#the other case was my oldest brother bullying me for hours and then when i openly started crying i was told that i'm just faking etc etc etc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ijustwant2write · 4 years

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Sweet Boy-Bonnie Gold x Reader x Finn Shelby (Part 6/?)

(GIF credit to @roseydoux)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Masterlist

Tags: @stressedandbandobessed7771 @bethany-taylo @lovelynerdytraveler @savvy7392 @kingarthurscat @smallheathgangsters @soleil-dor @alyse45 @bloodorangemoonlight @amirahiddleston @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @haphazardhufflepuff @ravenoussss @ophelias-flower-bed @peakascum @mzcrazy2

Summary: After her meeting with Tommy, (Y/N) is conflicted on what to do. She knows what choice she wants to make, but is it the right one? Is it the right choice that will make all these problems go away, and keep the people she cares about safe?

Characters: Bonnie Gold x Reader, Finn Shelby x Reader, Polly Shelby x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, neglect, bullying, shouting, arguing, some fluff

(A/N: Joan is a made up character)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Here ya’ go!” Arthur beamed as he dropped off two suitcases filled with my things, throwing them onto my bed.

“Thank you, Arthur.” I politely replied, knowing that nothing in there was folded or organised. There were bits of clothes hanging out of it, they would surely be creased by now.“I’m sorry you had to pack for me.”

“No problem, it took no time at all.”

Further proving my point.

He clapped his hands together.“Right, well, I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Arthur?” I called after him before he could walk away.

“Yeah?”

“Um...has...has Finn said anything? About what happened?”

He shook his head, smiling at me before he left the room.“Nah. Got to go darlin’.”

Arthur really couldn’t read people. He was smiling to himself as he left, thinking he did a good job. And although I loved him dearly, I hated the thought of ironing all of my clothes again. Opening the cases, I groaned into my hands at the sight of all my belongings piled on top of each other, pairs of shoes in different cases, jewellery scattered all over the place. It was going to take me days to sort all of this out.

“Shall I give you and suitcase a minute?” Polly said from the doorway, cigarette in hand.

I sighed.“I’m thankful for this, I really am. I just wished Arthur was house trained.”

“Linda tried her best.”

“And thank you Pol, for letting me stay.”

“It will be like old times.”

Yeah, we were just missing one person.

I sorted my belongings into piles, beginning to hang up clothes that didn’t need ironing (which turned out to be two jumpers and a cardigan), untangling jewellery and pairing up my shoes. After half an hour, with little to no progress, I decided I needed to go for a walk to clear my mind. I would stick to the surrounding area where everyone knew me, and where I knew peaky boys were patrolling, informing Polly of this so she wouldn’t worry. She was hesitant to let me go, but knew I would be safe if I stuck to my word.

I felt strange that day. Not because of everything that had happened. It just felt like I had stepped back in time. Being back with Polly brought on many memories, mostly happy, though some upsetting. But Finn wasn’t here this time. I just prayed that the double bed wouldn’t feel lonely, especially after having Bonnie in mine the other night. God, I sounded like a whore.

Rounding a corner, I bumped into someone, my instincts making me jump back in case someone was trying to kidnap me. The panic quickly slipped away when I realised who it was.

“Joan?” I smiled, glad to have ran into an old friend.

However, she frowned at me, brushing down her coat as if I was dirty.“(Y/N).”

“I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?”

“You would know if you ever wrote to me. Or even pop by. Or even join me and the girls for a drink.” Her tone was snappy.

“Joan, you know I’m not with him anymore.”

She didn’t look sympathetic.“I thought as much. You’ve been dragging yourself around, looking miserable.”

“So if you’ve seen me, why didn’t you come up to me?”

Joan scoffed.“Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! You ignored us as soon as you started going off with Finn Shelby!”

“I did that to protect you-”

“Oh, this again.”

“Have you seen what they do? Have you seen the type of people they’re up against? I couldn’t bear it if something happened to any of you because of me.”

“But you’re still with them, aren’t you? Their little bitch on a lead.”

My mouth dropped open at that, ready to swing for her.“How dare you?! I stay because I have a stable job!”

“You stay because you enjoy their power and the reputation and attention it gives you.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“No, I don’t. Because my best friend deserted me. I don’t want to speak to you ever again. Goodbye (Y/N).”

Joan side stepped me, quickly walking away. I wouldn’t have stopped her anyway. I was in shock. She was right, I had left them behind but none of them were ever mixed up in peaky business. However, I didn’t think her comment was fair. It hit me like a tonne of bricks; I had lost my life because of that boy.

I took a deep breath, trying not to burst into tears as I entered the sweet shop. I did’t care how weird I looked as I scooped up as many sweets as I could into the little paper bag, quickly paying the man and rushing out. Perhaps I could go down to the canal, sit and eat my feelings. But I couldn’t be sure how safe it was. As I tried to think of a place to sit, I heard someone yell out to me, making me flinch for the second time that day. Looking down at the sweet I just dropped was almost the tipping point for me.

“Oi!” It was Tommy, he had shouted again as he approached me, Arthur, John and Finn behind him.“What you doing out here?”

“A walk.” I mumbled, popping another sweet in my mouth.

“You’re not supposed to be out here.”

“You didn’t say I had to stay inside.” I wasn’t talking back, I was just stating a fact.

“It should have been obvious. If you want sweets, get someone else to buy them for you.”

“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t stop the tears brimming in my eyes, embarrassingly one rolled down my cheek.

He sighed, mumbling under his breath.“Fucking hell.”

“Why don’t I take her home Tom?” Finn suddenly suggested.“I’m sure you don’t need me for this.”

Tommy glanced between us, but it was obvious he couldn’t give a toss about this. He had far more serious things on his mind. Tommy just nodded, gesturing for his other brothers to follow. I stayed still, unsure why Finn had offered in the first place.

“You coming?” he asked, but his voice was gentle.

All I could do was follow, keeping a little bit of distance between us. He reminded me of how he used to be, when he was still slightly shy, trying to be like his brothers, but a true sweetheart nonetheless. I wasn’t going to fall for it. Neither of us spoke as he escorted me back to Polly’s, until I pulled him back, spotting Joan with some of my oldest friends. This was the only way to get to Polly’s if we didn’t want to walk for another forty minutes; but in this case, I wouldn’t have minded the extra steps.

“What are you doing?” Finn stumbled back.

“My friends are there.” I whispered as if they would be able to hear us.

“So? Go and see them.”

“No, they’re...they’re old friends. Well, I don’t think I can call them friends anymore.”

“What? Why?”

“Because of you.”

“Me?”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him.“You told me to stay away from them to make sure they didn’t get caught up in anything.”

“Oh, I did, didn’t I? Explains why I don’t recognise them.”

“We need to go the other way around.”

“No we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

“You live across the road, just go.”

“No, I don’t live there, and they know that! And if they see me with you, they’ll think all kinds of things.”

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter, they just said some things earlier-”

“What did they say?”

“Nothing, let’s just go Finn.”

“No, tell me.”

I hesitated, hoping he wouldn’t do anything.“They just...they called me a Peaky Blinders bitch. Said that you’ve got me chained up on a leash. Don’t worry about it and go the other way home.”

I turned around, ready to head to Polly’s in the other direction. I didn’t care that Finn wasn’t speaking to me, but I still looked over my shoulder, wondering if he was following; which he was not.

Finn’s P.O.V

I knew there was something wrong with (Y/N) as soon as I saw her that morning. She may never smile because of me again, but there was a reason for that sad expression. She had also been wandering, (Y/N) knew not to go out of the safe area (which she wasn’t), though it was clear that her mind had no idea where to take her. I had to take her under my wing.

However, when I made her tell me what was on her mind, guilt and anger rushed through me. I had told her to ditch her friends, both because they would be safer, and that selfishly meant I had her to myself. However, knowing that she now had no one outside of my family to rely on or spend time with, I realised how toxic I had been towards her. I assumed she would go back to her friends, cry about how I broke her heart, have a night out with the girls getting drunk trying to find someone to ease the pain. But she had been alone.

My feet started walking before I could even think, heading straight for the group of girls. (Y/N) tried to stop me, but didn't risk being seen. They should have forgiven (Y/N), given her a second chance at least. Instead they cast her aside, no longer interested. I knew (Y/N) had upset them when she no longer saw them, so she was in the wrong, but that was my fault too. One girl who was facing me had a scared look on her face when she spotted me, causing the other girls to look over their shoulders, all of them tensing up when I stopped.

"I heard you lot don't see (Y/N) anymore." I bluntly said.

The girl who seemed to be the leader pursed her lips."She stopped seeing us. Did she put you up to this?"

“No, she didn't. But I know things."

“You're not scaring us."

"Am I not?" I couldn't help but chuckle, especially seeing as the girls were practically hiding behind this one."Look, I think you need to give her another chance. I was the one who took her away from you."

"(Y/N) is smart. We all said we would never let a boy get between us, yet she broke that promise. She could have sneaked out to see us at least. Or said hello in passing."

"Well even if you don't take her back, watch your fucking mouths. You don't speak about her like that."

"Oh god, she's still got you wrapped around her finger. How did she do that? Is she your little visitor during lunch breaks? Is that why she's still got her job?"

My nostrils flared as my breathing got heavier."You're lucky that she's stood behind that building right now, and that I don't pick fights with women. She has her job because she earned her place, including her place in my family. And that's how she kept it. You said it yourself, she's smart. If I get word that you say something as stupid as you just did, you might want to stay inside and lock your doors. No one disrespects a Shelby."

The leader didn't seem phased when I walked away, though I knew she had been effected by what I said. Heading towards my aunts house, I took the keys out of my coat, looking back to (Y/N) and gesturing for her to follow. I stayed outside of the open door, waiting for her to reach me. Her head ducked down, trying to hide herself from her old friends, walking as quickly as she could. Once (Y/N) was inside, I lingered by the door, sending one last glare to the group.

(Y/N)'s P.O.V

My heart was in my throat, I felt mortified. I tried to steady my breathing as I walked into the house, rushing to the kitchen to get a glass of water. My nerves weren't easing up, and I found my hands were shaking as I held the glass. Quickly chugging down the water, I accidentally slammed it back down, before brushing past Finn to the front room and flopping onto a chair. It felt as if I had gone running around the whole of town.

“Why did you do that?” I sighed, putting my head in my hands.

“I was defending you. I don’t understand what’s wrong?” Finn protested, but he didn’t seem angry, just confused.

“I left them for you, it’s one of the worst things someone can do to their friends. They warned me time and time again not to go off with you, but I did. Then it turned out they were right. I couldn’t exactly go back to them after, even though I tried. I was alone. And them seeing us together today...well, I can only imagine the rumours they’ll spread.”

“Who cares?”

“I do! Everyone know who I am and what I did! They’re right, I’m just a Peaky Blinders bitch.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Finn snapped, sitting beside me.“They’re terrible friends for not helping you.”

“No, they’re not. You know that.”

“Well, you’re certainly no ones bitch. You don’t answer to anybody.”

“Yeah, sometimes. I hate to say this, but thank you Finn. That was quite nice of you actually.”

Finn went to speak again, being interrupted by a knock at the door. He offered to answer, tapping me on the knee like he used to always do. We both tensed, trying not to make a big thing out of it. He quickly left, closing the living door on his way. I sat there stunned. He hadn’t touched me like that since before we broke up, when he was still affectionate. I heard some commotion from the front door, worrying that it was one of the girls. Curiosity took over, making me peek my head out as the front door closed. Finn had just walked past when I opened the door, but I saw a flash of colour in his hands.

“Who was that?” I asked.

Finn spun around to face me, looking suspicious.“No one. Just some kids.”

The bin was behind him, and I had a feeling he was hiding something.“Don’t lie to me. I know what you look like when you lie.”

“It’s nothing.”

I walked up to him, pushing him to the side as I looked in the bin. There was a small bouquet shoved in there, the poor, fragile petals either crooked or ripped off. My jaw dropped at the sight before I slammed the lid back down.

“Who are they from?”

He didn’t reply.

“Tell me.”

“Bonnie.”

“Bonnie?”

“He’s not supposed to be round here. He-where are you going?”

“To catch up with him. He can’t have got far.”

Finn called after me, though I didn't listen, making a point of leaving. However, when I stepped outside, I saw that the girls were still stood there, looking like they were heavily gossiping until I showed up. They caused me to halt, we all avoided eye contact, and I distracted myself by looking for Bonnie. I saw his figure up the road, head hanging low and hands in his pockets. For a second, I didn't care what those girls thought, running to catch up with him. I called out his name once I was closer, he turned around after I shouted a second time.

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" he sounded worried, and I realised I must have looked like I was in trouble.

"Nothing, nothing." I breathed out."Sorry, I just didn't want you to get away."

"Oh. Finn said you weren't in."

I sighed."Of course he would. I did see your flowers, or what was left of them rather. They were beautiful, thank you."

"Just thought I could start earning your trust back. I know it's not a lot, but I figured it was a nice gesture."

"Bonnie, you don't have to-"

"(Y/N), you should get back inside." Finn said from behind me. I hadn't even heard him approaching.

"Finn, I'm talking to Bonnie."

"Come on, you heard what Tommy said."

"He didn't restrict me to the house-"

"Finn, let her do as she pleases." Bonnie said.

"Don't get involved."

I gently pushed them away from me and each other, knowing where this was headed."I just came out here to thank you Bonnie. We really shouldn't be altogether anyway."

"You're right (Y/N)." Bonnie smiled.

Finn rolled his eyes as Bonnie agreed. I knew Bonnie was trying to please me, and piss off Finn at the same time.

"Well then, thank you again for the flowers Bonnie. Finn..."

I had no clue what to say to him, deciding that nothing was best. Walking back to Polly's house, I refrained from looking behind. As I got to the door, I noticed the girls had inched closer, becoming silent when I was in range of hearing them. This was such childish behaviour. We were adults, we could move past this. If they didn't want to be friends, then fine, there was nothing I could do about that. I would hold my head up high, move on and-

"Never thought I would see the day that sweet (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had two men on her arms."

That made me stop instantly, with only one foot in the house, hand now clenching onto the door frame. She had some nerve today.

"What did you say?" I slowly asked.

"You heard me. You've changed. And not for the better."

"And how would you know?"

"I was debating giving you another chance, I was feeling guilty about what I said. But now I see that I was completely right."

"You know what Joan, I really don't give a fuck." I said, throwing my arms up and letting them flop by my side.

She looked shocked at my words.

"We had a past together, all of us girls. But if we can't move past this well, I guess it's goodbye. It's been fun ladies."

"Wait a minute, you can't-"

"We're all adults here. If we don't want to play together anymore, then let's not do that."

Before she could say anything else, I went inside, leaving the door open for Finn, who I had seen approaching out of my peripheral. Standing in the hallway, leaning against a wall with my arms crossed, I heard Joan having the last word as Finn stood in the doorway.

"You did this. You corrupted her."

Finn smirked at me, shouting over his shoulder."Yeah, and she loved every second of it."

The girls gasped and instantly started talking again, but Finn just slammed the door behind him.

"I must admit, that was good." I shook my head smiling.

"Me corrupting you, or me back chatting them?"

I wasn't expecting that answer, my mouth gaping a little as I thought of what to say. When nothing came to mind, I made my way upstairs, trying to focus on unpacking again. I hoped Finn wouldn't follow, as I had no idea what to say, but of course, he did.

Picking up where I left off, I didn't start a conversation, waiting for Finn to say something. He walked into my room, inspecting my things even though he had seen everything I owned before. As I started to pull my jewellery apart from each other, Finn spoke.

"I'm sorry about that. What I said downstairs."

I shrugged, hiding my shock that he had apologised."It's OK."

"You always did that."

"Did what?"

"Pretending like everything I did was alright, when it wasn't. I was a shit boyfriend."

I hesitated to say anything."Not at the beginning."

He didn't respond, focusing on my hands that were struggling to untie two necklaces from each other. I also stayed silent, concentrating even more on the task as I noticed him moving towards me. He knelt down in front of me, so I had no choice but to make eye contact. He put his hands over mine, helping me to separate the necklaces, but my fingers were frozen at his touch. Why was I feeling like this? I didn't want my feelings for Finn to come back, he hurt me. Think of the pain (Y/N), think of all the times he deliberately hurt you!

I had been distracted by those memories to not see Finn's face was now closer to mine. He had a sweet look in his face, hope in his eyes, he looked like he used to when we were younger. For a second I saw the old Finn. But that was the problem, that was the old Finn. I stood up, pushing him back, and he landed on the floor.

"Why would you do that?!" the necklaces slipped out of my hands, clinking on the floor.

"(Y/N), I wasn't going to-"

"Then what were you going to do?!"

He didn't answer.

"I want you to go."

"Wait, (Y/N)-"

"Get out Finn!" He scrambled to his feet, staring at me for a few seconds before rushing away. I let out a shaky breath as I flopped onto the bed, hands slightly shaking. My mind was swirling with thoughts on what just happened, and I didn't like them. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs again, making me angry that he thought he could come back just like that. As they got closer to the door, I rose to my feet, storming towards the door.

"I told you to leave!" I shouted as I swung it open, jumping back when I saw Polly."Oh my god, I'm so sorry Pol!"

"What the fuck is going on in my house?"

My mouth opened and closed repeatedly, wondering if I could really tell her the truth. When I didn't answer her in time, she rolled her eyes, frustrated that there was still drama occurring.

"Would you fucking kids get a grip?" she scolded.

There was definitely something else stressing her, but it was a mystery if she would tell me.

"I've got to go." she huffed.

"Where are you going?"

"There's a family meeting."

I was about to move to follow her, before remembering that I wasn't part of the family anymore. Polly noticed, though didn't comment on it.

Her tone was softer now."There's men on guard, alright? Just in case."

I nodded, watching her walk away. Closing the door, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, not surprised by how much had happened that day. It seemed that this was the norm. That's what you got when you mixed with the Peaky Blinders.

Peeking through the window, I watched Polly walk off, it looked urgent. I also tried to recognise any peaky men guarding, managing seeing one on a corner. Before I could back away, someone else caught my eye, he was already looking up at me.

Bonnie smiled, his hands in his pockets as he strolled down the street, I wasn't sure if he was part of my protection or planned to hang around to see me. Embarrassingly, I hesitantly waved to him, blushing when he did the same back. However, I was confused.

Today had shown a lot of my past. It felt like I had been thrown back in time, but this time the pain followed me. Joan was right, I would always be tied to the Peaky Blinders, it was like an unbinding contract. I would never have a normal life, I would always be known as the youngest Shelby's ex, and I was scared how much it would effect my future.

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purplebass · 4 years

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The maturity of The Last Hours characters

I really don’t know how to name this, lmao. But yeah. In this post I will try to rate (?) the level of maturity of the characters from The Last Hours. I’m only analyzing the young people, if you want a post about The Infernal Devices characters or The Mortal Instruments characters (since I still have to read TDA to this day), I can also do that. But this post will focus on the “children”.

I don’t like using the word children for these characters because they are not children so to speak, but there are some characters which are more childish than the others. I tried to outline some characters to also show how they are mirroring each other. You’ll see how funny that most of the characters who share similar storylines may not like each other too much and may also not have the same maturity, but some of them are also each other’s love interests.

I apologize for the length of this essay, but I tried to cover every character.

First, a disclaimer: I don’t consider these groups I made as strict, because of course, you can’t rate a person’s maturity. This is just a way to show you the careful planning behind the characters and I’m just trying to organize them based on logic and observation.

The first “group” I’ll analyze is the one with the character I believe are the most mature, that we can also divide in “denied childhood” and “happy childhood”. In my opinion, in this group we have Alastair, Ariadne, Anna, Thomas and Jesse. They aren’t just the oldest, they are also the ones who have always acted maturely throughout CoG. What differs between the characters I cited above is their upbringing.

Rejected Children

Alastair and Ariadne always had to fight for their parents’ approval and Alastair also had to take his father’s place whenever he was “sick”. Alastair couldn’t live his childhood the way a normal child usually does. To add fuel to the fire we also have to consider the moment when Cortana rejects Alastair when Elias is also present: that’s the metaphor of Elias rejection of Alastair as his son. This also connects with the theory of Alastair not being Elias’ son and I already think Alastair has found out about this. Ariadne also has similarities with Alastair’s situation and mirrors his situation in the opposite way. Her parents were killed when she was young. She was adopted, yes, but I reckon that the Bridgestock family has also a lot of prejudices? And they also disapprove of Ariadne seeing Anna.

Alastair and Ariadne are the “rejected children” because despite they do everything in order to keep the harmony in their households (Alastair by cleaning after Elias and Ariadne by being a perfect smart lady), they always feel like they do not deserve to be loved, because their parents never make them feel truly loved or if they do, they don’t see it (because it’s evident to me that Cordelia loves Alastair very much and Sona does too, even if she doesn’t openly show it). On the other hand, they did so much as to agree to their family’s requests even if they didn’t want to, because that’s how what they believed they had to do in order to be loved.

Alastair’s first infatuation was Charles, with whom he fell in love but that he also idealized like he probably idealized his father. Alastair, who wanted to get Elias’ attention the most but also protect Cordelia and Sona from his father’s issues, fell for another man with a problematic ego like Charles. Ariadne’s first love was Anna, but Ariadne’s parents don’t approve of her. She is naturally well-liked by shadowhunters and downworlders alike because of her personality, her confidence. Ironic, but also not ironic, that Charles is the “link” between Alastair and Ariadne. Unlike Alastair who continued seeing Charles, Anna refused to keep seeing Ariadne after her engagement with Charles.

Both Alastair and Ariadne are mature people but they also have trust issues. They often see things in a negative way because that’s what they’ve been taught: no matter what you do, you are not valuable. You could know 30 languages but you’d still be useless. In Alastair’s case, I think we’ll soon see how Thomas, who is his love interest, will show him that he is worthy of love but he will also realize that is worthy of love, or he won’t be able to love 360°. In Ariadne’s, we saw at the end of CoG how she is going to show Anna that she’s going to win her back.

