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wangxianficrecs · 1 year

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❤️ Across the street to another life by danegen

❤️ Across the street to another life

by danegen

M, 99k, Wangxian

Summary: Wangji stays on the piano bench as they’re closing up. Wei Ying chews his lip, knowing what he’s going to do but horrified at himself. But what’s the alternative: kick the guy out and find him sleeping beside the dumpster in the morning? And that’s if the cops don’t take him in for vagrancy. “Wangji?” Wangji looks up. Please don’t be a serial killer. “So, we’re closing up for the night, but A-Yuan and I live upstairs. Do you want to join us for dinner?” Wangji blinks. His head bobs in what’s probably a yes. “Great!” Fuck. Or a ragged monosyllabic man wearing a collar shows up at Wei Ying's music store. Wei Ying and A-Yuan ask, is anyone going to adopt this guy? And then they don't wait for an answer.

Kay's comments: This story really had me hooked and I could hardly wait for each new chapter. It's a modern AU set in America based on the movie Unleashed. I didn't know the movie and thankfully, that didn't matter, because no knowledge is needed! Wen Ruohan is a crime boss here and Lan Wangji is his top-fighter that he keeps in a cage and collared and uses to commit violence on his enemies and to win illegal fights (he gave me Winter Soldier vibes!). One day, Lan Wangji manages to escape and he gets taken in by Wei Wuxian and his son A-Yua. Cue lots of hurt/comfort, some drama, family feels, tragic pasts, Wangxian getting together and having to deal with Wen Ruohan. Lots of angst and a well-deserved happy ending. Despite the author warning that Lan Wangji is way out of character here, it didn't really feel that way for me. Like, it totally made sense given his circumstances. I really loved the character dynamics in this story. The Jiang parents are divorced for example and now Yu Ziyuan is trying to be a less shitty parent and mostly doing it by bribing her grandchildren with gifts and one of my favourite parts, though he doesn't play that much of a role, is what the author made of Wen Zhuliu, because I'm really weak for him! I also really loved the slow thawing of Lan Wangji and him growing into his new life and finding a place for himself. Mojo's comments: Fucking spectacular, and I'm in a car and not able to make a good bookmark, but DAMN, y'all. Lwj has been kept in a cage and made to fight all his life, and finally slips his chain and sinks into domestic bliss with wwx and a-yuan: learns to read and use a fork and it's beautiful. But of course, his past doesn't want to let him go.

Excerpt: “Was that woman your mother?” Wei Ying’s smile falls. His mouth opens in a pretty O. “Oh, you mean Yu Ziyuan? The one who picked A-Yuan up?” Wangji nods. “No. Well, not really. My mother died when I was about A-Yuan’s age. My father, too. Yu Ziyuan and her husband—well, ex-husband now—raised me after that. More or less.” Wangji nods like he understands and stares down at the counter. He doesn’t know what to call a woman who is sort of a mother but not really. “Where are your parents?” Wei Ying asks. His voice is soft, like he isn’t sure he wants Wangji to hear. “Dead.” He doesn’t remember his parents, but when Wangji was younger, Wen Ruohan told him that he had taken Wangji in after they died. “Oh. I’m sorry.” Wangji doesn’t understand why Wei Ying would apologize. He’s afraid to ask why. “A-Yuan’s mother died, too,” Wei Ying says. When Wangji peeks up at him, Wei Ying has gone back to staring at the computer screen. He isn’t smiling. “She died when he was a baby.” It hadn’t occurred to Wangji that Wei Yuan must have a mother. He knows about mothers, but he’s never actually met one. He doesn’t know what to say, so he says what Wei Ying said: “I’m sorry.”

modern setting, modern no powers, pov alternating, family feels, set in america, based on unleashed (2005), past wei wuxian/others, wei wuxian is lan sizhui's parent, wei yuan, single parent wei wuxian, addition, implied/referenced drug addition, amnesia, ableist language, musicians, angst with a happy ending, found family, @danegen

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(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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uwua3 · 3 years

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something more. (home for the summer)

🍁📸 fushimi omi

summary: the mad wolf was nothing you expected, but everything you needed for the summer warnings: alcohol/drugs (mentions, no mc usage), angst, bruises, change, crying, death (mentions), graduations, kissing, motorcycles, omi's past, open ending, reunions, scars, separation, sneaking around author's note: bunnie is slowly realizing how old she's getting ;; but in all honesty, the summer of senior year is always a bittersweet feeling, knowing that everything is changing within two months or so. although it's a possibility bunnie may not write as much, or even anymore, once she enters college, she still has this time to do what she loves. i hope you may accept me for as long as you want before we eventually split. if you resonate with this feeling, please enjoy this one-shot! word count: 3,574 music: home for the summer - sara kays

WE STARTED GETTING CLOSE FRESHMEN YEAR, WHEN ALL OF OUR FRIENDS WERE SMOKING CIGARETTES AND WE COULDN’T STAND THAT SECONDHAND SMOKE SO WE’D LEAVE AND DRIVE AROUND UNTIL YOU HAD TO DROP ME OFF AT HOME They said that the big bad wolf of Sekichiku was nothing but bad news, but then why was he so warm in your arms? You couldn’t believe even when you opened your eyes. Fushimi Omi driving his motorcycle just a little slower this time, his leather jacket pressed against your cheek as the night waned. Everyone called him “Mad Wolf”, a title only fitting for the most ruthless of predators amongst the underground of your high school. Yet… how could be a wolf be so gentle? So kind? So lovely in every way?

It started with a party meant for anyone but you. You didn’t know why you decided this was the night to rebel, but it was a mistake. Instead of putting your head in the books and staying quiet in the front of the class, for once you decided to attend a gathering full of things you’ve only read about. Drinks and drugs were mixed in an unhealthy solution for failing tests, missing homework, and any other teenage problem associated with the academic system. When you found yourself outside for the chance of anything except breaking the law, the epitome of what you were avoiding showed up. Omi, in his scarred and bruised glory, quietly closed the door behind him after noticing your rigid state. When his loud boots thumped against the patio floorboards, you wondered what this looked like. A tall, strong wolf with a smile of sharp teeth and narrowed eyes staring down upon his next prey. But, when you turned to meet his amber eyes, you didn’t find a villain belonging to the fairytale of “Little Red Riding Hood”. Instead, Omi softly smiled with dull teeth and eyes that glowed underneath the golden street lamps. When he spoke, his voice healed you like a spoonful of honey, the words void of claws like you expected. “Are you okay? I noticed you’ve been outside for some time, is there anything I can do to help?” Before you shook your head, your gaze subconsciously fell upon the motorcycle chained to a fence, a helmet decorated in boyish stickers that referenced children T.V. shows made you falter. When Omi followed your line of sight, his expression gleamed with something of interest. “Ever driven on a motorcycle before?” This time, you shook your head, arms wrapped around you to keep warm before Omi offered his hand. “Let’s go then.” At your concerned expression at riding a motorcycle with one of the most infamous delinquents around, Omi exhaled through his nose, understanding your apprehension but disappointed nonetheless. It looked like he expected this sort of reaction, though it did nothing to comfort the “Mad Wolf”. “I promise, it’ll be okay. I’ll be extra careful, you have my word.” Omi had no reason to lie, not when his friends were just behind the walls doing everything that got a high schooler excited. You thought something would’ve deterred you from agreeing, like the secondhand smoke scent from Omi’s jacket or the manmade rips in his jeans. But, maybe there was something else that made you take his hand, like the worn leather bracelet you noticed Nachi also wore or the wallet of family photos peeking from his pocket. Either way, you took Omi’s hand, letting him lead you to his motorcycle. His hand was calloused and rough from the years of doing god knows what, his knuckles stained with remnants of a fight not too long ago. Yet, when he latched the spare helmet on your head, you noticed his hands smelt like flour and coffee. If you closed your eyes, it would’ve felt like a white knight leading you onto his horse despite it being the complete opposite. You sat behind Omi, unfamiliar with the position of such a vehicle. Omi checked in on you, looking over his shoulder as he searched for something in your face. Regret, embarrassment, shame, possibly. “I won’t go fast, don’t worry. But, you can still… um… hold on?” When Omi’s voice raised to a question at the end, you didn’t notice his stutter as you hid your face in his shoulder, hugging his waist. Omi’s abdomen tensed for a moment, before relaxing as he let out a deep breath. You would’ve given up anything to know what he was thinking in that moment. You didn’t have time to ask before Omi revved his engine, driving off down the pine-tree ridden road in your small town. True to his word, Omi didn’t drive like he normally did, with no regard for who saw him speeding past some rundown cop. But, Omi patiently cruised down the familiar roads, past the houses with blacked-out windows and everyone asleep. You should’ve felt scared, terrified even. But, you couldn’t. Not when the moon was bigger than ever, with a crown of stars gracing the night’s visage. Not when

this was the most daring thing you’ve ever done up until your junior year, not when the party was miles behind you, not when Omi was this caring of someone he’s never even officially met before. “Can we go a little faster?” After Omi got your confirmation you were serious, you lifted your head to watch the stars pass by in a blur. Yet, Omi’s golden gaze remained consistent, his sights drifting to your bright smile and exhilarating awe. Without realizing, your fists clenched the material of Omi’s jacket whenever a turn was made, your fingers passing over Omi’s stomach. He wondered if you could feel his heart leap whenever your breath ghosted over his already red ears. It was a hour of incoherent conversation and mumbles of nothings before you were outside of your home, your window still open from sneaking out a little while back. When Omi silently stopped, neither of you knew what to do. You didn’t want to let go, nor did you want to accept the best night of your life was suddenly over. Omi turned, both of you much closer than before. His eyes carried the aura of the stars, his smile as consistent as the moon. Fushimi Omi was made of whatever made the night worth staying up for. You never wanted to sleep again. “Can I see you again?” And again, and again, and again. Omi nodded, at a loss of words for some reason. When you gave back his helmet, your hands brushed and you nearly dropped it from the sheer feeling alone. Omi was too considerate to act like he noticed, so he bid you goodbye—I’ll pick you up tomorrow, okay?—as you disappeared inside. He didn’t leave until he saw you wave from your room, to which he waved back with a twinkle in his eye. When Omi drove away, both of you let out a breath, hands over your hearts at what could’ve been something more. Only time would tell what happened next. SWEAR THAT WAS YESTERDAY, BUT IN TWO WEEKS, I’LL BE MOVING SOUTH AND YOU’D BE MOVING TO A TOWN THAT I HAD NEVER HEARD OF I WISH WE HAD MORE TIME, WHY DID I EVER WANT TO GROW UP? It almost felt like yesterday that everything was so much more simple. When friends didn’t die, when the burden of college didn’t weigh you down, when change didn’t come in the form of extremities. At least one thing stayed the same: Omi and his starry eyes and his moonlit smile. Though, that’s dimmed ever since Nachi. Omi didn’t wear his leather jacket anymore, instead letting you keep it when the evenings got cold for the summertime. He must’ve washed it a thousand times over; you didn’t know if it was because of you or the memories attached to it. Either way, Omi was beginning to stop staring when you showed up in his jacket, the only thing left of his past he’s been trying to erase. A year had passed since the party, but it felt like nothing. It felt like all those nights of stargazing, constellation-finding, and moon-chasing became blurred together, a collage of being alive with someone you had just met. Now, Omi was more than a friend, he was your best friend, a soulmate, maybe something more. Omi’s loud steps remained the same, though he was more quiet this time on the roof. You two laid next to each other, hands getting closer and closer before someone pulled away last second. The summer days passed in a haze, nothing particularly exciting until the sunsets onward, where you two knew exactly what to do. Everything was quiet when it came to being with Omi past midnight, except the unsteady beats of your hearts when the possibility of something more shined. Despite that, it was quiet, something both of you longed for during the day. “Do you ever think about what the stars will look like at Yosei?” When you asked, Omi slightly frowned, as if he forgot he was moving to the heart of Veludo Way in just two weeks time. After careful consideration of your curiosity, Omi stretched his arms, resting his head upon them as he seemed to search for something. He always did that, Omi never thought anything was simple.

“No… they won’t look like they do now, I suppose. It won’t be the same.” Without you there by my side, both of you ignored the unsaid words that came with the statement. You nodded, knowing you felt the same way. Veludo Way was a distant world away, Yosei University was taking your Omi away. Light years away. “How have your brothers reacted to the news?” At that, the tension that was ebbing away at the conversation eroded, and Omi’s light came back as usual. Omi ran his free hand through his hair, smiling at some distant memory he wanted to share with you. “Not any good, that’s for sure. Kai & Gaku can’t imagine Pops waking them up since I always did. It’s gonna be a big adjustment for them to actually take responsibility of their own lives.” Although Omi rolled his eyes, he did so fondly whenever he thought about his two younger brothers. You knew he was immensely proud of the young men they’ve been growing into, it was a sense of pride that he had instilled inside him ever since you’ve met him. Ever since you saw those faded stickers still on his helmet, you knew who placed those. “Of course, a life without you isn’t worth imagining.” Shit. You meant to say it lightheartedly, but it came out heavier than expected. With that, a quietness settled between you two, both of you trying to find the right words for the occasion of leaving each other. “You’ll be fine without me, I know it.” But, I don’t like it like that, selfishly enough. I know you’ll be better than ever, but I wish… When a shooting star passed out of the corner of your eye, you pointed it out with the same junior-year awe as if this was your first life. Omi was glad to know the news was right; the meteor shower of the season was tonight, as if it was a last hurrah before both of you left this small town for good. “Make a wish!” I wish we had more time. Despite the wish pulling on his heart strings, Omi turned his head, your side profile greeting him with a smile. The stars were reflected in your eyes, and Omi wondered what a sunrise would look like. It was too late now. “Let’s see a sunrise together when summer comes around, okay?” You nodded, turning and seeing the moon. You didn’t make a wish, not when you had everything you wanted right in your sight. Omi took your hand again, and it was softer than last time he offered it. Omi brought your conjoined hands to his lips, murmuring something about a promise before pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You missed the final shooting star of the night, instead you saw it pass in Omi’s gentle eyes as he leaned in. “Thank you for the summer, my lucky shooting star.” You thought of a wish as Omi kissed you. I wish we were something more. YOU SAID YOU’LL SEE ME WHEN WE’RE HOME FOR THE SUMMER WE WON’T HAVE TO WORK SO WE’RE GONNA DO WHATEVER THE HELL WE WANNA ‘CAUSE WE KNOW THAT ONE DAY, WE’LL BE GONE FROM EACH OTHER Despite only being a year away, your hometown almost felt unfamiliar. New employees manned the typical shops you used to frequent, a new graduating class was celebrating, and overall, people were now older. But, Omi didn’t change. Not with his singular scar on his cheek, his eyes lighting up when he sees you, his warm touch when he hugs you. You heard his bag drop at his front door first before feeling his arms hug you, his words comforting as you two embrace after so, so long. “Welcome home.” You greeted him back, the words sticking to your skin like a sheen layer of sweat that always came with the incoming summer heat. Home… was it your traditional suburb with kids playing in the street and a generation of the same mailmen home? Or, was it something else? You felt Omi wrap his arm around your shoulders, his muscle as present as ever as he guided you to visit his family, the brothers happily welcoming you both into the Fushimi household. Home was Omi, that was all. You exhaled, bending down to ruffle Kai’s hair and praise Gaku for how big he’s gotten. After you politely greeted Omi’s father, to which he harrumphed and insisted you had to call him by his name at this point, you knew this

was home as well. Home for Omi, and due to the open hearts of the Fushimi boys, home for you, too.

