ass back to the station now, damn you! This can’t wait! I don’t care how bad he got his feelings hurt, you get him back there!” Terezi dropped the radio and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Jesus Christ,” she said, “I get Dave fucking Strider in our custody after three damn years and his fuckin’ brother’s off brooding on me! Fuckin’ typical.”