Anna and Thomas are the mature characters who had a happy childhood more or less. They grew up in a peaceful environment, with parents who always tried to do their best for them and who also showed them a lot of love. And their brothers and sisters as well are also very protective of both. Plus, they are cousins, which means that they are also protective with each other. But don’t think that they have it easier compared to Alastair and Ariadne, because they also had issues.

When Anna first realized that she didn’t like men and she also didn’t like to dress like a woman, and stole Christopher’s clothes, she tried to hide it. Why? Because as much as your parents seem lovely people and they also accept your wishes (like when Anna didn’t want to go to the Academy and she said she would become a mundane bullfighter if they forced her to go lmao), you never know what they would think about this. Anna, who loved her parents very much, preferred to keep her double life hidden from them. When her parents discovered she was genderqueer, they accepted her. I hope people realize how great this is, because at the beginning of the XX century many people had to lie to their family because they would never accept their daughter or their son going against the “respectability” of the time. Like I wrote on another post, you were considered devious if you were not straight. Anna didn’t want to burden her parents with the fact that she didn’t like men or wear pretty women dresses like society expected her to, but her parents were proud of her regardless. When Cecily discovers Anna’s orientation and gives her a suit as a gift, it’s the moment when Anna can truly be herself and she doesn’t care what the other people think, because that is herself. They either accept it, or they stay away from her. Anna is a very mature also because it’s hard to hear people whisper about you and spread rumors about the life you chose to live. She’s very brave.

Thomas is the last of three children, and his oldest sisters have always tried to protect him because he’s always been a sickly child. Remember that CC posted a cute Christmas story with Gideon and Thomas and Will and James where Gideon is concerned because his son didn’t seem to grow up like a normal child. This is why for years his family tried to protect him. They feared he could die, so Thomas was always under the watchful eyes of someone and he grew tired of this. He appreciated the attention but he also wanted to be alone, and after he got better and went to Spain after the Academy, he became stronger, more mature, and independent. Thomas is quite fatherly in my opinion, as that he is wise and kind, he always tries to see the positive in every situation.

Then we have Jesse. Like Thomas, Jesse was also protected by Tatiana and was a sickly child. In the Christmas story I mentioned above, we see how when Gideon sees Jesse, he reminds him of Thomas. Jesse is Charles’ age, but since he’s technically dead, he still has the body of a 17-year-old. From what we saw, it was evident that Jesse is a respectful person and that he is also selfless. He spent a lot of years in solitude and is a person with manners. Remember what Lucie says? “A ghost with a sense of property.” He also enters in the denied childhood group in my opinion, because as much as Tatiana seemed to have taken care of him and we see how she clings on his body to the point of trying to perform necromancy to bring him back, he also didn’t live a normal childhood. His mother never let him become a shadowhunter, she never let him meet his uncles, aunts and cousins. She never let him meet other shadowhunters. She probably never gave him proper education and all that Jesse knows he learnt it by reading books. Jesse is on the opposite side of the spectrum where Alastair and Ariadne are, but he’s also divided between his life (where he was very innocent and sheltered) and his death (where he matured because he could finally explore the world his mother denied him to see).

You see, aside from Jesse, it is no wonder Alastair, Thomas, Ariadne and Anna were paired together. Not only they are the mature characters, they are also mirroring each other’s journey: Alastair had a difficult childhood while Thomas was too protected. Anna had nice parents while Ariadne lost hers when she was little and her adoptive parents are probably racists and homophobes.

In the second “group”, which I called in the middle, there are characters I consider mature but also not. These characters have acted maturely in some occasions, while they were childish during other occasions. I’ll analyze the ones with happy childhoods first.

Unfiltered Childhood, Sheltered Childhood

James is often described as a responsible and shy guy. James hit the jackpot with his parents too, because we see how close he is with them and how they always support him whatever he does and try to protect him at the same time, when they can. But even James has issues, especially after he turned into a shadow in front of everyone when he was 13. This made him not only believe he is damned (“my father was cursed, whereas I am damned”). He was also bullied because he is part-demon, and he didn’t take this lightly, as we see every time, he risks to turn into a shadow he has a sort of panic attack. James is the older son and has the tendency to cover up for Lucie and all of his closest friends. Despite everything, we can say James had a happy childhood. He was wanted, he was loved, he was protected, but his parents also treated him as an adult and let him and Lucie into the rough stuff of their pasts, hence he had un unfiltered childhood. He knew about the gory details of life early on. In a short story Will gives James, who is 1-2 years old, a damn knife in his hands! If this isn’t someone who doesn’t use a filter with his kids, I don’t know what that is. I think that it was Jesse who was shocked to hear from Lucie that she knew about his grandfather turning into a worm. He didn’t think it was a story fit for kids. I believe that James is mature but he still has some things to face to really be mature, that’s why I put him in this group. But among the Merry Thieves, he is the second most mature, imo. He is the big wise brother. You could argue: and Christopher? I’ll explain later why Christopher is on another level of maturity, wait. Lol.

Cordelia is the second mature character from this group and she is opposed to James. Why? Unlike James who was exposed to reality from a young age and knew about things that a teenager probably shouldn’t know; Cordelia was filled with lies because her family wanted to protect her childhood and didn’t think she should know the harshness of life early on. We see when CoG starts how she’s still innocent and how she had a sheltered childhood. Not only because it will be the first time in years that she will be around other guys her age, but also because until Alastair tells her what he had to cover so that she would have a childhood, she was clueless. Literally. She had been treated like a little girl by Alastair and Sona, when Cordelia was probably able to handle the truth. Cordelia didn’t grow up in a bad environment – besides her father’s problems, which Cordelia was mostly left out because Sona and Alastair kept the secret – but we may discover more things in CoI. Anyway, Cordelia is mature for her age, and she stands up for herself even if it hurts, which isn’t an easy feat.

Denied Childhood

The last of this group is Matthew. Alastair gave him the nickname “Mother Hen Fairchild”. You guys don’t know much Alastair understood about Matthew by giving him this nickname. Matthew is wealthy, wealthier than the others, but this doesn’t mean he had a happy life. On the other hand, Matthew’s only lifeline was his father Henry. You can tell Matthew loves his father, tried to protect him, which is a cute thing to do, but at what expense? For one, his childhood. Matthew is a sociable person, loves to be around people, but when he grew up in Idris, the main thing he did was take care of Henry. I don’t think Henry asked him to do it, nor did Charlotte, but he took it upon himself to do so. After all, Henry is disabled, he really needs help and Matthew just wanted to show his father he appreciated him, but I don’t think he or Charlotte understood that as a natural helper, Matthew would also be drained by this activity. He also didn’t want to leave Henry alone when he left for the Academy, which is also a sign he thinks that one of the things he has to do in order to keep his family intact (especially after the rumor about Charlotte and Gideon) is to take care of Henry. He is indeed a “motherly” figure in the Merry Thieves and to his own father, to some degree. Because of this upbringing, it’s like Matthew never truly lived his childhood like a normal child. And now that he is 17 and is using alcohol as a copying mechanism, it’s like he’s already become metaphorically old, because at that time alcohol abuse was something you’d expect from a middle-aged man.

As you see, these three characters are also expected to be in a sort of triangle, even if we don’t know the extents of this relationship yet. But we’ll surely have a lot to see.

Partially Mature (Still Innocent to Some Degree)

I’m finally at the last group!!! YAY me. I hope you read so far. These are the characters I still consider innocent and that in CoI will have a bigger storyline and we’ll also see them become more mature and face more harsh reality.

Happy Childhood

The first person from this group is Lucie. Lucie is 16, just one year younger than her brother and her best friend Cordelia. Like James, Lucie has been exposed to the harshness of life from a young age, since her parents didn’t keep many secrets with her. But Lucie is still innocent to some degree, and adventurous like a child, but we see that she isn’t able to stay calm whenever things get out of hand and people (including herself) get hurt, because one thing is hearing stories, another is actually being part of those gory stories. First, she has never been in love. I know this sounds silly, but a lot of teenagers start seeing the world differently after they fall in love with someone, truly in love. I’m not talking about infatuation here. It’s also the first time after years of dead calm that London is plagued by a new enemy, which means it’s also the very first time for Lucie – unlike James and the Merry Thieves – to finally face the stories she’s heard from her parents and the fantasy stories she’s invented as a writer. Getting to know Jesse has helped, because he is a very mature character who is opposed to her because he had a very sheltered childhood and he learnt about life just when he turned into a ghost. Since Lucie is on the cover of CoI, she’ll definitely mature more in that book.

Christopher is also innocent. He is smart, he is way more intelligent than everyone imo, but he lives in his own world sometimes. He, like Lucie, had a happy childhood and was very protected by his older sister Anna and of course his parents. But he was also let on in the secrets of the Lightwood family (like the Benedict Lightworm story), so we can say to this point that he is innocent but he also is mature because he uses his logic to make decisions. Of the Merry Thieves he's surely the youngest son, because the other guys always look after him – especially Thomas. In CoI we will probably also see his maturity journey, because so far, he appeared very absent-minded, lost in his thoughts, always trying to come up with solutions to save other people, which is admirable. I think that besides as a plot device, the fact that Belial/Tatiana hurt him with demonic poison was also a way to make Christopher aware that he should also be ready to fight as a shadowhunter other than cultivate his passion for science. I mean, he’ll probably have moments where he could use (like Henry in TID) what he invents as a useful tool in battle.

Denied Childhood

Last but not last, we have Grace. Grace is in this part of the spectrum because she is still very innocent, since she’s lived most of her life brainwashed by Tatiana/Belial. The person we see is not probably the real Grace, but a mannequin. She is also smart because her engagement to Charles was a way to escape her mother’s manipulation, but until she came to London, her whole life has been sheltered, Tatiana has told her lies, has molded her the way she wanted Grace to act as a mean to her revenge. Grace has suffered the same gaslighting Tatiana suffered from Benedict Lightwood, except Grace is aware of this and is trying to find ways to escape. Spending time with Ariadne and Lucie will only make her more conscious of who she really is, but it will be a long way because she still seems like a frail flower sometimes. She also seems not to have received training, so she’s even more in danger. CoI will probably feature a new side of Grace, and we’ll see her throw her innocence away (well, not literally, guys) and be more self-aware.

If we were to follow the logic I used so far, we’d see that Christopher and Grace might become love interests. If we look at the structure of the plot and of the couples we have so far, they are opposites but also similar. I know that many people don’t like Grace, but I believe that if she gets an arc where we see how she can give as a character, she may grow on us. Anyway, mine is just an assumption, I can be wrong. As for Lucie and Jesse, it’s only fitting the that the partially mature character and the character who wasn’t mature when he was alive and who became mature when he died, are going to be each other’s love interests. They are half-away. It’s only fitting because Lucie can also “call” ghosts who are still stuck in the living world (in the middle between life and death): understand what I mean?

Ok, I think I can close this essay by saying thank you for reading so far! But also, if you have ideas or comments etc, you can write in my ask box. As you see, I like to discuss about characters and plots, so I’m happy if you shot me a message, even in anon.

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #anna lightwood #ariadne bridgestock #jesse blackthorn #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #matthew fairchild #lucie herondale #christopher lightwood #grace blackthorn #tlh #the last hours #chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #my edits

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crstapor · 4 years

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Terror White

“You’re either with us or against us.” - George W. Bush 

On January 6th, 2021, domestic terrorists invaded the Capital Building in an act of political insurrection. Their intent was to overthrow the will of the people by preventing certification of a free and fair democratic election. They did so at the behest of their political leader (who was impeached a second time for inciting this gross transgression of his oath of office), other voices in their party - the so-called GOP - and talking head agitators inhabiting the far-right media echo chamber. Nearly to a man, a woman, a they, each of these terrorists were white.

Images of ‘good old boys’ traipsing down the halls of the people’s house waving confederate battle flags, kicking feet up on the Speaker’s desk, walking off with public property or smearing their shit on the floors pervaded the internet. These images provided by the villains themselves, posted shamelessly to social media profiles.

As a result of this treasonous, insulting, juvenile, despicable, and ultimately futile effort five people died. Even still, hours after the fact, a majority of members of the so-called GOP voted in accordance with the will of these terrorists. They voted to overturn the results of a free and fair election in the world’s oldest modern democracy. They did so because they believed there were serious ‘concerns’ (‘concerns’, let’s be clear, that started with them and like the Ouroboros, ended up with the confusing, if unhygienic, phenomenon of not knowing where their mouths or assholes ended or began) with the 2020 presidential election. After over 60 court cases arguing that point only one was ruled in their favor. None of the 50 States comprising our union found any evidence of wide-spread fraud. Indeed, a federal agency tasked with monitoring election security stated unequivocally that the presidential election of 2020 was one of the most secure in a generation.

And yet? There they were. Spouting conspiracy theories, assaulting police officers (those stalwart stewards of the ‘law & order’ they otherwise claim to love), brandishing spears and bearskins, stealing mail, leaving death threats to the Vice President, fundamentally acting the fool. A bunch of bullies let out of detention with rage and rebellion on their minds.

Let me be clear: each and every one of these terrorists should be hunted down by law enforcement and charged to the fullest extent of the law. They should then be prosecuted and the judges in each and every case should show or allow no mercy. These barbarians must never be allowed to storm the gates again.

Fine.

But that’s not the really interesting question here. The far-right has been producing assholes forever (one of the few things the ‘right’ is truly consistent at). What’s actually interesting is how these insurrectionists arrived at the conclusions they did. Which is to say; how did their ‘thinking’ bring them to this point.

While it might be tempting for some on the left to see that last sentence as a joke, let’s remember we’re sitting at the adult table. These terrorists, being human, sharing our genetic code, are people - real, live, eating, shitting, fucking, anxious, sleeping, scared, afraid, terrified people - just like you and me. As much as it would be easier if we could see them as Uruk-hai instead of our brothers and sisters, sadly? That’s what they are. Family. Part of the Human Condition.

Though humans that are clearly very, very, very sick. My diagnosis? Mind Cancer. Let me explain, under the assumption my readers understand the difference between mind and brain. As such, I am not asserting that the terrorists are physically sick. From their pics and videos it’s clear many are - obesity, hypertension, anal retention - though that isn’t the point. It’s their mental programming, their minds, that have been infected. Infected with what?

Put simply? A disjointed ontological phenomenology obscured, obfuscated, and accelerated by persistently chaotic epistemological aberrations. Said plainly? Their ability to process reality has been impaired.

Why? Racial resentment, poor economic opportunities, an aversion to books and learning? Yes. All that. Plus? The internet, which has created a new Dark Ages.

Paradoxically, one built on light.

Look. Self-interested demagogues intent on self-aggrandizement are nothing new. Nor are their ability to rally or rile a downtrodden populace. Sadly, demonizing the ‘other’ is also pretty par for the course in these scenarios. An old story, all told. What’s new this time is how it happens.

In a single second - count it out! One Mississippi - a beam, or photon of light moves 186,000 miles. Roughly seven times the circumference of the Earth. The new speed of hate. The internet, that modern marvel ushering in Humanity’s first truly post-scarcity resource, is built on light. Philosophers have for millennia wed knowledge with light. And now we all (well, those of us in the post-industrial world) carry a terminal connected to this internet in our pockets. A stunning marvel of human ingenuity. One would imagine that access to such a wellspring of knowledge and information would have a truly edifying affect on the Human Condition. Perhaps, in aggregate, or retrospect, it will. At the moment?

Yeah ...

At the moment it seems that the more access to information humans have the more they double down on tribal identities, wish fulfillment, instant gratification (read: porn), perceived slights, fantasy lands, Rick Astley videos, or the jibbering incoherent rantings of simple capitalists fomenting the fragile emotional states of low information individuals who feel they have no place in this world. This is a fundamentally devastating epistemological conundrum. Why? For centuries the barrier to the future was the amount of information, knowledge, you could access or process. Yet here and now? Here and now there might be too much access. Too much information. More so, the striking fact that our ability, as a species, writ large, to process or parse this information has not kept pace with the information at hand. A sad equation that inevitably leads to moments like 01/06/21.

The Trump Terrorists of January 6th, 2021, weaponized the internet to facilitate their attempted coup. As did their ‘dear leader’ throughout his humiliating single term in office. In fact, it was the geometrical acceleration of connectivity and interconnectedness enabled via the web and its insanely capitalist platforms that allowed for their ‘movement’ to incubate and evolve. While it is true that neo-liberal policies advocating globalist economics and monetary policy are at the current root cause of most ills genuinely affecting rural, or poor, or uneducated MAGA-heads, it’s also true that apart from an Independent from Vermont no one in the political economy of the last couple decades gave much of a shit about these poor and dispossessed inheritors of old racial mythemes and toxic narratives of self-reliance. No one that is, other than their ‘dear leader’. Never mind he didn’t intend to ease their suffering in any material, or structural way. He talked about it. He tweeted about it. And then he gave them a little song and dance at the rallies. Breathtaking stuff.

However, it wasn’t just the performative act of playing ‘authoritarian’ that got them hot and bothered. No, it was at the same time the eternal need to belong to a group, the legitimate feeling of economic obsolescence, coupled with these new tools of information transmission. Tools that at once gave them powers unheralded and seemingly ensconced them in a protective shell, a perpetually larval manifestation of all their baser inclinations. A reactionary ‘safe space’ from which they could launch a thousand ships of intolerance and hate. What good is truth if you can’t weaponize it? What good are facts if you share them with everyone else?

And so we find ourselves revising Plato. There isn’t just one cave in which we are chained, kept from reality. There are multiple tunnels, alcoves, deeper caverns in which we might dwell. Furthermore, if lucky, there are different days, vistas, egresses in which we can escape from the confines of ignorance. Much like the lucky Mormons, it would seem the far-right believes there are plenty of planets in which ‘Truth’ can dwell. Never mind that multiplying ‘Truth’ in such a way doesn’t actually produce more truth.

In fact, it reduces ‘Truth’. Impoverishes it. Hollows it out.

Which is sad, really. For the major harm caused by these rebels isn’t to our democratic institutions, nor our mythological vision of our nature, nor that ever-loving economy - but to the very fabric that binds the social contract on which all the preceding rely.

That fabric being, specifically, a shared objective reality.

How can we survive if we can’t agree on basic facts? Can a multi-racial, multi-cultural, representative democracy exist when a large percentage of the comprising citizens don’t believe in, or even acknowledge, that that’s actually what’s happening? Is White Supremacy so fundamentally a part of our nation’s DNA that the country can’t exist without it? If so, for those of us who vehemently oppose White Supremacy, the question might then be: is the country worth saving?

Most versions of Western Ethics indicate that violence is not the cure. Nor do I advocate such a position. At the same time I’m deeply troubled, because due their illness these actors are neither rational or coherent. Ergo, we can’t reason with them either. So what next?

To corral the revolutionary, if inchoate, spirit of these sick, fringe minds diseased as they are by hate, grievance, and digital oubliettes would any policy proposals be acceptable? Perhaps as fantastic an idea as the images from 01/06/21, what if the Federal Government decided to halt its obsequious sycophantry to corporate America and ‘elites’ and instead actually, seriously, emphatically reinvested in the heartland, in Main Street, in the working class? Wouldn’t it be ironic if a little more socialism was truly the cure these hatemongers require?

Maybe we should step back and listen to the wisdom of George W. Bush.

Confronting what was at the time the most disheartening terror attack on the homeland, Bush made clear not all who could otherwise be lumped in with the terrorists were terrorists. In the same way that, yes, not all Trump voters are Trump Terrorists.

Even so. Bush made it clear you needed to pick a side.

With us - toward a diverse future in which the promise of the Founders is emboldened and expanded for all who live between our shores. Or against us - back to your stunted hovels and holes with all the other low information troglodytes you like to cosplay revolution with.

Choose.

It’s your call. But choose quickly, because history is watching, and only one path moves toward the future.

C. R. Stapor Longmont, CO 01/16/21

#January 6th #terrorism #domestic terrorism #the internet #social media #revolution #insurrection #01/06/21 #low information #mind cancer #George W Bush #Trump #GOP #epistemology #white #essay #philosophers on tumblr

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years

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Pretty Boy (KaiSoo)

Kaisoo one shot!

Based on this pic

"Get out Kim Jongin! For the last time, I warn you to run before you regret not doing so," a man in his sixties stresses each warning while swinging his golf drivers. Kim Jongin sinks to his knees, he begs with all his might for his father's forgiveness while praying with all his might he can dodge the strong swing his father did. His face has had enough bruises from the painful strong punches his father flew to him earlier. He has to admit, as his father gets older his punches got stronger and his ring stings more. Jongin closes his eyes before he got lucky, the powerful blow missed and hit mother's favorite flower vase. The young boy closes his eyes when he sees the glass shatters along with his last hopes of staying in this house as the second child of the wealthy Kim family.

His brother, Kim Junmyeon, is trying his best to stand still behind his father; though his heart is screaming 'stop' and as much as he wants to jump and protect his brother, Junmyeon knows better to never interfere his mad father. Junmyeon saw the puppy stare from his little brother and for the first time he has to let Kai fight for himself.

"Leave now! You are no longer a part of this family. Take only what you are wearing and leave!" His father screams on the top of his lungs. His breaths are short and his eyes are bloodshot.

Jongin for the last time gestures his apologies and pleads. What else can he do to make his father forgive him? Going low as kneeling down didn't shake father's final choice.

Jongin looks around the big living room for help. He feels humiliated from the cold stare from his father's bodyguards. Mother is running into the room from her shopping and she is more than surprised to see the chaos. Her husband is swinging his golf driver, slamming everything in his vision field, on the other hand Junmyeon is busy signaling Jongin to leave.

"Yeobbo, what is happening? Calm down... your blood pressure will kill." the beauty in the house runs to her husband's side. Her eyes widen when she saw the bruises on her son's pretty face.

Mr. Kim brushes her soft hand away and walks towards his second son, who has his eyes on the floors.