You found yourself in Omi’s bedroom, something you weren’t familiar with. It was still clean, organized, and full of warm tones upon black walls, surely something attempting to cover his past delinquent days. As the door clicked close, Omi gently tugged you onto his bed beside him, bringing out his gaze reserved only for you. You didn’t hesitate to lean your head on his shoulder, feeling at ease. Omi took your hand, his grip careful but verging onto desperation. As if being away from you for so long had taken everything in him. You knew that wasn’t true by any means, but Omi’s shuddering breath and hand squeeze tried to say otherwise. When you cupped Omi’s face, he relaxed in your touch, leaning into your hands as he looked down on you; you could tell Omi was a bit embarrassed to let you see how emotional he was getting at the reunion. You didn’t expect a man who’s life was rough around the edges to have the most sincere of hearts, but Omi was always like this. Always gentle, always kind, always gentle in every way. “I missed you, too.” When you said those words, Omi moved forward as if making up for lost time, both of you falling upon the bed in a heap of giggles and whispers. It was everything but I love you because that would change everything, something neither of you needed during this time. Instead, a combination of I hope summer lasts forever and I could only think of you when it was a full moon that filled the room of someone you wish you had knew sooner. WE’LL HAVE LIVES IN TWO DIFFERENT SUBURBS WE’LL HAVE FAMILIES WITH DIFFERENT LOVERS BUT FOR NOW, I KNOW I’LL SEE YOU WHEN WE’RE HOME FOR THE SUMMER It was the first night you had spent in your own bedroom before a knock sounded on your window. When you sleepily opened your eyes, Omi’s figure was illuminated by the moon, his eyes still warm of starlight despite being shadowed. You hurried to unlatch the window to let him in, not bothering to question how he managed to sneak to your room so silently. Although busting into each other’s room wasn’t an impossibility, it was only on rare occasions that you two ever encroached on such intimate territory. Though, neither of you were in high school anymore. Perhaps, it was different now. “What time is it?” You mumbled, your helping hand lingering longer than one would expect of a friend. Omi didn’t mind, he never did, as he looked around for something. When Omi located his jacket still hung around your desk chair, he wrapped it around your shoulders as the chilly breeze entered through the open window. “Time to fulfill our senior year promise. Ready?” You didn’t think twice and followed Omi outside of the window, knowing at this point you’d trust him with your life. Omi knew your backyard like the back of his hand as he avoided setting any sprinklers or devices off, not needing your guidance. You watched his broad back attempt to fit through small spaces, it took everything in you not to laugh at how ridiculous all of this was. Sneaking around like there was still curfew in place, as if both of you weren’t legally adults. By now, Omi had reserved his spare helmet only for you, meaning it was second nature for him to close the clasp snugly. Although this time, his eyes melted at the sight of you, as if in disbelief you were standing in front of him after all of this time. Tiredly, you rested your head against Omi’s shoulder as he made sure you were situated in the back of his motorcycle, something he had left at home. Omi drove off, the speed just right so that it’d blow your hair back the way you liked it. Despite being on the vehicle a countless number of times, it still took your breath every time of how fortunate you were. You tightly hugged his waist, wondering if he could feel the butterflies against your ribcage. Before you could ask why both of you were up so early, Omi parked in the same spot as always when things became a bit much.

It was off closer towards the woods, where a picnic area besides the lake still had the same paint from a decade ago. The grass tickled your ankles as you hopped off, admiring the calm waters before a bird chirped. At that, Omi walked up beside you, his footsteps always loud in your presence. A softer hand gently held onto your chin, forcing you to look up. You noticed the water reflecting the sky first as hues of orange and blue dominated your vision. It was the first sunrise you’ve been awake for, and you were sharing it with the man of the night himself. But, when you glanced at Omi, you realized he wasn’t just made of stars and moonlight. The sunrise emphasized the warmth of his eyes even more as a golden glow surrounded his happy smile. Omi was everything worth staying up for, everything from the sunrises to the sunsets and more. I love you, you wanted to say but didn’t. It would change everything, it would mean that the possibility of “something more” could become “nothing”. You couldn’t, neither could Omi. Perhaps… this was all it ever could be. YOU’VE BEEN BUSY, THAT’S OKAY I STILL CAN’T WAIT TO BE HOME FOR THE SUMMER When you had driven off back to your college, the first text from Omi was reminiscent of a simpler time, where kissing on rooftops was the most thrilling thing you’ve ever done. “I’ll see you next summer, okay?” It made you pull over and rest your forehead against the wheel, keeping your eyes closed as you felt like the sun was too bright. It was still too hot, the clouds were too big, the sky too blue. It was too much, too far away from Omi who was heading the other direction. You wished your head was resting against Omi’s shoulder as he drove a little more over the speed limit underneath the moon and stars. You wished the sun was beaming onto both of you after witnessing its earliest hours. You wished you were with Omi for every moment in between the best memories of your life. Summer was such a cruel concept, a promise that could be taken away at any time. I wish we had more time, you thought, knowing there was nothing else you could do. Omi put his phone in his pocket, knowing it was time to leave after seeing you off. Life was so uncertain, it’s as if both of you knew this was the last summer you two would share before even more things changed. But, despite only having three or so years, it didn’t feel like enough. If only he told you he loved you at that sunrise, if only he didn’t just kiss you without explaining what it meant, if only he could drive you around for just a day longer. If only… I wish we were something more, Omi thought, but it was for nothing. I love you, you typed but put your phone in your pocket. The possibility of something more became nothing.

#fushimi omi #omi fushimi #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #omi x reader #a3! omi #a3 omi

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perthshirecottage · 3 years

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I have been rewatching Deception lately and I forgot how amazing this show is! Seriously you should watch it. And I have so many thoughts! There are spoilers below.

So one of the things I don’t get is why everyone in the FBI is so distrustful of Jonathan. I mean I get that he is a convicted felon but like, it was for involuntary manslaughter. Which isn’t good but the word involuntary is also in the literal name of the crime. It means he did something reckless and person died and he is being punished for his stupidity but he also didn’t kill a woman on purpose?! And yes after the crash he ran. But they don’t act like there was a massive manhunt so it was more of a run in the moment panic but he also let himself get caught even though he is a master of disguise? Which could also be attributed to not wanting Cameron to go to jail for his mistakes because I doubt that the first thing the cops did after Cam said the man in the photo was his brother that they let Cameron go with a pat on the back. Cameron was probably brought in for questioning and would have been convicted if Jonathan hadn’t turned himself in to corroborate the story. So while he ran he did still make sure another innocent man didn’t take the fall for a crime that neither of them committed. But when Jonathan is let out of jail to help save Cameron Deakins and even Kay act like Jonathan is some master criminal who can’t be trusted in the slightest. Again it isn’t like it was purposeful and premeditated murder. It was literally an accident and is even how he was convicted. As in causing an accident in which a person died! And if the argument is that well of course he is bad he has been hiding his existence for 30 years...well, so has Cameron! And Dina and Jordan and Gunter! But they can be trusted. They also lied! I will come back to this in a minute.

Why is the FBI so mistrustful. Especially once they have evidence that maybe Jonathan isn’t making it up and is actually innocent. I can actually get on board with Deakins’ not trusting Jonathan. She doesn’t know him beyond‘convinced criminal bad’. But Kay believes Cameron when he says his brother was set up. She knows that she is getting an innocent man out of jail to help find his missing brother. And yet Jonathan is treated like a low life scum bag. Mike is just as distrustful but he also has personal issues with Jonathan so...and yet Mike treats Jonathan the best because he doesn’t actually think sending Jonathan back to jail is the right move because he knows he can help find Cameron. Mike even takes Jonathan back to the Archive to say goodbye to Dina despite the fact that Mike can’t stand him. Mike’s issues are purely personal and have nothing to do with Jonathan’s conviction and yet Mike puts aside those personal feelings. Mike has my respect for that.

It does make me wonder though why Jonathan isn’t allowed to benefit from this deal with the FBI. There are people who have done truly heinous things. People who murdered dozens of people and sold drugs and done a lot of horrible things and yet are allowed to go into witnesses protection or have lighter sentences in exchange for turning in people who are actually worse than them! And yet Jonathan who accidentally (again that is his legal conviction!) killed someone isn’t given any sort of incentive? In Escapology Kay straight up says that Cameron needs to be careful about having Jonathan ask questions in prison because people won’t be happy to find out that he is helping the FBI. So Jonathan is helping the FBI, is basically a criminal informant and is risking his own life to save a woman’s life and yet is not allowed to get some time knocked off his sentence. If he is helping the FBI why can’t Jonathan be allowed to go under house arrest instead? That way he can help while not being in prison and can a little more comfortable for his incarceration? Why can’t he get some time off his sentence for community service? The FBI wants to take and take from a guy who isn’t the worst criminal out there and yet despite all the help he has freely offered with nothing in return they act like he is the lowest of the lowest. Like if he was given the chance to run he would and he would gladly leave his brother to who knows what kind of fate. And in a moment of adrenaline and weakness where Jonathan pointed a gun at a woman (which he didn’t fire!) it confirms all their suspicious that he deserves to be labeled a criminal. Again, this is coming from Kay who says that she believes that he is innocent. Kay even made sure that MW was caught on camera because she believes that MW is the real criminal. I don’t get why Jonathan is given the short end of every stick and treated so terribly because he made one mistake. Even for the people who believe he caused that accident. No wonder Jonathan snaps at the end of the season. The FBI wants to treat him the worst bad guy, then fine he’s the bad guy. And unfortunately Cameron is the face the FBI sends in to talk to Jonathan for help and so Cameron gets the brunt of that anger.

And now back to the secret that has been kept for 30 years. Why is Cameron the scape goat for being the one to keep Jonathan trapped when there were 3 other people who knew? At least Cameron and Jonathan have the excuse of having an abusive father who pounded it into their heads that Jonathan must remain secret and I’m sure there is some leftover mental scaring which is part of what kept both of them in the cycle of keeping Jonathan secret even after their dad died. It’s the only kind of life either of them had ever known and it must have been terrifying to think about breaking out of that. And what is the crew’s excuse. They were all fully adults when they found out and none of them helped the twins get out of that toxic mindset because it does make a really cool show. Dina dated Jonathan and obviously liked him but she wasn’t any more willing to help Jonathan step out of the shadows than anyone else.

Why is Cameron blamed so heavily for Jonathan’s life being miserable? I mean think about it. Sebastian is obviously the one who started the whole mess and is truly to blame for everything. Cameron and Jonathan were just kids forced to do their dad’s bidding. Then after they became adults neither of the brothers revealed that there were two of them. Jonathan was legally an adult when their dad died. Why couldn’t Jonathan say screw the show and walk out on stage with Cameron and reveal the truth? No one was stopping him. And you can’t tell me that if Jonathan really and truly wanted out that Cameron wouldn’t have made it happen. Cameron spent a year of his life ruining his own career and driving himself crazy trying to find proof of his brother’s innocence long before meeting the FBI. Cameron refused to do anything to better his own life until he saved Jonathan. Cameron loves his brother more than anything and it’s so obvious. Cameron even turns his back on Kay, a woman he is starting to fall in love with. Cameron decided to become a criminal and go on the run because he loves his brother. Cameron would give his own life if it meant his brother could be free. Everything Cameron does is for his brother. And yes, Cameron didn’t steal the diamond but letting an innocent woman get in trouble for his own crime isn’t that crazy of a line to not want to cross. Cameron knows intimately what it’s like to feel guilty for an innocent person losing everything because of his own perceived mistakes. But when it’s just Cameron’s life on the line he is all in.

When I think about Jonathan wanting to end the charade I imagine the conversation going like this:

Jonathan: I want out.

Cameron: but we could do such a cool show.

Jonathan hesitating for a couple of seconds: ok.

I don’t think Jonathan put up that big of a fight. If he had made it clear that he wanted nothing more than to get out Cameron would have let him! Jonathan gave in easily and let himself stay there because it was easier than dealing with the consequences of actually going through with it. Again that mental scaring coming into play. Jonathan has only been known as himself by a very very small number of people. Everyone else in the world knows him as Cameron. So he is probably scared of what would happen if he were to reveal himself. He knows everyone loves Cameron but would people actually accept Jonathan? What if the answer is no? What if everyone is disappointed to find out that Cameron has a brother? What if Cameron is accepted and Jonathan is rejected? Would Cameron continue living his life and Jonathan would be forced out and stuck watching his brother from afar and wind up completely and totally alone? So Jonathan stays.

And Cameron loves his brother and knows his brother is amazing. What happens if people discover Jonathan and they all realize how amazing Cameron already knows he is? Will Cameron lose his brother? Will Jonathan realize there are people out there who are better than Cameron? And since Jonathan isn’t forced to spend time with only Cameron will he leave? Cameron couldn’t be truly known any better than Jonathan. Despite having a ‘life’ Cameron was just as trapped and isolated by this secret as Jonathan. Cameron lost a woman he loved because he couldn’t tell her he had a twin and so was accused of cheating because no one thought he should be allowed to trust her with something that important. I think the psychological toll this whole act took has been affecting the twins their whole life. It’s just that when the truth came out it was way worse than either ever imagined.

Again the crew sees themselves as family but they never did anything to encourage the twins to reveal the truth. I’m sure they heard Jonathan express his desire to stop hiding at some point. And none of them advocated for him. None of them helped the brothers to see that their life was actually messed up and that they both needed help. They saw Cameron devastated over his breakup because of this secret and they never said ‘hey, maybe it’s time you were both allowed to have a full life?’ Jonathan was able to actually maintain a relationship unlike Cameron because Dina was aware of both brothers and he didn’t have to hide from her. Jonathan screwed that up all on his own. Because at the end of the day Jonathan and Cameron were both victims of Sebastian’s terrible parenting.

This show has so much going for. I will be forever disappointed it never got the second season it deserves!

#deception #cameron black #Jonathan black #perthshirecottage posts

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bethanysnow · 3 years

Text

Red Empress.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4nKqslNcYAE&t=1762s

(Inspired by above playlist)

“-And who are you?”

“OH HI YOU ARE REAL!?” The ‘hero’ yelled in shock.

“Yes, I’m real. And what do you want? You interrupted me watching British Bake off…”

“..wait, you’re not gonna...shoot me? With like, a freeze ray, or cut my head off. Send dogs after me, none of that?”

“...Do you want me to hero?”

“NO! I uh I mean no. Ma’am-”

“Then what the fuck do you want…I am busy.”

The hero looked up to a woman similar to what he had expected. She had black hair, wore gold jewelry, and glasses sat on her nose. But the person in front of him? The Terror of the 9 Hells, Dante’s Apprentice, The Red Empress? Wasn’t there. She had a grey cardigan on, yoga pants. She looked down at the little hero with disdain and an air of condescension. Like he was trying to sell her girl scout cookies and doing a bad job at it. The hero looked at his research. Scribbled into a composition notebook was the address of what he thought was the evil lair to the greatest supervillain of their era.

“I am a future hero, or I want to be-” She raised a hand, cutting him off.

“-So you came down to my apartment, which by the way is super creepy. How you got my address I do not know. Then decide to knock on my door. Knowing who I am, you still did so. Did you think this was a good idea?” Slightly amused look fixed onto her face.

“No, I don’t think it was a good idea. But I need to know.” He said with all the sincerity in his heart. “My grandma, she loves you. Has some of your newspaper clippings on her wall. She won’t shut up about you. Saying ‘there weren’t any more good heroes today’. Google just showed me all your recent stuff about how bad you are. You disappeared for like...10 years. Then came back a villain.”

She looked him over. Grabbed his notes out of his hand despite his protests. Flipping through pages she takes a red pen from behind her ear and starts writing in his book. Once she hands it back, it's annotated. Edited. Like how a teacher reviews a paper from a student. Leaning on the doorway she looks into the hall.

“Kay-” Standing back up on her feet she opens the door all the way pushing him in. “-You get until my episode of Bake off is done. C’mon kid.” Grabbing a fistful of his hoodie she leads him to her living room.

The apartment looked over all of Manhattan. Marble floors, red plush furniture. Bookshelves dotted with ‘souvenirs’. Some he recognized as heroes' weapons and memorabilia. A stone head looked in fear out into the room. The head was of the previous ‘supervillain’ from the 50s. A silver glove with runes carved into the surface glowed as the hero passed. A gun from the ‘Manhattan Mad Hatter’. A drugged out ultra-rich chemist who made it his mission to destroy and flatten everything from here to Tokyo in the 00’s.

“You want to talk, kid, or do you wanna look at the knick knacks?”

“Right!” He blurted, going to the couch next to her. A small brown dachshund curled into a ball on her lap. “Where did you go for ten years?”

“Rehab, Therapy for a bit. Um, Austria. Russia for a while. Went to Tasmania. Seattle. Mainly Rehab though-”

“-For ten years?”

She smirked. “You try being a hero for 30 some odd years and not have a drug problem. The 60s and 70s everyone was...disposed. In something. Or someone. There was always a cult to join, doctrine to follow, party to go to. Lots of those Heroes from the glory days died from cocaine, or other drugs. The cops shot the bodies so they could report that they died in the line of fire.” A dark and far away quality clouded her eyes. “-10 years for rehab after seeing your friends, coworkers, freaks of nature you got to call family die? Sounds reasonable to me. I spent the 80s in a fog. God knows what I really did.”

“Oh....”

She scoffed. “Yea- oh! They don’t tell ya that in history class do they?”

“No, Ma’am…”

“Thought as much.”

“You were a hero though! Post WWII there were comics, radio stations, songs, all praising you. Some I saw where you punched a Nazi and went for ice cream after. Don’t take this the wrong way please. I would like to get home today, but you look like you’re in your 30s. You should be 90 somethin”

“That I did do- but ya. And who said I wasn’t 90 somethin? You ever hear that fuckin super solider bullshit? They made Rogers and Bucky do? Where did you think the research was tested? They had to go from somewhere and I dunno...I had the day off.” She shrugged. Her face flickered with rage when mentioning the previous heroes. “And look where it got them, Steve is dead, and Bucky is off with some fuckin retirement bullshit. At least I didn’t retire! I got a job to do, I got taxes to pay.”

“...you pay taxes????” The boy looked at her very confused.

“I am a villain, not an asshole.”

She started to pet her dog, them nuzzling into her hand.

“So you became a villain- came back in 2000. Crashed the Met Gala. Stole the artifacts on display. Crashed a car. Set fire to buildings- why?”

“Ah- the age old question.-” She looked at him. Took a minute of silence with her. The air slowly left the room he felt. Under the steely gaze of the most deadly woman in the world.

“I got tired. Of being owned, propped up, posed, told what to say. The Hero's Union, a committee of people ‘sworn to protect the sanctity of Heroes’ and what they represent and fight for’ never was actually there for us. Type casted us into America's sweetheart, Funny side character. Big strong hero to save the day. Every interview I ever did as a ‘hero’ was never my actual words. I would have been a fuckin amazing actress I’ll give ya that. Smile and tell the people watching not to panic. Not to worry. Us ‘Hero’s got it handled. We were let to suffer unbeknownst to the general public. ‘Lady Justice’? She was 5 months pregnant and the Union wouldn’t let her stop the missions. She ended up having a miscarriage due to stress and what they were putting her body through. It's not just her, it's everyone.”

“So why not just quit? If it was that bad, go on strike or something.”

“That's easy for you civilians to say. You can strike when you work a normal 9 to 5. You can quit your job. You can move on. But as I said, little hero. I was out there for 30 somethin years. Punching Nazis, saving people. Being a Hero. When you are made basically immortal and are a freak of nature- there are things you learn you cannot do anymore. I can’t drive a car. I can’t work out without all the machines sparking out on me and breaking. No one wants to hire a freak now do they? There is no ‘pensioners plan’ for elderly heroes.”

“I guess not…You don’t seem all that Villainous to me though.” He says with a giant smile on his face. Ever the optimist.

She rolled her eyes, focusing on her show.

He looked closer at her face. Grey eyes with blue flecks. Slightly salt and peppering at the sides. She looked strong, obvious defined biceps and calves. Her neck and arms were covered in scars. A long scar ran from her forehead down her face leading in a curve to her jaw on one side. The red pen stuck behind her ear. Big 70s aviator glasses. Before he knew what was happening his hands were bound behind his back and his face was being pressed into the cold floor. She had not changed her position.

“You keep staring at me kid things will go badly for you.” She spoke not looking away from the TV in front of her. “-I don’t look evil, sure. But I will ask you.”

“What does ‘Evil’ look like? I was once a hero too.”

#Original work #story #creative writing #marveloc #Superhero #Superheros #Marvel #DC #OC #Red Empress

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zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years

Text

Request: 'Can I pretty pretty please have that angel's quirk S/o angsty? Like, she has her wings cutted or-OH OH! When Shigaraki is going to get Chisaki's other arm and instead grabs her wing because she got in the way to save him? And when Kai just shouts she is like 'is alright hon... you didn't like them much anyway...' with that smile that even made Kai cry?'

Dammit! Dammit! DAMMIT-!

Why can't you fly faster?! The wind was even helping you for crying out loud!

The moment you heard the new recruits of the Shie Hassaikai, Toga and Twice, speakinv with that man that a few days ago Chisaki had overhauled his arm about some fucked up plan about revenge you had widen your eyes in terror and sneaked out form the mess of cops and heroes... you could get to the rest of the gang later, now you needed only one thing.

Prevent the leader of the league to take your boyfriend's arms away... it wasn't fair! They did threw the first move in some way!

You wiped your tears away with a scoff... you should have been there to calm down the other gang and your boyfriend before Magne, it was her name right? Attacked him... you could have prevented this with your quirk even!

But Kai would be so worried and angry... he insisted that he was making a "cure" for this world... but still he preferred taht you only used your quirk on emergencies.

Well. Fuck his arrogant ass. This IS an emergency.

You widened your eyes in horror when you spoted the van that your boyfriend was had just crashed with another and fell down.

"Kai!" You whimpered, your wings hurting from how much force you were using them to get there faster.

"... did you come to kill me?" He asked hoarsely when Shigaraki just kicked his bed out of the van... only getting back to his senses when that compress guy used his quirk to take one of his arms.

"Which one is the finished product? Oh well..." the blue haired man rasped out, taking the quirk erasing bullets for himself as Chisaki darkened his eyes.

"Give it back."

Shigaraki stared at him numbly before slowly returning back to talking.

"You wanna know something, Overhaul?" He raised his hand a bit, coming in the direction of his arm "Someone who despises quirks so much-"

"GET YOUR HANDS OFF FROM HIM!" He widened his eyes at recognizing the voice coming from above before you simply kicked Shigaraki on his chest from all of your strenght, the force and the impact from how fast you were flying helped you a bit.

"(Y/n)..." he spoke almost in disbelief. The thought of those heroes laying their hands on you was enough to leave him enraged, but you were there... howering over him like a animal would protect their partner or puppy, panting to a point he was even worried you were going to hyperventilate.

You turned a bit your head to look at him, that angry gaze dissapearing as only a worried and scary frow formed when you looked at him.

"Are you okay?" You asked and almost cried at seing that one of his arms were already cutted...

You weren't that late but you weren't so soon either...

"Well, looks like not only now I have to take down the king but the queen as well." Shigaraki rasped out and you widen your eyes at seing Mr. Compress threatening to lay his hands back on Chisaki.

He gritted his teeth before you conjured a celestial light on your hands and threw directly at the man merciless... Fighting for you was never right, but those people were trying to hurt your boyfriend... and even despite knowing all of that fucked up stuff he did, you couldn't help but still love him... after all, if everyone knew about his own past like you did, some people would even understand why he acted like this.

"(Y/n), get out form here-" Your boyfriend said in anger yet worry as you tried to unlock those handcuffs.

"I am not leaving you here Kai!" You shouted before getting back up again at sieng a raven haired man going to send blue flames towards you guys.

You flapped once your wings in such a strenght that it was enough to bring the flames to an end, the fire quirk ised even arching both eyebrows in amusement at your skills.

You did the same thing as you did with the other man, but this I guy dodged your attack just on the last second...

Chisaki was still trying to set his left arm free at least... hsi girlfriend was out there fighting for him even despite after all he did...

What kinda of a a man was he?!

Shigaraki got close and looked a bit at you before smirking sadistically down at Chisaki.

"That slot of yours got some guts."

"Shut the hell up Shigaraki." He growled as he squirmed violently on that bed, while the blue haired man only smiled even more wickedly.

"Huh... te me one thing Overhaul." He lifted his hand up again "Is that woman there valuable to you?"

Just on that moment you went to check up on Kai you saw the horrible scene in front of you. Your legs moved without thinking and you knew it that you wouldn't be able to reach your arm out to push Shigaraki Tomura from there... but your wings were faster and bigger.

"NO!" You shouted and jumped while opening your wings, one of them being touched accidentally by Shigaraki's all five fingers.

You and Kai widened your eyes in utter horror as you let out a painful sound through gritted teeth and fell on your knees besides Kai.

"(Y/N)! NO!" He ripped his arm out but his body was still caged by the straps.

Shigaraki lifted his hand up to look at it with false amusement before looking down at you without any signs of pity again.

"That was... unexpected."

Chisaki let out a angry shout before going to touch the grow with his bare hand before Shigaraki just yanked you by your left wing and brought the knife to cut it out the last remains of the one he touched.

You let out a pained and tortured cry at this as Chisaki immediately retreated his hand back.

"Huh. With this you at least learns how to think... interesting." He looked at you "Tell me honestly how can you had attures this dipshit?"

You wanted to scream and send curses to him that God would be ashamed of you... but the pain of having your wing taken off like that was just too hurtful.

"Let her go." Kai growled before he winced and slapped Compress arm out of him when he had injected something on his neck without noticing.

He suddenly started to feel drowsy... his vision getting blurred but getting better when Shigaraki brought you and him closer to Chisaki's eyes.

"Since we wanted out revenge, consider this as a little bonus!" He smiled widely at him before placing his last finger on your wings... cutting it off the moment he saw his quirk effect almost reaching your back. "Now look at this! Wasn't I generous? You still have your 'angel', a fallen and wingless one!"

You fell back in your knees... a hurtful and pathetic cry left your lips along with a sob as you reached behind your back only to wince at touching just close enough to your skin...

And before you could even blink Shigaraki and his commurates had gotten out of there as the sounds of sirens were heard form afar.

You opened your eyes again to see him, the effect of the drug completly gone as his pupils trembled even at the sign of the last remains of your wings, now merely dust, spread on the concrete like some dust...

"Angel... y-your- your-"

"That's alright..." you whispered with a sad smile, making his heart clench on a unforgivable way... he took notice that drops of blood were dripping down form your back and falling into the ground and the sign made him want to puke in horror and disgust.

"... you never liked them anyway, right? At least part of my quirk is gone now.." you smiled at him and closed your eyes in favor of stopping the tears form the pain you were feeling.... a failed attempt.

He widened his eyes even more at your words, guilt and sorrow finally hitting him like a damn train as you trembling hands undies the straps he had on his body.

The moment he got into a sitting position he couldn't help but let out a sob, the amount of events tht just happened being so much even for him to take... he muffled it with his remaking hand but he could feel his tears spilling like a waterfall from his eyes at the swing the pool of blood close to you. You furrowed your eyebrows before he pushed you against his chest.

He knew it that he couldn't use his quirk to get your wings back... they being cutted out and disintegrated gave him no possible choices of returning those huge, annoying and beautiful white wings back...

He let out a pathetic cry before burring his face in the crook of your neck, clinging on you but careful enough with his grip due to your possible pain.

#overhaul x reader #overhaul scenario #fanfic overhaul #overhaul #chisaki kai imagine scenario #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki kai #kai chisaki #bnha imagine #bnha characters #bnha villains #bnha #bnha x reader #my writing #zuffer writings

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fatalezr · 3 years

Text

And now for something new...

Suburban Slaughter

The recoil of the automatic weapon slammed into Jane's shoulder but she absorbed it with minimal change to her aim and continued to hold the trigger. Empty shell casings fell to her right and bounced around her in the cubicle whilst the front of the gun spat lead at the paper head and torso in front of her. She emptied the magazine, the rhythmic BAM-BAM-BAM echoing around her despite the ear protection she wore. Eventually the gun stopped firing and she released the trigger, taking a moment to see the small wisp of smoke rising from the end of the HK93. She pressed the button in the cubicle for the target to come closer to her and nodded as she saw the vast majority of her bullets had hit the outline of the torso in front of her. She ejected the magazine and practiced careful discipline in making sure all the bullets were clear of the chamber.

Jane found shooting strangely calming. She was a weekly fixture at the local gun range in her town but she did not know many other people there. She was polite and always said hello to whoever was working behind the desk but once she had her targets picked, she would practice her drills in peace with large ear protectors at a cubicle towards the end of the range. It was good to have this as some quiet time, she told herself. It reminded of her being younger and going shooting and hunting in the wild with her father. His passing five years ago had been hard for her. Shooting was a way she felt she could still connect with him, but it also served to relieve some of the other demons she carried, particularly on a day like today.

It was April 15th and three years to the day since her son had died in their local hospital aged 17. Tommy was a good boy but found himself at a party where someone had supplied a tainted package of cocaine. Him and two other partygoers lost their lives that night and it was a night of infamy for all parents in the area. The pain and shock of his death had been too much for her and her husband, and they had divorced a year later. She got into her car and looked at herself in the mirror. She did not like what she saw. She was 44 with a full figure and blonde hair that had one or two grey strands coming through, wearing loose-fitting jeans and a grey hoodie. She felt like she was past her best and did not relish the prospect of returning to her home, alone again. She sighed and switched on the engine.

Jane lived on a quiet street in a sleepy town outside of Austin, Texas. The town, like her, had seen better days. Several houses were vacant, shops had shut down and crime had been rising steadily over the last few years. Drugs were sold on street corners and Jane no longer felt like she could head out at night safe. Her Chevrolet started to make a banging noise as she drove up to her house and Jane cursed - she didn't want to deal with a broken car. She inspected it once she reached home - it would do, but she knew it was getting older and would not survive much longer. She walked into her home, still moderately sized and well-furnished and the one good thing to come from her divorce. She locked the door and went to the kitchen to get herself some water. She sipped on it until the silence was broken by the vibration of her mobile phone. She pulled it from her jean pocket and answered.

"Jane, are you home?" It was the voice of her friend Kayla.

"Sure" Jane answered, "what's up?"

"I can't speak over the phone" Kayla said, "can I come call round?"

Jane glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past 9pm. She wondered what Kayla wanted. "OK" she said, "is everything all right?"

"It is" Kayla assured her, "I'll see you in 15" she added before hanging up the phone. Jane took her drink into the living room and turned on the TV. Sure enough, 15 minutes later, there was a knock at the door and Jane got up to let Kayla in.

Kayla was about 5 years younger than Jane but looked almost her opposite. She was slim and toned with straight brown hair. She was wearing some tight fitting blue jeans and a white vest top covered by a sleek leather jacket. She smiled and embraced Jane as she walked in. "Thanks, I know it's late" she told her in her Northern accent that stood out amongst that of the other locals in the area. Kayla was an outsider to the community but someone who had worked hard to make it her home since she moved to the area two years ago. For Jane, Kayla was a breath of fresh air and one of the few people she still considered a friend. Jane found the two of them could relate and talk together. However, there was still a lot about Kayla she did not know - she didn't know what work she did or had only visited her house once. She knew Kayla's husband was often working away from home and Kayla kept a busy schedule with two young children.

"It's fine" Jane replied politely, "can I get you a drink?"

"A hot tea would be lovely" Kayla said. They both walked into the kitchen together and Jane filled the kettle.

"Is John back with the kids?" Jane asked, referring to Kayla's husband.

"Yeah, he's looking after them tonight. I wanted to make sure I caught you today. I know it's...." Kayla paused, and Jane nodded.

"Thanks," she said simply. Jane was grateful that Kayla knew and was with her in her grief that night. She poured them both a tea and they went to her living room.

"Can I ask?" Kayla said once they had sat, "what would you do if you found the dealer who sold the package?"