"Why is Kai kneeling for you on the ground? Stand up honey," the sweet voice instructs her son to stand. Kai smiles sadly at the realization that his mother is still calling him Kai, his sweet name.

"No! Let him beg. He has caused too much trouble. Today we got another call from the police informing us this person here—" Mr.Kim points disgustingly at Jongin, "—he was called for a privacy harassment case. This guy here is not my child; my child will never bring disgrace to the family. He won't stalk on some random kindergarten student and make her uncomfortable!"

Mrs. Kim seems baffled, she knew Kai isn't as bright as Junmyeon, but Mrs.Kim knows her child is not into younger girls; moreover she loves Kai a tad bit more than anyone else in the house.

"Yeobbo, maybe the people are only trying to get money from the case... I'm sure our Kai will never do that," Mrs. Kim turns her head to see her son, "Right Kai?"

Kai quickly raises his head and furiously nod, "Yes, mother is right. Please dad, believe me... I am not into young girls! They are only playing tricks..."

His father's anger has resided down, thanks to his wife.

"Right dad, we can always take control of the problems Jongin have." Junmyeon takes a deep breath, "Let me handle him. I'll clear his name."

Mr. Kim starts to swing his stick again; he walks to the kneeling man and arrogantly smacks his lips, "Out. Junmyeon will clean your name for the last time—" Kai jumps to his feet and holds his father's hands

"Thank you... thank you so much dad." Kai flashes his grateful smile.

His father glances at him and throws his hands away, "Who said I forgive you? You're still leaving the house now!" He screams to the boy with bruised face.

Kai is stunned and surprised. His dad is not changing his mind about kicking him out.

Mrs. Kim looks at her husband in disbelief when the bodyguards forcefully drag a kicking and begging Kai out of the room and to the gate.

"Take his wallet and phone. It's still nice I let him keep his clothes he has." Mr. Kim instructs his men to take all of Jongin's belongings.

"Yeobbo, you're too hard on him." Mrs. Kim pleads him with tears in her eyes.

"He needs to learn it the hard way." Mr. Kim stares at the closed gate.

"Whoever dares to help Kim Jongin, will not live in peace. Leave that boy alone. How embarrassing." Mr. Kim stomps and turns to head to his office.

"Junmyeon-a," mother cries when she finds her oldest son standing in the living room heartlessly.

"Why didn't you stop your father? Isn't kicking Kai out of this house with nothing except clothes a bit too harsh?" Mrs. Kim rants her frustration into her oldest son.

Junmyeon brings her mother to his warm embrace, "I'm sorry... father is a hard man."

"Will he be alright?" Mrs. Kim wonders. The wind blows softly and her designer perfume fills the air. She secretly lets a tear out, Kai didn't even have the chance to say goodbye. He only has his denim jacket and jeans in the middle of autumn. The wind gushes once more and Mrs. Kim tightens her expensive coat.

"Mother, let's go in, the wind is getting stronger." Junmyeon leads his mother back into the warmth of the Kim's mansion.

Kai was forced out of his mansion only with a jacket and a hungry stomach. He winces at the pain his body felt. His face aches from the punches, his body hurts from the strong grip and forced dragging earlier, his heart broke when he realizes he lost all of the love in his life.

He walks and walks with no direction; the taxis are tempting, but his wallet was confiscated. Kai pays attention to his steps, he hopes someone left a dollar bill on the road, or maybe he is lucky enough to find some coins. He doesn't know what time it is, but he knows it must be close to dinner time as he sees the sun sets and his stomach grumbling harder.

Kai tightens his denim jacket and pulls his hoodie. He walks quietly and aimlessly to wherever his feet lead. He tries his best to remember where his friends live, so maybe he can come and tell them what happen. Maybe they will feel sorry and invite Jongin for dinner and offer a room. Right, Kai feels warm from imagining a nice warm dinner and a comfortable bed.

Countless names run in his mind, he mumbles to himself "Sehun? No too far... Baekhyun?" he thinks for a moment, "Ah a different province. Chanyeol?? Where's his house again???" Kai stops and squeezes his eyes.

He thinks and thinks, "Ah! Right, Chanyeol has just left to America... Yixing is in China."

Kai continues walking under the full moon. He reaches a small mini market with chairs in the sidewalk. His smile pops and his aching feet make its way to the empty chair. He drops his butt and stretches "Aigoo how nice it is to sit." He yawns, "Ah I'm hungry."

Kai fishes his pockets, biting his lips when he finds out nothing is popping up magically in his empty pockets.

Kai buries his face into his hand and reflects on the unfortunate events that happened to him.

The pretty boy is a second child to the Kim family, the richest man in Entertainment industry. Kim Junmyeon is older by three years. Junmyeon was always the brighter one, the one with medals and trophies, the one who wins thousand of girl's hearts, and who always succeeded in love stories; while Jongin is none of that. He is clumsy and innocuous. Jongin enjoys having fun and living his days to the fullest. He did admit he made a lot of problems since young, but they were nothing big. For example, young Jongin loves animal so much that he secretly opened the cage for dogs that were about to be sold to the black market. He did that out of kindness towards dogs. He once punches a kid bullying a blind girl, and he went home beaten and reported for starting fight. Jongin actually did nothing bad, he's just unlucky that people can turn the table over; moreover when they knew He is That Kim's child.

"I'm so unlucky. How can all of my friends live away from me?" Jongin pulls at his hairs frustrated. He comes to a conclusion he has no help today. He slams his head to the table, which was unfortunate since he forgot he has bruises there.

"Ouch!" he wipes the painful area, his hand punches angrily at the table, "How can I forget I'm already beaten up."

"Excuse me, you're not allowed to sit here." A hoarse voice surprises Jongin. Jongin jumps from his seat then looks around confused.

"Where am I? Jongin wipes his sleepy eyes.

The part time worker rolls his eyes, "You're in front of K mart, asleep for a good one and a half hour."

"What? Asleep?!"

"Yes, and please leave now."

"But this seat is not occupied and there are more chairs over there. Why can't I sit here?" Jongin questions the man in uniform.

"It's written there that these seats are only for our customer. We noticed you haven't bought anything and you've occupied the seat for half an hour." The man points at the sign and towards the other tables which are occupied by people who purchased something.

Jongin's eyes double in size, heol he never know the world is this cruel. All his life he only knows what it's like to have power in the house, to not move a finger and still get anything he wants.

"So, please leave before our boss sees you," the man forces a smile and shows Jongin the way out.

Kai changes his sour face and leaves his chair. He takes one last glance and taunted at the store. Jongin has lost his sense of time and direction. After some steps over the houses, he finally reach a district.He mumbles the street sign, "Hongdae"

Kai walks through the outskirt of Hongdae, he is far from the student-life parties and he is far from the festival lights. He's not going to Hondae without money, heol what will his image be.

The tanned man tirelessly keeps his head down as he traces the outskirt of Hongdae. There are small pubs and bars here, but their signs are not flashy and Jongin felt eerie walking here alone. He paces up his steps and keeps his eyes forward. It's not a good idea to walk here alone; although Kai is a man he still feels his body shakes when passing the cold alley.

Between the absent street lights, another young man sways on the road and stops when he found an unoccupied seat on a closed café. He looks around and giggles when he found no one in sight. While mumbling a happy song and smiling, the man with short hair fishes his box of cigarette from his pocket and flicks the lighters on. He bites the stick between his plump heart lips and skillfully lights the small burning cig. He inhales the burning sensation in his lung and blows out the smoke playfully to thin air.

The world belongs to him only for a moment when he adores the street light which he mistaken as the moon.

"The moon is bright tonight, so bright that my eyes are blinded." The man giggles at his own exaggerated words, "How I wish I have a companion tonight." He huffs out a blow of thick smoke and gets into a fit of coughs when he saw a figure walking over him.

He holds his cough and clears his throat once in a cool way, which successfully caught the passer's attention.

"Hey pretty boy," his deep honey voice did make the passing man's shoulder jump, "It's dangerous to walk alone at night."

Jongin looks right and left and saw no one is there except him, he questions himself, did he hear it right? Pretty boy? Surely that's not him right? But there's no one else except him and that guy who called him.

"Yes you man in hoodie." The caller brings his cig away from his lips.

Jongin points at himself, "Me?"

The tipsy man rolls his eyes and smile. Jongin notes how sweet that smile is under the moonlight. How unfortunate it is that he is drunk and smoking buds.

"You're alone sweetie?" he runs his eyes through the bruised man here, from the clothes and the smell of perfume he sure comes from a wealthy family, but why is he here alone, beaten up, and looked lost.

"You smell funny." Jongin closes his nose; even from this distance it is noticeable. He hates the smell of alcohol and smoke. Voila this man here has both smells.

"I'm sorry, you're drunk. I shall go." Jongin runs his eyes to the road. Why is there nobody in sight... he steps back and gets ready to continue his journey, or run for his life.

"I'm tipsy. Don't be afraid... I'm just telling you it is dangerous for pretty boys like you to walk alone." The man with heart lips shrugs his shoulder and ignores Jongin. He returns to his activity earlier blowing smokes and giggling by himself.

Jongin looks at him in horror, his neck is stiff and his hairs stand. Jongin quickly hugs himself and continues his walk, ignoring the calls.

"Hufth! How creepy! I should've never trust strangers." Jongin keeps his eyes on his feet.

Just then he saw three pairs of shoes in his eye sight and he gulps when he slowly raises his head.

Jongin is a tall man, but right in front of him are three taller and bigger men. All wearing black and looking tough. Jongin takes a step to the side and keeps his head down, but one of the man stops him.

"Where do you think you're going pretty boy?" Jongin curses in his heart, why is everyone calling him pretty boy tonight and why is he so unlucky today!

He slowly meets the big man's gaze when he pushed Jongin's chin up.

Jongin notices these three are no good. They were definitely here to disturb him.

"I have nothing." Jongin makes his voice sounds miserable.

The three men laughs and Jongin forces a confused smile, "Can I go? I have nothing." The three men laughs harder and Jongin is left confused.

"Well, if you don't have money... we're always welcome with services honey." The tallest man with big dark tattoos on his body grabs his chin and stares into his eyes.

Jongin gulps when he feels the other two touching his body, "He really doesn't have anything."

"That means we'll leave you after a good service." The man with golden tooth smirks.

Jongin is tongue tied. He doesn't know what will happen to him... he really hopes someone will help him.

Just when one of them pulls Jongin for a kiss, a loud voice roars and footsteps are heard.

"Go! Leave that man alone. He's mine." Upon that word, Jongin felt the grip lose and the three men runs in panic. Jongin still has his eyes shut in fear.

"Open your eyes. They're gone." A strange but familiar voice greets Kai.

Jongin opens his eyes slowly and finds the heart shaped man with round eyes earlier.

"What are you going to do to me?"

The man chuckles, "Told you it wasn't save to walk here alone."

"What's your name?"

"Kyungsoo," he smiles. Jongin notes how sweet that name is.

"Thank you... for saving me." Jongin bows.

Kyungsoo shakes his hand, "No problem, I just happen to pass by."

"You... how did you make them go?" Jongin sounds confused and curious... he was sure Kyungsoo only yelled some dialect words and they ran for their life.

"Nothing you should know, want a stick?" Kyungsoo offers him a stick when he sees Kai shaking.

"No thanks, I don't smoke."

"Ah, cliché..." Kyungsoo bites a new stick.

"Why did you smoke? It's not good for you." Out of the blue Kai feels like this man here is too cute to die fast.

Kyungsoo raises his brow, well no one has ever cared to ask him that and this stranger right here does.

"Because that's the only way to remember the taste of her kiss that night," Kyungsoo gives Kai a sad smile.

Jongin's surprised, wow that's dramatic. He thought he was the only one who doesn't feel love right now. Turns out there are people like him too.

"I'm sorry... anyways... let me thank you for helping me," Kai pauses when he remembers he has no money at all right now.

Kyungsoo judges the man in front of him, sweet personality, pretty face, slender body, pure heart, he looks lost.

"Do you want money? Car? House?" Jongin offers his life saver these things.

Kyungsoo giggles, Jongin melts upon hearing that cute laugh and the glowing cheeks. Hell, how can someone looks so scary and tough but with just one laugh he's a teddy bear.

Jongin finds himself drowned in Kyungsoo's deep eyes and squishy cheeks, plus tempting lips.

"Sorry, but you have no money right now... how will you give me those things?" Kyungsoo offers his trademark questioning cute look.

Jongin blushes, he thinks for a moment and impulsively pulls the half finished stick between Kyungsoo's heart lips and he boldly presses their lips together. There's a pungent smell of smoke and alcohol, but Kai is not stopping until the only thing he can taste is something new.

Kyungsoo was taken aback by the sudden action, but instead of pulling or pushing, Kyungsoo runs his hand to play with the taller man's hair. This pretty boy who is kissing him right now is the first person who makes his heart beats faster, butterflies swarming his stomach, and the world once again is pink.

Kai deepens the kiss, he pours his emotion in it and the other man plays along well. Their kiss ends when Kyungsoo hits him to breathe.

Their chests are still heaving up and down from the sudden crazy activity they did. Their hearts are still pumping bloods to their shaking bodies; their brains drown them in Oxytocin and Adrenaline.

They both drown themselves in each other's warmth and comfort.

Kai looks at his shoes and a sudden feel of embarrassment takes over him. He is back to the Kim Jongin mode.

"Right, I don't have the money to give you that..." Jongin rubs his nape.

Kyungsoo smiles, "It's okay... I don't want that."

Jongin confusedly waits for his next request.

"Just give me your name," Kyungsoo smirks.

Jongin laughs, "Kim Jongin, anything else?"

Kyungsoo puts his hands inside his pocket, "Kim Jongin, follow me home tonight. Let me take care of your wounds."

Kyungsoo turns his body and walks first leaving Jongin squealing behind his back. He finally found his guardian angel or maybe his significant other!

"Are you coming or not?" Kyungsoo turns to look at Jongin who's still frozen in his place.

Jongin quickly runs to catch his steps.

"Thank you! What else can I give in return of your kindness?" Jongin asks when they reach Kyungsoo's comfortable and tidy small house. Kyungsoo takes care of his bruises and wounds meticulously like a nurse, and Jongin feels burdened to return his generosity.

Kyungsoo sits beside him with a mug of coffee, he tosses his glance to Jongin and calmly leans in closer, "You can give me your family name later, but for now..." Kyungsoo leans in for a quick kiss.

"Please help me learn the new taste of your lips." Kyungsoo whispers.

Jongin smiles and hugs the man beside him, he thanks Heaven he finds Kyungsoo in the middle of his chaos life, and Kyungsoo thanks the universe for sending him Jongin before he totally lost himself in the dark world.

Jongin learns a good meal doesn't have to come from an expensive kitchen, a good sleep doesn't have to come from an imported mattress, mostly he learns love doesn't have to come from someone in the same league. He learns love can be found even in the darkest and smallest place, only when one remembers to feel it carefully.

In the end, if they were meant to be, fate will find its way to bring them together; no matter what.

43 notes · View notes

jiminsfault · 5 years

Text

Clumsy Christmas | knj

— pairing: idol!Namjoon x reader

— genre: fluff

— word count: 2.1k

— warnings: fluffy fluff, a lot of love, established relationship, boyfriend!Namjoon, clumsy and pouty Joonie, slightly jealous Namjoon but in an adorable way, teasing, Namjoon is size-bullying you

— summary: when Namjoon decided to help with the decorations, something was bound to break. This year it had to be his present.

— A/N: I really wanted to post a fic for a special accasion since I havent been able to post a birthday fic for any of the boys yet! ugh :( so heres a christmas fic!! I hope you like it, come tell me if you do :~)

Thank you @maptoyoongi once again for the beautiful banner! uwu

masterlist

Christmas shopping was the hardest and least joyful part of the holiday season, your money practically flying out of your pockets, not knowing if the presents will bring smiles upon your loved one’s faces.

With the boys being busy, you hadn’t had the chance to catch all of them to ask for their christmas wishes, so you had to improvise.

Grabbing funny sweaters for Seokjin and Yoongi, a tie with a cute print plus a matching headband with bells on it for Taehyung and a plush bunny for Jungkook was your first instinct. Then you realized, Yoongi would probably despise you for buying you a sweater with a reindeer on it, Jungkook is a grown man and has made that clear multiple times and Taehyung doesn’t like wearing ties that don’t match his aesthetic.

So besides the present for the oldest, who you know will love the silly present, you still had nothing. Putting the things back where they belonged, you left the sparkly store. The mall was shining, full of decorations. Very warm, comfortable almost. Also very loud and full, but still pretty.

What even would you get Hoseok? He told you multiple times whenever you even just mentioned christmas, that he wouldn’t need anything from you.

“Your presence is a blessing on it’s own, why would I need anything else?” He charmed with a big smile. Namjoon, slumping next to you, grumbled and reached his foot to kick his brother. “Leave my girlfriend alone! Asshole..” he pouted.

Smiling at the memory of the conversation, you almost ran into a woman. She stood in front of a store with her mouth open in awe, eyes big and hastily reaching for and tugging on the sleeve of the man’s jacket, who was standing next to her.

“Look! It’s so pretty!” She squealed. Your interest had been piqued and you risked a glance toward the window full of decor. It was pretty indeed.

On show were to plastic hands holding, each wrist decorated with matching bracelets. Looking for the price tag, you walked a little closer. The couple had left, the woman being dragged off by her boyfriend. And as you found the price tag, you probably knew why he dragged her off.

It was expensive. Much more than you were willing to pay for all of the gifts, much less just for one. But it just fit. Namjoon always wanted to show you off but never found a way around the public.

Being his girlfriend wasn’t linked to posting cute selfies and wearing partner outfits. He wanted to try rings, but fans would notice how he would wear a band on his finger. At least a partner ring looks much more official than all the other rings he was always wearing. Bracelets this thin and subtle would never be noticed by any fans.

Happy with your mind settled, you walk into the store to get the jewelry, getting them packed into a box with a band to hang it up.

“Now only five more! What will I get for the rest of them?..” you mumble to yourself, looking around the display windows to find the right gifts for each of the boys.

After a successful day full of christmas shopping, preparing cookie dough and listening to festive songs, you decided to take out the decorations to hang on the tree.

It was pretty big, filling out all the space in the boy’s living room. Because of its size and weight Jungkook had to get help from both Jin and Taehyung, the three of them carried it inside and made sure that the trunk was tight in the clasp of the christmas tree stand.

When they were busy installing it, Jin suddenly let go and screamed “TIMBER!!” in a high pitch, making Taehyung retreat because of the shock. The joke almost resulted in the tree actually falling because Jungkook couldn’t hold it up on his own. Luckily Taehyung’s reflexes were fast enough in order for him to grab it just in time.

Laughing because of all the chaos, you threw a thumbs up in Jin’s direction, grinning at his mischief. They left shortly after to let you do your decorating, you stressed that you wanted to do it completely on your own and they had practice to attend anyway.

A mug of hot chocolate later and about an hour of decorating, you were stretching up to reach the top of the tree. When you weren’t succeeding you let out a little noise of frustration. You’re really not that small, you swear. A regular size, some might say. But you still couldn’t reach where you wanted to hang one of the prettiest christmas balls.

“Can I help you, dwarf?” Your boyfriend suddenly appeared from behind you. You let out a surprised yelp, almost dropping the decoration in you hand. He laughed, holding your shoulders in case you fell over.

“Woah! Calm down, little horse.” He thought he was so funny. “Let me do this, yeah?” He said with his signature dimpled smile.

“Why did nobody tell me that the christmas tree was already standing up? I would’ve helped.” Namjoon almost pouted. Even though he had a group to lead, songs to write and meetings to attend, he still insisted on doing even more things in this house.

Grabbing the rest of the fairy lights, lametta and some bells, he smiled at you and started decorating the tree. Namjoon was more than tall enough to reach all of the tree without poking his face.

It went good for a long while. Until…

Namjoons bad luck and clumsy feet had to chime in of course, making him lose his balance when he reached to put the big star on top of the tip. Wobbling around for a bit, he managed to hold himself up with a little help of you at his waist and he grabbed the tree to make sure it doesn’t fall over from his swinging.

With the movement he managed to push off the little blue box you hid inside of the branches. It contained the christmas present you bought for him and with shock in your eyes you had to witness it drop onto the floor.

Being the curious person that Namjoon just was, he couldn’t ignore the little box. Bending down, he picked it up. Still like a statue you stand next to him, mouth open and hand reaching out to hold him back by his sweater.

“Whats this?” He asked, smiling at you with a glint in his sharp eyes. “A present? Perhaps for me?” His smile grew and his dimples deepened.

“N-no, it’s… it’s for Hobi! Don’t open it, you never keep your mouth shut about secrets!” You exclaim, rushing to take the box out of his hand, but he grasped it and lifted his arm. With your short legs, not even tippy toes will help you get the present back.

“I wonder what it could be?” He said, rising his voice in question. Laying his free hand on his chin, he acted like he was thinking hard. “Maybe a watch? Or do you want to propose to me?” He screeched, eyes big and a child like expression on his face.

“No, Namjoon! As I said, it’s a present for Hobi, not you.” You said, crossing your arms in front of your chest, pout present.

He grinned, “hehe, sure! I’m sure you love Hobi so much more than me, you just had to buy him the watch I wanted, right babe?” So he really insisted in this, huh? Why not play along for a little, then.

“Right! Hoseok mentioned that he wanted the same watch, I only had money for one of them. Since you’re happy with just kisses, I decided to give it to him.” His face falls, believing your teasing.

“Wait, you’re not serious, right? The watch is for me, babe!” He whined. Taking his arm out of the air, he looked at the box droopy and disappointed. Your heart couldn’t take it, his puffy lips pouting and his shiny eyes looking down at the box in his hands.

You cooed, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “No, baby, don’t be sad. It’s not for Hobi. But it isn’t the watch either..” trailing off, you lay your hands on his cheek to lift his face so that he looked at you.