Jane said nothing but felt her fist clench and pure anger rise inside her. The police had claimed it was impossible to find the person who had sold the drugs and closed their investigation within days despite Jane's pleading. She wanted justice for Tommy. She broke from the anger and looked curiously at Kayla. "Why are you here Kay?"

"Answer my question and I'll answer yours"

Jane considered. "I'd teach that motherfucker what pain really is". It was true. She had thought about it for some years and even imagined the dealer as being the faceless target she pummelled with bullets at the range on some occasion.

Kayla nodded and reached into her bag. She pulled out a manilla folder and passed it to her friend. "I've got him Jane, I've got him". Jane looked inside the folder and felt a wave of emotions. Shock, anger and confusion all mingled together as she stared at the criminal record for one Billy Oakland, a 30 year old man living from his records in Austin. Jane read the record - he had a string of minor assault and drug charges. She was confused though.

"What?...How?" she asked.

"I've been tracking him down for a few months" Kayla answered. "He's part of a larger network getting product from Mexico and distributing it here. It's all organised crime. Half the shit that goes down here comes from this band of fuckers. Billy's just a dealer...but it's a start"

"Kayla, I don't understand - how do you know all this?"

Kayla sat back for a second. "Before I moved here, I was in the military in a covert unit. I've still got some connections in the services who I can turn to."

"But why?"

"Because it's not just about Tommy, Jane. It's about all of us in this community. The cops don't give a fuck. This town's going down a bad path and there's so many places like this. Someone has to make a stand and tell these assholes they're not welcome here".

Jane pushed past the shock and realised all that Kayla was saying. "Someone?" she asked.

"Or some two people..." Kayla said, fixing her with a hard stare.

Jane looked down at the photo of Billy Oakland again. His dark unkempt hair and long face stared back at her. She looked through photographs that had been taken of him dealing on the streets - he was giving packages to teenagers and other youths...would one of them have died like Tommy? She looked up at Kayla. "Where is he now?"

Kayla nodded and extended her hand. "So you're in?"

"I'm in" Jane took it and they shook. Kayla reached into her bag again and pulled out some more files - they looked like map printouts. She pointed. "This is the corner where he deals. He's there every night until about midnight. We can grab him off the street and then I know a few places we can take him. Here - this will do". She showed an overhead shot of a barn that was off some dirt roads. "Serious question now - are any of your guns suppressed?"

Jane shook her head - she had a few guns of various calibres but none that she fired suppressed.

"That's OK, I have some spares" Kayla said, smiling at her. "What pistols do you have?"

"Colt Mustang and a HK45" Jane answered.

"We'll use the HK45" Kayla told her. "Let's get ready"

"Now?" Jane was surprised at how fast this was happening.

"Sure" Kayla said, "no time like the present right?" She got up and walked to her car, returning a few seconds later with a black duffle bag. She took Jane upstairs to the main bedroom and talked her through her plans in more detail. Jane gave Kayla her HK45 and Kayla added the necessary threading to the barrel to support a thick black suppressor she had brought with her. Jane watched as Kayla assembled the weapon with ease and handed it to her. The suppressor brought extra weight to the pistol but she ran through some dry firing drills and was soon ready to use it.

"What do we wear?" Jane asked.

"Something dark is generally best," Kayla advised. She started to unbutton the front of her jeans. "You don't mind?" she asked.

"Go for it," Jane said. Of all the secrets shared so far, what knickers Kayla was wearing was hardly going to be the most revealing. She turned to her own wardrobe and pulled out some black yoga pants and a long black sweatshirt. As she turned around, she saw Kayla had removed her jeans and top, revealing a matching and sexy black bra and panty set.

Kayla must have caught the momentary look of surprise on her face. "Yeah, I have certain...tastes" Kayla offered as she started to put on some black leggings and a tight fitting black top that looked made for the occasion. Jane watched as Kayla finished her look with a black shoulder holster. She felt slightly embarrassed at getting changed herself - she didn't feel her figure was toned or impressive like Kayla's. Her own underwear was oversized and mismatched. She sighed to herself but then found a determination again and changed into the black clothing she had picked out. Her own holster strapped around her waist and she had to unsuppress the HK46 before placing it inside. "You're doing good," Kayla said, going to her and giving her a reassuring squeeze on the arm.

"I just...I....you've done this before yes?" Jane asked with trepidation.

Kayla nodded. "Yeah. Look, the main thing isn't the gear or the clothes. 90% of this is a decent steady aim and a calm head. You've got those". Jane smiled. "Now come on, let's head out".

The journey in Kayla's car towards Austin was not long. Jane had so many questions she wanted to ask but didn't know where to start. She wanted to know more about what Kayla had done in the past - had she been an assassin? And what about now? Was she still one? Did John know about all of this? She decided to ask the latter question first. "John and I met in the military," Kayla said, "these days he works mainly for the NSA. We're an odd family!" she added, chuckling a little, "but honestly there's no-one else who I'd rather trust than him. He's an amazing father too - he'll call the kids even when he's away in some hellhole just to make sure they see him". Kayla talked about him with a fondness in her voice that made Jane smile too.

"And so what did the two of you do that caused you to meet?" Jane asked.

Kayla smiled. "That's a long story and one for another day". She glanced at Jane. "I will tell you, I promise that, just not tonight. Besides, we're almost there". She was right. They only drove for another minute before Kayla pulled over on a side street and Jane recognised from the name above her they were only a block away from the corner where Billy Oakland dealt. Jane's heart hammered a little quicker. She was about to come face to face with someone responsible for her son's death. She didn't fully know how she would handle the emotion of the situation. The area around them was deserted. It was nearing midnight and they were in a run down area of town. There were a lot of boarded houses - an ideal spot for someone to stand on a corner inconspicuously...but also to be taken from.

Kayla patted her holster. "I'll meet you round the block" she said. Jane shifted over to the driver's seat as Kayla put on a black ski mask and drew her suppressed Glock 19 from it's holster. She saw her friend slink into the shadows and head towards the corner of the block. Jane moved the car out and in the opposite direction as instructed. They would act like a pincer with Kayla on foot coming from one corner and Jane driving from the other. If Billy was working alongside anyone else they would be trapped. Jane turned right and then braced herself to turn right again. When she did, she knew she would see his face in the flesh for the first time. She checked the gun at her hip and turned the car. She saw two men in hoodies at the other end of the block from her. One was taller and had his hood down and she knew this must be Billy himself. The shorter one was wearing all black and she guessed must be part of his crew. She kept the car going straight towards him at a normal pace.

She was only about 30 yards away when there was a sudden movement as Kayla sprung from the shadows on the corner. Within a second, she had moved behind Billy and wrapped her arm around his throat. Her gun raised towards the other man and Jane saw two quick flashes from the muzzle. It was strange to see a gun fire with hardly any noise. Kayla's suppressor and subsonic rounds were evidently doing their job. The shorter man had fallen to the floor and she saw his body jerk twice more as two more shots from Kayla finished him. Jane pulled the car up to the kerb and reached to open the back door. Kayla cracked Billy on the head with the butt of her gun and bundled him with surprising strength into the back seat, where she joined him aiming the gun at his head.

"Drive!" she told Jane as she slammed the door shut and Jane put her foot to the floor on the accelerator and sped off. In the back seat, Kayla was quick at work to tie Billy's hands behind his back with cable ties and gag him with a cloth. He whimpered and tried to move but his head was evidently in pain. He writhed but stopped when Kayla pointed the barrel of her weapon against his head. "Don't you fucking move" she commanded him, "or there'll be picking your brains out of the road". He cowered away from her.

Jane felt exhilarated by the experience as she drove. Kayla's car was a Ford Mustang but a modern model that made the experience less noisy. She turned it away from Austin and towards the abandoned barn that Kayla knew. As they entered the fields, the lights of the city around them faded and there were stars around them. Jane kept focussed on the road but the open skies made her feel more serene and at peace. After 20 minutes, they reached the barn and Kayla pulled Billy out of the back seat. Jane looked round it, amazed there was no blood from the strike on his head. She wondered if that had been intentional.

"Inside" Kayla commanded Billy, pointing to the dilapidated brown barn in front of them. It's doors were rusted and ajar and it was empty inside. The light from the moon shone in from two high windows casting a white light amongst the empty stalls where food or hay would have once been stored. Kayla pushed Billy some more, and he led the way in with Jane hanging behind slightly. She felt the gun on her hip again, and remembered Tommy's face as a boy, smiling at a birthday party. He was gone too young, too young. She felt some apprehension as she approached the door. She was now stepping into the unknown. Kayla had brought her to this point but now what? "Kneel," Kayla told Billy. She removed her ski mask so he could see her face. It was cold as ice. He didn't move. Pip! Her gun flashed again as she shot him in the knee. Billy howled through the gag as best he could and sunk to his knees. Kayla let him weep for a few seconds and walked over to Jane. "Do you want this?"

Jane nodded and gripped her gun. She removed it from it's holster on her hip and then reached around her back for where she had stored the suppressor. She positioned herself out of view of Billy and slowly twisted it on, the resolve to kill him deepening with each movement.

Kayla was standing over Billy. "Now I'm going to remove the gag Billy and ask you some questions. There's no point screaming, we're completely alone here. Nod if you understand". Between Billy's whimpering, she saw his head move up and down. "Good," Kayla said. She removed the gag and Billy whimpered loudly.

"Wh-wh-what do you want? I don't have nothing I swear!" he drawled in a Southern accent.

"I want you to answer some questions Billy" Kayla said calmly.

"But you-you'll kill me, you'll kill me if I-I talk"

"No" Kayla said, "I give you my word I won't". Billy looked confused but Kayla continued. "Tell me where you get your supplies"

"Su-Supplies of what?" Billy asked.

"The coke Billy, tell me where you get the supplies" Kayla raised her voice in a threatening manner.

"I-I-I got a guy in the city". He seemed to steady himself some more. "He brings the package in, always gives me a cut".

"And how does he bring the package in?" Kayla asked, calming her voice again.

"He's in the trucking business. Always going cross-border with all kinds of shit".

Kayla studied Billy's face and nodded with a glance at Jane. "Alright, trucking. How do they get it past border control?" Billy shook his head. "HOW?" Kayla placed her gun against his head.

"I don't know, I swear" Billy protested, "I just get my gear and go, it's truth, honest!"

"What's the name of your supplier?" Kayla kept the gun against his head. "Come on, either a name comes out or a bullet goes in - your call".

"It's Eric! Eric Martinez" Billy cried out. Kayla took a step back. "That's all I know, I swear. Just - just let me go...live.....I'll disappear...never touch that shit again, I swear" he pleaded. "You said I'd live".

Kayla nodded. "Actually Billy, I said I wouldn't shoot you. I didn't give any guarantees for anyone else". Jane took that as her cue and moved into view, gripping her gun by her side. Kayla squeezed her on the shoulder. "I'll be outside" she told her.

"Wh-what?" Billy cried, realising what was about to happen.

Jane looked down at him - he was pitiful with the wound on his leg and a face that was red with emotion. She calmed herself - she had to know one more thing. "Three years ago" she said to Billy, "you spiked a package. You remember?"

"Sh-Shit lady, I-I don't know, I only done that a couple times"

"And one of those times was three years ago" Jane said, her voice growing stronger. "Why?" It was the one thing she needed to know. "Why?!" she shouted louder as Billy said nothing.

"Some guy...his brother stole...stole my car...thought it would....send...a message"

"Some guy stole your car and so three kids had to die!" Jane was incredulous.

"It was...it was the game lady. How the fuck I know what happens?"

Jane needed to hear no more. She raised her pistol, supported by both hands and aimed at his chest.

"No lady! No no!" he cried.

Pfft. Jane's finger caressed the trigger and she noticed Billy jerk. The empty shell casing fell on the floor in the barn. Billy's hoodie started to turn a crimson red. She caressed again. Pfft. Another soft whisper from the gun. Another jerk from Billy. He slumped to the floor. Jane looked at his fallen body but all she saw in her head was Tommy lying in the hospital, his customary smile wiped away. She stepped towards Billy. Pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft-pfft. The anger exploded out of her and she screamed as she emptied the magazine into him. Billy jerked a few more times but by the end of her firing spree he was still, lying still with his face towards the ground.

Jane looked at her empty gun and felt a strange sensation. Her anger lifted and she found herself feeling free and lighter. She began to feel a strange euphoria. She had brought some justice to Tommy. Almost on instinct, she ejected the magazine and reached into her holster for a spare. She chambered a round and looked down on Billy's body, smiling. There was no screaming from her this time. She let all the sensations move through her - the feel of the weight of the trigger as her right hand squeezed it, the soft -pfft- sound as the suppressor shot forth the round, the ping of the casing hitting the floor and the sight of another hole appearing in the hoodie on the ground. Pfft, pfft, pfft, pfft. She slowly and deliberately fired. She breathed deeply and felt her nipples harden. She had not felt pleasure since Tommy's death and she took a second to enjoy the sensation. She aimed higher. Pfft, pfft, pfft. She emptied three bullets into Billy's head and it crumpled. She smiled and licked her lips. Pfft, pfft. She fired the final two bullets into the remains of his head and stared at his lifeless corpse and the small amount of smoke rising from the end of the suppressor.

Jane ejected the magazine and began to unthread the suppressor. It was warm in her hands from her shooting spree. Kayla returned to the barn and walked over to her. They did not exchange any words, Jane simply nodding. Kayla did not even bother looking at Billy's remains on the ground. Jane holstered her gun and the two walked out of the barn.

"Thank you" Jane said as they reached Kayla's car. Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of Tommy and as three years of pain faded away. "Thank you" she managed again. Kayla squeezed her arm and helped her into the car. They drove silently back to Jane's house and Kayla parked outside.

As they stopped, Jane had a thought. "Kayla, I know you asked him about where he got his supply from..."

"Yeah" Kayla replied, "I want to go after the bastards who bring this shit to communities. I want to find who's financing this, who's profiting from it and who's supplying at every level".

Jane looked at her. "I....I want to help".

Kayla considered her offer. "OK" she said finally, "OK let's do this. After work tomorrow - we'll chat?".

Jane nodded and got out of the car. She watched as Kayla pulled out from her parking space and drove off into the night. As she re-entered her home, it felt different to her. This was no longer a place of sadness, it was a place for justice, and a justice that was only just beginning.

#hitwoman #suburbanslaughter #silencerhitwoman #female assassin #femme fatale #silent assassin #story #woman gun #girls with guns

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trying-write-fanfics · 4 years

Text

OverhaulXReader part 43 (O)

There is an implied sex scene just for warning.

“Thanks again for driving me.” Y/n said. “Those doctors were really in my business.”

“They just want you to be safe.” Tai told her. “Why didn’t you call your friend to pick you up?”

“She’s 84.” Y/n told him. “We met in choir. She’ll take care of me for the next couple days.”

“An old lady? What is she gonna do when you faint?”

“Life alert.” She joked. “I can’t stay with you, Mr-pro-hero. Don’t wanna ruin your reputation.” She told him. “Why did they release you yesterday anyway?”

“I had some more paperwork to fill out.” He lied.

“The cops weren’t really asking me much. I thought there would be more. I listened to you and told them that stuff. I didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“I told you to trust me.”

“I just have to get something and I’ll be ready.” She told him.

Y/n gathered more of her things from the hospital room. She wanted to forget her stay here. Not only did she cry for the sins of her boyfriend, but then later that fateful day, he lost his arms. There would be no trial. He would be locked away forever, gone. The police were not on her case and was surprised she was looking at houses worked. She figured having a pro hero helping her worked. She walked out of the room and immediately dropped what she gathered when she ran into someone.

Her eyes widened seeing that green hair. Everyone told her how strong this kid was, how proud they were, Deku. He beat Overhaul and protected the child, Eri. Y/n was able to piece together what had happened in the battle from the murmurs, Tai, and his interns.

“Sorry, let me help you with that.” The teen said.

He gathered her things as she watched him. She hated the boy, but knew it was the right thing. It had to be done. Overhaul was no longer the prince of her past, but an abuser, a liar of her present. Y/n was trying to have her body and mind understand Overhaul did hurt her and used her. There was evidence, but she couldn’t totally understand it. She was special to him, she knew she was, so why did he do that.

“You did a good job, I heard.” Y/n told the teen.

“Oh- well I’m sorry you got caught up in all of it. Have your injuries been healing?”

“Yes, it’s been going quite smoothly.” She told the boy, taking her things back. “You’re so young.”

“Ah, it was my first big mission.”

“And you got to be the star of it.” She told him.

“I wouldn’t say star…” Deku sighed.

“Keep your chin up, people are gonna be looking up to you now.”

Yes, she hated the kid, but she knew it was wrong of her. Overhaul did horrible things, but she still worried for him. Deku did the right thing….Y/n would just need therapy. It had been a rough couple of years, but she had always had her love, but now apparently he was adding to it.

“Thanks for waiting.” She told Tai.

“Of course.”

“I didn’t know you had a car. Especially a sedan.” She told him.

“I’ll be renting it. While I’m working back to my fat form and recovering I won’t be running as much.” Tai told her. “Now that we’re alone, I need to know, are you in danger?”

“I don’t think I am, I think. Overhaul was always keeping me away from his work.”

She didn’t know.

“I think you you need a bodyguard.”

“You think I’ll be dragged down?”

“Yes.”

“Who to hire?” She mused.

“I could”

“You’re injured.” She told him.

“I had to look deep in your record and you’ve been to the hospital a lot. You’re free from the police having their suspicions about you, but you’re in danger now. I just think you need extra protection.” Tai told her.

Tai was flip flopping on his stance on Y/n. Yes he wanted to protect her, but he knew his lenses were clouded, and she was vulnerable. He convinced himself that despite his feelings, she was in danger whether he liked it or not. They took down one of the biggest organized crime groups in the area, but there’s a new threat rising and they might wanna twist Overhaul’s wound back open.

“You don’t think Gladys can keep me safe?”

“I’m being serious, Y/n. Chisaki has many active enemies.” Tai told her.

“I can’t think about all of that right now.” She told him honestly.

The last few days were hard, but Tai supported both interns and Y/n. His interns weren’t too emotionally injured, and their families came to visit their kids. Y/n on the other hand had a different recovery experience. Her parents never showed. Her boss came in to offer her more time off, but was a little distant with her. She suffered anxiety attacks and stress vomit. She knew she would get the answers she wanted while in the hospital, but Kai did a number on her. It hurt Tai watching her go through this. She felt loved by him, cared by him, but now was she just a mere piece in his plan and she fell for the siren song of nostalgia? She gave up her relationship with her parents for him.

Tai did feel guilty for the enjoyment he got out of seeing Kai. Defenseless, unable to fight, disabled quirk, helpless, alone, rotting in prison. He abused Eri, the poor child. Cutting her open and putting her back together like she was just some toy. He also hurt someone who loves him and compromised on continuing loving him. But his last words “make sure she is protected” rang too many times in his head. He wasn’t doing it for Chisaki, but for Y/n. Chisaki ruined Y/n.

“I don’t know if you have that kind of luxury.” Tai told her.

“You know me, I’ll just land back in the hospital like I always do!” She laughed.

Please just listen to me, Tai was internally begging. He already knows how dangerous the league was, blue flames, touch into dust, and a woman who can slash about anything. Y/n was no match for any of them.

Tai helped Y/n get her bags and walked to the porch of the small house. Gladys didn’t know what time they were going to arrive and Y/n was just going to knock on the door. Tai set the bag down and with his hand he cupped her fist. With his other hand he pulled a more bold move and turned her waist to face him. He was desperate to keep her alive. His tired eyes explored her widened (colored) ones. Was she scared of him? Did he go too far? Yeah it was early to do something like this, but Gladys didn’t sound like someone who can fend for Y/n against a fire blast.

Was Overhaul ever like this with her? It was a known fact now that he hated touch. Would he break his fear for Y/n or was this completely forgein to her? How could Overhaul have someone so beautiful by his side and would avoid her touch? She was bruised and bandaged, but to Tai she was the most gorgeous. He wanted her safe and protected. If she would let him, he would want to love her right.

“Please, just think about it.” He said no louder than a whisper.

“I will…” she breathed.

She took her things and knocked on the door. The old women with scales on her neck answered. Gladys thanked Tainfor driving Y/n and she would make sure she would be monitored. It worked both ways, Gladys also wanted a human companion to watch over her just in case she slipped or fell. She even told Tai she taught her cats how to dial 911. Though it was hard Tai was able to leave.

At 6 o’clock Gladys went to bed and that’s when the thoughts began to unhinge. Y/n tried watching TV, but it only caused her headache to get worse. She tried showering, but remembered the day Kai walked in on her sleeping in the tub. She jumped out and threw up. She brushed her teeth and tried to calm down. She told herself it didn’t matter whether Kai had loved her not, he used her and abused a child. She tried not to blame herself but she did anyway. She should have known the signs that he was abusing a child. She wasn’t allowed at his place freely but he could come to her house whenever he please. Did he please that much? Sure he was in the yakuza so it could have to do with that why she wasn’t allowed over. Despite all that maybe she should have never came back. She always knew the yakuza was dangerous, she knew he was dealing drugs but she stayed with him and seemed him out! It was a fairytale she was following only with the worst ending. She should have known and listened to her parents to not rejoin the yakuza that they were so desperately trying to break ties from.

Gladys was sleeping. Y/n was alone and desperate. She wanted to feel anything else than what she was. She needed to stop thinking about Kai, but how? She had wanted him for over a decade, got with him and he destroyed her!

It wasn’t totally unthinkable what she did next. She wasn’t thinking, just following an instinct. She took the subway and found herself at Tai’s door.

Covered in sweat, the two were panting. It was like being pulled back to reality as Tai had really realized what he was doing. He should have been a hero, but instead he felt like he had manipulated her in to this position. Half of him felt amazing, was he sticking it to a child abuser, a domestic abuser, or was it that he had these feelings for Y/n.

“Keep going, what wrong?” Y/n panted.

His consciousness faded. He listened to his ID. Even if she was using him and didn’t even feel anything for him, he wanted to enjoy this moment. He was aggressive. She felt heavenly to him. When it was over they laid on the bed.

Y/n’s back was turned to him. Was it instant regret? Her bandages were still on her body, just like his own. The guilt began to hit his reality once more. He wasn’t much better than Overhaul. Sure Tai didn’t destroy a neighborhood, indirectly hurt his girlfriend, and sold drugs with people’s blood, but he was too impulsive. He listened to pleasure. He could have just told Y/n it wasn’t right, but instead he let her in and let their hands roam each other’s bodies’. He knew her weaknesses subconsciously. He knew how badly she was yearning for connection, warmth, and care. Since he done the deed, he would go through with it all the way. He pulled the sheet over her frame and spooned her. He wasn’t gonna let her feel like this was only a conquest. If she was going to be up for it, he’d do it again for her. If she wanted to be something more, he would accept, but right now, he promised himself he wouldn’t ask for anything yet.

At some point that night, Tai was awoken by the sound of sniffles. His face was in Y/n’s hair, but he checked her face. The moonlight revealed she was crying. They had alright been asleep, did she wake up feeling regretful? He delicately brushed her hair out of her face. With his thumb he wiped her tears and realized she was crying in her sleep. Tai kissed her temple. She did have a lot to cry about.

However Tai woke up alone. Though it was a somber gray morning, he tried not to feel too bad about it. He promised himself he would be fine with whatever happened between them next because he felt wrong with what he did. It wasn’t all terrible. She made him thank you pancakes. Though he loved food, deep down he did want to spend the morning together.

#overhaulxreader #overhaul #chisaki kai #chisaki kaixreader #xreader #bnha #bnha fanfiction

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silverfootstepswrites · 5 years

Text

Northern Lights [10]

title Give and Take summary The eyes just know.

“Boss. I’ve got news,” Tenten said as soon as the line connected. Silence answered her. She heard Sakura sigh before she finally replied.

“Okay.”

“Where are you?”

“Sai Ying Pun. Come alone,” Sakura ordered. She hung up.

Tenten stared at her phone for a minute. Listening to the beeps as the call ended. Lee glanced at her before he resumed wrapping his knuckles.

“Are you heading out?” he asked her.

“Something’s not right,” she muttered, not hearing his question. That really got Lee’s attention. Lowering his hands into his lap, he straightened his back.

“Is everything alright?” he demanded.

“Of course it’s not. You know how she is,” sighed Tenten as she grabbed her jacket. Lee chuckled.

“Yeah. Good luck with that,” he called after her as she strode out of the training hall.

“Luck isn’t what I need!” Tenten yelled without looking back at him.

Tenten parked her car a little while later. She walked into the lobby, her eyes flickering all around glossy, white room. A man wearing a baseball cap held the door for her as she passed. Tenten climbed the stairs up to the third floor, her hands in the pockets of her jacket.

Sakura answered the door. A white robe wrapped around her. Her wet hair curling at the ends.

The apartment in Sai Ying Pun was a newer purchase. It wasn’t technically one of Sakura’s actual properties. More like a safe house if she needed somewhere to rest for the night.

“What is it?” Sakura asked as she let Tenten inside. The door clicking shut after her.

Tenten glanced around.

“There’s no one else here. Relax,” Sakura then said. She gave Tenten a light push to the shoulder. When Tenten didn’t crack a smile, Sakura studied the tightness of her face.

“Sit,” she ordered. And Tenten settled in the plastic stool without protest. She sank into the chair with an odd sort of heaviness. Elbow up on the counter, Tenten watched Sakura run her fingers along one of the glass bottles on the counter. She poured them each a glass with a practiced hand before she slid one of the drinks to Tenten.

“Cognac?” Tenten asked, fingers curling around the cool glass.

“Do you care?” Sakura questioned in return.

“No,” snorted Tenten. They clinked the drinks together before they drank in silence.

Sakura refilled Tenten’s glass when it emptied. And Tenten did the same for her. Sakura rubbed her hand along her phoenix tattoo, her eyes finding the window above the sink. Hands falling heavy onto the counter once the glasses were empty again.

“Did you eat yet?” Sakura queried.

“No.”

“Good.”

An hour later, they sat at a small, square table. The fake wood top was slightly sticky. The cook shouted orders in the kitchen. Servers yelled back as they ran around with metal trays heavy with noodles and still-steaming dumplings. The patrons of the restaurant chattered as they gobbled down their meals.

“How were things in Tokyo?” Tenten asked.

“Laau gaau,” Sakura replied. She ran her fingers through her hair. She fiddled with her necklace; the clasp had twisted all the way to the front. Sakura tugged the clasp back where it belonged. She reached for the box of cigarettes in her jacket pocket. Stopped when she realized that they were in public. She took a slurp of her lukewarm tea instead.

“Messy?” Tenten repeated as she pulled a pair of chopsticks from the container on the side. She handed them to Sakura before retrieving another for herself.

Sakura’s eyes met hers. That was the advantage of knowing someone for so long. Tenten stopped asking questions. They ate their dim sum in silence. The only one who felt uncomfortable was probably the waitress.

It was only later that Sakura responded. Sitting on top of the old building. The smells of cooked meat and soy sauce drifting up from the ground level. A cigarette burning between her fingertips as she swung her legs back and forth. The white wisps drifting up toward the heaven, staining her nails with the smell of tobacco.

“The vultures are circling now that the Sarutobi-gumi’s trying to decide on a successor,” Sakura told her.

Tenten snorted, glancing down at her nails. “Should’ve decided earlier. The old man’s like a million.” The corners of Sakura’s mouth pulled up a little despite the grim topic. Fumes spilled from the corner of her lips.

She caught the way Tenten shot her a furtive look before she asked, “And the Kumicho?”

“He wants stability.”

“Typical. Sounds like him,” Tenten then remarked. And Sakura could feel her building up to something. She decided to let her try.

“You know, the funniest part about this is that the Inuzuka-kai agrees with him,” Sakura pointed out.

“That’ll be a first,” Tenten responded. She tossed her lighter up in the air and caught it with one hand. “Anyway, my news. There was a police bust last night. A bunch of street racers in Kennedy Town. Apparently they were betting with drugs instead of cash,” Tenten reported.

“Arrested?” Sakura asked without bothering to hear the rest of the story.

“One-Ear Wu and some of his crew. Cops confiscated the coke too.”

Sakura sighed. “Little fuckers. Getting comfortable and doing useless shit.”

Tenten nodded. She stayed quiet as Sakura considered what to do.

“Are they being held in Stanley?” Sakura inquired.

“Yeah. They might get moved to Pak Sha Wan if they’re convicted,” Tenten informed her.

“They will be. Pok gaai,” Sakura grumbled the curse almost as an afterthought. And as she stewed, Sakura was very conscious of the way Tenten was looking at her. Not like she was waiting for orders. But like she was trying to decide whether to do something or not.

Tenten’s eyes flickered to her again. And then down at the street. The way she asked her next question was deliberate. “The Kumicho sounds busy.” An awkward way to change topics. Sakura humored her.

“Busy putting out fires,” Sakura agreed.

“And that’s why I saw Namikaze coming out of your building earlier?” Tenten went on.

Sakura paused. She took another drag of her cigarette. Clenching her teeth, she tilted her head toward Tenten. When she exhaled, the smoke seeped from her nostrils. “Did you?” Her voice growing soft.

Sakura was good at reading faces. She was great at reading Tenten’s. She didn’t like what she saw there. Blow for blow, Tenten could match her in a fight. But there was a reason why she had always been a step ahead of Tenten, who wore her heart on her sleeve.

“Tenten, I like you. But watch your mouth,” Sakura warned. She ground her cigarette out against the edge of Tenten’s jacket. Listening to the fabric sizzle, smelling the fibers singe in the heat. Tenten’s eyes didn’t leave hers.

Sakura got to her feet. “And yes, you did see him.” She draped her jacket over her shoulders. “Nothing brings people together better than mutual hatred.”

“Hatred of what?” Tenten asked.

Sakura’s smile returned as she looked down at the other woman. “What did you see, Tenten?”

Tenten swallowed. Her jaw tight. “Nothing.” And as soon as the word left her mouth, she turned away. Like saying the word filled her with shame.

Sakura left her there. She lit another cigarette as she headed down the stairs. Her heels tapping against the concrete as she followed the spiral down, down. Soles touching each step in an echoing rhythm. All the way down to the ground.

Rain began to fall heavy on the island a couple days later. Battering the trees, beating the tender leaves into submission. Tapping against glass panes in an effort to wash away the grime. And it felt like the rain was even beating down on the people, who hurried up and down the sidewalks with their shoulders hunched. Strings of their hoods drawn tight. Humidity fell on the city with suffocating force.

Sakura glanced at the glowing screen. It was another call from Itachi. She silenced it and flipped the phone over before she rolled onto her stomach. She would call him back later. Her arm dangled off the edge of the bed.

“Here.”

Sakura looked up. Minato stood in his robe, holding out a bottle of water to her.

“Thanks.”

She sat up and twisted the cap. Listening to the plastic snap as the seal broke. Minato sat next to her as she took a few gulps. Her eyes drifted to him as she replaced the cap. The pink lines on the left side of chest looked old and faded. But she recognized burn scars when she saw them. Minato followed her gaze and looked down.

“My father had a drinking problem,” he told her.

“Save the sob story. I’m not interested,” she interrupted. “You think anyone living like us had a happy family life?”

Minato was quiet for a moment. And then he chuckled. “You’re right, I suppose.” Hie gaze drifted to the window. At the cacophony of orange, green, and red glows from the neon signs above and below. The lights filled the window, reflected off the streets slick with rain.

“I know this is poor manners. But I have to ask.”

Sakura stared down at the water bottle. “What?”

“Word is that you have Boss Uchiha eating out of the palm of your hand. What’re you doing here with me?”