“Oh I don’t care if it’s the watch or something else! As long as it’s for me,” Namjoon grinned and looked at the box again. “Soo..” he looked at you with big eyes.”

Already sensing that he still wanted to find out what exactly was inside, you grabbed the square from his hands as long as he had a loose old on it. He gasped, feeling betrayed.

“Traitor! Why won’t you let me have it!” He pouted once again, making you smile at his silly behavior. “Just a peek! Please, Y/N!” Shaking your head, you put the box in its place on the tree branch again.

“Joonie you have to promise that you won’t look at it before christmas. I really want it to be a surprise.” You scolded. Breathing out a heavy exhale, he nodded.

“Alright, babe. If it’s that precious to you, I guess I’ll hold out.” Smiling, you grab his cheeks and give him a big smooch when he got the note to bow down. “Let’s finish up this tree, yeah?” He patted your head and turned to the christmas balls.

Everyone was sat comfortably in the living room, candles and christmas lights were on, the tv displayed a fireplace and christmas music was playing softly in the background.

All of the members were scattered around the room, some of them lounging on the couches and some on the floor, girlfriends next to a few of them. You were cuddling yourself into Namjoons chest on one of the soft couches.

Jungkook as the youngest one started with sharing his gifts to everyone, busy rustling from the wrapping papers.

Each after the other started giving out presents and when it was your turn, you excitedly bounced on your feet as you looked at all the happy faces unpacking their goods.

You kept Namjoons present for last, wanting to completely watch his expressions when he finally got to see what you got for him.

Sitting next to him, you grinned when he opened the blue box.

But your happy smile fell off your face as soon as you saw the bracelet. When it fell from the tree it not only was moved around in the box messily, it was also destroyed.

Without being able to hold yourself back you let tears roll down your cheeks. Sniffing, you accused Namjoon, “You broke it! You broke the present and now I need to get something new!”

You were about to throw a fit, Namjoon watching you with big eyes as he tried to see why you were so upset.

“Baby, calm down.. look,” he took your face in his hands, putting the box next to him on the couch. “It’s not broken..”

You let him wipe away the few tears that fell and looked at him confused. “What do you mean, of course it is. Look at it.” You took the bracelet out of the box and showed it to him. When he laughed at you, you furrowed your brows.

“Baby, it’s just the clip to close it. It wasn’t closed in the box.” Showing you the small clasp and smiling big when your face lit up.

“Oh! I’m glad…” everyone suddenly laughed at your confusion and you remembered that you just almost threw a fit in front of all of your friends. Blush creeping on your face, you used the opportunity to stand up. “I’ll get something real quick, wait here” you advised Namjoon.

Rushing to your shared bedroom, you searched your drawer and pink box, matching Namjoons own.

Walking back you showed it off proudly and shoved it into your boyfriend’s face. “Look! Now we always have something to think of each other…” shyly you lifted it out of your own box and asked Namjoon to close it around your wrist.

You held your arm next to his and awed at the matching jewelry. Clapping your hands happily, you reached in to kiss Namjoon and slung your arms around his neck.

He was clearly happy with his gift and couldn’t take his eyes off of it for the rest of the evening. Every chance he got, Namjoon held your hand and traced over the bracelet with his thumb.

He wore his biggest dimpled smile even while brushing his teeth and that night, as you crawled into your bed and cuddled yourself into the sheets and his arms, he kissed the top of your head and whispered softly, “this was the best Christmas ever, thank you so much, baby.”

149 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 42

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @ocfairygodmother

She’s been asleep since they got home; curled up on the couch in a fetal position in one of his sweaters with the hood pulled over her head, the comforter from their bed pulled up past her ears. Not even stirring no matter how long and loud the baby cried (despite his best efforts to stop it) or how many times Declan would climb on top of her and play with her hair or try to cuddle with her or attempt to pry her eyes open. He tries not to let concern eat at him. Attempts to convince himself that it’s just stress and worry; a tough and shitty situation making her depression even worse. She says she’s okay with it; him getting back into the job and starting up his own merc business. She’d rather put up with the frequent absences, the cuts, bruises, stitches and the odd broken bone than have him lose his sanity or sobriety. If the pace and the intensity of the job makes it easier for him to cope with the slower and quieter times while at home, it’s a lifestyle she’s willing to subject herself to yet again.

He wants to believe that things will be better this time. That once the craziness of the Mahajan situation is dealt with and he can focus on running the business, things will settle down. He won’t have to leave home as much as he used to and can concentrate on delegating the work to others instead of getting his own hands dirty and endangering his own life. But he knows it won’t be THAT simple. It’ll take time to get things off the ground and running smoothly, and he’ll have to trust guys enough to handle jobs on their own and do them right. There will be more blood on his hands. More kills on his record and on his conscience before that happens.

There’s another part of him… a darker and even more worried part...that fears there is something more serious going on inside of her. Easily remembering the early days of Austin’s cancer; before a diagnosis had even been made. Crushing fatigue, constant head and body aches, severe mood swings. And he tries to stop his mind from going there; not allowing his brain to dwell on worst case scenarios when it’s most likely nothing THAT bad. That it’s most likely just mental health issues and the stress of the situation hanging over their heads. It’s hard to function normally when you know there’s a price on your head and a target on your back. But it’s also hard to abandon those fatalistic thoughts entirely. That something is seriously wrong and she’ll only get worse and suffer and all he’ll be able to do is sit back and watch it all happen. It’s his own personal hell; knowing that he’d never survive (mentally at least) if he lost her; regardless of how it happens. That he’d go back to the booze and the meds and be even worse than he was before. And in the end he’d lose his kids. His last remaining tie to her.

She wakes momentarily when he sits down next to her. Looking dazed and disoriented -almost confused- but saying nothing as she slides closer to him; placing her head in his lap with her face pressed into his stomach. Easily falling back asleep when he strokes her hair and lays a palm on the top of her head and repeatedly brushes his thumb across his brow. It reminds him of the the early days of her pregnancy with Declan. He’d been the third but the worst of them all; constant all day sickness, migraines, and crippling fatigue that made it impossible to get out of bed some days. She’d sleep wherever and whenever she could and he’d try to provide some sort of comfort. Secretly enjoying how vulnerable and needy she was; the way she was almost completely dependent on him instead of being so goddamn stubborn and furiously self reliant. He’d found he liked taking care of her; it selfishly made him feel useful and needed outside of just kicking in the sperm that helped make all the babies.

Of course it can’t be THAT. It’s far too soon after Addie’s arrival. And even if it wasn’t, his own doctor had said the procedure had been successful and that there’d be more babies unless he chose to reverse things. And so far they haven’t made a firm decision on whether there will be a sixth.

With both Addie and Declan napping, the house is quiet; nothing but Mac’s soft snoring as he sleeps on the threshold between the kitchen and living area, and the sound of the waves as they roll up onto the shore. With an hour and a half before the return of the three oldest, he takes advantage of the down time; relaxed by the warmth that radiates off of Esme’s body and the soft tickle of her breath against his stomach. He’s on the brink of sleep -that moment when your limbs feel weightless and all your senses seem muted- when he’s jarred awake by the sound of tapping against the glass of the patio door. And his eyes immediately snap open; a frown already on his face when he glances over.

Kyle’s hand is paused in mid air; just getting ready to rap his knuckles against the window again. And he gives a slightly sheepish and apologetic smile and then gestures for his brother in law to join him outside.

Sighing heavily, he groans as he stands; mentally cursing the stiffness in his back and knee and the pain that comes with just trying to get off the couch.

“Tyler?” Her voice is groggy. Confused. And there’s even a hint of fear in it that he tries to ignore.

“It’s okay.” he assures her, and her eyes never open as he cradles her face in one hand and grabs a throw pillow with the other; placing it where his lap had been and then gently lowering her head onto it. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m just going outside for a few minutes. I’ll be right back,”

He runs a hand over her hair; presses a kiss to her temple and then tucks the comforter securely around her. Looking over his shoulder as he heads for the patio door, watching as she attempts to burrow as deep into the couch as she can and pulls the hood of the sweater completely over her eyes.

“What do you want?” Tyler asks, as he steps outside, shutting both the screen and the glass door behind him.

“What’s going on? Things okay?” Kyle nods towards his sister’s sleeping form. “She alright?”

“What are you doing here? Thought you were too busy dicking down the neighbour to bother with us?”

“What’s wrong with her?” Kyle ignores the cheap shot. “She doesn’t look so good. Another one of those panic attacks or whatever?”

“She’s just tired. What do you want?”

“She told me. About everything. Salena...Allison. She told me about who she is and why she’s really here and what’s going on. About Ovi’s dad and all the threats and…”

“And you’re still banging her? You don’t find it a little weird she’s been lying to you this whole time?”

“My sister was lying to me and our entire family for years before we found out who you really are and what you really did for a living.”

“That’s hardly the same thing. You’re okay with all of this? You’re still going to fuck her or whatever the hell you’ve got going on over there?”

“We’re going to work through it. It doesn’t have to be a deal breaker.”

Tyler smirks. “The head must be epic to put up with that kind of shit.”

“Is it true that you’re starting up your own business? That you’re looking for people? Mercenaries?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“I want in. People are threatening my family. My kid sister. My nieces and nephews. I don’t want to just sit back and watch this shit go down. I want whoever is doing this to pay. I want to make them suffer and humiliate them and torture them and…”

“This isn’t your standard schoolyard bully,” Tyler interjects. “This isn’t about calling some guy out to right and meeting him in the parking lot. This is serious. Hard core shit. And these are dangerous people. Dangerous and powerful.”

“You think I can’t handle it?”

“I think you need to just stay out of it and let the people who’ve dealt with this kind of thing before handle it. There’s no need for you to get caught up in this.”

“My family is the one that’s being threatened. That’s in danger. I'm just just sitting back and letting someone hurt them. I don’t care how powerful and dangerous they are.”

“The best thing you could do is go home. Go back to Colorado. Get away from all of this. Back to your normal life and your normal job. You do not want to get involved in this. In the job. In this life.”

“But it’s okay for my sister to be involved in it?” Kyle argues.

“Okay, first off, keep your fucking voice down. She doesn’t need to wake up and hear this. She’s got enough going on and she doesn’t need to hear this. So either tone it down or fuck off. Those are the only two options.”

“You dragged her into this!” Kyle’s voice is a harsh whisper. “You could have walked away seven years ago. You could have thought about her for once instead of only thinking about yourself. It was fucking selfish; letting her get involved in this. Involved with you.”

“We are not having this conversation. I didn’t force your sister to stay here after Dhaka. I didn’t hold a gun to her head. I didn’t guilt her into stating. She chose to stick around. All on her own.”

“You could have stopped being a selfish price and told her to go. That you didn’t want to be with her. That there was nothing between the two of you worth holding onto. You could have said something...anything...to convince her to leave. All you cared about was what was best for you. What you wanted. You didn’t give a shit about her; what kind of life she’d have with you.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You don’t know anything about what down between your sister and I. She chose this life. And she’s had plenty of chances to leave. Every time I fucked up, she took me back. She could have walked away and she didn’t. So you need to back the fuck off. I’m not telling you more than once.”

“You really think she would have walked? When there’s kids involved?”

“You think that’s why she sticks around? For the kids? If things got real bad, she’d leave. And she’d take them with her and she’d raise them on her own and she’d do a damn fucking good job doing it. Stop treating her like a child. Stop looking at her like she’s weak and pathetic. Because she’s anything but.”

“She’s my sister!”

“She’s my wife!” Tyler snarls. “I don’t give a shit that she’s your sister. You know nothing about who she really is.”

“You did this. This craziness. You got her and the kids mixed up in this life. Now there’s people out there threatening them. Who want to hurt them. Who want to KILL them. All because of who you and what you do. And you think that’s okay?”

“I think it’s fucked up. You think I want this? You think I want targets on their backs? This is the last thing I wanted. But I’m taking care of it and I don’t need your help. Go home, Kyle. Go back to Colorado and your normal life. Be thankful you’ve got that life. Just go home. That’s the best thing you could do for all of us.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not going back there.”

“Well you’re not staying here. So unless you’re going to play house with the neighbour…”

“I want in. On your business.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“You don’t think I can handle it? Being a mercenary?”

“I think you need to go home and go back to being a firefighter and forget all about what I’m doing down here. I’ve got people. I don’t need you. And even if I did. I’d say the same thing. I’m not bringing you into this. If something happened to you, Esme would never forgive me. So go home and go on with your life.”

“I’m staying here,” Kyle remains adamant. “In Australia. Whether you like it or not. And I’m going to get involved in all of this. I’m going to help find the people that are threatening my sister and my nieces and nephews. And you know what? You can’t fucking stop me?”

“You want to watch me?” Tyler challenges. “Because I CAN stop you. And I will. I am asking you...no…I’m telling you...to stay out of this. You have no idea what you’d be getting yourself into it. And I bet your girlfriend or booty call or whatever the hell she is, would tell you the same thing. I’m trying to fucking protect you! I don’t want you involved in this. Not because I don’t think you can handle it, because I don’t want you getting into this kind of life. So stay out of it and let the people who know what they’re doing handle things.”

“Like you handled things in Dhaka?”

Tyler’s eyes narrow; fists twitching and clenching as he inhales deeply and exhales slowly. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Things didn’t go so well, did they. Even with all your experience.”

“Dhaka went to shit because I got royally fucked by Ovi’s old man. Because instead of paying me, he sent someone to kill me and get the kid back. I did everything right. Everything went according to plan and…”

“Was fucking my sister part of the plan?”

“We’re not talking about this. What went down between me and Esme is none of your business. Maybe you think you’re an expert on it or that you know everything there is to know because your fuck buddy let you read a file on it. But you know shit. You weren’t there.”

“I know you trusted some douche bag friend of yours and he was going to hand my sister over to a drug dealer. For money.”

“And that douche bag paid the price. And he was never going to hand her over. I wasn’t going to let that happen. Keep your mouth shut about Dhaka. You weren’t there. I was. Your sister was.”

“She shouldn’t have been.”

“Take that up with Nik. That has nothing to do with me. Things went to shit there. Big time. But I did everything I had to get your sister out of there. I would give my life up for her. I nearly did. So don’t stand here and tell me Dhaka was my fault when I did everything I could go straighten that goddamn mess out.”

“And even after that you still wouldn’t send her away. Even after everything she saw and everything she had to do, you were still a selfish fuck and kept her around. It was never about what was best for her. It’s always been about what’s best for you.”

“You know what, just shut the fuck up. I’ve heard enough. You come here to my house and you get up on that fucking pedestal of yours and you spout all your self righteous bullshit and you think I’m just going to stand around and take. Fuck you, Kyle. You were going to marry a woman that tried to ruin your sister’s life and you think you’re somehow morally superior? That was a bitch move and you let Esme know loud and clear that everything Nik put her through meant shit. And you have the nerve to call me selfish? You stabbed your own sister in the back for a piece of ass.”

“That’s not how it went down. That’s not…”

“You got mixed up with a woman that tried to tear your sister’s life apart. And that broke her heart. It hurt her. My wife. You did that. Not me. I’m just the one that was here to fix your shit and make her happy and help her get over it.”

“When is it going to be enough?” Kyle asks. “When will she have given you enough of herself? When she’s hurt? When she’s dead? Will that be enough for you, Tyler? When she dies because of who you are and what you do?”

“Go home, Kyle. Get the next flight out of here and just go home. You don’t need to be here. I’ve got bigger and better than you working on this. Go home and rescue a cat out of a fucking tree or something.”

Kyle snorts. “You’re a real fucking prick, you know that?”

“Maybe I am, But everything I do, every decision I make, is always what’s best for your sister and my kid. That’s all that matters to me. And I would die for them. In a heartbeat. So don’t you ever accuse me or not putting what’s best for them first.”

“I’ll hunt you down you know,” Kyle threatens, as Tyler heads for the door. “If something happens to her or those kids, I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

“It’ll be too late,” Tyler says. “‘Cause if anything happens to them, I’ll put a gun in my mouth. And then I’ll pull the trigger.”

****

“Why isn’t mommy coming with us?” Millie asks from her seat in the back of the SUV.

He’d been waiting for them when the school bus arrived; buckling them in as opposed to ushering them into the house; giving their mother a chance to sleep off whatever has her down and out. She’d stayed awake for all of half an hour after Kyle had left; long enough to have a tea and something small to eat before going back to sleep, this time upstairs in their bed.

“Is she sick?” Tanner inquires; and through the rear view mirror Tyler can the concern and panic written all over the five year old’s face. Their bond has become tighter since his return from New Zealand, but no one compares to mommy in Tanner’s eyes. She’s the centre of the universe as far as he’s concerned. Looking at her with a love and adoration that can’t be matched by anyone.

“She’s just tired,” Tyler assures him. “She needs some sleep. Her body’s still getting back to normal after having Addie. So we’re going to let her rest. In a nice, quiet house without you guys bothering her.”

“Maybe she just needs cuddles,” TJ suggests. “Cuddles with mommy always make me feel better.”

“Well maybe when we get back, you can cuddle with her. But right now, we’re going to let her sleep.”

The worry lingers. The nagging voice in his ear that says this isn’t just stress and the lingering effects of postpartum depression. She’s battled that particular demon after every baby she’s brought into the world. Successfully. But it has never been THIS intense and all consuming. And he’s thankful that the kids seem satisfied with his half assed explanation; relieved he won’t be hounded with all kinds of questions he won’t have answers for.

“You okay?” Ovi asks from the passenger seat. He’d offered to tag along on their excursion; a hastily planned road trip along a small section of the coast, time at whatever beach caught their eye, dinner in whatever small town they finished up in.

Tyler had been hesitant at first; not liking the idea of leaving her alone for that amount of time. And when he’d called up Allison and asked if she’d come over and ‘keep an eye on things’, she’d been more than willing to help out. It made him feel better. Somewhat, His trust level is still low; it’s hard to get over that kind of betrayal whether it was done in your best interest or not. But she’s experienced; her business world renowned and her reputation solid.

“Just a little on edge.”

“About what’s going on with my father? Mumbai?”

“Can we not talk about that? Little ears. We’re trying not to talk about it around them. Keep things as normal as possible. Whatever the hell normal is.”

Ovi nods in understanding. “Is Saju’s brother still coming?”

“What did I just say? About not talking about this?”

“They’re not even listening. They’ve all got their headphones and they’re planning on their tablets. Besides, I didn’t say anything about my father or Mumbai.”

“Tomorrow. He gets here tomorrow. Flight arrives at ten in the morning.”

“And he’s coming to the house?”

Tyler nods.

“I want to be there. I want to meet him. I never got the chance to meet any of Saju’s family. I’d only seen Neysa and Aarav in pictures. He was very private like that. Saju. He always kept this business life and his private life separate.”

“Smart man.”

“Your business life because your personal life,”

“Yeah, it did. And I don’t regret it. No matter who thinks I should.”

Ovi arches a quizzical brow.

“Just Kyle. He came over and brought up some shit that didn’t need to be brought up. Esme’s entire family has it in their heads that I somehow forced her to stay here after Dhaka. That I should have just told her to fuck off and sent her away. Instead I held a gun to her head or brainwashed her into sticking around. And then there’s Nik,” he sighs. “She’s always had an issue with it. Esme and I being together. Especially how things started.”

“Because you guys were...you know...when you were supposed to be working?”

“Pretty much.” He removes the sunglasses that hang off the neck of his t-shirt and slip them onto his face. “I’m the first to admit that it was totally the wrong place and the wrong time. It shouldn’t have happened. One of us should have been strong enough to put a stop to things. But it DID happen. And it kept happening. Seven years later and she’s still pissed about it.”

“But there’s more to it than that,”, Ovi says. “I mean, I guess she was pretty hurt about the fact you didn’t want to be with her that way.”

“Nik and I both went into things knowing where each of us stood. I didn’t want what she wanted. And she was okay with that. Until she wasn’t.”

“Until someone else came along you did want that with.”

“She just went psycho. Once I got back into the job the first time, she wouldn’t leave me the fuck alone. Texting me all the time, calling me, emailing me. Showing up whatever hotel I was staying at. IT was fucked. It was like no matter how many times I said no, she took it as meaning she just needed to try harder. Six years of that shit I put up with. WE put up with. Every chance to fuck things up for us, she took it.”

Ovi smirks. “Pretty determined.”

“Or crazy. I don’t know which.”

“Maybe she was just really lonely,” Ovi says. “It’s not like she’d ever admit that. That’s not Nik. Maybe she was tired of being alone so she tried to hold onto someone familiar.”

“You don’t hold on to a married man. Especially one with kids. Find someone available. That wants you that way. Don’t try and break up someone’s home. That's pretty low.”

Ovi nods in agreement. “Can I ask you something?”

“This isn’t a repeat of seven years ago, is it? You’re not going to ask me some bullshit about being brave and rescuing people are you?”

“You ARE brave. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

Tyler scoffs. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t want you to get upset.”

“Why would I get upset? How bad is whatever you’re going to ask?”

“It’s...personal.”

“How personal?”

“Personal enough you might get upset.”

“You know what…” Tyler chuckles. “...just ask. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could punch me in the face.”

“If I promise not to, will you ask?”

Ovi nods.

“I promise I won’t punch you in the face. What is it?”

“Is it true that you and Nik had a thing?”

“I just told you we did. “It was strictly sex. That’s it. When I had an itch, she’d come over and scratch it.”

“I mean AFTER you and Esme got together. After you got married.”

Tyler scowls. “What?”

“It’s what I was told.”

“That I had a thing with Nik after I got married? Who the hell told you that?”

“Chloe. Nik told her that you and her were hooking up. On the regular. After you went back to the job the first time. That she’d meet up with you in whatever city you were in.”

“That never fucking happened. Ever.”

“And that things were especially...intense...during the six month you and Esme were apart. That you even told Nik you’d get a divorce and be with her.”