That made Sakura look up. A smirk curling her lips as she looked Minato in the face.

“What a boring question to ask, Mr. Namikaze,” she replied.

A smile appeared on his face. The corners of his eyes crinkling just a little as he laughed. “Then let me ask you a more interesting question.”

Sakura motioned for her him to proceed.

“What do you want this to be?” he inquired. She heard his hand slide over the bed and its silky sheets. Then she felt his fingers curl around her thigh. Her gaze flickered down to the touch, then back up to his face.

“You overestimate my interest in you. You were the one that approached me, remember?” Sakura retorted. She slapped his hand away.

She got to her feet to begin dressing.

“That’s true. But let me just request one thing from you then, Dragon Head.”

Sakura glanced over her shoulder at him.

“If you’re going to try to kill me, at least give me a 15 minute head-start.”

Sakura turned away so he wouldn’t see her smile. “....Maybe,” she replied.

They didn’t say anything else as she dressed. She stepped into her heels and buckled the straps across her ankles. Her gold earrings jangled together as she straightened. Minato sat in the same spot, his arms folded across his chest.

“You know... you’re not quite what I expected,” he suddenly said to her.

Sakura draped her coat over her shoulders with an irritable click of her tongue. “Fuck your expectations,” she snapped as she grabbed the door handle. Minato’s laughter rang in her ears as she stepped into the hallway.

“Call me!” he called after her just before the door slammed shut.

A loud buzz rang out through the room. She knew when Tobirama sat. His hands hitting the table. Handcuffs jangling. The guards that were supposed to stand behind him eyed Sakura through the shatterproof glass. When she nodded, they took several steps back, eyes flickering to the security camera, which was angled the wrong way.

She took her time looking at him. Her gaze sliding over to his face. Around his cropped hair and his stubbly jaw. Freezing on his busted lip. He already had the receiver held up to his ear. Waiting. Eyes too bright with excitement as he watched her pick up her receiver on her end.

“Nice lipstick,” she greeted him.

Tobirama smiled. Really smiled. Running a hand through his hair as he even chuckled a little. “I thought you liked One-Ear Wu.”

“I did until he lost me...” Sakura trailed off. And then she raised five of her fingers twice. Tobirama’s eyebrow rose.

“10 keys? Diu lei. No wonder you’re pissed,” he snorted.

Sakura leaned back in her seat. Her fingers tapping against the table as she thought. “How long did they put you in solitary for that?” she asked.

“Just three days. I didn’t kill him. Probably broke his eye socket. Definitely broke his arm,” answered Tobirama.

She had toyed with the idea of just having One-Ear Wu killed in prison. The guards could do it easily. Or even one of the other inmates could’ve been persuaded.

But she didn’t know why Tobirama had come to mind. And she was still surprised that he had agreed so easily to it. All it had taken was for her to sneak him some cigarettes and other goods. She hadn’t even said ‘please’.

“Solitary must’ve been boring,” she remarked.

“I had plenty to think about.”

“Like killing me?” Sakura pretended to tease. But she was serious as she watched his face.

“Sometimes,” he answered. His voice suddenly low. He lifted his chin to meet her eyes. “But then.... sometimes...” His words softened around the edges. “I think that it’d all just be so fucking boring without you around.”

“Diu lan,” she sighed.

“Hou sei la lei,” he answered just as easily. And even the swears they threw at each other didn’t sting. They had lost that effect long ago.

“...Jing-Mei.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the worst.”

“Yeah. I know.”

#writing #triad!sakura #Triad!AU #northern lights #minasaku #tobisaku #itasaku

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justyouraverage-buddycop · 5 years

Text

Just Your Average Buddy Cop

Overview: Bad Cop was never one to feel feelings other than, well, rage. So liking someone and not knowing how to handle it is certainly an experience. Thankfully, Good Cop is there to help Bad out. Reader is a police academy cadet, who along with others are ordered to assist Bad Cop in finding the Piece of Resistance before Taco Tuesday.

Warnings: None! No swearing, no nsfw, only slow burns and fluff~

Working was a pain in the arse. Working for Lord Business was an even BIGGER pain in the arse. The piece of resistant had yet to be found, and it was driving everyone—especially Lord Business— up the wall. And you know business; if it wasn't done his way then there was no right way at all.

Work overwhelmed every officer in Bricksburg to the point where Lord Business turned to police academy students who hadn't even graduated yet. You were the top of your class—fresh from military courses and hardened by the intense backlash of a drill officer. Spunky in some aspects, but punctual to protocol, you were a total knockout.

Bad Cop had no idea you were coming. In fact, he didn't even think he needed the extra help.

"Sir, I don't believe this is the best call for action. Undergraduate academy rookies?—"

Lord Business swung around on the heels of his colossal boots, almost punting Bad Cop in the process.

"You don't think I know the best call for action is? Please, Bad Cop! I'm Lord Business. Can you hear that? The LORD." For dramatic flare, he clutched a hand close to his chest.

"Affirmative, sir, I can hear it. But—"

"Ayup, bup, bup, not another word. I don’t like it when people cut me off. "

How ironic.

Lord business stalked over to Bad Cop in the least threatening way he could. Each step he undertook, his heels lowered him closer to the ground.

"Listen, Bad Cop,” he slung an arm over Bad’s shoulder, guiding him past his relics, “ you need to widen your perimeters, and I need the piece of resistance. It's a give and take. I give you more cadets, then I take the piece. Easy as pie.”

Lord Business let go of Bad Cop’s shoulder instantly and walked over to his desk.

“Speaking of pie..."

Bad Cop could only watch as he pressed a button and hears the dial tone ring.

“...Sharron! Cancel my 5 o'clock. I am in the mood for some keeeylime."

Not a minute later, a robot dressed in a suit popped into the office. In his arms laid a lime-green pie swirled with whipped cream and a red cherry sitting on top. Lord Business didn’t hesitate to slice up the pie then thank the robot.

"Oh, oh that is good! Octan bakery pies, aren't they the best?" He shoved another slice into his mouth, "want some?"

"No thank you, sir."

"A week from today, Taco Tuesday will commence. But the senile man's words have been bothering me lately, so I need all precautions for this hypothetical "piece of resistance" and I can't trust robots for this job. Too many malfunctions lately."

Just as the robot walked out the door, it shut off with electricity sparking everywhere. Two more robots drug the short-circuiting one out then slammed the door.

"You see my problem here, Bad Cop?" Lord Business wiped cream from his mouth.

Bad Cop fidgeted on the spot, "yes, Lord Business."

"Anyways, the rookies are waiting in the lobby, BC. Get them squared away aaaaaand we can talk later, m'kay? Bye-bye."

With that, Lord Business was gone. Only an empty pie tin remained.

By himself, Bad Cop was promptly escorted shoved really from the relic room back into the hallway.

No one could tell but he was furious underneath his sunglasses. Red searing anger consumed his heart. Lord Business didn’t think he could do it by himself? Not he, Chief of Police, Bad Cop could single handedly keep any obstacles out of Taco Tuesday’s way?

Absolute applesauce. Bad Cop would—will—prove himself worthy, and he’ll be darned if those rookies have anything credit in it.

“Cheer up buddy! You can show him. I know you can!” Good Cop switched in to better the mood, but despite his encouragement, it did little for BC.

"Oh, don't worry. I will."

With a scowl that could curdle milk, Bad Cop jam pressed the lobby button in the elevator. He growled to himself with bitterness sewn about.

When the elevator dinged his arrival, the rage inside him swelled to the brim. If anything, anyone ticked him off, they’d have heck to pay.

He surveyed the new recruits. Rookies. All of them. Messin' around like a bunch of silly sacked school children.

Christ on a cracker, he even saw one of them elbow-drop their friend. You were concealed amongst the wave of black clothed cadets, your head already pinned in Bad Cops direction. How could you not notice the anger seeping through the cracked doors?

One step out of the elevator and the atmosphere grew tense.

You lowered your voice to talk to Ranger, one of your academy friends, “is that who I think it is?”

“Him? Bad Cop? Isn’t he one of those double changers? All I’ve heard about him is how angry he can get.”

Ranger and you can see the red glowing on Bad Cop’s face. All he needs is another second, and the cop snaps.

“FRONT AND CENTRE!”

Rookies scrambled to arrange two lines facing opposite to each other. You and Ranger simply walked into place, pulling stern gazes over your faces. On the inside though, you were thrilled to hit the streets officially.

Out of the corner of your eye, you stare at him. His mouth is twisted in a scowl, his face still flushed with rage. Who knows what he’s thinking behind his sunglasses.

He’s a lot angrier in person...Your mouth twitches into a smile, but you keep it under wrap.

Bad Cop started at the front.

A small, lanky cadet nearly shook in his boots. Tales of the double changer chief were notorious at the academy. Whether you were assigned to his section was like a wild draw of cards. Many did not want to be here, this cadet especially.

“Name.”

“breece brixton,”

Bad Cop snarled a, “LOUDER.”

Breece’s voice cracked, “B-Breece Brixton!”

“Do I hear a sir?!”

Breece stood up straight, arms pressed to his side and chin up even with his cowardice nature. “BREECE BRIXTON, SIR.”

A scoff left Bad Cop’s mouth.

“Good. Now that the wax is out of your ears, maybe you can listen to what I have to say.”

He strode down the line, hands firmly tucked behind his back. You could hear people gulping; hoping not to be picked on.

“I don’t want none of ya here, do you hear me?!”

Everyone replied in unison.

“YES, SIR.”

“I don’t want to be in charge of your inexperienced rookie arses, but Lord Business believes we need help in finding the Piece of Resistance.”

Bad Cop resumed walking down the line of cadets.

“Now I don’t want any one of you in my way. You will listen to my orders and mine alone. You move even one inch out of line, and you’ll see your pink expulsion slip for the academy."

He stopped in front of another cadet, who nearly back up by how close BC was.

"Do I make myself clear?”

The cadet and others replied small yes, sirs.

Bad Cop pressed on until he stopped in front of you.

How lucky, you wanted to laugh. He didn’t waste time stepping into your personal bubble, yet, your face unwavered in his show of intimidation.

“I said, DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?” You could smell the coffee lingering off him.

Looking him square in the eyes, you shout right back, “YES, SIR!”

Switch.

“Great! Now everyone have a fantastic day! You’re all free to go. Get good sleep because we start early tomorrow, okay!”

In front of you, Bad switched to Good in a flat second. Good Cop leaves your space and bounds off somewhere.

“uhh, okay?” go a chorus of confused cadets, who step out of the line to stare at Good Cop.

“A-O-KAY!”

#the lego movie #the lego movie two #bad cop good cop #bad cop x reader #BCGC x reader #fic #JYABC

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mementomorimthrfckr · 5 years

Text

No Flirting On The Job

I would like to thank B... No. I would like to thank the gif below, @getinthefunvee and that chat moment.

CHARACTERS are TONY STARK and FRANK CASTLE. The SCENE is set to an extravagant charity event at some insane ball room in a skyscraper. I mean why not. Where does these events go down anyway? There’s security (including police) and a bunch of rich people. They are mingling. Showing off fancy jewellery and flashing bright white smiles.

Both characters are uncomfortable, but not out of their element. FRANK is wearing a COP UNIFORM to better blend in with the security. TONY is looking quite dapper, wearing a suit. There’s a green bush like three between them and the entrance, which helps create the illusion that the moment is private.

TONY walks over to FRANK. FRANK is by the wall with a good view of the room, the elevator/entrance off to his right.

TONY: Pull me over and frisk me, officer. I’ve done an illegal.

FRANK’s jaw clenches and he glares at his boss, as if he can’t believe what he’s just heard.

FRANK: I put this shit on to…

FRANK can’t get himself to finish the sentence. TONY knows why he put it on. FRANK probably needed a moment to let it sink in, because as FRANK’S eyes narrow, his neck goes red.

FRANK: What did you just say?

TONY – far more patient than anyone deserves – repeats himself, making sure FRANK catches it this time.

TONY: I said, “Officer,” I may or may not be carrying drugs and or illegal ordnance on my person in intimate places. You should thoroughly check, just in case.

FRANK glared. It’s his default face.

FRANK: You think you’re being cute?

FRANK glances around nervously, worried that someone might have heard. Biggest concern? The other security guards.

TONY: I know for a fact that I’m cute and I have the JSTOR articles to prove my research. You’re looking a little warm there, Officer.

FRANK somehow avoids looking at TONY altogether, eyes scanning the room as if it’s suddenly filled with threatening personas. More threatening than the one before him. It takes a lot of effort, his brows furrow slightly, but he barely avoids a grimace.

FRANK: Distracting the guy you hired to protect you? Not a smart move.

TONY I’m very, very smart. I am, however, also an idiot. Listen, you should really let me take a look at your, you know, nightstick. Make sure it’s not compressed in those trousers.

TONY bites his lip, eyes travelling down FRANK’S body. At the same time FRANK stares up at the ceiling, as if silently asking for patience. He swallows hard, unaware of the effect that seems to have on people.

FRANK: You always like this? It’s the uniform, huh?

It’s an impossible angle. But the CAMERA zooms in on FRANK’S hands. They’re gathered behind his back, like the good little soldier he is. He digs his thumb into the flesh of his palm. Because we need more ways to prove that he’s uncomfortable.

TONY swirls his cranberry juice around in the glass.

TONY: Yes and yes.

TONY calmly looks at the crowd. Seemingly unaffected. It gives the idea that TONY is trying to catch whatever FRANK was looking for earlier.

TONY (calmly): I’m enjoying the mental image of ripping the shirt open and peeling you out of that Kevlar. Have you had any hors d’oeuvres?

FRANK scoffs, surprised by TONY’S bluntness. Not entirely sure if he’s being serious. FRANK grumbles his reply, but manages to keep his voice level. His words are a bit rushed.

FRANK: And you felt like sharing that with me. And you figured this was the right moment to do so. You want me to drag you into an interrogation room and get frisky huh? Is that what you want?

TONY barely avoids choking on his juice. He lifts his eyebrows.

TONY: Oh my god, you said “frisky”. I think my dick just moved to Kansas and didn’t leave a forwarding address. No, I don’t want to get frisky. I want to blow your mind. Or you know. Other parts of you.

FRANK sighs deeply. There’s that blush on his neck again. FRANK is evidently frustrated. If he had gotten to drag TONY off somewhere – at least his employer would be out of harms way. Like the stubborn idiot FRANK is, he tried his best not to let the words get to him. FRANK shifts, possibly digging his thumb back into his palm.

FRANK: ‘M not sure that’s how the bodyguard business works, Mr. Stark.

FRANK finally sets his eyes on TONY. Direct eye contact this time. Anyone else might have found him intimidating. TONY winks. FRANK isn’t thrown off by it.

TONY: Hey, you’re the professional here. What do I know? Actually, maybe I do know something; I know I’d like to get my hands in your hair, even if it risked beard burn.

FRANK looks bewildered. TONY is flirting with him – whilst he should be flirting with the hotter people. Any impulse he might have had to punch someone who made attempts at him like that held back; they’re in front of a crowd. TONY is his boss. There is no way. And despite this weird exchange; FRANK would like to keep his job.

FRANK scowls at TONY and averts his eyes.

FRANK (flatly): That what happened to your previous bodyguards?

FRANK tries to prove that he doesn’t care. But right now? He’s concerned. It seems like TONY flirted with his previous guards, got them into bed – and kicked them out. FRANK tries another approach; as if that would explain it all.

FRANK: How many cocktails have you had?

TONY chuckles into his drink.

TONY: You’re my first official bodyguard, but I’m living for the tabloid headlines you’re imagining right now. Actually, no. Technically Happy was my first ever bodyguard, though he’s more of a driver. He got married to my ex, so now they both have me over a barrel. And this? Is cranberry juice, mom. Thanks for checking in.

FRANK can’t help the frustrated groan that slips past his lips – despite the relief he felt that TONY was sober. For some reason, that made everything worse. FRANK hesitates. Wants to ask him about the headlines – but also don’t want to encourage more flirting.

FRANK (genuinely): Sounds like a lot.

FRANK wets his lips. FRANK does not know how to play this game at all. Why are you like that? Anyway. TONY notices, of course.

TONY: “Sounds like a lot” – hopefully the name of your sex tape.

TONY let’s out a small sigh and stares longingly at his cranberry cocktail. TONY finds himself wishing it had alcohol. Would it make it better? Probably not. Could he get away with pressing further? Probably. Would he like to? …Well.

TONY: Anyway, if you’re not willing to ravish me in a broom closet, I should mingle and you should get nervous, because that’s usually when people start trying to touch me.

FRANK looks down and shakes his head, brows knitting together as he tries to make sense of that.

FRANK: Thought you wanted to be touched?

FRANK squints at him, there’s a hint of offended written across his face. Just a smidge.

FRANK: I don’t get nervous.

TONY: I like to be touched when I decide I like someone; I don’t like to be pawed at by random oligarchs. It’s a fine line, I know.

TONY grins – but it doesn’t reach his eyes. FRANK feels sorry for him and shifts a little. Almost as if he has half a mind to reach out and touch TONY’S shoulder. FRANK doesn’t.

TONY: If you don’t get nervous, at least you’ll get prepared.

FRANK couldn’t imagine what ever for. FRANK was there to eliminate threats. Not New York’s bachelors and bachelorettes, trying to get in bed with his boss. However… there’s that SLIGHT concern.

FRANK (softer): Let me know if you need to get out, kay? I’ll stay alert.

As FRANK makes his promise, he squares his shoulders and tries to relax. FRANK realises how tense he has been.

TONY: You’re actually adorable.

TONY leans closer and pats FRANK’S chest. Half an excuse to touch him. Half a fond gesture. FRANK huffs and gives a short nod. TONY squares his shoulders like he’s absorbed all of FRANK’S tension, making it painfully evident just how exited he is to meet the others. TONY: Anyway. Time to be Tony Stark.

FRANK watches as TONY disappears into the mass of people. A little over two hundred. Fine, glittery gowns, tuxedoes… FRANK is a healthy mixture of relieved and concerned. Relieved that the flirting stopped. Concerned about TONY. FRANK knows one thing for sure though; he is hell bent on forgetting everything.

CAMERA zooms in on TONY getting into the crowd, the angle changes, so we his face – how TONY masks his discomfort – and the looming shadow in the back that is FRANK CASTLE, keeping an eye on the scene.

BLACK.

DELETED SCENE A FEW WEEKS LATER

Characters are FRANK CASTLE and TONY STARK. Location is set at a CINEMA. The two is sitting next to each other, watching Hobbs and Shaw or something like that. None of them is actually paying attention. FRANK already has control of the exits and the people there. TONY’s mind is elsewhere.

TONY leans over and speaks in a low voice.

TONY: You still got that uniform?

FRANK immediate response is to look at TONY and glare. As he turns away FRANK swallows hard, fingers drum impatiently against his thigh. FRANK’S eyes go dark. FRANK: Why? You wanna borrow it?

FRANK licks his lips.

…Black…

OFF SCREEN:

FRANK: …or do you want to be ravished in a broom closet?

TONY gasps.

#getinthefunvee #where getinthefunvee gets half the credit #a drabble #frank castle #tony stark #the punisher #iron man #ficlet?#again i have no idea how to tag these

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writerforprompt · 6 years

Text

Kai Anderson x Reader pt.2

Warnings: Oral Sex, Manipulation, Mention of Drug Use, Vaginal Sex, Dark Themes, Pregnancy

Author’s Note: I don’t own AHS: Cult or any of its characters. Hope you enjoy this short story! Let me know what you think.

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You were kneeling in between Kai’s legs, head tilted towards the sky, arching your throat into his grip. You brought your chest forward to make sure it was directly within his line of sight. Based upon the number of hungry glances he shot down your plunging neckline, you’d say it was.

Upon your arrival, a few hours prior, Winter raced you past the men on guard, taking refuge in her room. You sat on her bed, listening to her warn you away from Kai until he calmed down from his fit of rage. His polls had seen a slight decline and he was livid; So were you for that matter. The chants downstairs were him getting his frustration out and rallying the troops. You and Winter took that opportunity to talk.

With Winter, it was easy. You curled your pinky around hers and listened as she told you all her secrets. She was so reckless that it was almost endearing how she mimicked Kai.

It wasn’t long before the racket downstairs subsided. Winter had gone to wash the scent of marijuana off her skin, obviously giving Kai no room to speak to her had he wanted to.

While she hid from him, you sought him out.

“Kai?” You bounced down the steps slowly, giving him time to expect you. With every step, you emphasized the length of your legs and shape of your body. You passed one of his henchmen along the way. He didn’t bother to pry his eyes from your hardly covered chest. Your eyes never strayed from Kai’s.

He stood at the center of the room, arms wide in invitation, palms pointed at the ceiling. His shoulders were tense, and his smile was tight

“What brings you here, sweet one?”

You stopped about a foot away from him, raising your chin upward to look him in his eyes. Lips parted, the two of you noticed of the lack of in-between each other. It would have been so easy for him to just lean down and capture your mouth with his, but you had other things in mind. Daringly, you held out a pinky for him to take.

“I need some alone time with you,” you confessed with a sinful and seductive shit-eating grin.

His eyes flickered with want, roaming down your body to admire your figure. All traces of anger faded from his face. Instead it held a feral grin as he gestured to the table. You sat at the edge of your seat, giving him the opportunity to appreciate the view. You saw him bite the inside of his cheek in hunger.

“Assume the position.” He rolled his shoulders backward and you could see lean muscles of his arm. You moved to take his pinky again, but he reared his hand back from yours.

“No. I’m talking about the one you were in last night.”

Your jaw dropped slightly in surprise. Of course, he already knew. Heart aflutter, your face flushed in embarrassment. You searched his eyes to see no hint of amusement. He demanded compliance.

You kneeled in front of his chair.

“Good girl,” He cooed, brushing your hair away from your face. His tone sent shivers down your spine and electricity through your nerves. “Such a good girl, so obedient; It’s too bad you’re ruled by your cunt.” You flinched. He tsked sadly. “I could almost trust you.”

Your mind drifted to last night and the young Officer Jay Bradley. Kai had requested that you to break into the law office you worked at after everyone had gone home for the night to get some information about State Attorney Michael Linton, or StricktDaddyDom69, according to gaybdsmwrld.com. Everything went according to plan until you were spotted by a local cop on patrol in the parking lot.

“You, uh, got any reason to be here after hours, Miss?” He had asked. USB already hidden in your shoe, you turned to face the man. He was tall, tan, and fit; that was what you first noticed. Next, it was how his eyes lingered over your frame.

“I work here and I just needed to grab some work that needs be done by tomorrow.” You would have gotten away with that lie, if it had not been one in the morning, and had you not have been wearing all black.

“Ya see, I don’t believe you, darlin’.” Despite his words, you could only wonder how that Texas accent make it all the way out here in? You bit your lower lip gently, glanding to your left and right, making sure no one was in sight.

“So what do I have to do to get a little trust ‘round here?”

Next thing you knew, your nose was pressed against the dark patch of curls that lay at the base of Officer Bradley’s cock. His left hand held the back of your head steady as he thrust in and out of your throat in slow, deep strokes. His pants were around his thighs and he was leaning against the trunk of his cruiser. Every few seconds, he checked that no one was around. You wouldn’t care if there was; you were having the time of your life.

He held you on his shaft for a moment before removing himself from your mouth. He grabbed your forearm and pushed you to lay over the trunk. He took his dick in hand and, with a quick look to both ways as if he were to cross a street, slid into you.

He fucked you hard and fast, quick and rough. Kind of like Kai.

But he wasn’t Kai.

After that first encounter, your supreme leader had gotten caught up in work. The relationship, if you could call it that, was still too new - You didn’t know if Kai had meant everything he said, or if it had all just been in the heat of the moment. You tightened your lips as you thought about him fucking Meadow. The possibility alone was enough reason to kill her. Kai was yours.

You felt like you were losing your mind slowly. You were obsessed. You were furious.

You were fucking a cop in the parking lot outside your work after you stole your best-friend’s file on Senator Linton. Once that file gets out, Angela was done for. But your cause would further. What’s one life to change a nation?

You threw your guilt to the back of your mind and focused on the sound of Officer Bradley’s harsh pants as he fucked into you mindlessly. You threw a low, appreciative moan in his direction. He was a good distraction. You felt the cold, gold band around the ring finger of his left hand each time Jay grabbed slapped your ass. You supposed you were a good distraction too.

Jay finished quickly after that, though he made up for it in the back seat of his cruiser, licking the wet cavern in between your thighs until you were sated.

Later that night, the policeman’s number was kept safe in your phone on the bathroom sink counter as submerged yourself in your tub.

Done, You texted Kai. Putting on some music, you put the USB in the safe and removed your clothes in the process. Thank God you rolled that pair of blunts before you left, knowing you’d need it.

Your phone buzzed, but you couldn’t hear it over your thoughts.

Lighting the cigarillo, you wondered what Kai would think if he knew what you had done that night. It wasn’t as if you were his, you dismissed. You let the warm bath and drug relax your body. You flicked the ash in the candle that was closest to you. Winter had confessed he kissed Meadow. You slammed your left hand against the wall in hurt and betrayal. She was going to die. You took a deep hit to calm yourself.

Kai didn’t deserve you but you loved him; so, you didn’t care. You needed him, so he was yours. He kissed Meadow, so your little moment of intercession meant nothing, you concluded.

Therefore, he had no right to say shit.

Your eyes darted up to meet his. “You can trust me,” you insisted to Kai’s deaf ears. He slapped you and you were hit with arousal.

“I thought we were being honest to each other.”

Kai’s large, callused hand cupped the back of your throat, pushing his thumb against your windpipe. His hair fell loosely in front of his shoulders. His forearms bulged with the amount of pressure he placed on your throat. You felt yourself gasping, lungs desperately grasping for air. The image of Kai started to darken and blur.

His hands released you and you automatically fell into his lap, left cheek making contact with his stomach through his black sweater. Oxygen burned the inside of your throat and you trembled while you tried to get a hold of yourself. You weren’t afraid. You knew Kai would let you breathe eventually. Still weak, you exhaled and coughed into the soft cotton of his pullover.

Kai moved your hair out of your face and wiped at your cheeks with soft swipes of his thumb. Teardrops clung to your lashes and blurred your vision, still. Before you got your bearings, you felt something poke at your face from beneath you. You tried to move, but a callused hand held your head to it. A dark excitement wordlessly floated through your mind. He still wanted you, even when your head was still swimming, dizzy from your asphyxiation. You lifted your eyes to stare at Kai with a shy lust.

He parted his lips and a groan of pleasure escaped. He immediately circled his hips to thrust against your cheek. You parted your lips to mouth at the outline of his cock. He grunted and tore his hand into his pants, lifting his hips up to yank his jeans down, uncovering his hardening dick.

You could see his dark eyes flaring in excitement as he grabbed the back of your head to dribble your spit across his length. He shook your head rapidly against his balls, coating them with saliva. He humped your face mercilessly, as if he owned you. He probably did.

“Yes, you filthy fucking, slut. Open your mouth.” He ordered. You swallowed him whole. “Fuck!” He swore, thighs bucking wildly. You hoped Meadow heard. You contracted your throat around him, making him shout again. His hands were now gripping your soft hair, setting a quick rhythm.

“You’re so fucking good at this, you little slut. Yeah, Daddy knows, Daddy knows everything you’ve been doing behind his back. He’s dead. You hear me? That fucking cop is going to die.” You caught his eyes. He meant every word.

But so did you.

You dug your nails into his thighs and he let go of your head. You wiped your mouth and lifted your skirt to your stomach. You weren’t wearing any panties.

You climbed into his lap and stopped yourself just above his eager dick.

“Along with Meadow.”

You sank onto him and bucked into him hard. His hands went to grab your ass from behind your thighs. Your breasts hit his chin with every bounce until he lowered his mouth to latch onto your tit. Kai was an animal. He attacked your breasts with his lustful lips, biting and sucking and kissing every inch of your chest.

You grabbed his hair and exposed his throat to you, never ceasing your hungry, desperate pace. You let your hand encircle his neck; you could feel his throat swallowing underneath your palm.

“You’re going to kill her.” You demanded.

He could have easily tossed you off him, but he simply raised a curious eyebrow, letting you sit on his cock with a hand on his throat.

“Why?”

“I’m pregnant.”

His eyes immediately glossed over. He let out a huff of bewilderment, letting a smile dominate his face. “I’m going to be a daddy?” He whispered.

“I thought you were already my daddy?” You slid your hand to cup his sharp jaw and swiveled your hips, making him release a groan of arousal.

“That’s right, baby.” He pulled you down to kiss him, but you covered his mouth with your hand. You leaned in so that all he could see was your face and how serious you were.

“I’m giving birth to our messiah. You need to get the world ready for him.” Your brows furrowed, and your eyes hardened. “Starting with Meadow’s death.” You let out a fake sigh. “Kai, a pregnancy is very intimate. I can talk to the baby. I can feel him. He doesn’t want Meadow here anymore.”

“You can feel all that? He doesn’t want her alive anymore?” Kai was so gullible sometimes. He looked at you like you were made of gold.

“Yes,” you breathed, smiling down at him because he finally lost his sanity. You blinked away false tears. “Yes, Kai. He’s so proud of you. He can’t wait to meet you. He loves you so much and what you stand for, don’t you see?” You grinded down on his lap.

“Yes.” He brushed your hair out of your face with both hands, arching his pelvis up to meet your body. He was beautiful when he smiled. “Yes, I see.”

“You’ll kill Meadow for him?” You sped up your bounce, taking leverage of his shoulders. He pulled you in closer and helped you keep your speed.

“Yes.” He huffed into your ear, losing some of his rhythm – a clear sign he was going to cum. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t wearing a condom; it wasn’t as if you were worried about getting pregnant.

“Oh Daddy, we’re so happy.” You whispered in his ear. You felt his hips stutter and you shivered around him as you reached your own peak.

“I love you.” He kissed your throat as you breathed heavily against his hair.

“I love you too.” Came your automatic reply.

He pursed his lips and lifted his pinky. “Promise?”

You smiled. Everything was all going according to plan.

“Promise.”

#kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson smut #AHS #ahs fic #ahs cult #Evan Peters

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phgq · 5 years

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'Ninja cop' syndicate ‘a thing of the past’: Palace

#PHnews: 'Ninja cop' syndicate ‘a thing of the past’: Palace

MANILA -- The "ninja cop" syndicate, or those involved in the recycling of seized illegal drugs, have been dismantled according to the Philippine National Police (PNP), Malacañang said on Thursday.

Presidential Spokesperson Salvador Panelo said PNP chief, Gen. Oscar Albayalde bared this after briefing President Rodrigo Duterte on the status of the campaign against illegal drugs.

“He (Albayalde) told me that he updated the President on the status of the drug war; he told him about the so-called ninja cops syndicate and revealed to the President that that ninja cops syndicate is a thing of the past – that happened during the previous years of the previous administration,” Panelo said in a Palace briefing.

“That has been dismantled during the term of former PNP Chief General, now Senator Ronald dela Rosa and during his term,” he added.

Panelo said while the ninja cop syndicate has been wiped out, police scalawags remain.

“If you are referring to the ninja cops that was a syndicate during the previous administration, yes. But we have police scalawags still involved in the drug thing,” Panelo said.

He, meanwhile, maintained the difference between ninja cops and police scalawags with the former being part of a syndicate and the latter operating individually.

“Ang difference daw is iyong ninja cop is it was a syndicate; sindikato, kumbaga talagang may conspiracy, may mga link ang bawat isa (The difference is that ninja cops are part of a syndicate, in other words, they’re part of a conspiracy, they have links against themselves),” Panelo said.