“Are you serious right now?” He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “She said all that?”

“And that things only stopped when Esme was having problems when she was pregnant with Addie. That you ended things because you didn’t want anything happening to the baby and you felt obligated to stay in your marriage. For your kids.”

“Nik actually said that? That I was cheating on my wife with her?”

Ovi nods.”I told Chloe that it wasn’t true. That you’d never do something like that. That I’d been living with you guys for a long time and I would have noticed something was up. You guys have never had THOSE kind of problem.s I mean, you always fought a lot, but I never got the impression you were messing around,”

“Because I wasn’t. Not with Nik. Not with anyone. I would never...ever...do anything like that. Why would I want to? Why would I want to mess around on the best thing that’s ever happened to me? Someone who saved my fucking life. Why the hell would I do something like that?”

It makes him feel sick to even think about it; that someone would even accuse him of that, never mind think he’s the kind of guy that would do it. And it makes that rage to start to simmer; that low, slow boil that just takes one wrong move to send it spiralling out of control.

“I didn’t say I believed it,” Ovi says. “I just…”

“I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a cheater. I may not always be the best man for her, but I’m a faithful one. And the fact Nil would say something like that….”

“I knew it wasn’t true,” Ovi insists. “”I knew you’d never do something like that.”

“You must have thought I would or you wouldn’t have asked ‘is it true…?. No. It’s not fucking true.”

“Daddy!” Millie scolds from the last row of seats. “Language, remember? Little ears in the car.”

He scowls at her through the rear view mirror. “I thought you had your headphones on?”

“My ears got sweaty so I took them off.”

“Well do me a favour and put them back on, because there’s going to be a whole lot of adult language I don’t want you to hear.”

“I already know you swear, daddy. You’re the one who taught me all the best swears!”

“Amelia..”

“But my ears are still sweaty!”

“You’ll live.”

“Fine,” she dramatically huffs, and slips the headphone back on; arms crossed over her chest, and a scowl on her face. The exact same expression he’s seen in the mirror many times.

“You actually believed something like that?” He addresses Ovi. “What Nik said?”

“I didn’t say that. I…”

“Your exact words were ‘is it true’. Meaning you thought it was. You actually thought I would do something like that?”

“Well you guys fought a lot and…”

“And because we fought at lot that automatically meant I was fucking around on my wife?”

“Not necessarily. But…”

“There’s no but. Not a single fucking but.. I have never cheated on my wife. Not with Nik. Not with anyone. Yeah, we used to fight. A lot. And they were nasty, ugly fights and we said a lot of mean and hurtful shit to each other. Sometimes we still fight; not nearly as bad but it still happens. But we always work on shit and. We even go to a goddamn therapist.”

“This is what I mean about you getting upset.”

“Do you blame me? You just admitted that you think I’m the type that would screw around on my wife.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. …”

“I have never and I will never, do that. You can call me an alcoholic, you can call me a drug addict. I don’t give a shit. But don’t ever call me a cheater. I haven’t fucked around on her and I don’t WANT to fuck around on her. She's the love of my life. The ONLY love of my life, actually. And I’d die for her. I almost did. And I barely knew her then. Don’t ever question my loyalty to her. Or I’ll beat your ass into the middle of next week,

“I honestly never thought you did,” Ovi insists. “The way I said it? That’s not how I meant it. I swear.”

“You’ve been saying and doing a lot of dumb shit lately.”

Ovi sighs. “I know.”

“What the fuck, mate? What’s going on with you? You don't tell me about your old man contacting you, you don’t tell me about wanting to get into the job until it wasn’t almost too late, now you’re bringing up this shit with Nik. What the hell?”

“It won’t make any sense. No matter how I try to explain it to you.”

“Look I know I’m not the smartest guy on earth, but I’m not THAT stupid.”

“It doesn’t even make sense to me! How is it going to make sense to you?”

“Try me. I might surprise you. I’m brain damaged. Not brain dead. I do have my intelligent moments.”

Ovi sighs. “I feel I’m just here. That I’m just existing, This isn’t where I thought I’d be with my life. I thought I’d be in school. Getting an education. Doing something with my life. And I feel like I’m just stuck. Like I’m just HERE. But nowhere at the same time.”

Tyler nods slowly, letting the words...and the meaning behind them...sink in. “Well where do you want to be?” he asks.

“Here. With all of you. It’s the only place I want to be. With my family.”

“But…”

“But I want to be a different me. Which is why I want to get into the job. I want to prove to myself that I can do it. That I can be strong and brave and…”

“Kid, you ARE strong and brave. You don’t need the job to make you that way. You think just anyone could have survived what you went through? Not just Dhaka but everything afterwards? You were a kid. A kid who had to do and see shit no kid should ever have to. And you still turned out good. Damn good.”

“Because of you. And Esme. If you guys hadn’t gotten me out of Mumbai, where would I be now? I’d be running things for my father. Or I’d be dead. And I owe you guys for that. I owe you so much.”

“You don’t owe us anything. We took you because we wanted to. Not because we felt we had to. We wanted you to have a normal life. A family. We tried to give you that. I don’t know how well we did with it, but…”

“You’re not my father, but you are my dad. And Esme didn’t give birth to me, but she’s still my mom. And those are my brothers and sisters. We don’t have to be wrapped in the same color paper to be family.”

No…” Tyler says, a slow smile spreading across his face. “...we don’t.”

“I just want you to give me a chance. With the job. I’m trying to find myself. Find out what I’m to do and who I’m meant to be. How can I do that if you won’t let me?”

“I want more for you than that. You deserve more than that. You’re WORTH more than that.”

“And you’re not? My life is of no more worth than yours is.”

“My life before all of this? Before Esme, before my kids, before Dhaka? It was shit. Pure and utter shit. But the last six and a half years of my life have been amazing. Even with the PTSD and all the crap that comes with it. I’ve got a great life. I’ve got a wife and I’ve got kids and if I go to Mumbai and I die there, at least I know I did something good with what was left of my life. But you’ve got a lot of years ahead of you. Why take the chance of cutting them short by getting into the job?”

“You said you’d take me on. You said you…”

“And I am. I am taking you on; giving you a chance. But I don’t think you really know what you’re getting into. What don’t you want more for yourself? Go back to school. Get your education. A real job. A career. Don’t settle for this shit. Because once you get into you, you can’t get back out. It stays with you, It lives in you. It never lets you rest. Trust me, I know. I can’t get out. No matter how fucking hard I try. Is that really what you want for your life?”

“I just want the chance. To find out if it’s for me.”

Tyler sighs. “You’re a stubborn little bastard, you know that?”

“Yeah?” Ovi grins. “I DO know that. I get it from my dad.”

***

She’s awake when he steps into their room; freshly showered with her damp hair wrapped up in a towel, clad in another one of his t-shirts and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. She’s sitting up in bed; pillows stacked behind her and supporting her back; knees against her chest and both arms wrapped around them, attention focused on the television across the room. She looks better; the color has returned to her cheeks and her eyes don’t seem so dull and lifeless. And she glances over at him and smiles; genuine and warm, neither strained or forced. It’s enough; that one smile relieving a little bit of the worry he’d been carrying around since early in the afternoon.

“Hey.” she greets, and turns her face up towards him when he leans down to kiss her. “I thought maybe you’d run away.”

“Never,” Tyler says, and offers her a take out container of food he’d brought home with him. “Someone told me you never went downstairs the entire time I was gone, so I know you haven’t eaten anything since this afternoon.”

Esme frowns. “I can’t believe she ratted me.”

“Weren’t you just on my ass this afternoon about eating? Something about not being able to run on an empty tank?”

“Touche. And I can’t believe you actually trusted her enough to leave me alone with her. That’s not like you.”

“We’re both on the same team. I figure things will just be easier if I try to get along with other people.”

“Baby…” she reaches out and pats his stomach. “...I’m proud of you. That’s huge progress for you, You haven’t been drinking have you?”

“No smart ass. I haven’t. Just trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

“It is pretty shitty.” she agrees, and then stretches her legs out and sets the container of food on her thighs, a wide grin spreading across her face and her eyes sparkling when she opens the lid. “...oh my God. You really DO love me. Tacos? You’re a good shit. You can stay. I’ll keep you.”

“I’ll have to let my other wives know I've decided to settle down here.”

“You mean your side hoes?” she teases. “ What is it up to now? Ten?”

“Even dozen.”

“No wonder you work out so hard in the gym. That’s a lot of bitches to satisfy.”

“I fake it with them. I only put actual effort into you.”

“I knew it. I AM your favourite.”

“Always have been. Always will be. Sorry. You’re stuck with me.”

“I think I can suffer through maybe forty, fifty years with you. It’s awful quiet. You already put the kids to bed?”

“All five of them. Ovi helped. He’s been kissing ass today.”

“He sort of needs to,” she says, and bites into one of the tacos. “He’s done a lot of stupid shit lately.”

“He’s going through some stuff,” Tyler says, his shoulder cracking and popping at the simple act of pulling off his t-shirt. Pain travelling all the way down to the tips of his fingers; the accompanying pins and needles making it difficult to tend to his belt and the button and zip on his jeans.

“What kind of stuff?”

He shrugs. “Guy stuff.”

“That can only mean one thing. It’s about a girl. More specifically, about Chloe.”

“He’s pretty torn up about her leaving. I think we might have underestimated how he felt about her.”

“He’s young,” Esme reasons. “There’s plenty of fish in the sea. He’ll meet someone else.”

“She fucked him over pretty good. Used him as a free ticket here, took what she could, screwed around on him.”

She looks up, pausing mid chew. “She what? He told you she was messing around?”

“He doesn’t have any proof. Just a feeling he has.”

“That bitch,” she scoffs. “I told you she was a knuckle dragging thunder cunt. He was definitely more into her than she was into him. I’m glad he didn’t cave and buy a ring and all of that. What disaster THAT would have been. Imagine if he’d gotten her pregnant?”

“I don’t even want to think about that. I do not want to be a grandpa any time soon. Let’s hope he holds for another...I don’t know...ten...fifteen years…”

“Millie could be having kids in fifteen years.”

“You wanna sleep on the couch? That’s the kind of talk that finds you sleeping on the couch.”

“Whether you like it or not, your daughter is going to get married one day. She’s going to have a family. She’s going to meet a really nice guy that reminds her of you and she’s going to fall madly in love with him and they’re going to get married and have babies and...”

“I brought you tacos and this is how you repay me? Talking like this? I do not want to hear this.”

“I’m just saying. In fifteen years, our daughter could be having her own kids. It’s not impractical to think that way, You’re just bent out of shape over the fact that you won’t be number one in her life anymore.”

“I’ll still have Addie.”

She shakes her head. “Nope. You promised me I could have Addie.”

“I lied.”

“Well fuck you too then, Tyler. You want me to play dirty.?”

He grins as he peels back the blankets and slides into bed next to her. “I love when you play dirty.”

“You want to steal both girls for yourself? I’ll take all three boys for MYSELF, You won’t have a single one left on your team when I’m done with them. They’re going to be all about mommy and you’ll be so pissed. I’ll even turn your name sake into the biggest momma’s boy EVER. Just you watch. I have powers that you don’t fully understand.”

“TJ will never crack,” he says, as he stretches out his legs and leans back against the headboard. “You’re not THAT powerful.”

“I’ve kept you around and in line and for seven years.”

“Because you use sexual favours to brainwash me into staying.”

“Yep. That’s definitely it. My head game is THAT strong.”

He chuckles. “Actually, it is. And what kind of dog shit is this?” he nods in the direction of the tv.

“Some reality show about marrying someone before you actually get to see what they look like.”

“That sounds...fucked.”

“Just a bit. But who knows? Maybe love truly IS blind. Maybe you can fall in love with someone sight unseen.”

“That sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”

“Such a romantic,” she chides, and then moves closer to him when he drapes an arm across her shoulders. “When you said you were going out, I didn’t think you were leaving the country. You didn’t have to stay out THAT long?”

“You needed a break so I gave you a break. Kids were fine. I told them that you were tired and you weren’t feeling well and that they’d see you tomorrow. No big deal.”

“Kind of a shitty mother than needs THAT long of a break.”

“Every mother needs a break. We have five kids. All under six. You’re a fucking legend. Going this long WITHOUT a break?”

“Well I’m lucky that I picked the right guy to have babies with. Because you’re not one to shy away from getting your hands dirty. And all five at once? And you say you’re not brave. That’s as brave as any man can get.”

He grins at that, then tugs the towel of her hair and runs his fingers through her damp tresses. “You okay? You feel better?”

She nods. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Being you. The way you are with me. The way you love me like you do. You’re one of the good days.”

“Sometimes,” he admits.

“All the time. Even on your worst days you’re not THAT bad. I’ve lived with bad. Very bad. You don’t even come close to that. I’m one of the lucky ones. Some women never get away from that. From that type. Makes me feel shitty that I’ve taken for granted when there’s guys like Mark..and worse...out there.”

“You know what? I think we’re both guilty of taking things for granted. I know I am. I’m not always the best husband. I know I’ve put you through a lot of crap. That I’ve made shitty fucking decisions and broke every goddamn promise I’d ever made.”

“Tyler, you’re not perfect. Neither am I. But you’re perfect for me. And that’s all that matters. I mean I was a whiny little bitch baby all day and you still brought me tacos. My one true comfort food. You don’t have to remember stupid little things like that, but you do. You’ve come a long way in seven years. I still remember you trying to choke me out in Dhaka.”

“I was NOT trying to choke you out.”

“You had your hand around my throat.”

“I was pissed off. I reacted. Badly.”

“I should have kneed you in the balls.”

.“You would have had to stand on a step stool.”

“You and your short jokes,” she dramatically huffs. “And okay, maybe you weren’t intentionally trying to choke me out. But your first instinct when you were raging was to grab me by the throat. That was kind of…”

“Fucked?”

“No we did that AFTER you tried to choke me out.”

He smirks.

“It was weird. Because you’re so big and you’re so strong and I knew you could have easily snapped my neck if you’d wanted to. But I wasn’t even thinking about that. I wasn’t even scared. You were mad but I could see it in your eyes; you didn’t WANT to hurt me. You just snapped and reacted and…”

“It was an asshole thing to do. I never should have done it.”

“It did turn into the sexy kind of choking, though,” she reminds him.

“That’s not the point. The fact I even did that...grabbed you like that...it makes me sick when I think about it. I hate that I did that. Even seven years later, it still bothers me. I never meant to do it.”

“I know. You’ve apologized a million times. And that’s exactly what I was saying; you’ve come a long way since then. You’re calmer and you laugh more and you smile all the time.”

“I didn’t have much to smile about back then. Now I have six very good reasons to smile. I’ve got you, I’ve got my kids. Life’s pretty good.”

“Even when all this other stuff?”

“The other stuff will get worked out. I’ll get shit taken care of and it’ll all be over and we can get on with things. We won’t have to worry about Mahajan ever again. Trust me.”

“For every Mahajan and Asif that dies, five more crop up.”

“And if I have to, I’ll take care of them too. Can we not talk about this? Because talking about this and dealing with this is what freaked you out today. And I’d rather you NOT freak out. Just let me handle it, okay?”

She nods.

“And you weren’t a little bitch baby. There’s a lot going on. And none of it is good. You’re stressed and you’ve got your own depression and PTSD and all that crap to deal with. And five kids to take care of. Including a pretty new one. I’m honestly surprised it took this long for you to have a mental breakdown.”

“Are you kidding?” she laughs. “I think I’ve had about five in the last week alone. All I can do is worry. About you. About Ovi. About you.”

“You said me twice.”

“Well I worry twice about you. Just the thought of you going to Mumbai and somehow ending up in Dhaka…”

“There is no logical reason for me to end up in Dhaka. None whatsoever. Just get that out of your head. Or at least try to. Can we talk about something else? I don’t want to talk about this.”

“What should we talk about?”

“I dunno. What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t want to talk at all. I want to do other things.”

“What kind of other things?”

“Remember when I asked ‘you know what would make me feel better?’ and your first reaction was…”

“Oh,” he grins. “THOSE kinds of things.”

“I figure I don’t know how long you’re going to be gone for, so we better get as much of ‘those kinds of things’ in before you leave.”

“What if we do as much as ‘those kinds of things’ as we can, but I never end up going anywhere?”

“It’s a small price to pay. I’ll gladly suffer through multiple orgasms and you end up not going anywhere. I won’t complain about it. I promise.”

“I don’t ever want to hear you say I never do anything nice for you,” Tyler chides, as he tosses the covers back and then kneels at her feet. “One or two orgasms for a couple of tacos? That seems a little steep.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she promises, giggling when he grabs her by the hips, pulls her down the bed, and she lands flats on her back. “In the best way I know how.”

His hands make short work of her pajama bottoms; quickly sliding them down her legs and dropping them at the end of bed. “You’re going to let me sleep in past the school bus tomorrow?”

“Okay, in the second best way I know how.”

“I guess that’ll have to do,” he grins, palms pushing her legs apart, mouth blazing a trail of warm, moist kisses along the insides of her thighs.

“You’ve never complained before,” she says. “In fact, you…” her voice trails off, replaced by a long, content sigh as his tongue pushes its way past her folds and makes its first sweep over her clit. Suddenly nothing else matters; just the feel of his mouth and the way his fingers move inside of her.

All thoughts of Mumbai and Dhaka are completely obliterated. At least temporarily.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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foxtophat · 4 years

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hahah well here i am back on my 10k word bullshit

promise the next chapter is way shorter, john is just so fucking over the top that i spend so much time just trying to organize his thoughts for you guys lmfao. what a chad, right?????

anyway, i hope you guys enjoy nick and john bitching at each other, because that’s pretty much the theme of this chapter. i really enjoyed writing it, which should tell you everything you need to know about how bad a day john is about to have

as usual, i hope that you enjoy! if you do, please consider throwing me a bone in the form of a kudos, comment or reblog -- i eat those up like turkish delight, nom nom nom

also as usual, i got the fic text beneath a readmore for my friends who like to stay on one page. no matter what your reading experience, i will try to accommodate for you!!!

i hope you guys are all having a good day and that it continues to be good even after i’m done giving you fic to read!! that’s... all that’s all i got

John had known offering his help was a mistake as soon as he'd done it. Suggesting that he knew where hidden supplies might be was obviously setting himself up for colossal failure, but he'd had to think on his feet. He hadn't wanted to build up Kim's hopes, or encourage her to talk to Nick about it. All he'd wanted was for her to go back upstairs so he could sneak outside without her haranguing him for it. Then he'd seen how much it had reassured her, and the obligation to follow through had set in. Now, no matter how obvious a failure the endeavor may become, he has no choice but to push forward with the plan.

That's why John doesn't protest when Nick suggests they go sooner than later. He probably should, because it's been too hot to dig for the past week already, but the sooner he disappoints Kim, the less disappointment he'll incur. None of them will have time to blow things out of proportion. The cache he has in mind had been buried by Jacob a little under a mile outside of town, in some unused patch of farmland. They'll be back before sundown, and the sting of returning empty-handed won't last too unbearably long.

Of course, when the morning comes to go look for the cache, John can barely manage to drag himself out of bed. If he'd thought yesterday's heat was unbearable, then he doesn't know what he'd call today. The sun has barely risen and it's already baked his room, leaving him tangled up in sweaty sheets. Summer has always been John's least favorite month, even before the Collapse, but there has to be something wrong for them to be going through a second week of a heatwave. At least blaming the nuclear apocalypse for their shitty weather makes him feel slightly better.

He can't tell if he managed to sleep, but from the way his head aches as he slowly rises, John is willing to bed he failed that task yet again. God, what he wouldn't give for some fucking Ambien. Even a good, stiff drink would help, but John's shot tolerance hasn't recovered from his last encounter for post-apocalyptic liquor, so that's out of the question. Just his luck — he's going to have to suffer a whole day around Nick without much keeping him upright.

Even in the relatively cool shade downstairs, John finds himself blinking sweat out of his eyes. It's a struggle for him to focus on anything besides how miserable he is. If only he could blame it on trauma — but no, he's just never handled prolonged heat well. Montana might not have Georgia's overwhelming humidity, but the temperature climbs twenty degrees higher, and summer out here never seems to fucking end . That, combined with his pitiful heat tolerance, is probably why he's running on maybe two hours of sleep.

There are a handful of raw carrots on his plate, next to a few strips of old jerky that even Nick is leaving for last. It's going to be a long, long day, and he's not going to be getting much else until dinner, but John can't scrounge up any sort of appetite. He hasn't been hungry for what feels like days now, and his stomach barely tolerates anything more than water.

"Hey," Carmina asks, leaning into John's peripheral vision, "Can I have that?"

John doesn't know which part of his meal she's eying, but he slides the plate her way regardless. Kim watches him do it, openly frowning at him because she's also seen him picking around his food at every meal. So far, she hasn't said anything to him about it. Why would she? His lack of an appetite means that Carmina gets to have more. She can't possibly complain about that.

Nick is more vocal about his concern, furrowing his brow as he asks for the second time this morning, "You sure you're okay?"

"Yes," John replies once again. He's too tired to be exasperated, but he wishes Nick would knock it the fuck off, at least until after they leave. The last thing he needs right now is for Kim to hold some sort of intervention. Just in case, he qualifies his yes , choosing the most honest excuse he can this early in the morning. "I'm exhausted," he says. "I didn't get much sleep."

"Do you really wanna do this today, then? I mean, you said this thing was buried, and I don't wanna get stuck digging it out myself."

"I won't be any better rested tomorrow," John sighs, suppressing the yawn that tries to follow.

Nick doesn't look pleased, but he relents with a shrug. It isn't like they're going somewhere particularly dangerous, and even if they do happen to run into trouble, Fall's End will be within eyesight. The wildlife won't be much of a problem, and drifters are more common in the eastern part of the county, moving in from the 94 and occasionally trying to bully their way through. John's confident that they won't run into any trouble, even if he winds up passing out mid-dig.