“Pero itong mga (But these) police scalawags, kaniya-kaniya...kumbaga mga individual cases, walang (operate individually, have individual cases, they don’t have) conspiracy among themselves,” he added.

The Palace official said Albayalde has assured Duterte that his agency has undertaken operations against these ninja cops which yielded 124 policemen killed during entrapments and a hundred others arrested.

Earlier, Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA) director general Aaron Aquino said a total of 53 active police officers have been named ninja cops.

Aquino said the list of ninja cops came from Baguio City Mayor Benjamin Magalong, former chief of the PNP’s Criminal Investigation Detection Group (CIDG).

Asked to comment on the difference between Albayalde and Aquino’s conflicting statements, Panelo refused to take sides.

“I’m a messenger. That’s the message,” Panelo said, stressing that he was not dismissing Aquino’s statement but merely relaying what Albayalde said.

Panelo said he personally believed Albayade for having “developed a reputation for a man of integrity.” However, he also acknowledged that there were still some ninja cops left to wipe out.

He said the list of ninja cops has to be validated by the President himself.

“Hindi pa lahat validated iyon (They’re not all validated yet). That’s precisely why na kay Presidente eh (the list is with the President) so, the President will validate that on his own resources,” Panelo said.

The Palace official vowed to make public a list of names of the police scalawags.

“I will provide you with the names because the PNP Chief committed to me that he will submit the names including those arrested,” Panelo said.

Panelo said Albayalde did not mention whether Duterte had asked him about speculations on his involvement in the ninja cop syndicate but assured that the PNP chief still has Duterte’s trust and confidence.

Should Albayalde be on the list of police scalawags, Panelo said there will be no sacred cows.

“Kahit na sinong kasama, kapag involved, tatanggalin ni Presidente iyon. Hindi lang tatanggalin – may (Anyone on the list, if involved, the President will dismiss him. Not just dismiss-there will be) criminal prosecution,” Panelo said.

Anti-drugs drive succeeding

Panelo reiterated that despite police scalawags, Duterte’s campaign against illegal drugs is “succeeding.”

“We are succeeding in the war on drugs. The fact alone that can you imagine na (that there were) 124 policemen killed in entrapment operations – successful ka (that means you’re successful),” Panelo said.

He said the PNP chief disclosed that his agency has dismantled PHP132-billion worth of shabu.

Asked to measure the extent of the police scalawag problem, Panelo said: “When even one policeman involved, it’s serious.”

Panelo, meanwhile, warned police officers from participating in illegal drug activities.

“If all members of the policemen are listening, huwag na kayong sumali doon sa 124 na napatay (don’t be one of the 124 who has been killed). Sooner or later, you will be entrapped and you might end up dead if you fight and resist arrest,” Panelo said.

In a speech at the Golden Topper Corporate Launch in Parañaque City, Duterte warned police officers against participating in the illegal drug trade or risk their early demise.

“There are some people, like policemen, you have to beg then they are at it again, and they sell drugs and they go scot-free and they think that they are the lords of this country. Well, I’m sorry to tell you, everybody dies in this world but you will go ahead first. Remember that,” Duterte said.

Panelo translated Duterte’s use of “kill” as “pursue you to the ends of the earth and put you behind bars.”

“Now if you resist, oh that’s the time you will be killed – in defense,” Panelo said. (PNA)

***

References:

* Philippine News Agency. "'Ninja cop' syndicate ‘a thing of the past’: Palace." Philippine News Agency. https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1081599 (accessed September 27, 2019 at 06:01AM UTC+14).

* Philippine News Agency. "'Ninja cop' syndicate ‘a thing of the past’: Palace." Archive Today. https://archive.ph/?run=1&url=https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1081599 (archived).

#Philippines #News #Filipino #Pinoy #Tourism #Politics #Culture #Editorial #Environment #Society #History

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yes-dal456 · 7 years

Text

Kin By Mania: The Bond I Feel With Other Bipolar People Is Inexplicable

She moved like me. That’s what I noticed first. Her eyes and hands darted as she talked — playful, acerbic, digressive.

We talked on past 2 a.m., her speech breathless, crackling with opinion. She took another hit from the joint and passed it back to me on the dorm suite couch, as my brother fell asleep on my knee.

Siblings separated at birth must feel this way when meeting as adults: seeing part of yourself in someone else. This woman I’ll call Ella had my mannerisms, giddiness, and fury, so much so that I felt we were related. That we must share common genes.

Our talk went everywhere. From hip-hop to Foucault, Lil Wayne, to prison reform, Ella’s ideas branched. Her words were torrential. She loved arguments and picked them for fun, like I do. In a dark room, if lights were tied to her limbs, they’d dance. So did she, around the suite she shared with my brother, and later, on a pole in the taproom of a campus club.

When bipolar people meet, we find an immigrant intimacy, a solidarity. We share a suffering and a thrill.

My brother’s roommate gave me pause about myself. I found Ella exhilarating, but exhausting — bright but reckless, possessed. I wondered, feared, if this is how people felt about me. Some of Ella’s opinions seemed hyperbolic, her actions extreme, like dancing naked on the college green or flicking off cop cars. Still, you could count on her to engage. To react.

She had an opinion, or at least a feeling, about everything. She read voraciously and was fearlessly herself. She was magnetic. I was struck that my brother with his laidback, practical, frat-bro spirit, got along so well with Ella, who was excitable, artsy, and absentminded.

None of us knew it that night I met Ella in Princeton, but within two years she and I would share something else: a stay in a mental hospital, meds, and a diagnosis we’d keep for life.

Alone, together

The mentally ill are refugees. Far from home, hearing your mother tongue is a relief. When bipolar people meet, we find an immigrant intimacy, a solidarity. We share a suffering and a thrill. Ella knows the restless fire that is my home.

We charm people, or we offend them. That’s the manic-depressive way. Our personality traits, like exuberance, drive, and openness, attract and alienate at once. Some are inspired by our curiosity, our risk-taking nature. Others are repelled by the energy, the ego, or the debates that can ruin dinner parties. We are intoxicating, and we are insufferable.

So we have a common loneliness: the struggle to get past ourselves. The shame of having to try.

Bipolar people kill themselves 30 times more often than healthy people. I don’t think this is just because of mood swings, but because manic types often wreck their lives. If you treat people badly, they won’t want to be near you. We can repel with our inflexible focus, our impatient tempers, or our enthusiasm, that egocentric positivity. Manic euphoria is no less isolating than depression. If you believe that your most charismatic self is a dangerous mirage, it’s easy to doubt that love exists. Ours is a special loneliness.

Yet some people — like my brother, who has several bipolar friends, and the women I’ve dated — don’t mind bipolarity. This type of person is drawn to the chattiness, the energy, the intimacy that’s as intuitive to a bipolar person as it is beyond her control. Our uninhibited nature helps some reserved people open up. We stir some mellow types, and they calm us in return.

These people are good for each other, like anglerfish and the bacteria that keep them aglow. The manic half gets things moving, sparks debate, agitates. The calmer, more practical half keeps plans grounded in the real world, outside the Technicolor insides of a bipolar person’s skull.

The story I’m telling

After college, I spent years in the rural countryside of Japan teaching elementary school. Nearly a decade later in New York, a brunch with a friend changed how I saw those days.

The guy, I’ll call him Jim, worked the same job in Japan before me, teaching at the same schools. Sempai, I’d call him in Japanese, meaning older brother. The students, teachers, and townspeople told stories about Jim everywhere I went. He was a legend: the rock concert he performed, his recess games, the time he dressed as Harry Potter for Halloween.

Jim was the future me I wanted to become. Before meeting me, he’d lived this monk’s life in rural Japan. He’d filled notebooks with practice kanji — row after patient row of characters. He’d kept a daily vocabulary list on an index card in his pocket. Jim and I both liked fiction and music. We had some interest in anime. We both learned Japanese from scratch, among the rice paddies, with help from our students. In the countryside of Okayama, we both fell in love and had our hearts broken by girls who grew up faster than we did.

We were also a bit intense, Jim and I. Capable of fierce loyalty, we could also be detached, steely, and cerebral in a way that chilled our relationships. When we were engaged, we were very engaged. But when we were in our heads, we were on a distant planet, unreachable.

We are good for each other, like deep sea fish and the bacteria that keep them aglow. The manic half gets things moving, sparks debate, agitates.

At brunch that morning in New York, Jim kept asking about my master’s thesis. I told him I was writing about lithium, the drug that treats mania. I said lithium is a salt, dug from mines in Bolivia, yet it works more reliably than any mood-stabilizing drug. I told him how manic depression is fascinating: a severe, chronic mood disorder that is episodic, recurrent, but also, uniquely, treatable. People with the mental illness at the highest risk of suicide, when they take lithium, often don’t relapse for years.

Jim, now a screenwriter, kept pushing. “What’s the story?” he asked. “What’s the narrative?”

“Well,” I said, “I’ve got some mood disorder in my family … “

“So whose story are you using?”

“Let’s pay the bill,” I said, “I’ll tell you while we walk.”

The upside

Science has begun to look at bipolar through the lens of personality. Twin and family studies show that manic depression is roughly 85 percent heritable. But no single mutation is known to code for the disorder. So recent genetic studies often focus instead on personality traits: talkativeness, openness, impulsivity.

These traits often appear in first-degree relatives of people with bipolar disorder. They’re hints as to why the “risk genes” for the condition run in families, and were not weeded out by natural selection. In moderate doses, traits like drive, high energy, and divergent thinking are useful.

This doesn’t mean that mania brings genius. What mania inspires is chaos: delusional confidence, not insight.

Writers at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, like Kurt Vonnegut, had higher rates of mood disorder than the general population, one classic study found. Bebop jazz musicians, most famously Charlie Parker, Thelonius Monk, and Charles Mingus, also have high rates of mood disorder, often bipolar. (Parker’s song “Relaxin’ at the Camarillo” is about his stay at a mental asylum in California. Monk and Mingus were both hospitalized, too.) The book “Touched with Fire” by psychologist Kay Redfield Jamison retrospectively diagnosed many artists, poets, writers, and musicians with bipolar disorder. Her new biography, “Robert Lowell: Setting the River On Fire,” describes art and illness in the life of the poet, who was hospitalized for mania many times, and taught poetry at Harvard.

This doesn’t mean that mania brings genius. What mania inspires is chaos: delusional confidence, not insight. The ramble is often prolific, but disorganized. Creative work produced while manic, in my experience, is mostly narcissistic, with distorted self-importance and a careless sense of audience. It’s rarely salvageable from the mess.

What research does suggest is that some of the so-called “positive traits” of bipolar disorder — drive, assertiveness, openness — persist in bipolar people when they are well and on medication. They appear also in relatives who inherit some of the genes fueling manic temperament, but not enough to cause the ragged, swerve-y moods, the sleepless energy, or the giddy restlessness that defines manic depression itself.

Brother

“You’re kidding me,” Jim said, laughing nervously, as he bought me a coffee that day in New York. When I’d mentioned earlier how many creative people have mood disorders, he’d hinted — with a sideways smirk — that he could tell me plenty about that from his experience. I hadn’t asked what he meant. But as we walked up the nearly 30 blocks to Penn Station from Bond Street, he told me about his rocky past year.

First, there were the hookups with female colleagues. Then the shoes he filled his closet with: dozens of new pairs, expensive sneakers. Then the sports car. And the drinking. And the car crash. And now, the past few months, depression: a flat-line anhedonia that sounded familiar enough to chill my spine. He’d seen a shrink. She wanted him to take meds, said he was bipolar. He’d been rejecting the label. This was also familiar: I’d avoided lithium for two years. I tried to tell him he’d be OK.

She wanted him to take meds, said he was bipolar. He’d been rejecting the label. This was also familiar: I’d avoided lithium for two years.

Years later, a new TV project brought Jim to New York. He asked me to a baseball game. We watched the Mets, kind of, over hotdogs and beers and constant talk. I knew that at his fifteenth college reunion, Jim had reconnected with a former classmate. Before long, they were dating. He didn’t tell her at first that he was buried under depression. She learned soon enough, and he feared she’d leave. I’d written emails to Jim during that period, urging him not to worry. “She understands,” I insisted, “They always love us for how we are, not despite.”

Jim gave me the news at the game: the ring, the yes. I pictured a honeymoon in Japan. And hoped, in this too, that sempai had given me a glimpse of my future.

The family madness

Seeing yourself in someone else is common enough. If you’re bipolar, this sense can be all the more uncanny, as some traits you see can match you like a fingerprint.

Your personality is largely inherited, like bone structure and height. The strengths and faults it’s laced with are often two sides of one coin: ambition bound to anxiety, a sensitivity that comes with insecurity. You, like us, are complex, with hidden vulnerabilities.

Theirs is a family I’m proud to be part of: curious, driven people, chasing hard, caring intensely.

What runs in bipolar blood is not a curse but a personality. Families with high rates of mood or psychotic disorder, often, are families of high achieving, creative people. People with pure bipolar disorder often have a higher IQ than the general population. This is not to deny the suffering and suicides still caused by the disorder in people who don’t respond to lithium, or those with comorbidities, who fare worse. Nor to minimize the struggle still faced by the lucky, like me, in remission for now. But it is to point out that mental illness, very often, seems to be a byproduct of extreme personality traits that are often positive.

The more of us I meet, the less I feel like a mutant. In the way my friends think, talk, and act, I see myself. They are not bored. Not complacent. They engage. Theirs is a family I’m proud to be part of: curious, driven, chasing hard, caring intensely.

Taylor Beck is a writer based in Brooklyn. Before journalism, he worked in labs studying memory, sleep, dreaming, and aging. Contact him at @taylorbeck216.

The original article appeared on Healthline.com

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

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#http://www.happiness2arab.tk/2017/05/kin-by-mania-bond-i-feel-with-other.html

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imreviewblog · 7 years

Text

Kin By Mania: The Bond I Feel With Other Bipolar People Is Inexplicable

She moved like me. That’s what I noticed first. Her eyes and hands darted as she talked — playful, acerbic, digressive.

We talked on past 2 a.m., her speech breathless, crackling with opinion. She took another hit from the joint and passed it back to me on the dorm suite couch, as my brother fell asleep on my knee.

When bipolar people meet, we find an immigrant intimacy, a solidarity. We share a suffering and a thrill.

None of us knew it that night I met Ella in Princeton, but within two years she and I would share something else: a stay in a mental hospital, meds, and a diagnosis we’d keep for life.

Alone, together

So we have a common loneliness: the struggle to get past ourselves. The shame of having to try.

The story I’m telling

After college, I spent years in the rural countryside of Japan teaching elementary school. Nearly a decade later in New York, a brunch with a friend changed how I saw those days.

We are good for each other, like deep sea fish and the bacteria that keep them aglow. The manic half gets things moving, sparks debate, agitates.

Jim, now a screenwriter, kept pushing. “What’s the story?” he asked. “What’s the narrative?”

“Well,” I said, “I’ve got some mood disorder in my family … “

“So whose story are you using?”

“Let’s pay the bill,” I said, “I’ll tell you while we walk.”

The upside

This doesn’t mean that mania brings genius. What mania inspires is chaos: delusional confidence, not insight.

Brother

She wanted him to take meds, said he was bipolar. He’d been rejecting the label. This was also familiar: I’d avoided lithium for two years.

Jim gave me the news at the game: the ring, the yes. I pictured a honeymoon in Japan. And hoped, in this too, that sempai had given me a glimpse of my future.

The family madness

Seeing yourself in someone else is common enough. If you’re bipolar, this sense can be all the more uncanny, as some traits you see can match you like a fingerprint.

Theirs is a family I’m proud to be part of: curious, driven people, chasing hard, caring intensely.

Taylor Beck is a writer based in Brooklyn. Before journalism, he worked in labs studying memory, sleep, dreaming, and aging. Contact him at @taylorbeck216.

The original article appeared on Healthline.com

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from Healthy Living - The Huffington Post http://bit.ly/2rbtU9q

#Healthy Living - The Huffington Post

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