John lets the rest of breakfast wash around him as he counts the minutes until they leave. He feels distinctly separated from the moment, the Rye family nothing more than white noise going in one ear and out the other. Silently dissociating around their idyllic family unit is still the norm, of course, but at least today he can blame it on too much heat and not enough sleep. Maybe he'll be able to get some rest in the truck, assuming Nick doesn't decide to test the suspension over every goddamn pothole.

Nick reluctantly says goodbye to Kim after breakfast, repeating it two or three times as Kim and Carmina see him off from the porch. John doesn't remember Nick as an anxious person; he doesn't know if there had always been long, uneasy goodbyes on the porch before work. The Collapse has turned most everybody into a paranoid mess, but maybe John just never knew Nick very well to begin with. He doesn't want to ask.

"Okay," Nick says once they're both buckled in, the windows cranked down. "You said we're looking for a silo outside of town?"

John waits until the truck lurches into drive to respond. "The silo was a convenient marker, but I doubt it's still there. I know where to look, though — assuming the landscape hasn't changed too dramatically."

"Well, let's hope so. I don't want to dig around for nothing."

"We both know who's going to be doing the digging."

"I thought it was gonna be you, until you nearly passed out at breakfast. Probably gonna leave me with the hard work like the selfish prick you are."

"I'll be fine," John replies, yawning unabashedly. He rests his head next to the open window, closing his eyes against the hot wind. "I've done more with less energy."

"Yeah, sure," Nick says, rolling his eyes hard enough that John can hear it in his voice. He waits a few beats for John to return the gentle banter, but John can't muster up the energy. He needs to save it all for the dig. It's going to be hard enough on Nick, who manages to sleep at night. John isn't expecting to have much left for anything else once this is all over. It'll be a miracle if he makes it back home.

Quickly figuring out that John isn't in the mood to talk, Nick falls quiet. There isn't a radio station to listen to, so he hums under his breath occasionally, gently swerving along the cracked asphalt to avoid potholes. He's usually happy to bounce through them, but John knows better than to think it's for his sake.

John opens his eyes briefly, just in time to see the washed out turn that once led towards the Ranch. He hasn't been back yet. He doesn't think he could bear asking the Ryes for permission, let alone see the place rotting in a field. Despite repeated assurances to Joseph that he didn't care about his stronghold, he had hand-picked the furniture, the paint, the bedding — all of it — and he had spared little expense. Now, all of his pride and poorly spent money has been abandoned, probably picked clean by scavengers over the harshest years. After all, the security systems he had dropped thousands of dollars into hadn't been able to stop a cop wielding a shotgun — he doubts they would do much to deter anybody now.

He should have listened to Jacob when he'd said it was a waste of time. Of course, John hadn't paid much attention to anything Jacob said unless it was directly related to the Project. Part of him wishes he'd made more of an effort to connect with his oldest brother, but he doubts that he would have made it to this side of the Collapse if he had.

Once he starts thinking about Jacob, it's hard to stop. It's not much of a surprise that his oldest brother is on his mind, considering how often his dreams are haunted by Jacob's presence. Thankfully, with the sun in the sky and the wind on his face, John's more inclined to remember him for who he was, instead of imagining him as the specter of his nightmares. There are no dark corners for him to lurk in, and for once John imagines him as the quiet, withdrawn man he was.

It might have been almost ten years ago, but John can still remember riding along in Jacob's truck, listening to him hum along with the radio. The heat had broken late in August that year, so while the heat had been awful when Jacob had picked him up, it hadn't wiped John completely out. Not that it would have mattered — Jacob had no patience for John's distaste of heat, and he would have forced the issue regardless.

He'd gotten a brisk call fifteen minutes before Jacob showed up at the Ranch, telling him to be ready. John hadn't known what to be ready for, but he'd stopped asking questions by this point — when Joseph or Jacob arrived unannounced, he would only follow after them and do whatever they asked. As long as he did that, they would mostly leave him to his own devices. It had been more freedom than John had ever had in his life.

"You're positive nobody saw them," Jacob reiterates from the driver's seat. The memory of his voice bounces like an echo in John's skull.

"Of course I am," John remembers saying. He remembers being exasperated. Frustrated that even Jacob didn't trust him with menial tasks anymore. He had understood Joseph's distrust, had it explained plainly to him, but Jacob wouldn't even give him the chance to earn back the trust he'd somehow managed to lose. "Not that it matters," he remembers adding. "What can they do? It's our property. We could bury a plane there and they wouldn't be able to stop us."

Jacob's heavy sigh belies his irritation. "That's not always going to be the case. We don't know how the Reaping will go. Or the Collapse. You don't know what will be the last straw."

He'd been stressed. In two weeks, the Reaping would begin, but for now, Jacob's only concern is maintaining a steady flow of willing and able soldiers. He'd been irritable all the time, ever since he and Eli had fallen out, getting short with everybody, even Joseph, who allowed Jacob to be openly insubordinate even while punishing John for the same crime. The main problem in the weeks before the Reaping had been the slowing influx of soldiers making it through the trials. Lots of people had made it through at first. Nowadays, the conversion rate has dipped significantly. Jacob says it's because the people aren't strong enough, but John has a suspicion that it might have something to do with the Bliss, which has become more potent and arguably more toxic since Rachel's arrival as Faith. John hasn't brought up his concerns yet, because nobody has bothered to ask for his opinion. He will never get the chance to find out if he was right.

"John," Jacob's voice calls from the far away driver's seat. He sounds deeply, strangely concerned. "I'm trying to save you."

The words aren't right at all. John's body feels heavy in his seat, the hot air scratching at his face through the window. Where is he? They're on their way, but where?

The next thing Jacob says is achingly familiar, down to his tired inflection. "Joseph is worried about you," he says. "He still worries about your commitment."

It had been a warning, clear as day, and at the time it had filled John with a deep dread. But now, John feels nothing. Let Joseph be disappointed in him. Let him regret ever bringing John back into his life. John hopes it's a bitter pill he chokes on.

John had been on the defensive that day, scoffing loudly and snapping, "And yet, I'm the one converting the faithless." But the defensiveness is missing in the words. The people he'd been using like points against his brother are all dead now, and bragging about the things he'd done only roils his stomach.

"I don't think it's about converting people." Jacob reaches for the rear-view mirror, checking it for the umpteenth time as the truck trundles towards the distant silo. "Forget the religious bullshit for a minute. What we're doing, what's going to happen — we can't afford mistakes. We have to be prepared for every possibility. You understand that, don't you?"

"Nobody saw them," John sighs. "I promise ."

"Good," Jacob mutters. He takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it out.

"Honestly, though. There are caches all over the county. I don't remember you being so particular about the last dozen drop points I organized."

At first, Jacob hadn't responded. John had thought at the time that it was because he was tired of having to explain his every move to someone as soft and short-sighted as John. He'd figured, as he always had, that Jacob saw him as nothing but the PR arm of the Project, kept around out of blood loyalty and nothing else. He would grimace whenever John mentioned atonement, mentioned his hard work, and John had suspected he thought it was beneath him.

But now John wonders if that's all there was to it.

"I'm trying to cover for every possibility," Jacob says. "That's all. It'd be good if you could help me."

"I did help," John retorts. "I do help. I do everything Joseph asks me to, and I don't complain about it. I don't complain when you order my men and me around, either, even though that was never part of the deal."

Jacob clicks his tongue against his teeth. He's checking the mirrors again, all of them. John remembers him checking the glove-box during their conversation, but he doesn't do that now. It hadn't mattered — there hadn't been anything in there — but John remembers it being very, very strange. The glove-box hangs open for a moment in his memory, as he looks through the windshield and spots the tall, bright red silo down the road.

"I wish you would plan ahead for yourself," Jacob says at last. "Stop taking orders and start taking initiative."

John huffs. "You've seen how well Joseph responds to that."

"Yeah," Jacob replies. John had been too arrogant to realize at the time that Jacob was commiserating with him, leaving him feeling deeply guilty now.

"He's convinced that the Reaping is going to begin any time now," John continues, ignoring Jacob's visible-in-hindsight unease. "Do we really have time to be burying barrels of ammunition? Or is this your newest plan to stick it to Eli?"

"It's for after the Reaping," Jacob says.

"A whole lot of good it does us this far from the bunkers."

Jacob had a real response for John, once. It had even satisfied him, at least enough to stop his complaining. But John doesn't remember what Jacob's reasoning had been; all he has is his exhausted brain struggling to stitch together the memory.

"There's so much you don't know. That you'll never find out." Jacob reaches out, his hand resting on John's shoulder, but there's no physical connection. John can't feel the weight of his hand, and for a dizzying moment the world around him turns smudged and blurry. There's a distinct melancholy in the words that Jacob never exhibited. "You know that I didn't believe any of it."

The weight on his shoulder comes out of nowhere, startling John awake as Nick calls his name. He kicks the dashboard as he jolts upright, and Nick leans back as he flings his hands out to steady himself.

"Shit," he gasps, grabbing the door handle. One disorienting glance is all John needs to realize where he is; Nick has pulled up just past the church, and the late summer heat of the apocalyptic landscape reasserts itself as reality once more.

"Sorry," Nick says. "I just, uh... need some directions from here."

"Yes," John replies. The urge to bolt from the truck is overwhelming, but John clings to the door and manages to stay in his seat. "Of course."

They sit for a minute before Nick awkwardly prompts, "Uh... Well?"

John desperately attempts to reorient himself, still stuck in the fog of his dream. "There should be a left turn up ahead. The silo was in a field on the right side of the road, just before the turnout before Larry Parker's house."

"God, talk about whack-jobs," Nick mutters as he pulls ahead. The intersection is mostly washed out now, barely distinguishable from the dunes that have formed over the fields, but Nick has a local's muscle memory. "I mean, I believe in aliens as much as the next guy, but Jesus . You hear what happened to him?"

"Not specifically. I assumed he was killed in the Reaping or the Collapse." Despite himself, John finds his curiosity piqued. "Why? Was I wrong?"

"I mean... I guess it's up to your interpretation." Nick doesn't bother to ease around the potholes now that John is awake, bumping them down along the cracked asphalt. "So, the way Dep told me, they went to go check up on Larry, y'know, make sure he's okay. Larry's got his weird-ass machines going, and he's talkin' about aliens and shit, as he usually is, and Dep keeps going, 'Larry, there's no time for aliens, there are cultists coming for you!' But, of course Larry pushes the point until Dep caves, like, 'Fine, let's fix the generator first, then we can run from the cult.'

"Except the cult rolled up right on top of them before they could patch everything up. Of course, Dep manages to clear them out, and Larry gets his machine working in the meantime. He says, 'help me get to Mars, Deputy!' and they figure, 'hey, might as well humor him.' I mean, what else can you do when the guy you're trying to evacuate insists he's got a fast pass to outer space?"

"Is this honestly what the Deputy was dealing with while we were in the middle of seizing the Valley and its resources?" John asks. He probably shouldn't be surprised, but really . Larry Parker's life couldn't possibly have been worth all the effort involved.

"I guess," Nick shrugs. "People were asking them to do all sorts of weird shit. So, anyway, Larry says so long to Dep and to Earth, and tells Dep to flip the switch. Dep decides that the sooner Larry realizes this isn't going to work, the better, so they turn the machine on the way Larry told them to, and, well, long story short, I guess the thing vaporized the poor guy."

However the story was supposed to end, that hadn't been what John expected. His disbelief is momentarily overwhelming, and he can't help but choke out, " Excuse me?"

Nick shrugs. "I mean, that's what Dep told me later. They were real bummed out about it, too. I guess that makes sense, since they felt responsible. But, at the same time... he said it was a teleporter, right? So maybe he wasn't vaporized at all. Maybe he really did get zapped to Mars."

"The choices are 'vaporized' or 'teleported to Mars'? Are you serious?"

"I guess Dep could have been bullshitting me, but it fits with what I remember about the guy."

John frowns. "I suppose either option is better than what happened to the rest of us," he says, "Although realistically, the man was one paranoid delusion away from assassinating a government official. I don't think he was nearly as technologically savvy as he professed himself to be."

"He wasn't that bad," Nick says as he shakes his head. "He was just some kook who believed in aliens more than people. And, well... I mean, if he really did make it to Mars, then we probably look like a bunch of assholes from wherever he's sitting." He sighs, then admits, "I wish I could've gone to Mars. I bet Kim would like it there."

" Why ?"

"I dunno, she always wanted to go on foreign trips and stuff. Can't get much more foreign than outer space." He hums thoughtfully, then says, "I guess she would've been pregnant, though, and if you can't fly with a pregnant lady, I bet you can't vaporize them either."

John takes a deep breath through his nose before he responds, reminding himself that he owes Nick his life. "That's a logical assumption," he manages to say, proud of his nearly-neutral delivery.

"Oh, shut up," Nick snaps, although he doesn't seem particularly upset by John's back-talk. "I'm just saying, if that's what would happen. It's not like I'm gonna go hot-wire the thing and test it out now ."

"I certainly hope not. There's no way I'm explaining that to the bloodthirsty mob that comes for me after you've disintegrated."

They've nearly reached the end of the road. John can see the T-shaped intersection coming up ahead, but he doesn't immediately recognize the right-hand field. A copse of pine trees have put down roots, and although John can see the skeletal framework of the hay storage, there's no sign of the silo that once marked the spot. John doesn't know if it was destroyed during the Reaping or in the Collapse. It doesn't really matter — everything it held has long since rotted away.

"Here?" Nick asks as they roll to the end of the road. John remembers Jacob slowing along the empty field; he had barely come to a stop to investigate the location. It had been around here that Jacob had checked the tilled soil for any hint at what lay underneath. He'd seemed content with how John's people had handled it, leaving the field as unassuming and untouched as they had found it.

If there had been any hint left behind in the silo or the hay storage, it's been wiped from the face of the planet. Long, sun-bleached panels of what used to be a silo lay scattered across the ground, weather-beaten past their use. Some pieces are pinned in place by the nine-year tree growth, never to be moved again. It's a struggle for John to envision the spot as it used to be, but there's no doubt that this is the right place.

"Yes," John says. "This is it."

Nick puts the truck in park and climbs out of the cab. John waits a moment longer, hoping to spot some hidden bump or curve that would indicate where to dig, but of course nothing reveals itself. He should have paid more attention. At the very least, he should have paid more attention to Jacob's diatribes about preparedness. Maybe he would be able to determine exactly where to start if he had.

John's nerves ease as he steps out of the car and stands at the edge of the worn-out road. It doesn't matter if he doesn't remember the exact spot — there's always been an element of gut instinct in understanding Jacob's methods, and John has plenty of that to rely on in lieu of real information. If he has to waste his time out here, then he might as well try to waste it productively.

He meanders a bit along the shoulder, then takes ten paces onto the field. Instinct has him go another twenty steps, until he's halfway between the truck and the hay storage. "Here, I think," he calls out to Nick, who's wandered ahead to explore the wreckage.

"Are you sure?" Nick asks as he passes John, returning to the truck for the shovels. "I don't wanna be digging holes all day like some kind of Stanley Yelnats."

" I'll be the one digging," John replies tepidly. "I don't need your help."

"What else am I gonna do, sit around and watch you all day? C'mon, let's get to work."

Really, John had expected as much. Nick can't leave things alone, and he can't resist giving whatever help he can. Long ago, John had figured it was a sign of Nick's obsessive need for control, something dark to be manipulated hidden under a folksy veneer. He had never considered that Nick's stubborn helpfulness had really been a coping mechanism for some long-standing anxiety. Even now, knowing full well that Nick's biggest worry is seeming unhelpful, John struggles to accept it. It still rubs him the wrong way when Nick insists on giving him a hand on some menial task that he ordered John to do in the first place.

Digging a three-foot hole is easier with two people, though, so of course John doesn't argue. The two of them hit a rhythm pretty quickly, although John's lack of sleep is slowing him down. Normally, the beat of manual labor is the only thing that helps empty out his mind, getting him as close to meditation as possible these days. For the first few months with the Ryes, it had been the only tangible comfort he had. He could disengage mentally while performing simple tasks with visible results, then ascribe to them penance for any one of his crimes. Even now, John can't help but wonder which sin he's paying for as he buries the spade into the ground.

They dig three feet down before John calls it. "Okay, fine ," he hisses through gritted teeth. "It's close to here. Maybe..."

John ignores Nick's theatrical sigh as he takes a few paces to the left and begins all over again. Of course, it doesn't take long before Nick joins back in.

"Maybe we should hunt down a metal detector," Nick suggests when the second hole reveals nothing.

"Sure, Nick," John snaps, "Add that to the other rational shit on your wife's shopping list."

"Jesus, it was just a joke."

John is far too hot, tired and sweaty to handle any jokes right now, much less from somebody he's trying to help. If Nick thinks John is digging around under the blazing sun just for his own enjoyment, then he can go fuck himself.

Even with John's attitude tanking rapidly, Nick continues to help him dig another hole and a half. His help only makes the defeat sting worse when John has finally had enough. He has no energy left, which makes flopping down on the dirt as easy as giving up. He buries his sweaty, sunburned face into his dirty hands, unable to hold back a groan.

"God damn it."

"What, that's it?" Nick huffs, pushing his hat back to wipe at his sweating forehead. He's using his shovel as a prop, and no amount of bravado can hide how much John's wild goose chase has worn him down. "You're just giving up?"

" No ," John spits, despite that being exactly what he's doing. "I just need a fucking break ."

There was a time when Nick would have punched him for being so miserable, but he doesn't even comment on it today. Somehow, it manages to make John feel worse, as though Nick's pity is fueling his fiery self-loathing. Nothing helps, especially not when Nick jabs his shovel into the dirt and offers John an excuse. "Probably need something to eat," he says. "Some water, or something. Look... just stay there, okay? I got a canteen in the truck, it'll just take a second."

The most response John can offer up is an affirmative grunt. He drops his hands from his face, watching Nick retreat to the truck before turning his eyes on the derelict storage in the opposite direction. He should have known better. He should have known that it would be impossible to find the cache without Jacob's help. Other than a set of probably mis-remembered coordinates and a gut sensation of being so close , John is flying completely blind. Why the hell hadn't he known any better? He could have saved them the time, gas and disappointment, if only he'd just kept his stupid mouth shut.

He guesses it must be progress that he's blaming himself and not Kim, whose insomnia kicked this whole thing off. It doesn't feel like much to show.

The wind changes direction, finally sending the few clouds in the sky drifting past the sun. The breeze picks up, sending a ripple of noise through the young pines. Pink-flowered vines creep through the roots of the trees and up the metal legs of the shed, twisting and choking the rest of the weeds just like they do everywhere else. Despite them being a mysterious, invasive species, they soften the landscape, lending a pink sugar-coating to the wasteland. John watches the blossoms bob in the breeze and thinks that Joseph might have been wrong about a lot of things, but he hadn't been too far off in declaring Hope County a promising garden.

The flowers look so much like the ones that had decorated the hem of Faith's dress that it's impossible not to think about her. John remembers the silk blossoms stitched onto lace, trying to conceal the ripped hem. There had been a dozen women who had tried to take on the mantle left behind by Joseph's wife, but now the only one John can imagine is Rachel, dancing in the sunlight. Even now he sees her swaying along with the wind, although he only has to blink for the vision to fade. A dozen women hadn't made the same impression that Rachel had. They hadn't been as proactive as her when it came to the Path, and they couldn't hold a candle to her wide-eyed understanding of the Bliss. None of them had adopted themselves as a sister into the family, turning quickly into the golden child that Joseph could praise over all others. They'd tried to fill the shoes of a dead woman that they couldn't hold a candle to. Rachel had been much, much smarter than that.

After all, none of those women haunt the landscape the way Rachel does. John, tired as he is, can almost hear her playfully humming on the breeze. She would sing in his bunker, vibrant and full-throated hymns written by dead followers, but now he only ever imagines the quietest tunes. Faith always seemed to be everywhere at once, thanks to the Bliss, but now she only seems to exist where John's memory allows.

Although the music fades as quickly as it came, John feels it echoing inside him. He closes his eyes against the bright afternoon light, but that doesn't do much to ease the pounding headache that's swiftly developing. He can feel his pulse against the hard-packed dirt when he drops his hands to the ground. Faith's laughter in his mind is quiet and playfully condescending as he's overwhelmed by the urge to stagger to the safety of the trees.

Nick abruptly appears in front of John, his worried face hidden under his hat. "Let's get you into the shade," he says, his voice warped by the blood rushing through John's ears. Nothing improves as Nick helps him to his feet and drags him under the shady pines. His head pounds as he collapses against one of the trees; when Nick puts the canteen in his hands, he takes a few grateful pulls of warm water until the headache begins to recede.

"Goddamn it, John," Nick says. "You have got to knock this shit off. You can't keep pushing yourself until you get sick. What am I supposed to do if you get heatstroke? Do you think we have unlimited supplies to keep dealing with your bullshit? I can't keep taking care of you."

"Whatever," John croaks. "I'm fine. I just need a minute."

"You can't seriously think I'm going to let you keep going. You must be delirious."

Taking one more long drink of water, John finally drops the canteen into his lap. "You don't understand," he rasps. "I'm not — it's here. I know it is, I just..."

Nick waits a beat before he takes up where John trails off. " You need to rest. You think Kim and I don't notice you're not eating or sleeping again? Hell, even Carmina notices, and she doesn't give a shit about you. How exactly are you supposed to be any use to us if you're like this all the time?"

John scowls, but he doesn't respond. How can he? Nick is right.

When all he gets is silence, Nick finally heaves a tired sigh and crouches down to John's level. "Look, we'll compromise, okay?" he suggests, with a tone he usually reserves for Carmina. "You're gonna rest here for me, and I'm gonna go dig another hole for you. If I don't find anything, we'll go back home and try again once you're better prepared."

He should resent Nick for treating him like a child, but John can only surrender with a weary nod. "I promise it's here," he says, hating how audible his misery is. "I know it is."

Nick scratches his brow. "I believe you," he says, although John doubts his sincerity. "We're gonna find it — maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but we'll do it. You, uh, want me to keep digging where we were, or..."

John sighs, slumping against the tree. "Yeah," he rasps. "Sure."

It's a miserable feeling, knowing that he's sending Nick on a wild goose chase, but John doesn't stop the other man from heading back out into the sun. He watches Nick pick a spot at seemingly random, drifting in and out as he waits for Nick to give up. He wouldn't even have to dig a full three feet before writing the whole thing off as one of John's delusions. John wishes Nick were that kind of man.

There's nothing there. That much is obvious when Nick finally stops digging, knee-deep in the hole and scrubbing furiously at his forehead. John knows just enough about Nick to suspect he'd genuinely hoped to find it — which just makes the defeat that much worse. John is used to disappointing himself, but letting Nick down stings.

"It's fine," John rasps when Nick returns, not waiting for platitudes or empty reassurances. "Let's just go."

Nick helps John to his feet again, and to make things worse, he keeps making suggestions. "Maybe we can find a tractor that still works. I bet there's probably a back-hoe somewhere in the county we could fix up. That might make it easier, right?"

They cut through the trees to reach the road, and John covers his eyes as they move back into the bright light. He turns back to look at the empty holes they've left behind — and for just a second, he can clearly see the bright red silo where it once stood. It's only a fleeting glimpse of the past, but it's as clear as if he were staring at it from Jacob's truck, enjoying the air conditioning while ignoring Jacob as he says, "So long as we're prepared, we can always start again."

"Wait," John says. "Hold on."

"Come on," Nick groans loudly, "It's hot, I'm tired, and this is getting depressing ."

John rolls his eyes, grabbing one of the shovels from the truck before Nick can stop him. "Fine," he says, "Go home, then."

"For God's sake..."

John ignores Nick as he takes five quick paces forward, turning and staring at the nonexistent silo. It hadn't been here, it had been...

The spot is mostly random, but as John drives the shovel into the dirt, he feels suddenly vindicated . He'd been thrown off by the trees, and it's hard to see just where the road ends these days, and of course he doesn't have the silo's long shadow to guide him. But now he knows better, and he isn't going to make the same mistakes again.

Nick pitches in, because of course he does. Even worse, he does it without complaint. Still, John needs the help; his burst of adrenaline has faded, leaving him to rapidly flag behind until Nick is picking up his slack. They don't talk as they dig, even as time wears on without any indication of them being in the right place. John doesn't think he has the energy to chat, and Nick probably just wants to yell at him, so silence is their best option. This hole could be as pointless as every other one they've dug today, but blind faith pushes John on to dig just a little deeper, just a little longer.

They hit three feet without finding anything. John twists the shovel between his palms, the tip churning the dirt.

"Okay, now are you satisfied?" Nick asks, flopping to the ground beside their latest waste of time. "Are you ready to wrap it up for today, or...?"

John shakes his head, not even realizing he's doing it. He doesn't even know what he's rejecting — the idea of giving up, or the idea that they might come back out here? Why the hell should they? Just because John thinks he might remember a cache of weapons Jacob buried a decade ago? What good would it even do, finding it now? Kim's already made it clear that they don't want more weapons. They want food, they want peace of mind, they want things to be the way they were . There is nothing that Eden's Gate could possibly give them that could help.

Nick slides closer, brow furrowed. "John," he says."

"I know ," John snaps, "I'm sorry . This was a waste of time. Forget it."

Picking up his abandoned shovel, Nick jabs the scoop into the hole, aiming for the wall beneath John's feet, and the motion is met with a metallic thunk . As John steps around for a better look, Nick taps the shovel upwards, until the scoop slides between the flash of half-hidden metal and the undisturbed earth above it. There's no mistaking the green enamel barrel that's revealed as the dirt falls away.

Dropping into the hole, John takes Nick's shovel and begins to heave the dirt away, scraping the scoop along the sides of the metal container until it's half-exposed in the ground. John can't help a triumphant shout as he reveals it, like a paleontologist discovering an unknown species.

Nick grabs the second shovel and pitches in, making short work of the dirt John can't reach. The steel drum is two feet tall and a foot or so wide, and John recognizes it from the Bliss packaging plant. Thankfully, it doesn't have a tight-head lid that implies the cannister is full of drugs. It looks utterly untouched, save for a few scratches from their shovels; the rubber sealant sprayed around the lid hasn't even cracked.

"Well, shit," Nick says, staring down at the barrel in open disbelief.

"I told you," John pants, vindicated. "I told you."

"Yeah, you sure did," Nick agrees, bobbing his head. "So... uh, what now? Do we open it up here, or take it home?"

John runs a hand over the glossy paint. As much as he wants to open it now, he can't help but remember Jacob's paranoia, reminded momentarily of how he had checked over and over for any spies or tails they might've gained while driving.

"It might be best to take it somewhere... less open," John points out. "We have no idea what's inside."

"Oh. Yeah, you're probably right."

It takes some finessing, but the two of them manage to wrestle the barrel out of the hole and, eventually, into the truck bed. Nick cranks the air conditioning as soon as he turns on the car, and John thankfully slumps into his seat as the cold air washes over him. After making a loose U-turn that narrowly misses the hole, Nick shakes the canteen in John's direction.

"Kim's gonna be pissed if she finds out I left you out in the sun like that," he says. "Try to get a hold of yourself before we get back, okay?"

Nick is terrible at sounding callous, but John isn't going to tell him as much. "Don't worry," he sighs. "I don't want her to know any more than you."

The drive back is mostly free of potholes, thanks to Nick's careful driving. John can't help but reaffirm the cache's existence every few minutes, checking the rear-view mirror to ensure it hasn't fallen out or disappeared like so many figments of his imagination have. He wonders what's inside. Certainly ammunition and weapons, but what else? Jacob had always been prepared for disasters, so it could have emergency kits or expired food rations. There will probably be money, too, although that won't help them now.

If Nick is also wondering, he keeps it to himself. He's relaxed in his seat, one arm hanging out his window, fingers occasionally tapping aimlessly against the door. He'll probably be satisfied no matter what Jacob decided to squirrel away, so long as it's not rotten food and Project propaganda. If that turns out to be the case, John will burn the contents himself.

The sun has half-set by the time they return to the Rye homestead. Nobody is waiting anxiously for their return, but it doesn't take long for Kim to come around the side of the house. She whistles appreciatively as the two men maneuver the barrel out of the bed.

"You guys actually found it!" she exclaims. "I thought it would take at least a few days."

"We got lucky," Nick replies. He doesn't mention how many holes they had to dig, or how rough the going had gotten near the end. John hopes that he looks better than he feels, at least to keep Kim from lecturing them.

Even though the cache is only about eighty or ninety pounds, it takes some careful footwork for the two men to carry it inside without dropping it. By the time they set the barrel down next to the table, Carmina has claimed one of the chairs, standing on it for a better look. Nick doubles back to the truck and returns with a crowbar, which will hopefully be enough to pry off the lid.

"What's inside?" Carmina asks, grabbing the back of the chair as she cranes forward.

"Well, hold on," Nick sighs, "Let me figure this out."

Unlike the barrels John remembers, this one isn't sealed with a tight-head valve at the top. Instead, it looks as though the lid had been hammered down into place, and then sprayed with rubber sealant to prevent gaps. It takes Nick a few tries to bury the crowbar's teeth under the lid, but he's rewarded by a satisfying groan of metal. The seal finally gives as part of the lid warps under the force.

Nick peels the lid back and John's heart leaps into his throat. Part of him expects a cloud of Bliss, or some kind of bomb, or a countdown to a new Armageddon. But there's no bomb, no Mist, no doomsday clock. Instead, John finds himself looking down at a bundle of nondescript green canvas, packed tightly alongside a cylindrical nylon bag.

" Well ?" Carmina asks.

John glances at Kim and Nick, only to find them staring back at him. It's as much an order as a request for help, and John steels himself before reaching in and grabbing the fabric. He recognizes the generic duffel bag as soon as he pulls it out — they had been ordered in bulk for the Project before they'd even reached Montana. While it isn't full, it definitely carries most of the cache's weight, and John has to adjust his grip as he sets it out on the table.

With the pack out of the way, Nick is less cautious about poking around in the remaining supplies. He takes the nylon bag out next, rattling the contents thoughtfully. "I think we've got a tent, here," he says, pulling open the drawstring to check. "Yeah, poles, stakes and everything."

There are two cardboard boxes inside, and Kim pulls out one at a time. "I think these are... rations?" she suggests, setting the boxes down next to the unopened bag. "That's what the packaging says, anyway. And this one, the heavier one? It's completely taped up."

"Could be dangerous," Nick suggests as Kim goes back to check for any remaining contents.

John stares at the duffel bag, his fingers feeling clumsy on the zipper tab. None of this feels right. Just how many times had he seen Jacob take bags like this one to his truck? How many of those had been full of supplies for a back-up plan he had never been made aware of? There's no sign of the Project so far, but John can't imagine that will last. What is he going to do when he reveals a bag full of propaganda in front of Carmina? There's no way Kim and Nick will believe he didn't know.

Careful not to rip the fabric, John steels himself with a breath and yanks on the zipper. He expects guns and ammunition, or copies of Joseph's book, or intel that would have been vital for rebuilding after the Collapse. Instead, John finds silver mylar bags, packed nearly to bursting, each one labeled in permanent marker. One reads "RICE (3LB, KEEP)," while another says "POTATO (.5LB, KEEP)" — and still another bag, this one with one clear side, has two cartons of instant coffee sealed inside.

There are guns, too, although not nearly enough. John is careful as he sets out the two .45 pistols tucked into the canvas, along with two boxes of matching ammunition and a few more boxes of miscellaneous shells that might come in handy. He inspects every box for any sign of the Project, but everything is utterly nondescript. Jacob might as well have picked these supplies up at a sporting goods store.

He keeps pulling things out until the bag is empty and the items are laid out across the table for the Ryes to see. Not only does John find more food, but he also finds a crank flashlight and a pair of binoculars, two bundles of paracord, a roll of unused duct tape, two sealed cartons of cigarettes, two pristine hunting knives and a deck of playing cards. The biggest surprise is the fact that Jacob risked packing away two bottles of unlabeled alcohol in a dry cache, but then again, Jacob had always had a soft spot for liquor. They'd been wrapped in plastic wrap and taped up tight, so if they leaked, it hasn't affected the other supplies.

There's more food than ammunition, John realizes. Rice, sugar, instant coffee, dry beef stock, not to mention the miscellaneous array of military rations that have been packed into every nook and cranny. It's hardly a cache. It's more like a squirrel's stockpile for a long winter.

"Did you guys see this?" Kim asks, leaning over Carmina to lay a small nylon pack on the table. She opens it carefully, revealing a tri-folded emergency pack stuffed with medical supplies. One use antiseptic wipes, gauze, bandages and more, all still in its factory packaging. John remembers seeing them stocked at Lorna's ages ago. It's the kind of emergency kit that tourists would buy once they realized just how unprepared they were for rural Montana.

"I thought this was supposed to be for the cult," Nick says, frowning at the supplies spread out on the table. "But most of this is stuff you'd get at the store. There's not even one of those fake Bibles in here or anything ."

"That's what he told me it was," John replies, although it feels uneasily close to a lie. "...At least, that's what I assumed. He had my people handle it, he shared its location with me... It had to be for the Project." Saying it aloud doesn't make him feel any more certain, but he can't imagine what else Jacob could have been planning. "What does it matter?" he quickly deflects, gesturing towards the eighty-some pounds of supplies. "Who cares what he was planning. It's yours now."

Unlike her parents, Carmina doesn't need to be told twice. She immediately drags the box of military rations closer to her chair, eager to devour any new literature, even if it's nutritional information and website reviews. Nick takes one of the knives and uses it to slice open the heavily taped box that they still haven't investigated. John can't imagine that it could be anything dangerous, given the rest of the cache's contents, but that doesn't mean he's any less on edge.

"Uh... huh," Nick says once he finally cracks the box open. "It's just more of the same. 'Two pounds rice, barter.' 'Two pounds sugar, barter.' But didn't he already pack some rice in the bag?"

Carmina points her finger at the offending bag. "It says 'keep' on it."

"I thought you guys were going to be the only survivors," Nick wonders, frowning heavily at John. "I mean, those weirdos have been keeping to themselves since they came back. And I got the impression that you weren't gonna be friendly neighbors ."

"There weren't supposed to be neighbors," John replies. "Anyone outside of the Project who survived were our enemies. This should have been..." He gestures helplessly, unable to figure out what Jacob should have squirreled away for the end of the world. "It should have been weapons. Project intelligence. None of this would have mattered if things had gone the way they were meant to. I don't — I don't know what he was planning with this."

Or maybe, he hadn't been listening when Jacob had talked about starting over.

"This... is too much," Kim says, tearing John away from that horrible thought before it can take hold. "Right? This is too much for us. We can't possibly keep it all."

"Excuse me?" John asks, unable to mask how deeply the comment offends him. "You're joking . I went through all of this for you ." He points at the sugar, the salt, and says accusingly, "These were on your list!"

"That's not what I mean, John."

John is getting sick and tired of being treated like a child today, but that doesn't mean he appreciates it when Nick takes the opposite route. "Don't be a baby," he groans. "You know what she meant."

"We'll keep what we need," Kim offers, "But we can't keep everything . It wouldn't be fair."

"And it'll look bad if we're the only ones who benefit," Nick adds. "They'll know it's because of you, and the cult, and they'll get the wrong idea. They might've shut up for now, but we don't know how long that'll last."

It's hard to fight the urge to run from the conversation, if only to keep himself from saying something stupid, but John manages to stay rooted to the spot. They're right, after all. They can't expect other people to turn a blind eye to anything beneficial John provides. Hell, he has no doubt somebody noticed them driving today. Somebody had to have seen them out in the dirt. It would only take a quick trip to find the holes they'd left behind.

"Yes," he mutters at last. It comes as a relief, followed immediately by his own admission. "You're both right. I know that."

Nick clearly expected more of a fight, if his relieved expression is anything to go by. "Good. Okay." He grabs one of the mylar bags as he sits, which holds two cartons of instant coffee. For a moment, he only stares at the red plastic through the clear side of the bag, and then he sighs. "Of course, now I wanna keep it all."

"We can keep the coffee," Kim says. "Or, well... we can keep some of it. We should probably give the rest up..."

It seems that doing the right thing in this situation has left the Ryes at a loss. Really, it shouldn't be a surprise. Even for a small cache, these are a lot of supplies, and there are no clear benefits to divvying it up in any particular way. On top of that, there had never been much structure to the Valley's resistance — unlike the Whitetails, people in the valley had relied on guerrilla tactics and appropriating the cult's infrastructure for their own use. The fight here had been over before they'd had time to organize.

"Well, I guess we give away whatever says 'barter' on it," Nick finally says. "And... I dunno. I mean, Jacob was meticulous as hell, right? Wouldn't he have known what to keep? Why did he only want to trade this stuff?"

"I don't know ," John snaps. "It isn't as though he planned for this. I have no idea what he would have done. I don't know why he thought to bury this shit in a field! If this was going to be a backup plan, then there should be money, passports, blackmail — something to help him get out of trouble. Not — not cooking supplies and playing cards . This isn't what he was supposed to be doing with his time!"

The realization that John had never really known Jacob cuts deeper than he'll ever admit. John breathes hard through his nose, trying desperately to grab hold of his ballooning anger. He'd known Jacob hadn't taken the religious aspect of the Project seriously, but that hadn't meant he didn't believe in the Project's end goal. He'd been more integral to their success than John, for God's sake! The bunkers had been his idea!

But Jacob had been pragmatic. If he had felt even a twinge of doubt, he would have made plans to account for it. But if that were the case, why would he have shown his hand to John like he had, when John had been so deeply entrenched? Why risk Joseph finding out? Why not play this as close to his chest as John had played all of his own secret betrayals?

"I don't know what he would do," John manages to say. There's a tangled knot of emotion balled up inside his chest, but like so many other things, he forcibly sidelines it. "It doesn't matter what he wanted. He's dead now. All of it is yours."

Kim hears his voice catch, it's clear from her expression, but she thankfully doesn't comment on it. "Well, let's think about it logically," she says. "For one, I think Grace could use some of the ammunition. She might appreciate some coffee, too, Nick."

"Yeah, I guess," Nick says mournfully. "There are two boxes, after all."

Kim chews thoughtfully on her lip, then pivots towards John. "You had to deal with directing resources, right?" she asks. "I remember all of the deliveries coming in and out of the Ranch."

"They won't trust any decisions I make," John replies, trying to cut the suggestion off at the head.

"I'm sure they wouldn't, but I'm not asking for you to make a decision. Just... You know more about this than we do, and I want your input."

John frowns, looking towards Nick for an objection. Unfortunately, Nick doesn't have one, although he doesn't look happy about Kim's request.

Sighing, John considers the groups they need to satisfy. Between Grace, the town, the trailer park and themselves, it's unlikely they'll have much to store, but a surplus would be ideal in case they need to bargain with people coming in from the west. John doesn't like the idea of giving the weapons away, but they would be an easy way to ingratiate the Ryes to anyone still upset at them for taking him in. He wants nothing more than to keep the alcohol and cigarettes, but those would be better as bargaining chips.

He starts by breaking the ammunition up, followed by the mylar bags, until the random array on the tabletop begins to separate out into four distinct piles. Seeing the resources shift in real time is the easiest way to ensure things are balanced, but John remains fully aware of the three sets of eyes on him as he begins to take over the table. While Kim and Carmina move to give John more space, Nick remains seated the entire time, his arms crossed and his eyes on the food that John is moving from one pile to another. He's clearly worried that the family will wind up with too little. He probably feels guilty that he wants to take more from others who could use the supplies.

When he's mostly finished, John has five piles organized across the table — one for each group, plus one comprised of larger bags they'll need to separate. Hopefully, they won't comment on how much he's chosen to keep for them — if they disagree with his decisions, they can wait until he escapes for the night to argue about it.

Kim had been right, though. John had been the one to schedule deliveries, redirect supplies and organize Reaping trucks; hopefully they can appreciate his choices, even if they decide not to listen to him.

"Here's what we have," he says. "The ammunition is split between everyone, as well as the rations. Given the town's location and size, they'll be better off with basic ingredients. They already have hunting equipment and usable cookware. We haven't seen the trailer park, but it's in hostile territory, and I don't think they dedicate time to cooking, so we give them more rations to make up for it. The cigarettes will be a gesture of goodwill, and they can use the sugar more than any one group. At the very least, it means they won't be ingesting straight ethanol for a few days."

Nick sniffs loudly, but neither he nor Kim interrupt, so John pushes forward. "You keep the components," he explains, "But give Grace the knives and whatever ammunition she needs. We can split the rice evenly, but it won't be very much. It would be better to keep it for ourselves, or else give it to one group alone."

"Still seems like a lot is left for us," Kim points out.

"Then you give the rest of it away," John says through gritted teeth. "I did what you asked me to do. This is what makes sense."

Kim nods. "You did, and I appreciate it."

John wishes she would appreciate what Jacob did instead, but he holds the comment back. It's his exhaustion talking, or the long day, or the lingering headache from the heat. None of those things are worth risking the shred of goodwill he's garnered with the Ryes. And the longer he hangs around here, the more likely it is that Nick or Kim will do something to really upset him.

"If that's everything, then it's been a long day. I need some..." Space , he wants to say, but he can only tiredly commit to, "I need some air."

"Sure," Kim says. She tries to mask her pity, but there's no hiding it. "Just don't go too far. Dinner's almost ready."

As if John is going to eat anything. But he keeps that comment to himself as well, knowing that it'll just start a fight that he's too tired to win. Besides, watching the Ryes go through Jacob's supplies and divvy them out the way they'd prefer might be too much for him to handle right now. He needs to put some distance between himself and his brother, even if it's only the short walk to the front porch.

#fc5 #fcnd #john seed #nick rye #far cry new dawn #far cry 5 #p sure its only the first few tags but fuck it #also i actually love turkish delight so that's a legit comment #not just a reference to dumb narnia #my fic #mercyverse

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thewritingstar · 4 years

Note

1-200 we're all in quarantine so got nothing to do. Might as well ask pls

oo anon you were gonna ask anyways lol. But I did this hella quick during a zoom.....

1. What is your middle name?

-Rose

2. Do you have any nicknames that aren’t derived from your actual name?

-Star

2. Do you have any allergies?

-Penicillin (not really thou), but no

4. What is the longest your hair has ever been?

-Lower back

5. How well can you write in cursive?

-Its readable

6. Name one item on your bucket list.

-Going to all the Disney parks in the world

7. Have you ever been on a blind date?

-haven’t even been on a real date

8. What is the oldest piece of clothing you still wear and how old is it?

-prob like five years ago and its jeans

9. How often do you eat out at a fancy restaurant?

-nothing like I have to dress up but maybe once a year??

10. How grammatically correct are you when you text?

-rules don’t apply in text

11. Can you drive stick?

-hell no

12. What foreign country would you most like to visit and why?

-japan because I think it would be so cool

13. Nutella or peanut butter?

-NUTELLA

14. At what age did you have your first kiss?

-...............ahahhahahh

15. DC or Marvel?

-DC. Harley Quinn owns my ass

16. Have you ever hosted a wild party?

-my parties consist of drinking capri suns and playing cards against humanity and Mario kart

17. Name/author of the last book you read cover to cover. Do you recommend it?

-...ooof haven’t read a book in a while

18. How many of your Facebook friends do you actually hang with?

-my mom

19. Have you ever donated blood?

-I was apart of a cancer study so I used to donate my blood (and pee) to science

20. From 1-10, how much do you like decorating for holidays?

-8 I love to decorate but I’m not allow near the Christmas trees

21. Coffee or tea?

-vaniila iced lattes or raspberry ice tea own me

22. What is your go-to Starbucks drink?

-Vanilla bean frap with extra vanilla

23. Last show you binge watched?

-currently its assassination classroom

24. Dogs or cats?

-puppy’s

25. Favorite animated Disney character?

-Jessica Rabbit, Dumbo, Rey, Tamatoa and Guedo

26. Have you ever cooked a big family meal by yourself?

-mostly baking for my family

27. Favorite winter activity?

-Staying inside

28. Have you ever butt dialed anyone?

-probably

29. Can you blow a bubble gum bubble?

-yes

30. How early in the year do you start celebrating Christmas?

-my mom plays Xmas music year round

31. What emoji best describes your life right now?

-the wilting rose

32. Are you fluent in more than one language?

-nope

33. What is the longest you’ve ever kept a New Year’s resolution?

-I don’t make them

34. Have you ever successfully been on a diet? Did you gain any of the weight back?

-I’m on a diet to gain weight and its not going well

35. Are any of your grandparents still alive?

-only on my moms side

36. How good are you at communicating through facial expressions?

-hahaha my face gives everything away and I can read people pretty well

37. Have you ever gotten a commercial jingle stuck in your head?

-EDUCATION CONNECTION! Get connected for free

38. Have you ever left a movie theater before the movie was over?

-Nope

39. Do you consider rapping singing?

-rapping is in its own ballpark...its why its called rapping

40. Does your home have a fireplace?

Yep

41. Favorite non-chocolate candy?

-sour gummies worms

42. If you could have only one superpower, what would you want and why?

-oooof ummmmmm maybe teleportation

43. Have you ever locked your keys in your car?

44. Do you listen to any religious music?

-noooooooooo

45. Do you drink soda? If so, which one is your favorite?

-I hate soda

46. What was your ACT score?

-do not do me like this (21)

47. Rice or quinoa?

-rice

48. From 1-10, how good of a driver do you consider yourself?

-like an 8

49. Do you like horror movies?

-nope

50. How easily do you cry?

-uh depends on what it is

51. Do you have any tattoos? If so, of what and where?

-no but I want some

52. You are hanging with your closest friends. What are you most likely doing?

-being dumb and quoting tik toks at target

53. Can you handle spicy foods? What is your spice limit?

-not very well

54. Can you play any musical instruments? If so, which ones?

-no

55. Are you more introverted or extroverted?

-middle of the road

56. Last CD you bought?

-Folklore by Taylor Swift

57. Do you like roller coasters?

-yessss but they cant be extremely tall

58. What day of the week is laundry day for you?

-uhhh depends on when I have time

59. Have you ever played spin the bottle?

-uh maybe once but I was in fourth grade and walked away

60. How long have you known your best friend?

-I’ve known my bestie for 16 years (met when we were 4)

61. Can you eat using chopsticks?

-yes!! I usually eat my Chinese food with them

62. Do you have any stickers on your laptop computer? If so, what are they of?

-no because I need to get a case for my iMac and iPad

63. How often do you say y'all?

-every fucking day. Y’all is my go too

64. Favorite flavor of ice cream?

-cookie dough, pralines and cream, blue raspberry sherbert, vanilla, coffee

65. How long was your longest relationship? Are you still with that person?

-my longest relationship was like three weeks in fourth grade with my friends cousin who I saw twice

66. Star Trek or Star Wars?

-haven’t seen either but prob Star Wars cause r2d2 is cute

67. How good are you at math?

-ehhh I’m okay at stats

68. Have you ever acted in a play or a musical?

-used to do the plays in middle school :)

69. How often do you read/pay attention to your horoscope?

-not much my horoscope but just my sign in general

70. What is the shortest your hair has ever been?

-just above my shoulders

71. Have you ever broken any bones?

-my big toe

72. Do you like to go fishing?

-nooooooo I went fishing once and it pooped on me

73. Do you believe in evolution?

-of course

74. Favorite costume you wore for Hallowen? How old were you?

-I was perry the platypus…. 19

75. Real or fake Christmas trees?

-fake!!! WHO WANTS TO CLEAN THAT UP???

76. How many pillows do you sleep with?

-usually 1-2 but like 5 in the winter

77. Do you live in an apartment or a house?

-House rn

78. How many of your friends are of the opposite gender?

-in my close circle, one but I do have many boy homies

79. Have you ever had a near-death experience?

-many times

80. How long have you been at your current job?

-four weeks

81. What kind of car do you drive (year, brand, model, color)?

-white car

82. How flexible are you?

-not super but mama can bend

83. Have you ever ended a romantic relationship?

-haven’t even started one

84. Phrase you say the most?

-“I’m uncomfortable” “Y’all” “I would let J.D from heathers…..”

85. Have you ever kissed anyone of the same gender? If so, did you like it?

-no but I wish

86. Do you own any homemade clothing?

-not that I know of

87. Do you like fast food?

-yessss

88. Have you ever given anyone CPR?

-nope

89. Have you ever learned to do anything from a how-to video on YouTube?

-I fixed my moms glasses yesterday with a video so she wouldn’t have to spend a shit ton of money

90. Describe your sense of humor.

-if Always Sunny in Philadelphia and “vine comp that butters my eggroll” had a baby

92. Favorite cereal?

-no

93. Have you ever auditioned for a reality competition show?

-no

94. Have you ever gotten a TV theme song stuck in your head?

-Sugar, spice and everything nice, these were the ingredients…….

95. Do you believe in ghosts?

-indifferent

96. Do you think there is life on other planets?

-hell yeah

97. Have you ever given money to a street performer?

-yep

98. Your deepest fear?

-lets not go there

99. Pancakes or waffles?

-waffles but I don’t even like them that much

100. Are you still friends with anyone from high school?

-yep, my friend circle dates back to elementary

101. From 1-10, how good of a dancer do you consider yourself?

-7

102. How much of a patient person are you?

-I can be extremely patient. Once waited three hours in a dressing room with my friend and I didn’t have a phone

103. Do you know your IQ?

-no but its prob god level

104. Do you eat meat at all?

-mama loves meat

105. Do you own any clothes from a garage sale or a thrift store?

-I think so

106. Have you ever bought anything from a flea market?

-yess my mom used to take me to flea markets all the time

107. Have you ever quit a job?

-early this year

108. Have you ever gotten a song you dislike stuck in your head?

-many times

109. Any movie(s) you can watch over and over and over again and enjoy just as much each time?

-robots to ratatouille

110. Do you or have you ever worn glasses?

-just sun glasses

111. Have you ever skinny dipped?

-when I was like 6

112. Are your birth parents still together?

-yep

113. Have you ever been in the audience for the taping of a TV show?

-not that I know of

114. Favorite type of cookie?

-chocolate chip or the sugar cookies with the pink frosting on them (I’m a whore for them)

115. Have you ever been broken up with?

-nope

116. How often do you smile when getting your picture taken?

-most of the time

117. Have you ever accidentally dialed 911?

-yes I have and I was 6 and bullied for it for years by my uncle even though my cousins tricked me into doing it

118. Oldest memory?

-throwing a chair at a kid in preschool for stealing my cookie

119. Have you ever been the victim of a nasty prank?

-nope

120. How often do you snort when you laugh?

-uhhhh a lot

121. From 1-10, how good of a singer do you consider yourself?

-5

122. Favorite Disney song?

-uuuuuuhhh Shiny, See the Light, Why Don’t you Do Right, Show Yourself

123. Where do you see yourself 10 years from now?

-hopefully in la

124. What is your Myers-Briggs personality type?

-I’m an advocate

125. Have you ever had a fortune cookie fortune come true?

-I think so

126. Name one thing you wish people would stop posting on social media.

-fascist, racist, homophobia stuff

127. Last musical artist you saw live?

-Jonas brothers

128. Credit cards or cash?

-cash cause I feel like I didn’t spend anything

129. Favorite fandom?

-the powderpuff girls or fairy tail

130. What is your astrological sign?

-Aries

131. Have you ever been fired from a job?

-nope I’m a good noodle

132. Any hidden talents?

-I can do the cinnamon challenge

133. Can you surf?

-nope

134. What motivates you to do well in life?

-the fear of failure

135. Your worst physical feature?

-my acne

136. From 1-10, how much are you like your father?

-mehhhhhhhh like a 4

137. How lucky do you consider yourself?

-I’m a pretty lucky person ngl

138. Name a moment in your life when you were pleasently surprised.

-when I won a coffee maker at my senior grad night raffle

139. Have you ever been summoned for jury duty?

-nope

140. What type of shoes do you wear the most?

-my converse

141. Favorite summer activity?

-getting coffee

142. Favorite song to sing in the shower?

-any Taylor swift song

143. Have you ever lived with a roommate you did not get along with?

-my parents sometimes

144. Have you ever lived on a farm?

-my grandparents owned a cherry farm when I was little

145. Have you ever kept a diary or a journal?

-tumblr is my diary

146. TV show or movie you quote/reference the most?

-Always Sunny, The Office, Gotham

147. How often do you get mad at yourself?

-constantly

148. Have you ever gotten any stitches?

-only in animal crossing (he’s so cute)

149. Have you ever been hunting?

-no

150. Favorite YouTube channel?

-Jenna marbles, try guys, mukbang edit channel, drama channels

151. Have you ever had a pet besides a dog or a cat?

-I had a mouse once

152. From 1-10, how well do you work with others?

-9

153. Are you friends with any of your exes?

-I don’t got exes

154. Apple or PC?

-I have an Apple Mac rn but I think I loved my pc so much so I’m getting used to the format

155. Do you collect anything?

-what don’t I collect? Funko, pins, so much stuff

156. Have you ever seen any Broadway plays or musicals?

-I saw Newsies and A Music chorus

157. Any missed opporunites you wish you had taken?

-I’m not too sure

158. Have you ever uttered a spoken hashtag?

-yes

159. Do you have a pool at your house?

-nope

160. What is the longest you’ve gone without sleep?

-like 24 hours and it was hell

161. Last thing that made you laugh?

-a meme 20 sec ago

162. Disney or Nickelodeon?

-Disney

163. Name one celebrity you wish was still alive.

-Billy Mays (Oxyclean dude)

164. From 1-10, how much are you like your mother?

-maybe a 6

165. Your best physical feature?

-my hair

166. Earbud or earmuff headphones?

-earbud

167. Have you ever wished you were born the opposite gender?

-..hmmmm sometimes I think it would be cool but I’m pretty content with being a girl...

168. Do you have any piercings anywhere besides your ear lobes?

-my nose

169. How often do you wash your hair?

-every other day usually

170. Showers or baths?

-I love a good bath but I take showers more

171. Have you ever been a bridesmaid or a groomsman?

-noooo but I wanna be

172. Bottled or tap water?

-bottle

173. What was your favorite TV show when you were a kid?

POWERPUFF GIRLS

174. Any guilty pleasures you’re willing to discuss?

-watching glee

175. Favorite video game?

-Mario kart

176. Have you ever gotten a New Year’s kiss exactly at midnight?

-nooooo why are there so many questions about kissing

177. How many of the United States have you visited?

-four, ive passed over a few more in a plane

178. Have you ever given money to a homeless person?

-yes

179. Have you ever gotten a surgery?

-no

180. Your least favorite food?

-cheese

181. From 1-10, how competitive are you?

-depends. I’m like a 6 but I can be pushed to a 10 when motivated

182. Do you like wearing hats?

-only a snap back occasionally

183. How much of a jealous peron are you?

-ehh not really

184. What was your SAT score?

-900-1100 (stop nationwide testing doesn’t work and I didn’t learn eveything)

185. Have you ever voted for a reality competition show?

-no

186. Does anyone in your family currently serve in your country’s military?

-my cousin

187. Snowboarding or skiing?

-I don’t do snow

188. What celebrity would you most want to play you in a movie about your life?

-jack black

189. Have you ever been a Boy or Girl Scout?

-hell no

190. Have you ever dyed your hair?

-many times

191. From 1-10, how good of a cook do you consider yourself?

-7

192. You have just opened up a web browser. What is the first site you visit?

-this cursed site

193. How many things can you do with your weaker hand?

-a lot

194. Were you involved in any academic clubs in high school?

-honors i guess

195. Have you ever played hooky from school?

-like twice

196. Are you comfortable with watching rated R movies?

—-not with my parents

197. Do you root for any sports teams?

-bold of you to assume i do sport

198. First thing you do when you wake up in the morning?

-pee

199. If you could take home any one animal from the zoo, which one would you choose?

-a lizard

200. Tell something about yourself most people don’t know.

-uhhh ummmm (I have a tik tok with 7.5k followers)

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aconitewolfsbane · 4 years

Text

Well, I hate my brother...

My brother, well, one of them, is an arsehole. Okay, honestly, both of them are, but this is about the oldest one.

He’s being getting absolutely fucking terrible these last few years. Seriously, it’s pretty much elder abuse, so tw:abuse if you need it.

I mean, wow. Here’s just a short list of his arseholery. Putting under the cut because damn, there’s a lot. Stuff in bold means it’s an ongoing issue that we’ve been dealing with for years:

-- I’ve caught him with his hands in mum’s purse when she was in the shower. He immediately denies it, despite me seeing his hand literally in her purse. -- When she was diagnosed with cataracts (which she’s since had the surgery for, and is okay now), he told her that he had cleaned when he clearly didn’t, because he knew she couldn’t tell the difference. -- He picks random fights with mum, then denies that he started it. Even after being told to go to his room to cool down, he waits until I’m gone before coming back out to start on her again. He has driven her to tears on multiple occasions like this. -- Despite knowing that she’s a diabetic, he steals her limited food supplies. He always claims “Oh, I didn’t know...” yet doesn’t hesitate to do it again. -- Even though she’s on a pension, and he gets one of his own, every single one of her paydays, he jabs his hand out demanding money. Throws a goddamn fit if she tries to tell him that she can’t spare it. Continues being an arse until she either gives him her taxi money for next week, or he manages to steal it from her bag. -- When she had cataracts, she had to walk slower and more carefully to make she that she didn’t fall over anything. He decided that she was too slow, and instead of going around the other side of the house and coming in the unlocked back door, he pushed her out of his way. Thankfully, I was nearby and managed to catch her. -- Because of her cataracts, he started waling around the house in one of three things. His underwear; his adult diapers (he drinks too much coke, and it’s wrecked his guts); his damned birthday suit. Yes, he walks around naked sometimes in the house where he lives with his mother, and his sister. -- When we reminded him that he lives with his mother and sister, and we don’t want to see him at all, he called me a bitch for not wanting to see one of my brothers naked. -- Opens her mail without her permission. This is because when she had the cataracts, she let him open and read out some stuff because she couldn’t do it herself, and he seemed to have taken that as an open invitation. -- If she’s on the phone, regardless of if it’s outgoing or incoming, he tries to listen in. If he can’t, usually because I’m there and he knows I’ll yell at him for it, then he’ll wait until I’m gone and harass mum until she tells him who she was talking to. We started just saying “santa clause. he said you aint getting shit this year", and he started to back off. -- Has THREE showers per day. Denies it. And yet, there’s only three people in this house. Someone is having a shower at 4-5am, again around 8am, and then again at night around 8. It’s not me, and it’s not mum. I sarcastically suggest someone is breaking into the house early every morning to have a shower, and he leaps at the idea, claiming that’s exactly what happens. And if I suggested that the cats are having showers at 4am, he’d try to convince us that’s true too... -- Has her fearful of being hit. He’s about 6 foot tall, and she’s barely 5′5, so... -- Has almost hit me multiple times, because I was trying to tell him to stop being such an arsehole to mum. He responds by calling me a bitch. -- Walks up and down the hallway in heavy boots. He’s destroyed the lino. We have both told him not to do it; as it’s annoying, and keeps us both awake; he yells like we’ve told him that he has to give all of his comics to charity. -- Complains whenever mum asks him to do even the simplest job. -- When she had cataracts, he was being a shit about sweeping the kitchen floor for mum. I told him. “Geez, it’s not like she’s asking you to donate a bloody kidney.” His response? “Yes it is!” He compared helping his legally blind elderly mother with a small bit of housework to be the same as undergoing major transplant surgery. -- Throws tantrums, because he has the reasoning skills of a 3-year-old. “I want this!” “Sorry, but no.” “I WANT!” “No. How about this instead?” “No! I don't want that!” “Well, I can’t get the other thing.” “I WANT IT!!” -- He also tells us he’s going to the shops. If we want him to get us something and start getting out the money, he throws a tantrum. He decide that he doesn’t want to go to the shop anymore, and storms into his room. Half and hour later, he slips out and goes to the shop. We don’t get the thing that we needed. However, if we gave him the money to get food for everyone including him, like hot chips, he’ll rush out the door.

The following stuff are things that I actually have dates for. (I only decided to start writing all his behaviour down last year...) I won’t write the dates though. Each entry is from one single day.

-- I made burgers for mum and I, because he’d already eaten something from the shops. He threw a fit because he’s a bottomless pit who buys a weeks worth of tv dinners, eats them all in three meals, then complains about not having any food. -- Demanded $10 from mum so he could go buy milk. She only had the money she needed to get into town the next day. He threw a tantrum. Tried to bully her travel money from her. She had to threaten not to give him any money when she got her pension to make him back down. He later went and got the milk with his own money. -- In the course of ONE DAY, he argued with mum at least FIVE TIMES about: the mess in the laundry that he didn’t clean up when he was told; the fact that he refuses to deal with the rubbish properly, including separating the recycling; and the fact that he wasn’t getting money because he was acting like a shithead. -- Walked around naked again. Mum tried to tell him why he shouldn’t do that. He called her a stupid bitch, threatened not to give her his share of the rent money anymore. I reminded him that if we can’t make rent because of him and get kicked out, he’ll be kicked out too, and we’ll fucking burn his precious comics to stay warm. He backed down. -- Stole mum’s food again. Called me a bitch when I tried to explain that taking other people’s things without permission is called stealing. Threw an old phone book at me. When mum and I tried to quietly discuss what to do about his behaviour, he suddenly decided to start mopping the bathroom floor, just so he could eavesdrop. Then he started thumping repeatedly up and down the hallway outside my bedroom door, knowing that I was trying to rest because the stress gave me a headache. He then started up with mum again, because he thinks he has the right to take whatever food he wants. This was after I brought each of us a 30pack of eggs on Sunday. By Tuesday, he had only 6 left. This shitstorm happened on Friday, when he’d decided that mum not scoffing all her food by then meant that she didn’t want it anymore, and he helped himself. -- He change the batteries on mum’s pay TV remote, but somehow, he managed to pull the case apart, damaging it. (The bottom edge was lifted up, and there was a noticeable crack in the casing.) He of course, denied ever being near it, despite the fact that he’s always randomly changing the batteries despite there being no noticeable issue with the current ones. He threatened to take his freshly boiled cup of tea and throw it at my legs to scald me. Reached for his mug whilst glaring at me. I had to thump him to make him realise that I’m not scared of that pissy little baby. Then, once I had gone back to my room, he came back out and started yelling at mum, blaming her for the fact that I saw the remote and realised it was damaged. He threatened to give me serious burns over a TV remote control.

That section above? Happened last year, between April and November. This year, he’s:

-- Threw a tantrum because I informed him, well in advance, that I wouldn’t be able to buy pizza for dinner on his birthday this year. (We’ve planning on moving soon, and I needed the money to start stocking up on supplies, and saving for the usual expenses.) Mum offered to buy him a frozen pizza when she went shopping on the Tuesday before his birthday. He started on her because he apparently wants an expensive pizza that someone else pays for and he doesn’t need to cook. He got into the shower, and we could still hear him complaining.

And this morning: He left no hot water for mum. It’s winter here in Australia. She’s 69 years old, with diabetes, a bad leg, a heart condition and finally, PTSD from her time in the Homes. (Church/state run orphanages, loaded with sexual abuse and mistreatment. She was part of the Stolen Generation, and has been granted a settlement through the recent Redress Scheme for victims of systematic abuse. A small settlement, nowhere nearly enough for the abuse and trauma she lives with, but we didn’t expect the church to even admit that they’d fucked up anyway. Getting anything was a surprise, TBH.) All this, and she had to have a cold shower in winter. She simply asked him not to take so much hot water. He threw a tantrum, denied having more than one shower a day, screamed at her as she stood there shivering in a towel. I stepped out of my room to get him to back off. He started on me. I got so fucking pissed off that I grabbed the broom handle and belted the piece of shit a few times.

Violence is literally the only thing he understands. Every time he starts to get shitty, he will continue until I threaten violence. Then he realises that he’s gone too far and sent me over the edge, and he backs down. But he’ll still grumble and call me a bitch for trying to get him to stop bullying our mother. He’ll also try to slip out and keep arguing with her the moment I’m back in my room. Which he did as I was writing all this. And yet, he still expects her to give him money every single time he puts his hand out. She only does it because it’s not worth the tantrum he’ll kick off if she doesn’t.

And just in case you think I’m talking about a dirtbag teenaged brother, or a moody toddler?

He’s 41 years old.

As for calling the police... Tch, they’re useless around here. They were called to our street because of a massive brawl where our fence got damaged, and started point blank they they probably wouldn’t be able to find anybody who was involved. They’d just suggest family counselling. (Mum got counselling in the Homes. That person also molested her.) So we’re very against any sort of counselling. It’s already destroyed this family more than once.

Plus, we live in government housing, which means there’s rules we can’t fight against or appeal, because the government does whatever it wants.

If the police come to the address too often, we’ll be kicked out. If my brother is arrested and jailed, we’ll be kicked out. (There’s some rule that there has to be at least as many people living in the house as the number of bedrooms. Three bedrooms, so three people. If he goes, we’re on the streets, or will be shoved into cramped flats to slowly die.)

We’re also barely making ends meet. Without him paying part of the rent, we’re screwed.

Anyway, I just mostly needed to rant.

#awful brother #tw:abuse #tw::elder abuse #OPaconitewolfsbane #rant #I HATE MY STUPID-ASS BROTHERS #ISTG

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